Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: October 2023

The Wedding is Set & the Heavens Will be There.

October 29, 2023 /

We interrupt this grief for a day to celebrate our daughter to be married on Halloween Day. They chose this day because it is their favorite holiday and horror movies are their thing. The entire theme is centered around this passion. The officiator will be reading from ‘the book of the dead’ and guests will find their table not by number but by horror movie character.  You may be sitting with Dracula or Michael Myers or some other creepy evil being. It has been three years planning this event and the only thing missing is Zane.

I have been told by my daughter that “I need to keep it together.”  This is her time.  This is not about Zane.  She says this from a pure heart of concern that her mother might not be able to enjoy her happiest day because I am consumed with sadness.  I have assured her that I will do my best.  How this will happen I have no idea. I have laid awake for nights now pondering how is this possible that her brother is not the one dancing with her, hugging her, standing up for her? How is this same celebration something he was robbed of? How do I pretend to not see the empty chair?

Big life events, especially joyous ones, are the epitome of a grief warrior’s life.  Bittersweet. You can’t have one without the other. We learn to cry in the quiet corners of the day or at night when the blinds are closed, and the company has gone home. We hone a mask to fit our face, perfectly covering our emotions for the days of conversations about all that is life.  All that our children should experience. And we are happy that our earth-bound children are enjoying these milestones.  It is sweet. We are grateful. But the cold harsh truth is that some of our children cannot experience the same. And that is the bitter part.  As they say, “it is what it is.” No one gets that more than a grieving parent.

My sleepless nights have come up with some solutions to how I can be what my daughter needs on this day. The first was a conversation I had with my son. He couldn’t wait for his sister to get married to a nice guy. He wanted her to be happy.  And she is. The second is we have brought Zane and our other loved ones to this day with pictures of them and stories, special drinks, and signage to remind our family and friends they are with us. Payton will be carrying a bead of Zane’s ashes, as will I, to hold him close. They will be signing their nuptials with a pen that has a sprinkle of his ashes in it. I have a tattoo to visualize him being a part of our ‘pod’ forever, and I will be wearing a necklace with his picture in it.  These gestures are small but reassuring.

It was last night, my biggest aha moment appeared when I was meditating and an awareness, a subconscious knowing came through me. The day they are ‘tying the knot’ is the day where I believe the veil between heaven and earth is the thinnest and the opportunity for our loved ones to join us in spirit is highest. Oh, what a feeling! To be reminded of what Zane believed, what he taught all of us.  We are all connected.  There is no death. We are together and our loved ones will be there, dancing next to us. The faith that he will show up and there will be signs to confirm, this is what I need to hold tight to.  It is the key ingredient to reducing bitterness. My son would not miss his little sister’s wedding. My soul told me so.

A Resource for Grieving Pet Owners

October 22, 2023 /

A neighbor told me of his friend whose small dog got loose and darted into traffic.  He was hit by a car and his friend witnessed all of it.  Standing helplessly on the side of the road, she waited for the traffic to stop so she could run out and pick up his limp little body.  “She hasn’t been the same since”, he said.

When this happened, Tango was still alive. I bumped into her months later and asked how she was managing.  She gave credit to the book, “The Grief Recovery Handbook for Pet Loss” by Russell Friedman, Cole James, and John W. James.  She gave it to me and said, “for when the time comes.”

I read it recently, interested to see if the authors offered grieving pet owners anything different than how we grieve for our humans. The answer is mainly no.  This book was filled with ideas and stories related to what happens to you when grief arrives.  It suggests things like writing your pet a letter to honor them, keeping some of their ashes in a piece of memorial jewelry and being sensitive to outbursts of sorrow. The advice is universal, how to handle the loss of a loved one.  Whether they have two legs or four.  I think the only suggestion that seemed different from child loss was the suggestion to get another pet. I have told my family, Tango cannot be replaced, so don’t try.

After Tango passed, I saw her a few times around the neighborhood. She would have noticed that Tango was not with me each time. The last time I saw her, she smiled and said gently, “I see you lost your best friend.” I nodded and we spent a moment sharing how hard it is, how we will not get over it.  She asked if I read the book, she had given me. I said I had, and we compared notes.  She said, “we don’t forget because the pain helps us to remember. But I hope that time aids in softening the heartache.”

