Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: May 2021

When Solitude is Absent

May 30, 2021 /

With my current busy schedule of work, move and family, I have not had any time alone. I know when I am this busy, I really need to practice healthy habits, so diet, sleep and little or no wine currently is my status quo. And yet I seem to be getting worse.  I blamed this on the stress and then I realized I have had no solitude.

Solitude is a buzz word. We are told that solitude brings you clarity and calm; it is the key ingredient to mindfulness.  When you live with grief, it is much, much more than a thing to try. It is essential to keeping a balance between grief and complex grief.

So often in our grief we don’t want to think, and therefore taking time out is not a desirable option.  But it is a tool every grief warrior needs. Spending time alone is not about being an introvert or extrovert.  It is not about being lonely; it is about being alone. There is a big difference.  

Solitude can be practiced in a multitude of ways.  You can meditate, write, walk, read a book or take photos.  It can be time spent on a hobby like sewing or scrapbooking.  It can be time set aside to quietly honor our loved one.   It does not take up your whole day; twenty minutes or an hour is all some might require. The important thing is to unplug and make solitude a part of your routine.

When we take the time out of each day to be alone, it enables us to quiet our brain and let what needs to come into our thoughts arrive without interruption. This practice gives you time to feel, to face and reflect on your grief.  Also importantly, it gives you time to check in with yourself. What do you need right now to help you through the day, the upcoming week? It gives you time to plan your next steps to ensure you are doing what is best for you and yours, including our children across the veil.

 Some moments of solitude can be painful, but like a grief spurt we know these moments are now part of our life. And the storm will pass, we keep breathing. What I find is that the more I take time to be alone, the higher my vibration rises.  It brings clearness and a feeling of refreshed strength to carry on.  And that is good mourning.

Pictures of Loss

May 23, 2021 /

Grief comes back to haunt you when you move. As we come to the final round of preparing to leave the home we raised our children in, I am in awe of the endless amount of sentimental clutter that I have no room for. I have my grandmothers, my mothers and my own china. I have blankets and linen from aunts, grandparents and great grandparents. I have furniture that my grandfather made, my grandmother cared for, my father made and my mother loved. I realize I have been blessed to be the caregiver of their valued items for so many years. And then there are all of Zane’s things.

Each item holds not one but many cherished stories of its history and its purpose. Each item has been with me for over 30 years…some since I was a child. Giving up the material things we love brings grief with it. I am saddened that I no longer have the capacity to keep these things and somehow, because of this, I feel like I am failing those I love who have moved on and left me with their personal possessions.  This is about my son, about my parents, about all those I have lost whose material items stay with me.

This is a new grief I had not experienced before. This grief is a slap-in-the-face sort of feeling that there is a concrete end. In my new place, these things will never be. Only the memory of them will be. And that brings me back to the centre of my grief around losing not just the items, but the person attached to these items.

The imprinted energy will be gone. The physical touch will be gone. The visual sight…wait, can I keep the visual sight?  And then it hit me. I wrote about this (Grief Hits home); it was a suggestion to take pictures of each thing I must ‘leave behind’.  What if I have a collection of photos (at the end of the day) of all the cherished items that when I am missing them, I can look at the picture and see their glory? So, I have been doing that.  I have taken a picture of each item that I will not be taking with me.

Yes, I am strategically taking what I know I can’t leave behind without regret. And then there are some that I am leaving behind that I hope I won’t regret. (But I will have their picture). And then, there is still some, and probably too many, but these things I will bring with me. And in my new place, in some future time, I will have the ability to release them to their new life.  Just not now.

The items that I have said good-by to, I have found comfort when I find them a new loving home.  My Aunt’s beloved dresser is getting a face lift (thank you Karen) and will find a new home. The island sold to the single father who said he was going to use it to do his rice wraps on for his children brought comfort to me. The young woman who took Zane’s bathroom shelf said “it is the piece I have been looking for to fit in my home”. That made me smile.

Each of these items has a picture which honors them by creating a scrapbook of sorts of all of them that will include their moving away story.  And with that choice, I am finding some peace.  

“A Broken Heart Still Beats”

May 16, 2021 /

I had no idea before Zane’s death how large the community I now live in was. To lose a child is unthinkable, unimaginable so we don’t spend any time thinking that…God forbid. But when it happens to you, when you are thrust into this nightmare reality, you discover parents of similar fate. And, I have found, there are too many parents here.  Way too many.

Anne McCracken and Mary Semel, both women who have lost a child, have gathered a collection of writings (A Broken Heart Still Beats) that illustrate the shock and pain of losing a loved one. Each of the twelve chapters has an array of people who poetically share their grief. Most are about the loss of a child; others refer to the loss of a spouse or family member.  Grief is grief.  And this book shares the raw and honest feelings of those experiencing such grief.

