Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: April 2024

The Train Home

April 28, 2024 /

On one of our visits with our friend Kirk, he shared how he was troubled by a dream he had. He was on a train about to leave for a trip but the people he loved were standing on the platform and not going with him. I asked how that was upsetting and he said it was because he was alone on the train. And I wondered if this was the murky straddle between staying on earth and leaving for the other realm. So, I asked if he was afraid to be alone and he nodded yes.

I held his hand and tried to offer some comfort. I told him that he was not alone, he would never be alone. I said, “did you see us, all your family & friends, gathered on the platform to show you that we are with you as you head out on your next adventure. And we will keep you here,” I placed my hand on my heart and then on his. I continued, “we will always be here for you, you are never alone. And look on that train, you are not alone.  Look, you will find your mom and dad, friends, family whom you have not seen for a while.  Your beloved dog Bear is on that train. So is Zane.”

He looked into my eyes, and I think he understood what I was trying to say. He nodded. I told him that this next trip would be a fabulous journey with so many beautiful walks waiting for him. “Where do you think you will be going?” I asked.  He didn’t know.  “Where do you think might be your first stop?” I asked. “Nova Scotia”, he said with a smile. I agreed with him, and he closed his eyes.

On Earth Day, in the early afternoon Kirk boarded the train home. His son had previously called all his family to say goodbye. Kirk was able to hear their voices. He could feel the energy of love that surrounded him. He was aware he was not alone; in fact, the platform was crowded with a lifetime of fond memories.  He knew the affection he had for us was reciprocal.

It was his son, his daughter-in-law and me that happened to be in the room, when the train pulled away, taking our beautiful, positive, giving friend to his next adventure.  It was a peaceful moment where, as he lay facing his son, drew one last breath and passed. We sat there, a surreal sharing of relief for Kirk and sorrow for us.

“All aboard” was Kirk’s philosophy.  Fitting to the concept of a train ride home. He believed that each experience, good or bad, was the way it was supposed to be.  He faced every adversity with courage and confidence he would overcome, teaching us all the power of positivity.

He taught us by example how a walk can clear your head and bring you strength.

He taught us the true meaning of hope, and that this lifetime is worth fighting for. 

Of the many teachings he demonstrated through his actions, my favorite lesson is the importance to ‘chill’-his word for 2024 and the word I will practice in his honor.

His legacies are his family and his optimistic outlook. Kirk LOVED this life and wanted nothing else but to stay here with us. To which he also accomplished; although we waved goodbye, his promise to send us post cards, we are already receiving.

Kirk, thank you for being our million-dollar friend. How blessed we are to have been in your company for decades and now to have you as a guardian angel. Your life here continues. Enjoy the train home.

Turn Around, Your Life is Now Here

April 21, 2024 /

Birthdays are naturally a time of reflection. A review of the year, its highs and lows and the goals that may or may not have been reached. This year, the Bonnie Tyler song, Turn Around seems to pop into my mind.  The song is defined as being a poignant song that reflects on the passage of time and the fleeting nature of life.

This birthday approached with some melancholy. It is my first birthday walk in the reservoir without my sweet Tango. It is the 6th birthday since my son texted me “Happy birthday mama”. The first since my brother, my friends have passed…an obvious but mocking reminder that life at 16 has ‘turned around’ and is very different than what 61 years holds.

When 61 was reversed, 16-year-old me was fearless. I was a feminist, who raced go karts and jumped off swings better than any boy. I stood firm for what I believed in, hiding stray dogs from the pound and getting beat up defending a girl from bullies. I was courage in a tomboy body. With age, courage has changed.

Courage matures as we go through life. Experience grows a deeper understanding of reality than when we were young.  When I was 16, I did not think of the consequences of going too fast around a track corner and flipping. I knew it was a possibility, but nothing could happen, right? Life teaches us that yes, it can happen.  And it does and with that, our courage becomes different. 

It can appear like courage leaves us growing old and more afraid. But I think that courage never leaves. It rests within us, saving its self-up for bigger and more scary things, like cancer and losing a loved one. It presents itself differently than its 16-year-old version. It approaches quieter, slower but never weaker. Our courage develops into an almighty weapon. It takes our learnings and our fears, and it bottles them into a ‘red bull’ energy drink for our soul. Courage, like our body, grows up.

I recently had a conversation about how I have quit fighting the fact that grief has changed me and am becoming comfortable with the concept that I will never be the same. I think I have struggled with this for so long because I liked who I was.  Or perhaps it was because I felt I lacked the courage to ask my grief who shall I become with you.  Life changes us and most times we are not even aware of that fact. Until the song Turn Around plays on the radio.

