Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: August 2021

A Grief Book That Gets Me

August 29, 2021 /

There is a library onto its own to support dealing with the many varieties and levels of grief. Some of the books I have read, I have had a hard time getting through and others I can’t put down.  “It’s OK That You’re Not OK” is one of those page turners!  Written by Megan Devine, a therapist who was thrown into our community witnessing the accidental drowning of her partner, Megan writes from professional and personal experience.

Megan’s early grief was the inspiration behind this book, experiencing first-hand the reception and expectations our culture has related to death.  She gets us.  She writes…

“I remember my own early days after my partner drowned-shoving myself out into the world…. doing what was reasonable, expected, ordinary….”  “All the while, beside me, inside me, was the howling, shrieking, screaming mass of pain…”

She gives us permission to do what we need to do and take as long as we need.  Her book includes tips and exercises to support ourselves as we feel our pain. I knew the power of deep breaths before I read this, but did you know that to maximize the benefits of breathing, one should exhale longer than inhale.  Who knew?  And it works!

Her book clarifies commonalities grief has like how some of the people in our life step up and others seem to vanish.  She calls it, “Grief rearranges your address book”.  She is bold enough to say what we think when people compare our grief to the death of their goldfish. Yes, there are different levels of grief she points out, some grief is worse than others.  It’s the comparing of grief that is an attempt to ‘understand’ or empathize with us, to which it almost always backfires.

Her book is divided into four parts making it a great read in early grief or years later.  She even includes a handy checklist to give to friends and family on the “Do’s and Don’ts” if they wish to be truly helpful.

Because she walks our path, she also encourages us to be strong in our grief, to not shy from it and cave into the guidelines given by our society on when and how we should ‘be better’. This attitude will help our own grief and even bigger, there is hope that adapting these actions will educate those in our own community, bringing change to our culture. What a blessing that would be for us.  And for those who, sadly, will find themselves where we live now.   

This book is a must read.  I felt comforted, assured, hopeful and inspired.  I am not ok.  And that is ok. Thank you, Megan Devine, for helping us practice good mourning.

An Upside to Funerals

August 22, 2021 /

When a child dies, you have no idea where your grief will take you. And yet, you are expected to plan and host a ‘celebration’ for your child right away.  This is our culture. We followed protocol as most families do.  I have one fellow mom who could not and has not in the past two years held any sort of ceremony for friends and family to gather and remember her son.

Her child’s friends have complained about this; about not being able to have some closure. For mothers there is no closure and if this mother chose to not have a memorial, for whatever reason, let her grieve her way.  Then I attended a funeral for a mom whose son passed in March and because of circumstances, we gathered just this week. And his friends came.  And I saw a different side.

Somehow, this ability to gather as a larger group and remember their friend was very important. The ability to cry openly, and share stories and hugs was therapeutic. The opportunity to give their condolences to his mother and to share her grief of a loss that affected all of us was necessary. We went from the church to the graveyard where more tears and more memories followed with us.

This mom had gone an extra step.  She had taken his best friends to the cemetery prior to the funeral to share and receive feedback of the plot she had chosen. One of the stories from a young man who had been a part of this day, told us of how they had asked for a sign that their departed friend was with them.  And in the skies, the clouds spelled his name! All who there that day nodded, they had seen it too.  And they all smiled.  Smiled. Yes, this is good mourning.

The strength this mother demonstrated was inspiring.  She was a strong woman before his death.  Her strength has only grown from the love of her son and the innate understanding that he needed to be honored and his friends needed to have some sort of forum to grieve.

She asked me if a funeral is just a technicality.  I said yes and no. For us mothers, it is just another terrible day, an event to gather our strength and show up. Every day is a funeral after you have lost a child. However, for the friends of our child, it is a necessary step to begin healing. I knew this but had not witnessed its importance until I attended her sons’ funeral.

I do believe we all choose what we can do and how we do it to honor our children.  Judgment is not found here.  What is here is a comment that our society has this neat package around death. We are taught that funerals are the main event which enables us to move on. If we could create a culture where living with and bearing witness to pain outside of a funeral is reality, perhaps then we wouldn’t need them as much.  

Maybe funerals are avoided because the pain is too great but that is the funny thing about pain. It doesn’t go away so we need to tame it and somehow the upside to funerals is that it creates a place that can start that.

When 30 Comes Without You

August 15, 2021 /

It is just three years since Zane was killed.  The 13th of this month (August), we gathered for his 30th birthday. I was having a really difficult time with this one and not sure why, I wrote to Zane.

“30 years old.  An age you knew instinctively you would not get to.  Why, and why you knew this are the questions that haunt me.  I am beginning to understand the ‘new reality’, that you are in the light, released from any anxiety and sadness of this realm. I know you are filled with pure joy and peace.  I know you are free to visit and have the power to leave signs that you came by.  I have experienced that.  I am grateful for that.  I try hard to hold onto all this to help ease the pain of not being able to hear your voice or see your face or hug you.  Except in my dreams.  

