Tag: #coping (Page 1 of 2)

I See You Beside Us

February 4, 2024 / Mama Fish

The annual staff party was a highlight of Zane’s. It started with pre-drinks at his friend’s house to which the boss and another friend joined. They would laugh, play video games, and ‘prepare’ for the night ahead. I would drive him over and knew it would be a late-night cab ride home for him. He loved it. The tradition continues and Zane still attends in spirit.

As the favorite video game was played, his boss, yelled out, “here’s the part that I move in and beat Zane. Every time”. He laughs as the game cheers his victory. A toast follows. When I was told this, I could just see them all gathered around the TV, chanting each other on. Including Zane. This is the same group that has adopted the Jameson shot (to be had at every gathering) in honor of their buddy. It has been five years since my son was physically with them and yet, their celebrating him through memories, shared stories, and chatter as if he was here, really brings him here.

In our family, talking about our loved ones who have passed, as if they are still present, is common. We have relatives who have never met my husband’s mother but talk of her as if they had a lifetime with her. I never met her, but I know she and I are friends. I can hear her laugh as she pulls out her next room temperature beer from the carton on the floor. She was golden. She is golden.

Our clan includes family that are here and from across the realm in our daily living. They will forever be family. We celebrate their birthdays with all their favorites, and we speak to them, aloud or through prayer, for guidance. This is the power of storytelling. Of remembering. Of saying their names. We know they are the stars above us that are watching out for us. Still.

My heart is happy that Zane’s boss and his co-workers include him. Through their continued actions, their love of their friend, a culture of respect and inclusion has formed. The idea that Zane is not physically with them is subliminal to the joy he brought and still brings. My son is very lucky to have comrades that refuse to let death separate them.

Break From Current Reality

January 28, 2024 / Mama Fish

Lately my soul has been yelling louder than usual. The stresses of life are paramount and although I would not want to be doing anything differently, I needed a break. So, I ran away to the mountains. With the blessing of my family, I went solo. When I arrived, I had to unpack my overnight bag including the guilt for wanting to be alone. I am complicated. I opened my journal and wrote to Zane.

“I have run away to the mountains. Our refuge. My sis worried why I did, “it’s not like me”, she said. I did feel guilty that I wanted this to myself for a decadent two nights. But it was more a need than a want. My soul is screaming so LOUD lately and I have not had one second of solitude. It is the quiet I need to recharge. I had to go. And the silence of the condo here is blissful. I can feel my heart slow down. Here, my thoughts are realizing that I will get to each of them, one at a time. There is no need for them to push and shove! The mountains are powerful, and I can feel their magic envelop me.”

My stay included listening to my soul and following her lead. I slept in late. I ordered a breakfast smoothie of strawberries and basil. I did a bit of work and then closed my computer and went into town to shop. I lingered. I came back to pour myself a gin and tonic. Not any gin and tonic. The gin was Zane’s favorite. Hendricks. I sipped it as I walked around the trails that we took Tango on. I cried unapologetic tears for the past walks here, that I had with my son and my dog. I cried, for the new walk I was on this moment with each of them in spirit. I took pictures of my moment. I shared them with my husband and daughter, grateful that this moment I am taking they approve of. They wish this for me. It makes me cry harder.

My stay included laughing at a (non-Hallmark) movie, a little condo housework, magazine reading and meditation. All things I have identified as things I need to help me keep friends with my grief. It also included things I didn’t think I was capable of in my emotional state. I ordered take out at a local restaurant and rather than having it delivered, I sat at the bar and waited for it. Something Zane had taught me. He had said, “Mom, if you are feeling insecure going to a bar by yourself, walk in, walk up to the bar, and sit down at the bar. The bartenders like to chat, and you look like you own the place.” I had a wonderful conversation with the young man who took my order, about his life in this town since he moved here in 2005. Thank you, Zane.

The other thing I noticed was as I waited for my dinner order, the music playing was a song that was upbeat, one Zane would play. My family knows that I can’t do music since his death. They politely turn it off when I enter the room as listening throws me into an emotional meltdown. I heard the song, and before I could react, I noticed that my foot was moving to its beat as I gazed at the mountain outside the bar window. I was ok. My boy was with me. So, I listened to it. With no tears but rather a bee bop of head and shoulders as the song played. Yes, I am ok when I am in the mountains. It is where my son lives.

