Author: Mama Fish (Page 22 of 24)

I Always Remember How You Like Your Coffee

November 9, 2020 / Mama Fish

Zane’s friends wanted to come to his celebration wearing his favorite color. The consensus was blue. Then it changed to dress blue or dress how you think Zane wanted you to dress. The joke was who would come naked. Thankfully, no one did. I remember thinking to myself, is that his favorite color? Oh yes, yes, of course it was. What was I thinking? Memory goes out the window when you are fresh in your grief. And we struggle with it forever after that.

Forgetting the little details of our loved one is one of the biggest fears. We want, need, to remember their laugh, their face, their voice. Grief does give you a foggy memory and that creates worry that we will wake up one day and the memories of our loved one has faded.

It is compounded by the awkwardness of others not wanting to bring up your loved one’s name. There is a hesitation of including them in present conversation when their physical life here is in the past. But if we believe they are always a part of our life, then they should be included. And the more we talk about them, the more we remember. And that is a good thing.

Then there’s the tricky concept, do we remember correctly? It goes to say if I acknowledge that I am having trouble remembering current things, then how do I remember the past with accurate detail?

I remember my mother started speaking of things about my father after he passed that I doubted were true. I would call my sister to say, “hey mom said this….is that what really happened?” Usually it didn’t or it was a twisted version of the truth. We would laugh. Maybe the fact my mother ended up with Alzheimer’s made it worse. I’m sure it did. But you get the point. Our memories don’t get sharper with age.

So how do we keep the details of our loved one from becoming fuzzy?

Start writing! We need to record all that we wish to hold onto. Start a list of their favorites, their milestones, their habits, hobbies and dreams. Maybe it’s a journal or a list on paper or a video you do. Maybe it’s a letter you write to them to capture the favorite memories. Whatever you choose to use and the style to record isn’t the focus; it’s having it captured to ensure that when we are having a moment we can go back to it and remember with clarity.

Is it important to have clarity? I believe it is another way to honor our loved one. Zane insisted on having 3 sugars and lots of cream in his morning coffee. Every time I make my coffee, I think of that. It makes me smile. There was more cream than coffee in his mug. Our loved one’s life had value here. They made mistakes, they had accomplishments, and they had a personality, a way of doing things that made us laugh and cry. The details should be remembered vividly, as it is the details that make them so very special.

The Agony of Bittersweet

November 1, 2020 / Mama Fish

My daughter received a marriage proposal that she has been anticipating all year. Her boyfriend did it right. He asked her father first, then carved a pumpkin with the words “will you marry me” and presented the ring in a tiny black casket. Creepy? Not if you know my daughter; she wishes to be married on Halloween.

I met them at our favorite watering hole to make a toast to the happy couple and to call family and friends to let them know the good news. It was a glorious, happy moment; a very sweet moment.

It was also a bitter moment. Her brother should have been the one to make the toast. He should have been the one to give her boyfriend the ‘big brother lecture’. He should have been the one to post on Instagram how happy he was for his lil’ sis. For grief warriors, sweet moments are tainted with a sad bitterness. I think this, feeling truly happy, is one of the hardest battles of grief to which victory may never come.

When you are grieving, happy times are complicated. You might feel guilty to feel something lighter than despair. You might feel anger that your loved one was robbed of this moment. You might feel jealousy that you can’t share with your loved one happy moments your friends share with theirs. True happy has become bleak. And that just brings on more guilt.

How do we fight bittersweet? How can we relish in the blessings that life brings to those we love here? We can try to include our missed ones. We can speak on their behalf; if they could talk what would they say about this moment? We could include a picture of them as part of the celebration. We could give a gift that symbolizes our missed one. Actively bringing our missed ones to the celebration is a way to honor them and to emphasize they will always be connected to our current moments.

I believe that we also need extra self-care during happy moments for others. It takes a lot of energy to join a celebration. Give yourself some down time prior to and after to rest. Let go of the guilt that feeling bitter brings. Remind yourself that, if grief and love are intertwined, then bittersweet is the emotion of the two.

Adopting Cultural Celebrations of the Dead

October 25, 2020 / Mama Fish

Not until I became a grief warrior did I discover how much western culture dismisses death.

