Tag: #goodmourninggrief (Page 4 of 10)

An Easter Message from Heaven

March 31, 2024 / Mama Fish

In our family, Easter is another excuse to gather. It includes traditions; my daughter still insists on an egg hunt. We try new things. This year the highlighted cocktail is a ‘bunny mary’ (same as a bloody mary but with carrot juice!). I am sure Zane would approve. It is a fun, light-hearted and simple holiday but with a deep message. It kicks off the season to warmer days and the fresh smells of rain. It represents natures message of new beginnings and religions message of the same, to live fully, the life we are blessed with.

One of my like-life visits from Zane, after he was killed, was he came bouncing up the stairs to greet me, wearing a bright blue jacket. He ran into my room, grinning from ear to ear. I hugged him and squealed, “you’re alive, you’re alive…” and he smiled and then melted onto the rug as I screamed, “come back!” I have never forgotten that dream. It felt so real, and it came at Easter.

The following Easter, I dreamt I had come into the room and Zane was at the end of a table, sorting eggs & treats. I asked what he was up to, and he replied, “It’s Easter, we must get ready.” He seemed content sorting out the different Easter symbols. I woke, disturbed, wondering what I was to be ready for. And each year since, I have had Zane visit at Easter with a similar message. It wasn’t until this year I started considering any underlining significance of these visits when my father came with Zane to tell me, point blank, watch out, for this is a season where things happen. Subtle, but important things.

We have a lot of birthdays around this season. My father passed away at Easter. The kids’ first pet arrived at Easter. We have had friends die at this time of year. Why was my father accompanying Zane this time. In this dream, according to my father, I have not been paying attention. He needed to come with Zane to set me straight! So typical of dear old dad.

My belief that spring is the season to bring into play your best self was something I learned from my family and shared with my children. I am sure my father and son’s awareness of my constant go-go-go, my total disregard for what ails me, and lately, my scary high blood pressure, has them rolling their eyes and shaking their finger at me as does my earthly family. I know this sounds so far out there but I could feel the two of them sitting next to me. Telling me to take some of my own advice!

The Easter visits, the vividness of Zane’s physical body coming through slumber has brought an annual message of hope, of confirmation he is still here, of how he is aware of what we are all doing. And possibly a telling of how he wants more for me. On earth, Zane would joke about my self-care by giving me a hug or a loving slap on the shoulder and say, “don’t die on me yet, mama”. Easter’s message of renewed life and how faith and hope bring this about for all of us, is the reminder my son has been bringing to me each year. An assurance that they are with us and that they want the best for us.

Oh, how the holidays he knows I care for make me miss him more. His appearances as I sleep reflect the communications he had when he lived here. This one I can hear him say, “It’s spring mama, take care of you.”

The Commonalities of Child Loss

March 24, 2024 / Mama Fish

One of my friends was scared when her child was diagnosed with cancer. She survived and is now cancer free. One of my friends is scared as her child is currently fighting cancer. I didn’t have a chance to be scared. Sudden death does not include any time to be scared. It does not bring with it anticipatory grief. This has its own merit and its own pain. The cause of death can affect the grief process.

Our society likes to fit death into specific types, each one dictating the period we are permitted to grieve openly, how we should feel, behave, and move forward with our grief. We are judged by how we grieve. “Oh, she acts as if nothing happened.” or “It was just a dog…what is wrong with her?” or “She needs to be there for her other children.” or “She is too young (or too old) to remarry now”. Society has it wrong. In the end, it is the person grieving that must find their voice and stand firm in the chosen way they need to grieve, often leaving behind family and friends who cannot support this.

One cause of death brought this thinking to mind. I was reading about miscarriages and the impact of how irrelevant our society seems to address this loss. One in four women will have a miscarriage. That’s how we look at it. Another statistic. But what about that woman, the one in four. She was holding life inside her. She was excited about being a mother. No matter the debate on when life begins, if that woman was anticipating giving birth, to care for and do her best for this fetus, she is now a mother. No matter what fate brings or choices she had (or didn’t have) control over, she is a mother.

So why do we not stand next to that family like we would if it had been born and lived for a longer period of time. Why are we advised not to ‘celebrate’ we are pregnant for the first trimester? The medical answer is because that is when most miscarriages happen. Perhaps this is our society’s way of shielding others from the pain of a potential loss. It is absurd when you think about the instructions to not hope until you know more, when we never truly know the fate of our children. Ask any grieving mother. I personally had no idea of the trauma, the pressure to accept and move on mothers of a miscarriage or stillborn baby endure. Not until I started hearing their stories. A mother’s umbilical cord connects her to a soul, transforming her life. That cord is eternal.