Alas, you knew this day would not come and I think that is why it is an extra hard one for me.  Although you were robbed of ages 27, 28, and 29, the fact that you should be turning 30 today shouts your fate at me and causes me to scream at the injustice of you not being here.  How is this possibly a life plan for you? 30 brings with it so much of what should be and what we knew wouldn’t be and here it is.  It is mocking me.”

Writing to our loved one is an expression of mourning and suggested by the experts to help deal with grief.  As I wrote this letter, to why this birthday was bothering me so much, clarity was the gift I was given. This was more than a birthday.  This was the milestone I expected my son to reach.  I needed Zane to reach this birthday to prove he was not destined to die young, that his nightmares were only that.  Nightmares of what should never be.

I think it is why I had such a drive to have 30 be the theme at his celebration.  30 friends were invited, 30 donuts, 30 things to do in his honor.  And at the end of the day, over 30 friends gathered to laugh, cry, to share stories of all that he continues to mean to them.  Symbolic that there is more to Zane’s life than the number 30.

When everyone had left, our neighbor asked if we noticed the large group of crows sitting on the roof watching over our party.  I had seen them fly off but had not noticed them gathering, as if they were joining our party.  I read crows gather for social, feeding and funerals.  Zane’s party covered all three of those reasons they would gather here! They are supposed to be messengers from the Gods, appearing as a method of divination and prophecy.

I chuckled at this. I wonder if Zane had a role in this.  If somehow this whole day was a message that 30 is just 30.  Birthdays, even the milestones are just a measure of how many years your energy has filled this earth. Their energy lives on even after death. Zane’s energy is now 30 years old.  This is worth celebrating. Perhaps the crows were another confirmation of this. And a message that our loved ones are here, and we can connect to them; they are as close as the crow flies.

Three Years Later

August 8, 2021 /

I woke up August 7th, the day marking three years since Zane was killed. I poured a tea and sat in the early morning light and wrote to Zane. “I went to bed last night, begging you to stay out, to not be on the road as if somehow that plea could take us back in time and I would wake up from this nightmare”.

At three years, shock is not the right word.  Disbelief is better.  Anger is still the number one emotion.  Hope is the same; that I will be able to have a relationship with him in some new cosmic way.  Loneliness has increased alongside heartache. The messages from friends and loved ones who say they hold us in their thoughts are comforting.  I am grateful that they remember.

Our family discusses how the last three years have been.  We agree that the first was numb; we are only now starting to remember the details of that year.  The second was brutal because shock is less which leaves you feeling the pain of grief more accurately.  The second year also brought with it the realization that grief will be with us, for the rest of our lives.  And that is disturbing.  It leaves you to try to come to grasps that you will never be the same. 

So, what does the third year bring? I am thinking we should take the learnings and the awareness of our last two years and start to shape our new beings.  We can’t escape grief.  It is a huge and everlasting part of our make-up now.  Maybe the third year will offer us a bit more strength to face our grief and build around it.   Maybe it will introduce us to ways we can do that. Maybe we can hope that this is the year grief doesn’t beat us up as often.  (Although I will not hold my breath about that.)

Whatever it does or doesn’t bring, it is here.  And we summon the courage to face it. 

The Place of Delusional Bliss

August 1, 2021 /

I was having a quiet morning in my chair when I heard the sounds of laughter coming through my window.  I turned to see a young man opening the door for his friend, entering our building.  His friend, whose back was turned to me, was a spitting image of Zane. The hair, the physical build, the clothing style, even the white legs…It was so him. And in that relaxed, peaceful moment my brain went to the impossible place, the place of delusional bliss.

I jumped up and my heart raced a happy beat.  Oh, I thought, what a lovely surprise.  Zane’s coming for brunch.  I can’t wait to hear about his week.  I went towards the door, to open it for him, awaiting one of his incredible hugs. This is the place of delusional bliss.

It lasts only seconds before reality comes back to slap you across the face.  I stood there, looking at the closed door, the knowledge that there would be no footsteps coming down the hallway, no “hello mama” opening my door.  And suddenly my place appeared a little darker and the silence grew a little louder.  I sat back down in my chair.  I closed my eyes to imagine if Zane had walked in.  What would he tell me?  What would he want to drink? Where would he sit?  I pondered these as the place of delusional bliss was now gone.

Most of us get these delusional blissful moments. It is the first moments of the morning when you wake and your brain has not yet connected you to the ugly truth.  It is the sight of a stranger who appears like your loved one. It is the sudden smell of something that was of them like the smoke of a pipe or a perfume. These moments last only seconds. But with it comes the feelings of the joy, the love that we once had when they were physically with us. And these moments remind us that they are still within us.  These are feelings that will never be removed or forgotten or replaced.  And that understanding brings its own bliss.

I relish in these moments.  Yes, the second after I realize it is not real, the pain comes back.  But the pain of our grief will always be.  We know that. So I will take as many delusional bliss moments as the Universe wishes to send me.  And I will take them with a grateful and joyful heart.

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