Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #death (Page 2 of 2)

The Arrival of Anticipated Grief

December 5, 2021 /

I’ve been watching my sweet little dog start to stumble as we walk, and I realize he is closer to the “rainbow bridge” than I want.  Or need him to be.  He has been the lifeline for me, for 15 years, especially after Zane was killed. I expect him to live to a ripe old and unrealistic age of 40. At the same time, my sister calls to share that her husband has cancer. The doctor has told them there is nothing they can do. In his professional opinion, he has another six to nine months.  This is the arrival of anticipated grief.

The magic of anticipated grief gives you a false sense of security. Shock, mixed with a bit of denial gives you the impression that you have more time. I mean the dog still runs like a puppy and my brother-in-law still goes to work. They look ok. For now. The beginning of anticipated grief is the sense that everything looks ok so must be ok.  We still have time.

The hope of anticipated grief brings an illusion that this is not happening at all. I mean they are still here.  Both dog and brother-in-law. And we have learned through painful, firsthand experience that the only true expert to dictate when you check out is God. It is this hope that anticipated grief dangles in front of you like the golden carrot.  The conversations become what if and what can we do and is this true. How can this be right?

The beauty of anticipated grief is that it gives you the luxury of planning. As my sister and her husband go about the daily routine activities of life, there is time to think about the afterlife.  What do we want for a funeral, what bridges might we mend before we go, are the wills in order?  This gift of time enables you to prepare for things that must be handled, that if you were dealing with a sudden death, they become priorities and not a lot of consideration to choices. My brother-in-law has a say in what he would like to have included now and after he leaves.

The agony of anticipated grief is that you know it is coming to stay. When I think of my little dog not here, I pick him up and cuddle him. As a sort of way of telling grief, “See, you cannot come, my dog is here, go away”. And yet, my heart knows that there will come a day, when it will be grief’s turn to say, “I’m sorry for your loss, I have come to live with you.  Again.”

The Arrival of How

March 14, 2021 /

I gave birth to two children.  I am ‘mama fish’ to many more. Friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, that my own children have brought home and I have adopted like rescue puppies.  Our home was filled with a variety of personalities that sat at our kitchen island. I would feed them, listen to their dreams, their drama, and their hopes.   I keep in touch with them to this day.  They have all grown into beautiful young adults experiencing life in ways unique to them and I relish in their shared stories.

This week, as I was shopping at Safeway, my daughter called me in hysterics. She asked if I was sitting down. No, I was pushing my cart of food, mask on, in a hurry to finish. She blurted out that one of these boys, one she had dated and stayed in touch with as friends, was found dead.

The floor came up to meet me. I gasped. I moved my cart to an aisle where no one was in so I could take off my mask. “What the hell?” I asked…I needed to rehear it.  How does this happen? How can this loving child be gone? How did this happen to someone so young?  How did we not know? How…

I think that how is where grief is born. It is the word that we utter as the pain and confusion of this reality arrives and the need to understand becomes a basic priority.  It is what our brain needs to know to face what is happening.  We want this word answered as if in some way, answering it could change things. The answer might bring hope and a clue to fix this. And yet, when a child dies, the how…every how to this question brings only one truth.  Your child is dead.

Our heart is more complicated and less accepting. It doesn’t care of the how. It asks why.  And it is the answer to this question that seals our fate as a grief warrior. The answer to the why is a never-ending question we keep reliving because we know how but we will never be able to understand why.

Reaching Out to Grieve

November 22, 2020 /

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.

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