As a mother who lost her child, I can relate. One can argue at what age is more painful to lose a child, but every age brings with it the same feelings of loss, of deep anguish. Each of these deaths, regardless of the child’s age, brings the questions of ‘what if’, and ‘could I have done something different’. The only concrete known is that the heart is now broken.

The ugly and truly sad common denominator of every mother who has lost a child is that it brings with it the anger that fate has stolen our opportunity of more time with our child. It robs us of memories, dreams, hopes we had for this child. It replaces a future with a past we long for and a bitter-sweet present.

We are taught that loss is loss and the greatest loss of all is your loss. Whatever loss that was. The cause of death does bring different elements with it but what is important is that we have ended up in the same place of eternal sorrow. How we got there is minimal compared to the long journey ahead. Grief is universal.

Are You Prepared?

March 17, 2024 / Mama Fish

We have been visiting our friend in hospice for a month or so now. Everyone is aware that treatment of his brain cancer has stopped. There is nothing else that can be done. We listen as the doctors tell us what the next stages will look like and to be prepared. Be prepared? How does one truly do that?

Each morning begins with a trip to visit him. He smiles, we chat, he tells us he loves us. We say it back. The conversations are light, about a morning walk he had (in his mind as we know he has not left the room). We read to him the daily verse of ‘the big book’ of A.A and we analyze that. He continues to inspire us, coach us as he lays there talking about life, about how he wishes to live. “…And then some,” he says.

Ice cream, diet coke and tapioca pudding. These are some of his favorite things. As we sit one morning watching him eat a drumstick of chocolate and peanuts, he says, “when I don’t want to eat ice cream, you can start to worry about me.” We laugh.

One visit I asked if he felt his prayers were heard. He said most of them. I asked what do you do about the ones that are not answered? He said, “I pray harder.” I hugged him before I left and noticed the color of his eyes, the new way he was breathing. I leaned in close to his face and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” He nodded. I asked, “can you let me know when I won’t be able to?” He looked at me, silent, then he squeezed my hand and whispered, “I’ll try.”

Things have started to really change now. His desire to sit up, to walk, to chat for longer than ten minutes has vanished. “I had a long walk this morning, I need to just rest now” he would say as he closed his eyes. Our cue to leave. Visits are still daily, but now we find him sleeping and he falls back to sleep as we chat. I think on some level, our friend is trying to prepare. Silently, I am sure his talks with God and the realization he stays dormant weighs on his mind. These thoughts take space with his tumor. There is an irony to all this; staying mentally positive so that you may live while the reason you are dying is found in the same organ.

Who knows when your last breath will be. But we know it is sooner than later for our sweet friend. His son calls to share his visit, how hard it is on him to see his father like this. He asks if we are aware his father is not here for long. Yes, we know. We talked about how he feels about that. He believes he is comfortable with what has been said. We have all shared memories and thoughts and endearments of how important he is to us now and forever. We have prepared ourselves for the inevitable. There’s that word again. Prepared.

When grief arrives, it rips you apart and ‘prepared’ crumbles into a million tears and questions about was it enough. I don’t know how to prevent this. I just know it happens. My heart aches for his children, his siblings, his friends, for us. His son says he knows one cannot be fully prepared, but he will find strength in knowing his father is not in any pain. I smile. It is that small but comforting truth to which we will cling to. It might help us to be prepared for the moment that anticipatory grief becomes eternal heartache.

Never Forgotten

March 10, 2024 / Mama Fish

Three years ago, I sat with a mom who had just lost her son. We shared the feelings of shock and despair, and she looked at me and asked, “does it get any better?” I reached over and took her hand and said softly, “No. It doesn’t. Whatever you begin to read and whatever people will tell you, this pain does not leave. You learn to live with it.” She started to cry. I joined her.

This week, as I was scrolling through Facebook, I came upon a post from her. She wrote about her son’s angelversary coming up and what she was planning to do to honor him. She wrote about how she has learned that people expected her to ‘get over it and move on’ and she has experienced friends and family not wanting to talk about her son anymore. She writes, “…he existed, he was full of life, he mattered…” as if she needed to defend her feelings and the life of her son.

I have never forgotten her son. He was a friend of our family’s, and we mention him often in our home. Reading her post, I was encouraged to visit his grave. I bought a St. Patty’s Day necklace with a rapper style medallion I thought he would like. He was born on the 17^th of March and enjoyed writing and singing rap songs. I poured a little Jameson’s into a vial and invited my husband to join me. We did a toast to him and the beauty of his earthly being that brought us all so much joy. We placed the necklace next to the grave and drew a heart in the snow.

