Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: March 2022

A Book for Those Who Won’t Live Forever

March 27, 2022 /

My most recent walk down the bookstore aisle led me to a different book related to death.  “The Death of You” by Miguel Chen is about looking at your own mortality.  He does it in a funny yet thought provoking way.

An uncomfortable topic for our society, I find that those living with grief can speak easier, more open about death.  Probably because we are all about the sadness and the lasting effects it brings. When a death occurs, we begin to look at our own life, our values, what is important, what do we need or want to do before our own time comes to an end. We might reach out to an estranged relationship.  We might look at our wills and our own wishes. Most women, I included, feel a need to purge.  (We don’t want any dust bunnies left behind for relatives to talk about!). But it’s more than that.

Looking at your own death forces one to admit that we will not be here forever.  It forces us to think about what our life might look like with this in mind. It helps us get comfortable with death. And that is what Miguel, a fellow grief warrior does.  Having experienced great loss (his mother, his sister, aunt, and several brother-like friends), Miguel understands and compassionately illustrates the aspects of this taboo subject.

Each chapter brings a different idea around death, the types, the impact, exploring and pondering on the many ways death arrives and what happens after. Miguel writes to help us understand the complexity of ‘the end’.  He includes meditation suggestions, personal stories, and humor. These combined make it an easy read.  Each chapter beautifully flows into the next, frequently reminding us about what we can do for those of us still breathing (including ourselves).

I found myself laughing.  I found myself thinking about certain things for the rest of the day. It gave me clarity on what I believe happens after we die but more importantly what I want to do before I die.

Miguel said about those he has lost, “What I can say is that what time we had together was invaluable, and death can’t change that.”

A reminder that spending time with those we love is the greatest gift of all and one that we get to keep forever.

When Remembrance and Acknowledgement Combine  

March 20, 2022 /

We had the pleasure of celebrating St. Patty’s Day with fellow grief warriors, including a friend whose son has been gone for just a year now. The festivities included shared stories of those we have lost, jokes, tears, laughter and always a shooter to toast those we love who are on the other side. In conversation, she noted that there were no calls this year, no one showed up to say hello. “His friends are already moving on” she stated.

The worse fear we have for our departed is that they are not remembered. The popular Disney movie “Coco” tells us that their spirit lives on (and visits us) if we remember them.  Only if we remember.  We know this. As a community we mark special days (like Remembrance Day) to remind us that it is important to remember. In the grief community we make a special note of birthdays and d-days of those we lost to acknowledge we remember.

When death hits home, it is easy to remember. There is no way we can forget. We live with the daily pain that our loved one is not physically with us. I am sure that the friends of her son do remember. I am sure that there will be times, signs that will stop them in their tracks, individually and as a group, that they will remember him with a smile or a tear.  Or both.

So, maybe what bothers us is not that they don’t remember, but that they don’t share that with us.  As parents, the bittersweet connection to our child’s friends is something we need. Our child chose these people to be with, they know him and the possible conversations or just a quick text “thinking of you” assures us that they have not forgot.

This acknowledgement re-confirms that our child’s life made a difference. That they were of value, they were loved and that they were important. Somehow this acknowledgement connects us to the life our child had.  It comforts us. That is why remembering is important, but it is only the first step. Without acknowledgement that you remember, there is a void to which increases the feeling of loneliness.

When we remember and then acknowledge we remember, it brings us together and gives us strength. Shared grief is key to good mourning.

Death and Rituals to Seek Peace

March 13, 2022 /

Every family has rituals centered around death.  Burial or cremation.  Viewing or no viewing. Ashes kept together or shared in memory pieces. Our family is no different, although I do believe we have a few rituals that are not as common to others.