Tango passed away three months ago. I have yet to put away his food bowl. I sleep with his stuffed bear who now wears Tango’s collar. I can’t come into our complex without imagining him there at the front, sniffing the flowers or wagging his tail at someone crossing the street. I have yet to stop crying.  Never has a pet affected me like this before.  But then, there was never a pet quite like our man-dog, Tango. Even my husband says he can still feel Tango’s paw on his foot as he cooks his lunch.  A habit that was Tango’s way of begging.  He would place his paw on top of your foot so you would notice him.  Our dog has left a HUGE hole in our daily routine.  And an even bigger hole in my heart.

I practice the basics of grief to handle the loss of my sweet dog. I am trying to find ways to honor him. The first opportunity was answering a plea on twitter from a new animal shelter I support.  They said that they were looking for dog food for their ‘pets-giving’ dinner.  I thought it perfect that Tango would share dinner with his fellow canines. 

I promised the woman who gave me the book, I would pass it on to the next person I know who experiences the loss of their pet. The book is helpful for those who are fresh on the path of grief and filled with gentle reminders for those of us who are already living with grief.

The Autumn of Motherhood

October 15, 2023 /

I have two friends who have not met but recently, both experienced the loss of their mother. Their moms each had in their own way, led a full and beautiful life and my friends found themselves on the path of preparing for their mother’s departure. One couldn’t help but notice the similarities and the subtle differences of their individual experiences. And as I spent time with each friend, I found myself comparing their story to that of my mother’s.

Each mother, in her own way, was a pioneer, boldly taking on life, caring for a home, a career and raising a family. As I listened to the lives of each, I realized how much we are subconsciously tailored to be maternal. We step up and accept the role of caregiver without a thought if this is an intentional role we need to play. We just know that it is. And we accommodate, taking a leave from work to help or bringing them into our home to care for, but always putting them first. Our priority is them. And our thoughts, our plans, our personal schedules become intertwined with what does mom need today.

When a parent has had a full and long life, it would seem it should be easier to say goodbye. We experience anticipatory grief, knowing that the end is near. We use the time to reflect and share old memories, squeezing in a few new memories that we hope will comfort us after they have left. We appreciate time. It supports us to come to a place where we can say, “it’s alright to go now mom. I will be ok”. Each of my friends had that opportunity. As did I. And although it doesn’t ease the final pain loss brings, it does help build the strength it takes to let them go.

When I knew my mother was ready to leave this realm, it was just after New Year’s.  She had Alzheimer’s and each day was another measure of how much she would remember. That particular day I was trying to explain to her that it was a new year.  “We begin again. It is January, we have winter, and then we will have Valentine’s Day and then St. Patty’s…” She cut me off. “No,” she said, with a shake of her head, and looked straight into my eyes. I got it. I took her hand in mine and whispered, “ok, mom, give me a little time to put your wishes in order, and you can go.” She died the 29th of January.

I know that my friends are at a loss. It has been fifteen years since my mom left and I still have days where I wish she was here to give me advice or remind me of a family member or just to sit and gripe with. She was my friend. And with my two friends, they experienced a similar relationship with their mom.  They went from daughter to friend to caregiver. The circle of life for the souls of daughters.

As they pack up their mom’s belongings and finish up the paperwork, they will begin to question if their own affairs can be in better order. It might be that they feel an urge to purge, or they might want to write out their own preferences for the time that they will be leaving family and friends. It is sort of a silent gift our mother’s give us. In their departure, they continue to teach us how to be better women for those we love and serve. The beautiful life of a mother is as our seasons are. And with Autumn, comes the grace of growing old.

“To all my friends who have lost their mother; As with the other ones we love across the veil, our mothers are watching us, guiding us, a part of our cellular make up that death cannot have.”

Thanksgiving Gratitude

October 8, 2023 /

It was a year ago that my husband and sister sat beside me as I waited to be rolled into the operating room for a double mastectomy. I had chosen to ‘go radical’ because of my family history. I did not want the same fate as many of my aunts had. I am used to poor health, having been imposed with various autoimmune disorders which have been life changing, but this diagnosis was life threatening. Fear was a new emotion.