When life presents you with a big bag of grief to carry, courage kicks in and gives you the strength you need to face the demons of life.  This year, my 61st, I will remind myself of that when I look in the mirror and ask, “what might the 16-year-old you do?”

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“Finding Meaning” by David Kessler

April 14, 2024 /

Each of us who lives with grief, searches for new meaning. David Kessler’s book, “Finding Meaning” is said to hold the tools to help those experiencing loss find just that. He writes as the foremost expert on grief but more importantly, he writes as a father who lost his own son. I was told this book is a must-read, so I picked it up and was not disappointed.

Filled with stories, advice and ideas, this book was like a warm hug. It begins, with David sharing how Elisabeth Kubler-Ross saw butterflies drawn on the walls of the concentration camps and witnessed how often dying children in hospice drew butterflies. She came to the realization that the butterfly is a universal picture of transformation.  A story of how life does continue. He tells us that our relationship with our loved one changes after death, but it will also continue. “The challenge will be to make it a meaningful one.”

He illustrates the first step in finding meaning is to change our thoughts. Typical phrases like ‘this death happened to me’ can be changed to ‘death happens’ and removing words like never (never will I be happy) and always (I will always hurt).  These actions open our mind to healing. 

He encourages us to leave blame behind. Instead of asking ‘why’ questions, to which there is little control, ask questions of ‘how’.  How can we honor our loved ones? How can we create an (albeit different) life that includes them? How can you use your experience to help others? When we turn away from why and live in how, we become present, and healing can happen.

David reassures us that the pain we feel is normal.  “You can’t heal what you can’t feel”, he writes. If you are feeling sad, lean into it and feel the sadness. There will be a gang of feelings, and each will demand its own time. Without accepting the pain, or if we ignore it, we will not get to a place where we can remember with love.

David suggests that there is a difference between a grief burst, which we all know too well, and a love burst. A love burst is a surge of bliss related to our loved one that we experience when we remember and talk about a cheerful time or a quality of that person we enjoyed.

I truly adore this phase. A love burst. It just sounds happy.  I still encounter grief bursts. A lot. But I am going to actively work towards feeling more love bursts. What a neat way to honor Zane.  He loved it when I laughed. He had such a great laugh.  Oh, how I cherished it when either of us had something funny happen and we couldn’t wait to share it with the other. I want more love bursts with my son.

David has identified ‘finding meaning’ as the sixth stage of grief.  It completes the other 5 stages of grief. We are aware that the stages are not linear and that we pass from one stage to another and back, all through our lifetime. This sixth stage is lighter. The stage of meaning is joyful and filled with hope of all things we each wish for; to continue having a relationship with our loved ones.

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The Stage of Actively Waiting

April 7, 2024 /

The doctors have told us that Kirk’s life expectancy is now just a couple of weeks. We hold that remark in our hearts, but we already knew.  Each visit, we can see the changes in his eyes, his breathing, and his low vitality.  And each visit ends with him telling us, he needs to save his energy.  This visit, I asked him, “Honey, what are you saving your energy for?” He replied, “tomorrow”.

I remember having a conversation with Zane about what he wanted to do when he graduated. He wanted to travel and move into his own place by the river and pay off his car.  Simple, easy, expected goals. I asked what he was doing to achieve these things and he said, “small steps that help me actively wait”.

Actively waiting is a constructive approach to goals.  It is about knowing what you want or need and then doing small things towards that. It is about being patient, waiting for the changes to arrive with those actions in place. Kirk seems to be doing this naturally.  Waking to talk to family and friends that come by. Adding to the conversation with his witty humor and his always positive perspective. And then resting. I am sure he is beginning to understand on some cosmic level, what he is waiting for. Although he would prefer to be here, he is almost ready for his next adventure.  

In the meantime, actively waiting is different for his family. Kirk’s goal is to be ready for his afterlife. Our goal is to help prepare his departure to heaven. We have visited the funeral home, planning for a celebration worthy of the man who will be leaving earth. We have talked about what we still might need to say before… We begin to pull together pictures and stories that will be shared as a group, soon to be gathered to say goodbye to a father, grandfather, brother, and friend.

Actively waiting isn’t easy.  It requires a strength to move towards the inevitable or desired outcome, taking little steps to ensure that once we have arrived, we have done our best.  When a loved one is dying, actively waiting carries with it a large component of grief. All the steps you are taking you are acutely aware that the goal is about dealing with death.  A goal that contains one hoping for longer, while preparing for when time stops. It is also good mourning. We are putting into place things now that will be needed for later to help us manage both a broken heart and the honoring of our friend. We are taking Zane’s advice; small steps that help us actively wait.

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