Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Month: September 2024

The Battles of Grief

September 29, 2024 /

The day before we left for our Mexico trip, we went to see Geoff in hospice. He was actively dying, and I had suggested that I wanted him to hold on until I got back. As I sat with him, just the two of us, I realized it was his time. I hugged him and told him how much I loved him. I reminded him that I don’t believe in death and thus, I do expect him to find a way to let me know he is still with us. I told him that he did not need to be afraid, he was about to be set free of his pain and would be able to see Zane. He could still be a part of his beloved Lauren’s life. Just not from this realm. I leaned in and kissed his cheek, I took his hand and put it to my cheek. I said, “my sweet boy, if you must leave now, go get Zane and meet us in Mexico.”

When we arrived in Mexico the next day, our group were boarding the suitcases onto the bus to take us to the resort. A blue dragon fly landed on my suitcase and sat there.  Another flew by. I pointed it out to my daughter and then we boarded the bus.  I said to my husband, “Zane is here. And I think Geoff might be too.” We smiled. Payton was sitting in the row ahead of us and as we waited for the bus to pull out onto the road, she turned and looked at me.  “Geoff died last night.”

She reached out for my hand and held it. The news had come via Facebook messenger. Our family sat there, stunned in anticipated grief. This trip was about happiness; the joining of two of Zane’s friends in marriage.  It was about them. It was not to be ruined. Our family made a pact; no one knows about this but us until after the wedding. So, for the next week, our family put on our masks and smiled while totally broken.

My daughter and I would take a walk together to cry and feel our pain.  Then we would wipe the tears, put on a smile and rejoin the group. One afternoon I took a walk to the beach by myself. I ordered a shot of Frangelico (the liqueur that I drank when the boys were young). I stood alone, facing the ocean and remembered the beauty of Geoff, the laughter he brought to all of us, the love he shared with us. And my heart, in its pain, twitched with the soul knowledge that our boys were together again. Not that any of this is right, but they are together again. I lifted my glass to the heavens and said, “have fun boys. I love you both.”

As I watched my family push through, soldier up, I realized how strong we are. We knew this was to be a tough trip.  We were going for Zane, to represent him.  He, that should have been there. Watching the happiness of his friends and the antics of a Mexican holiday were as difficult as we had thought.  Each of us struggling with our grief to be somewhat ok. But what we had not thought of was the effects of doubling that grief.  And with Geoff’s passing, that was what the Universe handed us to deal with. Enhanced by the fact that we could only communicate through messenger, I felt disconnected from my ‘kids’, my friends, his family that I had so wanted to be there for. But, before coming to Mexico, we had set up a plan in case the worse were to happen while we were away. And it did. And we put the plan in place and mastered it like the grief warriors we are.

Welcome Home by Najwa Zebian

September 22, 2024 /

I picked up the book “Welcome Home” because of its tag line, “a guide to building a home for your soul”. We are told that when great loss arrives, we will never be the same.  Nor should we want to. I have bought into that theory. However, this belief then begs the question, where does my soul live now? Thus, a guide to answering this question intrigued me.

Najwa is a young poet and author.  She is a Lebanese Canadian activist who has struggled all her life with where she belongs and finding ‘homes’ in all the wrong places. Her journey has led her to write about a concept of building within your mind a home that is for your soul happiness. She takes the reader through seven chapters, each one a room to develop.

Her writing includes clips of her past poetry, details of her own journey as to why each room was created and ideas of how to build your own. The rooms are simple; self-love, compassion, respect, listening and dreaming. The two I enjoyed most were clarity and surrender.

Clarity was all about intuition.  We forget to listen to our gut in grief because our feelings are raw and mixed and uncertain. Although Najwa was not referring to those mourning, but rather an overall, “I’m not happy, but I want to be” discovery, it can be applicable to grief warriors. It is important that we begin to trust our gut once again.

