Category: Shared Grief (Page 2 of 21)

Sergio and the Hurricane

October 6, 2024 / Mama Fish

One of my biggest fears is being caught in a natural disaster so when the destination wedding was chosen to be in Mexico during hurricane season, I fretted. And sure enough, part of our week-long holiday included experiencing Hurricane Helene in her infancy. A stage one hurricane. As I checked storm watch the guests and staff treated the incoming weather like a sort of spring rain. I was dumbfounded that I appeared to be the only one in panic mode. On Tuesday I noticed subtle changes to prepare for what may be.

At breakfast, our server apologized that another server was taking his shift. His manager had told him to go home to his family as the storm is coming and he lives four hours away. At lunch, the same thing happened with a change in server as our original server was told to go home to his family as he lived 50 minutes away. By night fall, the staff had quietly removed all the pool furniture, and most of the bars and restaurants were closed. The remaining staff continued to serve us, smiling and behaving as if it was any other day. And to them, it was. This is their life.

When we went to bed the storm was a category one, listed to increase and hit Cancun. A loud bang woke me, and the fan stopped. Then the generator kicked in and the fan began to spin. Then another loud bang and it quit. I got out of bed to peek outside. It was dark; the rain was coming down sideways with the force of the winds. I shut the drapes. “Here we go,” I said out loud as I crawled back into bed. I waited for a siren or someone to shout out what would happen next. I was met with silence. Time carried on and soon I found myself dressed and going down for breakfast.

Our favorite server, Sergio had Tuesday off, but when he didn’t show up on Wednesday and it was clear the storm was upon us, we worried for him. We spent the day in our room or in the hotel lobby where the staff continuously mopped the incoming water. The wind forcing the palm trees to bend over, the dark skies hanging over the crashing waves. The entire day was surreal, hunkered down during a hurricane and yet eating and drinking as if it was just another day.

When we woke Thursday morning the skies had cleared, the pool was reset, and people were finding a place to bask in the sun. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, the storm passed through, moving onward to do massive destruction in upper Cancun and the southern States.

We went down for breakfast to find Sergio back to work. When he saw us, he took my hand and apologized for not being there to serve us the day before. The storm had blown his water tank from its tall wooden pedestal onto the road, blocking the only exit from his village. We listened to his story of his challenge with removing it and the need for new (fresh) water for his family. I am in awe of the people there, whose lifestyle we would grade as poverty and yet they smile and live a full life. They do not let the fear of what they cannot control overshadow their joy. They are grateful for what is given to them and honor their professional role of serving those of us who come to experience their country.

It was our last breakfast before we were to leave. Each of us hugged Sergio, thanking him for giving us such great service. He smiled and in his broken English said, “Can I be honest? I appreciate you. Gracias for your tips.”

The irony is that this trip gave me more tips than we gave the gentle people of Mexico. I am fully aware now and so grateful that I live in a place where natural disasters are uncommon. I have gained a deep admiration for those who live where such dangers are intertwined with their daily living. Bravery is the unspoken characteristic. By observing their actions, I witnessed how I can thrive when the focus is not on fear but rather on the appreciation of what I have in the place that I occupy.

To Sergio, “Nunca te olvidare.” I will never forget you.

The Battles of Grief

September 29, 2024 / Mama Fish

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.

The Tricycle Travels to Mexico

September 15, 2024 / Mama Fish

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.

A Chapter in Our Tapestry

September 1, 2024 / Mama Fish

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.

Message In a Pot of Soup

August 25, 2024 / Mama Fish

Since the beginning of time, there has been an intuitive need to feed those in mourning. The day we were told Zane was killed, our house was flooded with family and friends who brought food and not just for us. No, for the first week, we had at least thirty people in and out and someone made it a priority to always have food available. I only recall this looking back. During that week I was in such shock that the single thing I remembered was that my son was gone.

Now looking back this is what I remember. The first day a friend was the one who started the food run by telling me that it was dinner, and we needed to feed everyone. I said I wasn’t hungry. She and my sister went to Safeway and brought back platters. After that, the casseroles started coming. Every dish was eaten. One dish I remembered was from a friend who was a chef of a local dining club. His chicken pot pie was large enough to feed the masses. The top crust of the pie he had artistically carved a design in the puff pastry. On the bottom of the topping was a rooster, a hen and a chick. At the top was another chick. This one had angel wings.