The biggest fear of every parent who has lost a child is that they will be forgotten. Our culture encourages us to say goodbye and then move on, leaving our loved ones in the past. It may be because it hurts too much, or they feel tentative to share their feelings as if saying their name reminds us, they are gone. The thing is, we need no reminders and speaking about them makes us feel strongly connected to our loved one. In the grief community, we are taught that to say their name, to keep the memories alive, is healing. They will always be a part of us and including them in present day conversation can be soothing. That is what this mother was telling her Facebook friends. A reminder that she lives with grief but honoring her son, brings her comfort and strength.

I called her later that day to ask how she was holding up. She said, “you are right, it does not get better, you learn to mask your feelings and carry on with a fake smile.” “I’m sorry”, I replied. And then I assured her that her son will never be forgotten. For as long as we are here, her boy’s name will always be spoken. His memories, his laugh, will always be a part of our St. Patty’s Day. We are lucky to know him. And I thanked her for the reminder she wrote publicly, letting others know. Our children lived and they are never to be forgotten. Say their name. This is how we keep them alive.

“Ageless Soul” by Thomas Moore

March 3, 2024 / Mama Fish

Zane had a thing about old age. He didn’t like it. He watched our friends grow older with complicated health issues and told me that wasn’t what he would want. I laughed at him saying he had little choice so get used to it! (I see the irony of my reply now). Zane shared his belief; “The idea is to die young, as late as possible.” We chuckled.

I bought the book “Ageless Soul” by Thomas Moore, thinking it was about our children whose soul is ageless because they departed from earth too soon. The tag line of this book states it was about the lifelong journey toward meaning and joy. I was wrong; it had nothing to do with the eternal lives of our children, so much as it was about each of us growing older and how to do so gracefully. I read it anyway.

Thomas Moore is a bestselling author of books related to cultivating a mature spiritual life. His most recent professional position is that of psychotherapist to which he shares client experiences, science research and case studies, all as evidence on the importance of growing old with poise. The book starts by outlining the signs that we all experience as we age and challenging us to think differently about gray hairs and achy bones. It’s a good thing in Mr. Moore’s opinion. And if we were to accept it as part of the cycle of life, rather than fighting it, our role on this earth would change from ‘old person’ to ‘sage person’ filled with experiences and knowledge that could be shared with others.

What I liked about this book, besides the inspiration to feeling ok with the inevitable, is that a lot of his advice to accepting age graciously, we grief warriors are already doing because of our loss. He assures us that melancholy is ok, that feeling this way you may discover things about you and your life that you would not if always cheerful. Old age gives us the opportunity to digest our past experiences and discover who we are from them. He also believes that honoring our loved ones who have passed is essential in growing old gracefully. It can change us when we accept that this is how it is and how do we want to live with it. Kicking and screaming is not a viable option. Nor is ignoring it.

The common emotions related to aging such as being angry, feelings of loneliness, or my favorite, your soul getting sick physically because your body is, resonated with how closely aging is to coping with grief. Youth is lost. We are no longer the person we were in our younger years. Who are we now? Do we withdraw and become that grumpy old person? Or do we open our hearts to experiencing new adventures and share our life, including our past, with those we know and love. And those we don’t. Mr. Moore suggests we can become elders, relate to younger generations, and cultivate a legacy for when we depart. Our golden years can demonstrate a life that is commemorated, despite the pain and suffering of the past.

At the end of the book, I thought it was serendipity that I decided to read it. We are aware that grief ages us faster than the person who has not experienced deep grief. With the writing of “Ageless Soul”, Mr. Moore wished to teach the reader how to embrace the richness of experience to feel fulfilled. Whether he intended to or not, his encouragement to think now about how we can grow old with peace and grace complements the lessons we learn in grief.

The Lesson of Repeated Loss

February 25, 2024 / Mama Fish

I don’t think God got my message. After our family endured so many deaths last year, I thought he and I had an understanding that we would get a bit of a break this year. However, we lost another two members last month and two more this month. It reminds me of a meme Zane posted, “I know that everything happens for a reason, but WTF?”

Del was a colleague of my mothers. I grew up with him. He was a true family friend that coaxed my mother to let her hair down and have some fun. He had a love for life, a faith in God and a laugh that was contagious. You could not hear Del laugh without joining in. His kind, inspiring manner brought the best out of everyone who sat next to him. Yes, he had a full life and his celebration service confirmed that through the stories shared. He will always be with us. We just have to close our eyes and hear his laugh. As his friend said at the funeral, if you do this, you will open your eyes smiling. He was 88 years young.