Surrender was the room where you take off the mask. This is the room, in building a life of joy, that Najwa suggests we listen to our self, to our heart, and to our soul. She writes, “Just surrender. Don’t just hear your inner voice.  Actually, listen to yourself.  Listen to your heart.  Hear your soul.  And…Listen to your pain.” 

That chapter hit me.  I would like to think that is what we do in mourning.  But maybe not. Or maybe we listen to our pain but then what? Do we put it back on the shelf, close the door, or ignore it? What would that feel like to really hear our pain.  The thought scares me. I struggle leaning into my pain. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to immerse myself in it. What would it say? And how would I answer? Or maybe, I don’t answer.  Maybe, for now, I just start to listen better, deeper, and more often.

Although this book wasn’t a typical book to find on your grief reading list, it contains some ideas to support our heart when we are searching for ways to how we continue this path that loss has placed us on. Hope can be found in the building of a safe and peaceful place for our broken heart to reside.

The Tricycle Travels to Mexico

September 15, 2024 /

Our family is busy packing up to go to Mexico for a wedding. As one who does not want to travel, especially by plane to a hot country in hurricane season for a week of sun & sand to which neither I am to be near defeats the whole attitude of, “oh you must be so excited-what a wonderful time you will have”.  I am going, but I am going kicking and screaming.

This wedding is Zane’s good buddy, more like a brother, Jake.  He is marrying Kayla. Jake and Zane were wingman to one another until they met the beautiful Kayla. Zane was a large part in getting them together and keeping them together during the turbulent stage of getting to know each other.  The three of them were known as the tricycle. They were inseparable for the last years of Zane’s life here. That is why we are going. For Zane.  And for Jake and Kayla who we have adopted as ‘la familia’.

Under my protests of how I won’t enjoy this holiday, the truth is, I know that I can. I am going with my family.  There will be 30 of us on a plane to the same destination, gathering to relax and rejoice. I have never been to Mexico with my children.  Payton and her husband are a bonus, the first big holiday that we are taking together.  I know that I will relax when we arrive, and the anxiety will return when we get ready to board another plane home. This is how I travel. What is different about this trip, is that Zane is the one who should be going. And that is my real issue.

Our grief community talks about these types of events. We share stories of the strength we need to cultivate and the mask we need to place over our face so that no one sees the pain we are feeling at these special occasions. These events taunt us, remind us, demonstrate to us how we will never be able to see our loved ones in such a position. We were robbed of such happiness. We are the sidelines witnessing what we will forever wish for our own. It is the epitome of bitter-sweet. And yet, we show up.

We show up to honor our loved one.  We show up because they would want us to be a part of happy times.  We show up because we know life goes on, even when we wish it wouldn’t. We show up because there are family and friends here, alive on earth to be with. To love. To cherish and celebrate.

And in that celebration the spirit of those we miss appear. As a sign, an energy, a feeling, a bitter but sweet feeling that they are withal present. It is ironic that the times we pretend to enjoy because we are expected to, these can become new moments we cherish in the future.

From experience, I have attended events and found Zane with me. These occasions become snapshots in our photo album, and in my heart of a time where life was celebrated here and Zane joined us from the other realm. So, I will go to Mexico; for Zane, for Jake & Kayla, and to be with my family.  The whole family on their happiest day.

My heart knows that Zane will be there too. He loved Mexico.  He spoke Spanish. He loved the swim up bars. His spirit will be next to his ‘brother’ Jake as he says “I do” to the love of his life.  The love that Zane wanted for him.  For Kayla. He loved them both. I believe that, if I look up to the heavens on their wedding day, I will see Zane, smiling for his friends. He is forever a part of their tricycle.

Where Did You Go? by Christina Rasmussen

September 8, 2024 /

One of the very first books I read after Zane was killed was written by Christina Rasmussen. Her story was about her beloved husband who passed from cancer. Her heart could not believe that he was gone, so she set out to search for a way to connect with his spirit. The results and how we can do the same, are captured in her book, “Where Did You Go?”