The grace period seems to be about a year. During that time you are expected to return to work and other obligations but there is a naïve acknowledgment of how hard life must be. There is also an outpouring of sympathy around every holiday. Whispers of, “Oh this is her first Christmas, this is her first anniversary….” cards arrive in the mail box and friends drop by. I am told that some who grieve are given less than a year and others no attention at all. That is a whole other level of grief. My heart hurts for those suffering alone.

When year two arrives, there is an expectation that, since we made it through year one, the rest of our time on earth without our loved ones is quite manageable. Some have even suggested to me that by year two, “I should be over this now”.

Our culture does not like to acknowledge the ugly face of death. Nor does it like to celebrate it. In fact, we seem to do everything we can to bury our dead and move on quickly. This is accepted as normal bereavement behavior. Our culture sucks.

Somewhere in my first year, I learned of Día de los Muertos, a day to honor our dead. It is a Latin American celebration; an invitation to our deceased to join us from their spirit world for a night of song and food. What was not to like about this idea? I put out Zane’s favorite drink and a glass and gave a toast of cheer to him that night. Later in the season, I met a friend of Zane’s who, from Mexico, said this is her family tradition. She shared with me how and why they host this annual celebration and suggested I watch the Disney animated movie “Coco”.

She said, “They nailed the representation of Día de los Muertos. If you want a simple understanding of this holiday, watch the movie.”

Our family watched the movie. I cried. I suggest you watch it. It encouraged me to do this each year. So here we are. The pumpkin carving begins. The décor of bats and witches brooms adorns porches across my community. But inside, I have decorated my china hutch with orange and yellow flowers, candles and a couple sugar skulls. I have hung pictures of Zane and my other relatives who no longer live on this earth. I have called the family to join me for dinner on November 2^nd to sit around the table and celebrate those who we miss. I will serve their favorite foods; there will be wine and a Jameson shot (or two) and there will be laughter.

I believe that part of our war with grief is that we are told to move on, get over it or push past it. Death makes people uncomfortable. We need to create a culture for ourselves and others, where we are not only able to speak of the dead but to celebrate them and keep them an active part of our lives.

Dia de los Muertos is good mourning.

I’ll meet you in the Mountains

October 19, 2020 / Mama Fish

I have always felt better about life when I visit the mountains. It is something my children and I share.

I’m not sure if it’s the crisp air or the majestic scenery or the quiet sounds of nature.

Maybe it’s the combination of all these things. It is soothing. It is calming. It gives you permission to slow down and take deep breaths. The pressures of life are left behind in the city, as the snow capped mountains encircle my view. They seem to say “welcome home”.

So, when my grief overcomes every aspect of my life, I pack up an overnight bag and head to the mountains.

I usually travel with my sister and the day will be filled with some retail therapy, a bottle of wine and heart to heart conversations that go well into the night.

By morning I have a renewed hope that I will be ok.

The beauty of these short but necessary trips also make me feel closer to Zane. His love of this area and trips to experience Zen meant so much to him. The mountains have always been magical for me; as he knew and encouraged me to go often. In the mountains, I feel his presence beside me.

I think when we visit a place our loved ones treasured, we can energetically feel the shared joy, the positive experiences had and it reassures us of the connection we will always have with them. When we visit these places, we are in essence, reaching across the realms to spend time with those we miss.

Can Gratitude be Found in Grief?

October 11, 2020 / Mama Fish

A Thanksgiving tradition around our table was to state what you were most grateful for that year. Zane would always include mashed potatoes and dressing in his list. Any other side dishes were unnecessary.

It can be hard to feel grateful, especially during the holidays. The deep, sincere feeling of true gratitude is tainted with the ache of not having your loved one physically sitting at the table. “Count your blessings” is harder to do when one of your biggest blessings is not here to mash the potatoes.

I am told that actively seeking things to be grateful for helps your grief. When we are grieving it is difficult to see past the pain; but if we can try, there are small and big things that we can be grateful for.

As a mom I know that the once happy traditions still need to go on. It is very important that we keep up the celebrations of yesterday. Yet a big piece is missing. So each year I play with tradition just a bit; I try something new, tweak how things were done to ensure I am honoring both my family here and my family of the other realm.

Of course I am grateful for my daughter, our family and our friends who have sustained us during our grief. I am grateful for the professional care and the fellow parents I have met through group counselling. And I remind myself, as I set the table, that each place setting there will sit an individual that I love and that shares this life with me. There is comfort in that. The fact that I have conjured up the strength to be with others, I am grateful for that.