Our other loss does not carry with it such a happy tone. My girlfriend lost her husband, her companion of 37 years. It was an intense battle with cancer that not only took him but abruptly ended the ongoing retirement plans they made together. They had moved to BC from Calgary years back and so our monthly breakfasts to compare notes on raising two teenagers each were shortened to letters, email, and the annual visit when she would come out. In no way does that reduce the importance of our friendship, in fact it alters it as time together was not something we could take for granted. I so enjoyed her smile, her soft voice telling me about her latest adventure with her beloved. The plans for their next trip, the travels to see their children and hang out with the dogs. Her life centered around this man, her partner in all senses of the definition. Grief has arrived at her door and brings with it the comfort of shock and denial that this is happening. My heart aches for her. There is nothing to be said.

We have reached the stage of life where we can expect more funerals than weddings of our friends. To know this, doesn’t make it easier to say goodbye. But what I was reminded of these past months, is that there are four friends who I spoke to suggesting that we ‘get together soon’ and failed to do so. I’m not beating myself up about this. Life is busy for all of us. Foolishly, we always think there will be more time. This year, the message seems to repeat itself. We don’t know when the time will run out. Do not put off to tomorrow, what matters today.

When loss, of any size, is experienced, the body goes through physical, emotional, and mental stress to which we need time to slow down, grieve, and heal. I am not sure how we do this when the hits keep coming. Maybe it is a good practice in accepting that death is a part of life and if we fully feel this way, perhaps then the loss could be condensed to, we are truly sad but not devastated. If death is a part of life, then we continue to be with our loved ones, in a different but still meaningful fashion. I think this is a lesson our clan is presented with to which we continue to learn.

The Proof, Written In the Cards

February 18, 2024 / Mama Fish

The hectic, never-ending list to do caught up to me this week and I landed in bed with a cold. I’m not sure if it was that my daughter had it first and I looked after her or that it seems EVERY time my husband goes on a holiday, I get sick. Whatever the reason, I took it as a Universal sign to unplug. Well, not so much a sign, I had no choice. Remaining vertical caused my sinuses to explode so I stayed on my back and went through a box of cards my friends had left behind when they died.

“The sweeties” were the classic love story with a twist. I wrote about them before, and their chosen way to leave earth. It will be a year next month since they departed. The box of cards and pictures was one of the last things I had promised to take care of for them. How to disperse of their treasured memories in a way that honors them. It has been no easy task. They had bins of photo albums of trips and family events and childhood gatherings. We kept a lot. I gave some pictures of their golf buddies to the course they loved and belonged to for years. We mailed some to friends and a bunch to her sister. It was the large box of greeting cards that surprised me how hard they would be to dispose of. I read each one. Birthday cards from friends, get well cards and thinking of you cards but most of the cards were from each other. Every Valentine Day, Anniversary and Christmas card was kept. And each one had the same message. Eternal love.

This couple, with all the trials of combined families and complicated health scares, truly loved each other. Forever. I mean they died together. Reading the cards reminded me of that love. The partnership they held tighter than anything else in their lives. They were soul mates. His signature on every card was “Love your DA” with a heart and kisses drawn. In the early years, the signature and the drawing were clear and as time went on, the signature was messier and the heart not so clear. Still, one can see, his heart was always for her. Her signature, on every card was “Love always, your sweetie.” There was no mistake, they belonged to each other.

I have had mixed feelings about how they left, when they left; the time leading up to their departure was not as ideal as any of us would have liked. This made grief come with mixed emotions, like anger and worry if we did enough or could have done things differently. Alas, there is no options for a repeat, so we continue to grieve while we attempt to answer these questions. The truth is that it was as it was to be. The cards proved that.

In the end, I have two great friends that faced life together, always together, always ‘yours’ and they left here the same way. ‘FOREVER YOURS’. How can I be anything but happy for them? And I am. When I look past the anguish of not having my ‘sweeties’ here to share a glass of wine with me, or to hear their laugh, or hear her tell me, “Love you, love you, love you” …. I just need to remember that I witnessed, a one-of-a-kind love between them. Like all loves, it did not come without its’ bumps and bruises, but the cards reminded me, at the end of the day, they always chose each other.