We had friends bring over chairs and tents and tables while we went to ‘identify the body’. We had friends bring cases of wine and pop. We had friends think of what we might need like toilet paper and brought those staples over. Nothing was left to be bought. Each morning a friend brought us a tea and my nephews wife brought a protein shake, knowing I was not eating. My nephew asked me where Tango’s food was. I forgot to feed the dog. Tango had a homemade menu, so my nephew bought the groceries and cooked his meals. Everyone was mourning but they rallied to ensure that our family was held up.

I suppose that is the subconscious idea behind bringing a dish. Food is the thing which sustains life. And when sickness, sadness or death arrives, bringing something to those suffering illustrates the compassion and support and strength you are offering them. It is why when a friend is sick or experiencing grief, of any kind, I have the urge to pull out the soup pot, chop the vegetables and drop off a jar and a loaf of bread for them. It is my debt for all that was given to us during that time six years ago.

And there is something therapeutic about making a dish for a loved one. It is mindful to think about them as you chop and slice. Sprinkled with sage, thyme or another spice, it is also sprinkled with love. Quietly stirring, I think of their pain. I remember my own. With each soup I have made, there are tears. I blame the onions. But we know better. When finished, I drop it off at their door, sending a text message that it is there. “Call me if you need anything.”

I recently made two pots of soup for friends. Each for a different reason. One was ill and the other is caring for her son who is dying. Part of bringing over a dish is that we don’t know what else to do. It is our way of trying to help what sometimes can’t be helped. It is a gesture that we are aware of their pain and wish we could make things better. That is the message that is stirred into each pot of soup.

Time to Shake Up Traditions

August 18, 2024 / Mama Fish

August is our ugly month. It holds so much loss, so much pain. Each year, our family holds our breath and plunges into the month with the hopes that we will survive. And we do. This year was different. Our past traditions were challenged by the different emotions of our family. We are all grieving, and up to this point, compromises seemed easier. This year was a battle of what everyone needed and how to create something that respected each need.

My daughter posted on her social media that this year she was done with being sad. She wants to move forward with all the wonderful and new things in her life. She is tired of being tired. And thus, continuing with our ways of coping unsettled her grief. She needed something different. Identifying what that might be seemed impossible.

I have accepted that the emotion of sadness will always be a main feeling within me. So, staying with what I know we do each year to celebrate Zane is safe. The past years have proved that I will get through it. My husband wanted whatever we wanted. Although he does have a way of putting his own spin on things each time, no matter what else might be suggested. So, I fretted about how to create an event that would be about Zane, that would include his friends and the new desires of my daughter.

We landed on a simple drink with whoever was available. We chose a bar that had easy access, free parking and a dog friendly patio. The bonus was it also had a nice wine! When this idea was shared and accepted, somewhat questionably, but accepted as what we would try this year, I handed it over to Jon. “Invite the usuals”, I said. And with that, I surrendered to what will be that day, will be. (Yep, still using that mantra because it works.)

Each year, I buy a token for Zane’s friends to keep in memory of him. This year I chose to give a little stone for each friend to carry. Jon came with me, and we picked out a newly found stone called K2. It is suggested that this high vibrational stone is for those wanting to become more aware of their soul and the souls of their loved ones. It holds an energy that is reported to calm emotions and brings people together in harmony. A perfect choice for what Zane did on earth and what each of us wants with him; to connect our souls and feel the warm synchronization of being together.

I laid the stones out on the table for his friends to choose the stone that spoke to them. As I gathered the left-over stones, one rolled out of the bag and landed in front of me. I looked down and there it was. A small cube shaped stone with an undeniable Z on it! His friends laughed and pointed at it. One friend leaned into me and said, “well if that isn’t Zane telling you he’s here, nothing is”. My son picked out my stone. These are the signs that make the heart explode.