I found this book comforting on certain days and other days I couldn’t bring myself to read one more tragic entry. What I did find interesting about this book is the common feelings of loss; not just of our loved one but also of us.  I related to the struggles of the soul searching path to find meaning of why and what now. It was interesting learning of how others experienced grief and the effect it had on their lives.  Forever.

I knew of Eric Clapton’s beautiful song, “Tears in Heaven” and felt even more connected to him when he was quoted as saying, “I have to pay my respects to that boy, in my way, and let the world know what I thought about him”.  We all want to honor our loved one. 

I had no idea that William Shakespeare had lost his only son Hamnett nine years before the writing of Macbeth. Is this why Macduff asks first about his children, then his wife? I always called his writings bitter sweet, I felt he turned each scenario into something sad. I now understand.

I couldn’t understand Clementine (Winston Churchill’s wife) who could not speak of their daughter Marigold and whose little sister grew up having no idea of the identity of the picture of the young girl on her mother’s dressing table. Grief affects us all.

This book is a literal community of fellow grief warriors, reminding us that we are not alone.   It is a good book to have on your shelf that confirms our understanding that after your child dies, a broken heart still beats.

Once a Mother, Always a Mother

May 9, 2021 /

There is something innate about being a mother. It is a knowing of the responsibility bestowed upon us to care and protect this tiny spirit. And as it grows, our life is filled with sleepless nights and worry and a million decisions of how best to nurture this growing human being. Life revolves around our children.  Our identity becomes, “I am mother”.

When your child passes, your whole being is shattered, including the answer to, “am I still a mother?” I no longer have a child that I can physically hold or care for. I no longer have a child that I can snap pictures of or dream future experiences for. All the factors about being a mother, as society has defined a mother to be, are gone.

My fellow grief warrior moms struggle with the questions asked by strangers, “do you have children? How many?” Our angst comes from how much do we want to share and how much can we share without breaking down?  We must remember, once a mother, always a mother.

I believe that the role of mother is one bestowed upon us for OUR lifetime. And therefore, until my last breath I am a mother. I have welcomed into my home and my heart several kids I call my own; I gave birth to two children.  I relish in the role of mother. It is a position of care and influence and love.  It takes work, fret and prayer to carry out this role. The benefits are many, out numbering the heartaches. Including the biggest heartache, death.

When asked would you be a mother if you knew losing your child would be part of the plan, the answer is a strong, hell yes. I gave birth to Zane.  I am his mother. I will always be his mother. Death does not change that. What it does do is change being his mother from a traditional role into something new. That is the hard part. 

How do we mother our child’s spirit? We honor them.  We protect their memory. We say their name. We believe that they are still with us and we learn new ways to reach out to them. We celebrate what should have been, like holidays and milestones and everyday favorites. We are their mother.

“Do you have children?” The answer, for me, is “Yes, I have two”.  I will always have two.

A Day For Bereaved Mothers

May 3, 2021 /

I learned last year that the Sunday before Mother’s Day was titled Bereaved Mother’s Day.  This day is specifically for mothers who have lost a child.  I am not sure what the point of this is. It singles us out as who we now are but there is no fanfare or card or acknowledgement protocol. I did receive one text from a friend that she was thinking of me today. Did she know? Some of my fellow mothers have no idea this day exists.  Should there not have been a memo we received telling us about this day that focuses on moms who have lost a child?  Should there not be some sort of awareness campaign about this day?  About the significance of losing a child?

My “mother’s day” went about like any other day. I made brunch for Jon and a friend as they brainstormed a new business idea.  I did the laundry and cleaned the house.  We went and picked out flooring for the condo. The kids came over to do their laundry and tell us about their weekend. I’m about to make dinner. And not a word about today was mentioned. They don’t know.

 This is no fault of theirs; there is no blame about this. In fact, if such a holiday is to be, perhaps we, the grieving mothers, should be claiming this day a bit louder.  Maybe this is a day to stop and recognize where I am and why I am. Maybe it is a day for us to share our pain or at least how we are feeling. Or maybe, it is just the way it is supposed to be.  Maybe today is about taking time to be alone and think of your child that has left this realm. Maybe it is a time to reach out to other grieving mothers with a hug. Maybe it is a time to cuddle up and cry.  And maybe this is good enough as the next Sunday is the official Mother’s Day to which accolades and flowers and phone calls will arrive celebrating motherhood.

I am just confused with this holiday. Do we need one special day that recognizes us as a grieving mother?  Is that not what we are every day?  I feel that Bereaved Mother’s Day has the same undertones as grief. It is a day that people don’t know what to do with. It is confusing; it is not really shared or promoted.  It is awkward and ambiguous and personal.  Just like grief.   

To my fellow grief warriors, those mother’s who, like me, get up each day and continue to live and care for others, in spite of the pain and anguish of such loss….big hugs to each of you. And a reminder, that we are in this together.

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