“How To Fix a Broken Heart” ~Guy Winch

February 11, 2024 / Mama Fish

In honor of upcoming Valentine’s Day, which is also ‘give-a-book-day’, I wanted to share my thoughts on the latest book I read. “How to Fix a Broken Heart” by Guy Winch is a book for those who have suffered from heartbreak. The compassionate psychologist shares the wisdom he has obtained through his practice of the many patients who have come to him to help heal their broken heart and move on.

I found myself nodding in agreement to Guy’s insight of how a physical break (like a broken arm) brings with it sympathy from others and leniency whereas a broken heart does not. The pain of a broken heart is not seen except through tears and sadness to which society endures such feelings for but a short time before we are expected to move on. But heartbreak does affect us physically.

In chapter two, Guy brings to light that our body and mind are broken when the heart has been crushed. In fact, a case study of volunteers undergoing MRIs to scan and record brain activity shows that heartbreak, in the brain, has the same results as unbearable physical pain. He continues, warning us of the actions we partake with heartbreak including fixating on pictures and social media posts, outbursts of anger and irrational actions deter us from healing.

Guy’s remedy for healing includes our culture to better understand, accept and care for those grieving. All true. What I found challenging with his suggestions is that there will some day be a morning where, if all things practiced, I do wake up and am able to move on, leaving the heartbreak behind. This goes against everything else I have been learning, related to finding ways to move forward, not on, with heartbreak. And maybe that simple little word on is where I am stuck.

When living with eternal grief, the idea of one day moving on from it complicates our healing by alluding that we should and if we don’t, can’t or won’t, there is something wrong. It brings guilt. We are expected to move on and here is a man who is agreeing with our pain and the lack of notice society gives it but then is telling us, here are the steps to do just that. Move on. I have chosen never to move on, so the advice becomes mute. To move on would in some way mean that I am leaving Zane behind. Not happening. So, I finish reading this book with a slight bit of apathy. This book does pertain to heartbreak. Just not the type of heartbreak that losing a child carries with it.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the advice and I did realize, looking through the book a second time, that Guy did not suggest the loss of a child is the same as the loss of a pet or a romantic break up. Although we have learned that loss is loss, so that confuses me too. The loss of Zane I will never get over. And frankly, I don’t want to. The loss of Tango is fresh, and I feel I will never get over him. Guy suggests, just by the title of his book, I can. So, at the end of the day, I guess what I have decided is that the caring psychologist has captured heartbreak and its effect on those living with it quite well. And has some wonderful ways to help keep grief in check. And his advice is brilliant if one is suffering a bad romantic break up. It is worth reading. Having said that, I look forward to any possible sequel that supports living an eternity with a broken heart. We move forward with grief; we don’t move on.

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.

Old Blue Eyes

January 21, 2024 / Mama Fish

There was a holiday season, a long time ago, where we visited two friends often. Then health, travel and kids took priority and we saw each other less. Every time we got together it was like picking up where we left off. That is the way of good friends. Time means nothing. Until it does.

The last time I saw our friend, we were walking Tango. He pulled up beside us and we chatted about life, the age of our dog, the battles we all were going through with our health. He was concerned about my cancer; how my recovery was going. He didn’t want to talk about his own battle with cancer. His health “was pickled with the scotch I drink” he’d laugh. His blue eyes twinkled. They were always filled with a light, a love for those around him. It earned him the nickname, ‘old blue eyes.’ “We must get together soon,” I said as Tango pulled on his leash to let me know it was time to keep going. “Yes, we will”, he waved goodbye.

The news of his death came as a shock. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Another friend I somehow felt would be around forever. Or at the very least until we had that next drink we were planning.

His physical absence will be missed by a very large community. His soft demeanour, sense of humor and love for family and friends attracted a big group of admirers that relished in his company. We were lucky to be a part of that. He is the man that sent a card to us, each birthday, death anniversary and holiday of Zane’s, letting us know he will never forget him and how lucky we are to be loved by our son. I treasured his kind gesture, honoring our son in such a tender, personal way. That was so typical of the kindness he showed. He was always just a call away and if the porch light was on, the door was open to come in and enjoy a drink.

His passing hit us all hard. Even my daughter burst into tears. That’s how special he is. That’s how deep the impact of his friendship is. We are taught that grief is the price we pay for love. And as we sit quietly together, grief joins us. And yet, somehow, the love our friend had of this life spills over us, washing us with a sense, a reminder, that the game is not over, only the course has changed.

“In golf and life, it is the follow through that makes the difference.” My sweet friend, you were a sure hit, making a difference as your soul gathered many to enjoy the beauty of this life. May we continue to see you at tee time!