This reprieve confirmed what I already know. One must listen to what one’s soul needs and oblige. For me to be my best for me, my family, my friends, my career, and this earth, I must take time to spend with those I love on the other realm. Each of us needs a break from our current reality to recharge, reflect and redirect. For me, the mountains are calling, and I must go.

If I Stop, I Might Get There

December 17, 2023 / Mama Fish

I have a friend who has mailed a greeting card to me, every month, sometimes twice a month. The written sentiments are like hugs reaching out from the paper to let me know she is there for me. She has been doing this since 2018! It is her way of showing me, she is aware of my eternal loss, and she is there for me.

In the grief community such acts are the threads that keep us together. Meeting parents who have experienced the same loss we tend to unite on a level that is profoundly different than the friendships we have with others. Nothing bonds you like the sharpness of grief. With it comes a sense of responsibility to be there for them, at birthdays, at anniversaries of the death, it becomes an internal part of your calendar. And when something comes up; a conflict in scheduling or a family emergency, and you miss an occasion to grieve together, guilt joins you. It recently happened to me.

I had promised my friend that I would be attending the ‘birthday party’. I had full intentions to be there. And then life happened, and I chose not to. I sent an apology to my friend and have received no reply. I know that feelings are hurt. Worse, this month contains another ‘anniversary’ that I should be at, but the busy holidays have been pre-booked, and I will be missing that date too. Ouch. My life has become such that what I want to do, what I feel I should do, and what I end up doing conflict almost always.

And then I remembered Zane telling me, “You have to take care of you too mama, or you are no good to anyone else.” It’s good advice for all of us but even better if you are not well, emotionally, or physically. Lately, I am not well in either department. So how do we do it all when we have no energy to do anything? And how do we keep our promises and our obligations when life’s pressures surmount.

When I meditated on this, I reminded myself that I am that A personality that always takes on too much. A mother hen my sister calls me. And it becomes difficult when you feel responsible for as many people as the old woman who lived in a shoe. That is who I seem to have become. Only half of my good intentions are fulfilled, and I feel like I am letting down those I care for more often than I like. This is typical for we that are titled ‘the caregiver’ or ‘an empath’ or other labels along the same. We have an ingrained expectation to be all for all. I have always said that my goal is to save the world and still be ready for cocktails at 4. How does one change the habits that have been cultivated, in good faith, when they become destructive to your own health? As the saying goes, ‘we are our own worse enemy’. I want to be friends with myself.

In the break of day, I am going to ask myself, what do I need today to serve my family? The answer to that must be the priority of the day. How can I support my family and friends? That answer must not be by being there all the time; there is not enough of me to go around! It must be a way that honors their needs and respects my energy. And I must act in that manner, believe I need not do more and tell guilt to go away.

My girlfriend, the card sender, does that well. She has found a way to be there for others, including me, that respect her energy, her time and yet, the ways she chooses to be there for her family and friends, it is meaningful. I look forward to my monthly hug in the mail. It seems excessive that she continues to do this and yet it I can’t imagine my mailbox without one of her cards. I’m going to apply her kindness as a model to develop ways that I can support those I care about and still have enough energy to smile at the end of the day.

“How to Live When a Loved One Dies.”

November 19, 2023 / Mama Fish

I believe that I will look for ways to cope with our family’s fate for the rest of my life. Since 2018, my bookshelf has become a Chapter’s self-help aisle, courses and videos, and chat rooms, all with the same theme; how do I go on? I came across the book by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen teacher that Zane loved to quote, titled “How to live when a loved one dies”. A great addition to my grief collection.

It is a book of healing meditations. Its pages are filled with a large, easy to read font and short messages that are reflective of the pain one feels with loss. Divided into four sections, each one includes wisdom, self-care practices and poetic writing to encourage thought. The first chapter is grief and sets the tone with its opening line, “Our loved ones are in us, and we are in them. When a loved one dies, a part of us also dies.”

It moves you through effective meditation exercises and walks you into the next chapter of surviving our emotions. He writes, “The past is not truly gone; it is still here, and we can touch it.” This chapter is filled with advice on how to face the many intense emotions death brings into our hearts and offers ways to help heal.

My favorite section is the third section. It is filled with a reassurance that nothing dies, it merely transforms. “Look deeply to see your beloved in other forms”. He illustrates how life is like a cloud. The cloud is as we see it, but then it changes. It may become rain, or snow. It is no longer a cloud. But it has not died. It does not become nothing, but rather something else. He asks us to look at death in the same manner.