One of our rituals started with the cremation of Zane. My husband asked if we could lift Zane from the viewing table into his casket. And then, as a family, we put the casket into the incinerator together. And the three of us pushed the button to start the cremation process. At the start, I stood there, shocked and disapproving. I am his mother. It is against all my maternal instincts to be a part of such a final act of ensuring he is gone. My sister convinced me to join. She said, “you are his mother, be there for him” and somehow those words rallied me. In that second, my perception changed to think that this could be an act of brave love. We held him until the very end; we were with him until the last second to which his body left our earth. That thought helped me get through.

At the request of my sister, we repeated this ceremony at the cremation of her husband. She was fine until the door opened and the heat was felt. She turned away and it was my turn to say, “this is ok, we are sending him off together”. And she rallied. Admitting after, that with Zane, it was therapeutic for her and with her husband, not so much.

With each death, we grieve different. With each death there will be components of sending our loved ones off that will not be agreeable to all involved. That’s ok. Tensions are high, grief is overwhelming, shock is present, all things making us feel and react different.  Each time. Thus, I believe we must throw the rule book out the window. We can’t say, this is how I will feel, or this is what works because sometimes it does.  And sometimes it doesn’t. Patience, kindness, and an understanding that we are all experiencing total grief in our own way and in real time. That is the key to family rituals around death.

My sister started a new ritual, with the passing of her husband. She gave us the gift of writing Zane a letter to which we put in the casket to be taken to Heaven and given to him by his beloved Uncle. I enjoyed this one, thrilled that a letter to Zane is on its way. I think when it is my turn, I want my casket filled with letters from friends and family wanting me to take messages to their loved ones. One last act of love. So cool.

Our rituals after include a drink in their honor (which follows the cremation), an Irish wake, the choosing of a memory bead and a tattoo (for some of us) to bear witness of our beloved. These acts help our family start the grieving process by escorting our loved ones to the other side while we keeping a part of them on this side with us. These rituals, perhaps a bit unorthodox, are what brings us some peace. And with grief, peace is what we all strive for.

Comfort Found in a Vigil

March 6, 2022 /

My brother-in-law Dan passed away yesterday. I had the honor of sitting next to him, with his wife and son, as he took his last breath. Prior to that moment we spent two days chatting off and on, sometimes alone and often with family. This opportunity enabled each of us to have one last conversation so that, as Dan said, “there is nothing left to be said.”

My conversations with him centered around his boys, the love he has for my sister and my perception of where he will be going next. At one time, as we were sitting in silence, he said, “it’s weird; I’m laying here, and you are sitting there and there is nothing in between us”. I asked if there should be. He said, “no, I guess not.” I suggested if he had any bones to pick with me, he should now. He smiled. And then I said, “I’d like to share with you how grateful I am….” And proceeded to tell him of all the things he was to our family and how lucky we were that the Universe’s plan was to include him as part of our crazy clan. Then I shared with him what I would miss most. The annual tradition we had of pulling an April Fools’ Day prank on one another.  We both have a dark sense of humor the rest of the family didn’t quite get. Each year we would try to outdo the other. We talked about which pranks were our favorite and then I shared with him the prank I had planned that would not be happening now. He laughed.  He laughed so hard his oxygen mask fogged up. He turned to me and said, “oh yes, that would be a good one.”

His one regret was that he didn’t travel more. I told him that big travels for him were about to happen; his life was not over yet. This body was about to shut down but with that his soul will be able to go anywhere, filled with love and light and no more pain. He will travel. And as it seems to be something our family needs, we will each have a memory bead of his ashes, representing his body as it was on earth. As we travel, taking our memory bead, he will be with us.  “That will be one way we can honor you”, I said. He smiled. Then I told him that I expect signs from him. “I get signs from Zane, baby feathers and license plate messages and Instagram pop ups.  What will be your signs?  So, I can watch for you”, I asked.

Knowing when death is coming does not make the death any easier. But the opportunity to share how we feel and how we will miss them, how we might honor them, sending them off with that knowledge seems to comfort both the person dying and the person who will be left behind.  

Before he passed, Dan said to me, “April Fool jokes, that will be your sign”. I look forward to a lot of laughs coming my way.

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