The next day, our family debriefed on the party and agreed that it went well. It was a big change, but it was less work, roughly the same cost (perhaps a bit more) and Jon had invited those we loved and a few surprise guests that enhanced the evening. The truth, I don’t think it matters how we gather, but that we gather. His friends, our family, need this annual ritual of celebrating the person who connected us all. A toast to Zane, on his birthday, will never get old. And with that, we agreed to continue our traditions and be ok with shaking them up as needed.

Experiences Through Surrender-Part Two

August 11, 2024 / Mama Fish

I’d be amiss if I didn’t share the realization that I came to when visiting family this summer. I am not sure how or more importantly why our individual souls chose to group together as relatives for this lifetime with grief as the number one challenge. It seems that my holiday mantra, ‘surrender’ helped open my eyes to family dynamics and my heart to understanding deeper.

Every friend and colleague have told me that our family has experienced more death, more sadness than anyone they know. Some even joke about not being sure if they want to be my friend. In case death is contagious. I smile. We don’t wear this truth like a badge of honor. No, in fact we gripe about it. But, at the end of the day, we are a very strong clan, and I think living with grief fosters that.

Our family reunion this year included happy news, the sharing of struggles, living with grief, coping with mental and physical health challenges and every conversation included both tears and smiles. It was during this event that I realized how much our family has in common. Not just blood, or marriage or the sharing of children, but the soul plan of what we are facing, learning to live with and overcoming as a collective group. We each do our best to create an existence that honors God, ourselves and each other. We are a family who stand next to the ghosts in the closet and share real life struggles. We are a family that provides support to one another with no judgement of what has happened or why. We live in the mantra, surrender to what is, was to be. I feel very lucky to be in the company of such strength found in life’s adversity.

The day was preceded by a visit to the local cemetery. I had not visited the graves of my father-in-law or favorite Aunts or my brothers-in-law. As we toured the path, pausing at each tombstone to remember, I noticed how many of my beloved were resting here. In our family, we honor and celebrate our loved ones so intensely that one needs to be reminded they are not physically with us. The granite placings marking their birth, and their passing was surreal. It left me feeling empty and yet, when at the family reunion, the recollections of each person who had died brought them back. Our loved ones were there, invisible but very much with us. Joy returns through the saying of their names.

The day ended with four of us driving back with the roof down, the music blaring, singing at the top of our lungs. Arms waving up over our heads, I felt connected to every spirit, including Zane’s. The setting sun above us, the wind through our hair, the pleasure of being together. We ended at the harbor. My sweet sister-in-law wanted a moment to honor her beloved Kim. The harbor was one of his favorite places and it was fitting on that night, with the essence of our family reunion covering us, we stopped to be with Kim. The water gently clapping the cement dock, the soft green hue of the lighthouse across the lake, there was a peace that only matched Kim’s quiet persona. Another family member is with us in spirit.

Surrender is not a word used by warriors. And it is not a word I would use often. Our family are fighters. But the word has a place. When grief is as abundant as it is with our clan, when the pain of loss overcomes and clouds perspective, surrendering to what we can’t control can be calming. When we sit next to grief and ask it what I am to learn if I surrender, it carries power. Our family practices this intuitively. Our lives are full, and we can face our challenges, find strength in each other and when rest is required, momentarily surrender. This practice brings depth and bliss to the journey we experience together.

To Zane, Hope for What Six Brings

August 4, 2024 / Mama Fish

There is something to be said

about the power of the number six.

It is to bring balance, harmony

It is the number related to absolute love.

Ironic, isn’t it, a number that connects to the spirit

Encouraging one to seek peace within themselves

is the number for this year-to-be…

Something I have yet to achieve.

I wonder if this could possibly be a proposition,

reflected in the number of years you have been gone.

Perhaps this years’ number can present a solution

to how I might carry on with the burden of my grief.

Could it be thinkable that this is the year that

my internal screams hush

or the rage of the injustice settles

into a more manageable madness.

Or that my broken heart does not encourage

The rest of my body to manifest into another type of cancer.

Could there be some magic in the number six

that delivers what it is supposed to,

A peace, a harmony through its reminder

that it is all about unconditional love.

The type of love I have for you

and what you gave to me,

An eternal love that crosses the veil.

Maybe number six might bring with it

more of its meaning, in small seen doses

Perchance it may be that I will feel you more often.