The final section is about connecting with life. Reinforcing through rhythmical anecdotes of how our loved ones are within us and alive through our actions, our memories, their legacy we create. He reminds us that “we do not walk alone but rather with and for our family, for our loved ones, for the whole world.”

This is a book that can be read over and over. It gently pushes one to face their grief but cultivates the necessary tools to quiet the loudness of grief. “Who can say that your loved one has passed away? When you touch your loved one in the ultimate dimension, you see that they are still with you.” Thick Nhat Hanh teaches good mourning.

The Wedding is Set & the Heavens Will be There.

October 29, 2023 / Mama Fish

We interrupt this grief for a day to celebrate our daughter to be married on Halloween Day. They chose this day because it is their favorite holiday and horror movies are their thing. The entire theme is centered around this passion. The officiator will be reading from ‘the book of the dead’ and guests will find their table not by number but by horror movie character. You may be sitting with Dracula or Michael Myers or some other creepy evil being. It has been three years planning this event and the only thing missing is Zane.

I have been told by my daughter that “I need to keep it together.” This is her time. This is not about Zane. She says this from a pure heart of concern that her mother might not be able to enjoy her happiest day because I am consumed with sadness. I have assured her that I will do my best. How this will happen I have no idea. I have laid awake for nights now pondering how is this possible that her brother is not the one dancing with her, hugging her, standing up for her? How is this same celebration something he was robbed of? How do I pretend to not see the empty chair?

Big life events, especially joyous ones, are the epitome of a grief warrior’s life. Bittersweet. You can’t have one without the other. We learn to cry in the quiet corners of the day or at night when the blinds are closed, and the company has gone home. We hone a mask to fit our face, perfectly covering our emotions for the days of conversations about all that is life. All that our children should experience. And we are happy that our earth-bound children are enjoying these milestones. It is sweet. We are grateful. But the cold harsh truth is that some of our children cannot experience the same. And that is the bitter part. As they say, “it is what it is.” No one gets that more than a grieving parent.

My sleepless nights have come up with some solutions to how I can be what my daughter needs on this day. The first was a conversation I had with my son. He couldn’t wait for his sister to get married to a nice guy. He wanted her to be happy. And she is. The second is we have brought Zane and our other loved ones to this day with pictures of them and stories, special drinks, and signage to remind our family and friends they are with us. Payton will be carrying a bead of Zane’s ashes, as will I, to hold him close. They will be signing their nuptials with a pen that has a sprinkle of his ashes in it. I have a tattoo to visualize him being a part of our ‘pod’ forever, and I will be wearing a necklace with his picture in it. These gestures are small but reassuring.

It was last night, my biggest aha moment appeared when I was meditating and an awareness, a subconscious knowing came through me. The day they are ‘tying the knot’ is the day where I believe the veil between heaven and earth is the thinnest and the opportunity for our loved ones to join us in spirit is highest. Oh, what a feeling! To be reminded of what Zane believed, what he taught all of us. We are all connected. There is no death. We are together and our loved ones will be there, dancing next to us. The faith that he will show up and there will be signs to confirm, this is what I need to hold tight to. It is the key ingredient to reducing bitterness. My son would not miss his little sister’s wedding. My soul told me so.

When Sadness is Doubled

October 1, 2023 / Mama Fish

I woke up tired. There is a lot going on with a wedding to be planned, family in town, work deadlines to be reached and a house that needs attention. I wished I could stay in bed. And then I remembered it was the anniversary of my friends’ son’s death. And a milestone. Five years. Worse, it was the first year without his wife. There was no choice. I needed to go.

It was a wet, rainy, cold morning as we pulled up to the site of his son’s crash. As their tradition has it, there were roses to be tied around the lamp post and a rock, spray painted blue with a note of endearment printed on it to place in the grass. His stepdaughter, replacing the role of her mother, helped him tie the ribbon, securing the roses. I watched them work together, taking their picture so she could have one to include with her sentiments she would post on social media.

I wasn’t aware that this year would hit me harder. It had with Zane, so I think my soul knew how hard this must be on them to have the haunting ‘5-year mark’ come. And to come without the support of their loving wife and mother. I felt the tears come and walked away to compose myself so that I could be strong for them.

