Author: Mama Fish (Page 24 of 26)

November 23, 2020 / Mama Fish

Besides casseroles, squares and flowers, the number one ‘gift’ we received was books. I now have a growing library of books related to grief. Who would have guessed? I am an avid reader, mostly non-fiction, related to my work or self growth. And so I guess my books about grief fall into the self growth category.

My first read I wanted something comforting. From my pile, I chose “Tear Soup”, a beautifully illustrated story affirming the bereaved. Written by Pat Schwiebert and Chuck Deklyen, and illustrated by Taylor Bills, it’s comparison of grief to the making of soup are relatable for any age. I cried, actually I sobbed, when reading this. My grief was very new and I related to Grandy. I shared her pain. I read it over and over. It contains hope, it contains tips and it contains resources to find help with your own grief. It also makes a great gift to give with your own jar of homemade soup to someone you know who is grieving.

You can buy this book at your local book store, Indigos or on Amazon at: https://www.amazon.com/TEAR-SOUP-Recipe-healing-after/dp/B001AX76OO

Reaching Out to Grieve

November 22, 2020 / Mama Fish

One of our closest friends lost her husband to cancer this week. As I write this, the smells of soup and banana bread fill the air. These comfort foods will be packed and delivered to her later today. We will cry and laugh and share memories of her sweet Bill.

When Zane was killed our home was filled with friends bringing over cards, meals, gifts and hugs. Although the shock and the grief blurred all that happened that day and the months following, I remember the love. My nephew and his (new) wife brought over a Booster Juice each day, knowing I wasn’t eating. A close friend brought a Chai Latte over every morning for me. Our neighbour brought food and our friends cleaned our home, brought tents and chairs for the back yard and fed everyone that was visiting. When we decided to have Zane’s celebration in our back yard, our friends came over and rebuilt our old deck. One of those friends was Bill. With a tracheotomy and a feeding tube, he worked in the hot sun for days alongside our other friends. He was the foreman. I was afraid the heat would kill him! He showed up and built us a deck that became the dance floor of dozens of Zane’s friends dancing to the sounds of the Back Street Boys! This love cradled our grief. It kept us from falling apart.

When a loved one passes on, the need to celebrate and honor them comes through the rituals of a funeral, a celebration of their life. It is a time to share stories about them that made us laugh. It is a time to express our sadness with tears of understanding. It is a time to honor our loved one with a sharing of song and prayer, pictures and readings. It is a time to gather and share mutual grief. It is a time to reach out and comfort each other; to hug and hold on to each other. When you are unable to gather and celebrate altogether, where does this grief go?

As humans we need the therapeutic touch of others. We need to break bread together. The current times are difficult for everyone but for those grieving, these times can be unbearable. If you are grieving, reach out. Don’t let your grief become isolated. If you know of one grieving, do what your comfort level will allow you to do to reach out. Bake bread, cook a meal to deliver. Send flowers. Call them or write them to let them know you are thinking of them. Share with them a story of their loved one. Reach out. Even if we can’t hug, reach out.

I will offer to give my friend a big hug. I hope she takes it. Her husband gave the very best, tightest hugs. When he hugged you, you knew you were loved. And I know my friend will miss those. I will too.

Covid Complicates Grief

November 16, 2020 / Mama Fish

Let me start by saying that I am in no way trying to minimize the seriousness of our current pandemic. We are all trying to learn the new rules and navigate through these unknown times. Having said that, I am consumed by the real and troubling ‘side effects’ of keeping safe.

Recently, a friend’s daughter was diagnosed with cancer. Another friend has had to move her husband to a hospice. Within my grief community I am connected to several moms who have lost their children during these times. These are sad and cruel realities of life in any time. With Covid, it gets complicated.

Face to face support groups have been moved to on line chat rooms. Funerals are limited to less people allowed to attend. Visiting hours are for family members with restrictions. You are told to keep your distance, share nothing and gather socially in small groups only. So we now meet around a fire pit where one bottle and great conversations have been shrunk to one glass and, off I go because I’m cold. As a social being, it has me edgy.

We all need support, especially when grieving. A Zoom meeting cannot replace the magic and healing power of human contact. There is no better cure for grief than a hug from a friend who cares. And yet, here we are. Deep, heart to heart conversations seem to be replaced with a quick high level, how are you doing. We know social distancing is not emotionally healthy; anger, depression and anxiety are all on the rise. These difficult emotions are a part of grief and with the scare and protocols of Covid, they are compounded.

I asked my friend how her daughter was doing. She told me that they had gone wig shopping that day. Sitting our safe 6 feet apart, parka and mittens on, I started to cry. I tried to reassure her by saying that perhaps shopping was a positive way for her daughter to take some control of a potential side effect. To which she replied; “I know. I just thought I would be shopping for a wedding dress for her. Not a wig.”

Our conversation, had we been snuggled on a couch together would have continued. Yes, more tears would have flowed and for sure a long hug would be had. And perhaps that would have given a bit of comfort to her; an acknowledgement that she is not alone in her grief. But, outside around the fire pit, we were interrupted and the conversation ended and she left before we could pick it up again. A moment lost.

Covid complicates grief by increasing isolation and removing human touch. We need to find some way of supporting each other better during these times. If we are safe physically but emotionally suffering, we are not well.

I believe that there are still occasions that mask on, fear aside, I need to hug and be hugged.

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.