I believe that we grief warriors can find gratitude. It is different than the gratitude I felt before Zane was killed. It is softer. It carries an awareness of how fragile special moments are. It can remind us of the many things our loved one brought into our lives that we will always be grateful for. Seeking gratitude is important; it gives our heart hope to carry on.

Building a Life of Mindfulness

October 4, 2020 / Mama Fish

In the spring of 2018 I was under the care of a Professional for high blood pressure. She wanted me to practice mindfulness. Her theory was that if I was ‘more in the moment’ that I would feel less stressed, less anxious and less worried about things I have no control of. In August (2018) at my appointment, she asked me if I was practicing being in the moment. I shared with her my summer. In July, my daughter was driving my car home when a man ran a red light sending her to the hospital and my car to the salvage yard. As I dealt with insurance and her physiotherapy appointments while looking for another vehicle, I was also waiting for the results of a biopsy to rule out I had ovarian cancer….and then Zane was killed…what particular moment did she want me to be in? Which one of any of my present moments did she think would bring me less worry and more peace? Mindfulness was not a priority or a desire. She agreed.

When you are grieving it is VERY difficult to be in the moment. It is unbearably painful. The present sucks. And mindfulness is all about being and appreciating the present moment. Mindfulness is for the blessed.

So how does a grief warrior use mindfulness as a tool to mourn? You create a present that you can live in. You fill your calendar with things that might bring you joy like music or movies or wine with a friend who listens. You create habits that support your mental and physical health like a walk in the park or a bike ride along the river. You say yes to more cuddles with your pet and afternoons reading a good book. You collect and fill your home with things that bring you peace…pictures, plants, blankets that belonged to your loved one or that your loved one would have liked or that you yourself feel good about. And you continue to honor and speak of your loved one.

By filling our days with as many things as we can that ground us; we can begin to build a present we can be mindful about.

Remembering Autumn Leaves

September 28, 2020 / Mama Fish

As I walk our dog in the park, the ground is covered with the colored leaves of Autumn. As his little feet toddle along our path, the rustling sound of the leaves pulls me back to a time when Zane was just three.

We would walk down to the neighbourhood park while we waited for dinner to cook. Together, we would make big piles of fallen leaves and then jump into them, lying on our backs and laughing. We would look up at the skies and take turns pointing at clouds and naming what they looked like.

I can still remember the crunch of the dried leaves underneath us. The musty smell of the ground tickled our noses. The sound of Zane’s young giggle as he jumped back up to say;

“Mimi, let’s do one mo time.”

I can remember the deep joy, the love of those afternoons together. He was my little buddy; it was the two of us. The memory of those fall afternoons live with vivid detail forever in my heart.

This particular memory hit me hard this season. I am not sure why. I have walked through the leaves many times before. But this time, something about that memory filled my heart with the cold ache of missing the past.

Grief has no pattern of what memory may bring comfort and what memory may bring you to your knees. Memories often come in random fashion and the day, the mood, the level of grief has the memory leaving you smiling or crying or both. It is called ‘riding the wave of grief’. Sometimes it is a gentle whisper. Sometimes it is a hurricane, crashing in and leaving you to gasp for breath. There is no play book of which memory will come in as a whisper and which will come in as a storm. There is no set schedule. We must be ready for either.

I hope that your memories fall gently this season.

What are you really wishing for?

September 21, 2020 / Mama Fish

I bought a battery operated pillar candle that had a timer. I placed it on a small patio table by our front door. I had it timed to go on a little before Zane would come home from work, around midnight. He enjoyed listening to podcasts sitting next to its artificial flame as a way to unwind after a long busy shift. For the first year, after the crash, I would go to the door before bed and see it shining, waiting for him to come home. And I would whisper, “Love you, miss you, wish you were here”.

The number one wish for grief warriors is “I wish you were here”. Lately I’ve been thinking about this. Does this wish negate our belief that our loved ones are always “here”? If we believe, to any depth, that they are at peace, in a better place or free…is it selfish to wish them back to here? We want them here because we miss them. We want them here to share (more) life with us. We want them here so that we can hear their voice, their laugh. We want them here because we miss hugging them. But when we say “I wish you were here” we are telling ourselves they are not here…and good mourning is all about looking for signs that they are still with us. Our loved ones are always here with us. We must believe this.