Later that same day, we all met as a larger group at their favorite watering hole to celebrate. This year there were two pictures on the table. The group hugged and toasted mother and son. More stories of the summer, of the past, of life in general were shared. I commented how strange it was, that although I never met their son, I felt that I knew him. Sharing the life and the loves of your child over five years makes one feel like you knew them on earth. And thus, maybe why their death touches a little deeper as time goes on.

I overheard my friend and his stepdaughter talk of how small their family has become and how much each other is needed in the others life. And I smiled to myself. Over death, the two seem to be becoming even closer. My girlfriend would love this.

Being a part of today, I witnessed the pain of loss doubled and the strength found in facing it together. I was a part of the traditions that we create to remember and honor our loved ones. There is nothing more holistic than the moments we stand still, in the rain and look up to the heavens to whisper, I love you, I miss you, I know you are still with me.

The Art of Ceremonial Purging

September 17, 2023 / Mama Fish

The gentle, or not so gentle, pushing of time has me looking at the personal belongings of my past, including Zane’s items. It has come time to hold them and decide if their future finds a place in my home or just in my heart. It is not easy, and I have been gentle with this process, taking me almost a full year to sort through decades of personal and family memories.

I began with my childhood report cards my mother kept for me. That was an easy one. Chuck. I read my old diaries laughing at what was so important to me as a teen and my choice of boyfriends. A couple of sentiments I wrote down and some things I shared with the people they were about, like a friend who I was jealous of when a childhood boyfriend liked her better. We both chuckled at the truth that here we are, great friends and where was the boy? As I purged, I found that it got harder to decide whether to throw out or keep as the years came closer to the present time.

This can work for any item you are considering, what should I do with this. Some mementos were easy to say goodbye to. Extra photos, old birthday cards, anniversary cards, done. The kids baby calendars, I took and typed out in a word document all the milestones, giving me a paperless record of their growth. I took pictures of the kids’ artwork, so I have a collage of all their drawings.

Some of the piles took longer, like Zane’s things. His belongings were the hardest. And to be honest, most of them I couldn’t depart with. I did consolidate some things. I did find new homes for other things, thanks to his friends. And a quilt of his favorite t-shirts will be made in the future.

With each pile, I reflected and basked in the memory. I experienced laughter remembering some aha moments and there were a copious number of tears. With the items that I decided could not continue travelling with me, I created a process I call ceremonial purging.

With each group of items that I went through, the things I was to throw away I put into one pile. When I was finished with that group, I took the ‘garbage pile’ and spoke to it. I thanked it for being a part of my life, for giving me lessons and leaving memories behind because of it. I acknowledged that the items making this pile included teachings that were part of my life and who I am today. And then I would lovingly pick it up and kiss the top of the pile. And without putting it down, I would walk, ceremoniously with good thoughts to the garbage bin. There, I would give thanks one more time for all it brought me, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And then with a dramatic pitch I would throw the pile into the bin with an AMEN. And I would turn and not look back.

Strange? Maybe. But this ceremony, the disposing of things that at one time were so important to keep, helps let them go. It honors what the items symbolize; my life and the people in it and the gratitude of the blessings that accompanied such. I feel lighter knowing that the inanimate keepsakes of the past have been loved and sent to the bin with appreciation and that the things still here have a new home of honor.

“Mourning has Broken” by Erin Davis

July 23, 2023 / Mama Fish

A friend gave me a book to read to which she felt might inspire joy in me. The story, “Mourning Has Broken” was written by Erin Davis, a mother who lost her 24-year-old daughter. Erin was a popular radio broadcaster and was in Jamaica when she received the news. Her sharing of what happened and the events that followed in her journey were so different than mine that it made for a surreal reading.

Erin’s connection to the world through her radio channel was a gift to express her pain and share with her dedicated listeners what was happening. She had her own social media through this that I wished we all had. Her story included reflections of times as a family, with her daughter, the challenges of finding out what happened that caused her death, the sharing of how she self-medicated, and her relationship with her husband. Her story was her own, and I appreciated her openness. She also included a few tangents related to others that I had to reread trying to understand how this was a part of her story.

I did relate to her reaction to an acquaintance comparing his loss of a dog six months prior to her pain of losing her only daughter. She innocently asked him if he would get another dog and he sharply replied, “Are you going to have another child?” Ouch. Proof that no one escapes dumb comments from those trying to compare grief. Her sense of humor I enjoyed. She writes, “I bet they get another dog.”