I bought this book because of the front cover. The title was the question I was asking. The tag line promises a “life-changing journey to connect with those we’ve lost”. Who doesn’t want that? Recently, I found it on my bookshelf and wondered why I didn’t remember this one. I started looking through it again and realized that I comprehended more than I thought. I discovered that my current beliefs and practices were born from this book.

Christina, who is grounded in science, relates to death through the physics lens. She has created a meditational practice using seven ‘chapters’ to open your mind and possibly change the way you grieve. I trusted her words when she said, “Get ready for surprises and be doubted by your friends. Be okay with that. This is your journey, not theirs.”

She suggests listening to binaural beats, a frequency of music which creates a shift in brain activity and drumbeats, which can create a trance state. With that background, she illustrates a ‘temple’ you begin to create through meditation. Back then, I confused temple, thinking it was a place she was trying to get me to create, and I didn’t want that.  I just wanted to be with Zane. Her suggestions were a bit crazy, even for me. So, I finished the book, put it on the shelf and carried on with my grief.

Reading it a second time, I found myself nodding.  Yes, I listen to binaural beats all the time, it’s the only music I can hear. My favorite frequency is 963Hz, which was also the frequency Zane listened to. My meditations usually begin visualizing a path I am on and walking up to a door.  The door changes, depending on my state of mind, but there is a door.  This is the first piece of the temple Christina suggests that you create. It opens your subconscious mind. My meditations are grounded in her theory to how we connect to our loved ones. I had forgotten all of this.

I am reading it over. Now, deeper into my grief journey, and many, many real connections with Zane and my other loved ones across the veil, I am relishing in its suggestions. I am hanging on to each idea to finesse what I already am doing, hoping to strengthen what I already know. What she is teaching is belief. Belief that our loved ones have only exited this realm. They are still very much alive inside a cosmic consciousness that is of one with the infinite universe which includes us. Thank you, Christina, for your far-out theory that has been the salvation of my grief.

A Chapter in Our Tapestry

September 1, 2024 /

When you live with grief, you are always looking for new and neat ways to honor your loved one.  Recently, we were asked to send in a story about a friend who is dying. His wife is collecting them to make them into a beautiful keepsake book. The story can be an experience you had or a moment in time with them, something that illustrates their relationship to you. The idea is that when the stories are combined it will create a portrait of who this person was. It is a thoughtful, wonderful, creative idea. The challenge is what ONE story could possibly explain the entire lifetime of happiness this person brought.  After all, how do you explain the brilliance of Geoff?

Tapestry is a funny word. But it accurately describes how Geoff fits into our life. He has always been there. We were introduced to Geoff as a four-month-old bouncy boy, whose mother came over to have coffee and meet Zane.  His mother and I became fast friends, two women raising two adventurous boys.

They grew up together. Living across the street from one another, Geoff was a part of our daily life. The boys played together, catching grasshoppers in the field, counting how many glass bottles they could break before I caught them. They learned to ride bikes, play hockey, video games, and walked together to their first day of kindergarten.  They were inseparable. They ran away together, got into trouble together (having fun in the discovery of how fast and furious dryer lint can burn!). They explored life fully with a gaggle of buddies included.

“You got a friend in me” is the philosophy of Geoff. Quietly teaching one how to tie their shoelace or drive a stick shift or face loss with honor. I learned from Geoff that it is ok to tell ‘skip the dishes’ to drop the food at the door and leave, because you don’t want to interact. I learned that a good shot of tequila can make things better. Although, he told me, “I am not a purist but that’s ok”, because I prefer chocolate tequila. And I learned from him that a hug says that I love you.

Geoff’s dark sense of humor makes it impossible to be mad and it generates energy where the entire room laughs. Even when facing cancer, he has that sense of wit. When he took me out for coffee to tell me he had a brain tumor, I asked what his fears about this diagnosis were. He said he didn’t want to lose his eyebrows.

Our families have shared the highs and lows of life together. And with each memory my heart laughs at the joy that Geoff has brought us. And I am forever grateful for the love that he has shared with us. How lucky we are to have him as part of our family’s tapestry.

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