Thus, I will put my hopes in this taunting number six

that it comes gently, carrying with it

The prophecy of better.

Time for the Bucket List

July 28, 2024 / Mama Fish

Jon and I had the honor of attending one of Zane’s closest friends’ wedding. The bride was elegant in a silk white dress, the groom handsome in his blue suit. The floral arrangements were soft pastel colors, the venue was a place they enjoyed a beer together in earlier days. Friends and family gathered to watch them cut the cake and dance to their first song as Mr. and Mrs. All in all, as most weddings go, it was beautiful. The difference with their special day is that the groom is dying of a brain tumor.

Weeks before this day, the groom and I shared a booster juice when he told me the doctors had stopped treatment. The tumor is growing and there is nothing left to try. We sat quietly sipping our drink, trying to accept this prognosis. I took a deep breath and said, “ok, where’s your bucket list?” He said he did not have one. I said, “well, you better start”. He said, “the doctors suggested there was not a lot of time left.” I said, “I think that time is all you have now, sweetie.”

On our next visit he shared that he had a couple things he would like to do. Get married and go to Oregon. I smiled. And as his energy lessened and the seizures began, that is what he did. He has defied time by placing what is important and planning what he has always dreamed of regardless of how little time he may have left on this earth. And that is what makes him, his life and his wedding day remarkable.

I held his moms’ hand at the wedding. She was experiencing a truly bitter-sweet moment. She was fully aware of the gift this day held. This moment contained pictures and stories and emotions that she will carry in her heart for the rest of her life. And she was aware of the irony this day had. It should be all about happy new beginnings with a bright direction. It should not include a death sentence.

And yet, as you watched this young couple embrace each other on the dance floor, we witnessed the way he gazed into her face, their wedding was like any other wedding. Filled with love. This was the onset of their new path together. It will contain all the expected and unexpected elements that every marriage has. None of us truly know how much time we have together. That night, time was still for them. And as they left the party to go off to their hotel, they took with them the supportive cheers their reception party shouted out and the hope that time might be kind and extend his stay. We still have Oregon to do.

Your Spirit at Stampede

July 21, 2024 / Mama Fish

Stampede has always been a unique holiday for our family. Especially Zane whose sister now carries the torch and makes him proud by spending almost every night there enjoying the food, the music and the fireworks. Part of our stampede tradition is going as a family for one day of games, shopping, wine and trying one weird food dish. This year we added a stop to Nashville North. Something we typically leave to the kids to enjoy but this year I felt I needed to go for just one drink. Turned into two. I came home tired and overheated and under the fan took out my notebook to write to Zane.

Dear Zane,

We just got home from stampede. A great time where I had an urge to go to Nashville North. Somehow, I knew you were there. I needed to see you. And I did. In the middle of the tent there was a spot where you would have stood, and the music was so loud that the beat was felt in my heart. I stood there feeling your spirit, strong, I could envision you dancing into the night, the mood, the energy and I knew you were here. It was great!

Oh, I know how much you enjoyed this annual festival. It brings tears of how much you loved it. How happy I was to have your spirit there to enjoy it with me. We love our signs and this year they were loud and clear. I saw the feathers, the donuts, the moon, the sky and stars. I could feel you with us.

2024 is the sixth, (magic number six), that you have been at stampede spiritually. Maybe that is why Nashville North was imperative. Maybe that’s why the wine was Rodney STRONG. Maybe that’s why the food catered to all my favorites, like macaroni and cheese poutine. I’m not suggesting you orchestrated this. I’m suggesting that the Universe celebrated you hard tonight. And invited us to be with you.

Sweet poo bear, you are SO here. So alive that strangers come to me knowing we are connected, and they feel your energy. You rocked stampede. You rocked Nashville North. This is your party and will always be your party. Good to be with you.

Every year the stampede feels different, but each year it brings with it a spiritual awakening that I recognize only after the day is done. This year the mood seemed lighter, and my cares stepped aside. Maybe the energy of thousands of people together to laugh and live in the moment is contagious. Maybe my ability to connect to my sons’ spirit is stronger. Whatever the reason, the veil seemed nonexistent this day. This year, grief took a moment to hold hands with me, and together we celebrated Zane’s spirit and his enthusiasm for life.