Perhaps our wish should be more about what we are really wanting, really missing. Maybe the wish is actually for us. Perhaps we should reword this wish. Perhaps we should be more specific. Maybe the wish YOU is really about I. I wish I could hear your voice here. I wish I could see you here.

With my grief, I have found it helps when I believe to my core, Zane is still here. Although his (new) spiritual form I wish was not reality, it is a form to which I am still his mother and he is still very much a part of my life. And for this belief to be solid, I can’t say wish you were here. I must tell myself he is here. So I have changed my wish. And at night, when I look out the door, I now whisper, “Love you, miss you, wish I could hug you here”.

The Silent Demands of Grief

September 14, 2020 / Mama Fish

I have always been an A-type personality. It has caused physical illness and mental struggles and yet I keep living my life like a squirrel caught in traffic. The upside has always been that I get more done than the average person. I am organized and I take on the world, so lots to do. But is this an upside?

I have been told by everyone in my life, current and past, that I need to slow down. How do you do that when you are engrained to do all for all in only a 24 hour period each day? That has been my struggle.

Now, with grief, it is so much more difficult. It is complicated. My grief demands my time. It demands me to sit and cry and ponder the ‘what if’s’ and pine for yesterday. It does not take note of the growing task list and the time ticking to the deadlines for work projects, social engagements or personal goals. It shows up unexpected, it never leaves and it is loud.

When I try to ignore it and focus on what needs to be done, it becomes tricky. It messes with my memory and I begin to forget obvious things, like my friend’s name or that dinner was in the oven an hour longer than needed. It seeps into my muscles and bones causing arthritic flare-ups. And yet, I move on, ignoring it and the side effects it brings. And when I do that, my grief becomes angry and I become short tempered, snapping at the poor dog because he is taking too long to sniff the grass. And if I don’t pay attention to how busy I am, my grief then crushes me with a tidal wave of emotional pain, triggered by something I didn’t expect and the tears come and the day shuts down. And the guilt sets in.

Grief cannot be put into your day timer at a convenient time to experience it. You cannot schedule grief. If you try life becomes complicated and harder to cope. Grief demands that you pay attention to it. Thus, we must plan our day to be gentle. Our schedules cannot be over loaded. Our social life must be simple with a plan to exit if need be. Our calendar needs room, every day, for grief to be addressed.

As a text book A-type, I must accept that my grief keeps me busy. And my grief is a priority. It is ironic that through my grief, I may also learn how to slow down.

Pictures Immortalize

September 6, 2020 / Mama Fish

It took one phone call to one close friend of Zane’s to fill our home that day. In a matter of hours, over fifty people came through the front door, bringing food and drink and tears. I watched Zane’s friends, many who we knew since they were babies, have a shot of Jameson’s in honor of our son. They laughed. They cried. They hugged. They shared stories of Zane and reassured us how much our son loved us. “We were his all”. They stayed until late that night. One friend, as he left, hugged me and said;

“Thank you for opening up your home to all of us. It is the only place we can find comfort right now.”

His words reminded me that we were all in pain.

Zane’s friends are inherited blessings. They brought pictures of Zane and the adventures they shared. They brought letters and stories Zane had written. They left them with us. The pictures adorn our walls now and the letters and memorabilia given to us bring us comfort. We would not have these without his wonderful friends.

Some people have troubles with pictures. We have one friend who asks us each time they see Zane’s picture up if it is slowing our healing down. Some grief warriors can’t look at any pictures. It’s kryptonite. There is no right way to grieve. For us, I have Zane’s pictures and his belongings naturally scattered around the house. As if he was still living with us. I find comfort in these reminders that he is and will always be a part of our life.

Pictures and items of our loved ones are filled with their energy. They hold the essence of our child. They are a snapshot of an experience they had, one of their stories. These stories are now one of our shared memories. His pictures bring me back to that happy time and place. I can feel grateful that he laughed and had such fun times.

Yes, certain days his pictures are painful when my grief is crashing in. But it is not the picture that brings this grief on. I don’t need a picture to remind me that there will not be another snapshot to frame. Zane’s things are proof that my son was involved, adventurous and loved. And when I hold his things or look at the pictures, I tell my grief that.