 Recovering, I was informed that I would experience these new emotions including grief. I might have a sense of self-loss; I would need to explore options for a new normal with choices such as reconstructive surgery or prosthetics. I would mourn over who I was that I am no longer. So, I waited for these feelings to present themselves with the idea that I would treat them like I treat grief. Strangely, grief did not arrive.

I believe that when one knows, one knows. When there is an absolute truth that you hold in your soul, of an answer to a situation, problem or option, things are not as muddled.  They are clear.  And that clarity brings less grief because you are firm in what you believe.  I had not thought about having any further surgery.  Take them off and be done. I have never considered my feminism to be connected to my boobs! I found freedom in not having to ever worry again that my breast cancer would return. I found no reason to grieve but rather a relief that I had taken charge of my health and did what I felt best for me to ensure a longer life.

And after all that, the oncologist advises a 5-year medication to ensure it doesn’t come back. How could it?   Apparently, it can. Not in the missing body parts of course, but other favorite hiding spots for this type of cancer are ribs, lungs, liver, brain, or bone. We must be careful, I am told. And with that, worry moved in.

Worry is grief’s cousin. It plays with your emotions and plants a garden of possibilities of what might go wrong that will bring along grief. It is hard to control and even when you put into place all things to remove worry, it finds the slightest opening in your thoughts to squeeze in and take center stage.  Sometimes, it is all consuming, like when I am awakened with contorting muscle cramps in my legs, or a new lump found along my scars.  Other times it is forgotten, like when I am spending time with my daughter or immersed in a Hallmark Movie. Big or small, worry is there, in the corner of my mind, waiting to come forward.

This last year has been a battle of mind over matters which has me practicing the small things I have control over, like meditation and gratitude. I have learned to treat worry like I treat grief. Sit with it when it appears and reassure it, we are going to be ok. Today, Thanksgiving arrives, marking the anniversary of my journey with cancer.

Last year I missed out on the festivities, having to stay home to recover. This year I am joining my family to delight in the tastes of the holiday. In our house at Thanksgiving, it is tradition to say what we are most grateful for over the past year. I am grateful for many things. But without a doubt, for me this year, I am most grateful that I have survived breast cancer.

When Sadness is Doubled

October 1, 2023 /

I woke up tired. There is a lot going on with a wedding to be planned, family in town, work deadlines to be reached and a house that needs attention. I wished I could stay in bed. And then I remembered it was the anniversary of my friends’ son’s death. And a milestone.  Five years. Worse, it was the first year without his wife. There was no choice.  I needed to go.

It was a wet, rainy, cold morning as we pulled up to the site of his son’s crash. As their tradition has it, there were roses to be tied around the lamp post and a rock, spray painted blue with a note of endearment printed on it to place in the grass. His stepdaughter, replacing the role of her mother, helped him tie the ribbon, securing the roses. I watched them work together, taking their picture so she could have one to include with her sentiments she would post on social media.

I wasn’t aware that this year would hit me harder.  It had with Zane, so I think my soul knew how hard this must be on them to have the haunting ‘5-year mark’ come.  And to come without the support of their loving wife and mother. I felt the tears come and walked away to compose myself so that I could be strong for them.

Later that same day, we all met as a larger group at their favorite watering hole to celebrate.  This year there were two pictures on the table. The group hugged and toasted mother and son. More stories of the summer, of the past, of life in general were shared.  I commented how strange it was, that although I never met their son, I felt that I knew him. Sharing the life and the loves of your child over five years makes one feel like you knew them on earth. And thus, maybe why their death touches a little deeper as time goes on.

I overheard my friend and his stepdaughter talk of how small their family has become and how much each other is needed in the others life. And I smiled to myself.  Over death, the two seem to be becoming even closer. My girlfriend would love this.

Being a part of today, I witnessed the pain of loss doubled and the strength found in facing it together. I was a part of the traditions that we create to remember and honor our loved ones. There is nothing more holistic than the moments we stand still, in the rain and look up to the heavens to whisper, I love you, I miss you, I know you are still with me.

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