At the end of the book, she is inspired to have a spiritual interview with her daughter related to if Erin is finding joy. Erin admits pure joy may forever be elusive. But she does find joy in her grandson and her work and her marriage. Simple things, that some of us don’t have; she encourages us to find our own joy.

I am appreciative to be at a point in my own journey to be able to read about such a different experience and value it for that. It inspired me to think about joy and what can I do to increase that emotion in my daily life. Erin lives in a world so different than mine and yet, we are connected through the understanding of life without your child. We are women who share the commonalities of honoring our loved one, looking for signs from them and searching for joy in this life.

A Tree Sent to Heaven

May 21, 2023 / Mama Fish

Every Albertan remembers the grade one tradition where your child is given a sapling to take home and plant. Both my children received one. Both planted their little tree in a chosen place in our yard. My daughter cared for her tree for a limited amount of time, moving on to her next project and the tree perished.

Zane was different. He would come home each day and nurture his tree. He covered it with a large coffee tin so the heavy snows would not break it. He talked to it, sprayed it, and fertilized it and it grew into a majestic white spruce that we hung feeders and tiny houses on to welcome the birds and squirrels. After Zane passed, we hung Christmas ornaments and tied ribbons with wishes on it in his honor. The tree was more than a tree; it was a connection to the love my son had and shared.

At a recent community block party, our old neighbor told us of how the new owners were caring for our house in a way that we would feel good about. He went on to say how they had opened the yard by removing a few of the trees and it looked great. “Which ones?”, I asked. As he began to describe the locations of the trees they had removed, I kept pleading in my head, “not Zane’s, not Zane’s” …but it was Zane’s. I glanced at my husband as the tears came and whispered to him, “I just can’t…” and I turned and left, leaving him to tell our neighbor why his wife was a sudden mess.

Our neighbor apologized and hugged me. How was he to know. It was ok. But it wasn’t. I went home that evening and cried myself to sleep. There is nothing I could have done, there was no moving this massive evergreen. The house was not ours any longer. I understand. But I don’t like it. How ironic this tree was roughly Zane’s age before its life was chopped down. It was another thing lost that was my sons. It was another reminder that things have changed forever. It was another catalyst to bringing my grief to the forefront.

When things like this happen, we need to find hope that it will be ok. Even when we know it isn’t. We can look at loss from the dark or the light side. I tend to look at it from the dark first. I give myself time to sit with the pain, permission to feel mad and sad and hopeless. And then when my tears have subsided, I look at it from the light side. And if there isn’t one, I try to create one.

With Zane’s tree, I have decided to believe that somewhere on the other realm, Zane has a space that he adores and that he rejuvenates in, and that spot now has his beautiful beloved tree. Beside him. With all the wishes we had tied on it and all the admiration we have for him clinging to each needle so that he can see, touch, and feel how very much he is loved and missed.

The Zombie That Is Grief

January 23, 2022 / Mama Fish

I am not sure if it is that the holidays are done and so we come into the New Year exhausted or if it is the overwhelming feeling of another year without Zane, but grief has depleted me. I toss and turn at night with cramps and twitches to wake late and force myself out of bed feeling more like a zombie than a middle-aged woman.

When I share these feelings with my fellow grief warriors, they nod their head in agreement and understanding. Getting through the holidays is hard work. We are exhausted. And here we are. New Year, new goals, new hopes all wrapped around our never-ending pain. How do we refuel?

In grief, we are taught to be kind to ourselves. We are told that if all you did was get out of bed or just kept breathing, to consider it a win. That’s how tough mourning is. So, we hold on to that; it sets the bar low to feel some sort of hope that we can manage another year. We are told to take care of ourselves. A tea, a healthy meal, a walk in a park, a phone call to a good friend and a great book to read are essentials. Choose one, choose a couple…keep a list next to you of what makes you feel good.

And mind your day. Make sure it includes self-care. Make sure it isn’t too full, especially of things that drain you. Be aware that you are depleted and give yourself permission to be ok with that, holding on to the reality that this too can pass. Or at least subside for a bit.

January is winter and its cold weather, short days and holiday hangover is a tough month. It brings out the zombie in you. Know this and choose to treat yourself softly. The spring will be here soon, promising to bring a new energy that will help move us forward along our path. Take care. Of you.