Tag: #goodmourninggrief (Page 4 of 17)

Dancing In the Dark

August 3, 2025 / Mama Fish

I was invited to attend a musical to which my nephew was working at. This was his first professional gig aligned with the secondary education he has achieved. We are all so pleased for him. When the invite came, I was excited to be there, watching him in his element. What I wasn’t sharing with anyone was the anxiety I had over the idea of sitting in a room full of people listening to music for two hours. Music is my biggest grief trigger.

Zane loved music. As a kid, he played the piano and the guitar. He had thousands of songs on his playlist. He went to every concert. His ear pods were an everyday necessity. Music was his therapy. At his celebration of life, his video eulogy played to his favorite tunes. His friends danced to Back Street Boys in our back yard. Music and my son are one. I cry, even now, every time a song that he would enjoy begins to play.

The theme of the night was music from the 1980’s. It was my hope that this genre would not strangle me with memories. I had a plan of how I would leave if it did. I put on the ‘big girl panties’ and set out to enjoy the night and celebrate my nephew. He deserved this. I wanted to be witness to it.

The show began. The actors were brilliant. We were encouraged to sing along, clap and shout. We obliged as the songs from the era I enjoyed filled the room. At one point, I looked over to see my nephew owning his role and my heart filled with a sense of joy. I reached over to the empty chair that was next to me and tapped it, whispering to myself, “see your son Dan? How proud are you?” Suddenly Bruce Springsteen was singing Dancing in the Dark and coming my way!

He reached out his hand and pulled me onto the floor and we danced to the verse, “you can’t start a fire sitting ‘round crying over a broken heart…” and when I was back in my seat and he was singing his way to the next guest, I knew Zane was also there. He wouldn’t miss a concert. Even in spirit.

That thought brought me strength. I laughed silently at the idea that my son found a way to reach out to me to remind me there was a time I too enjoyed music. That I am going to hurt no matter what. Would I rather shy away from the things that once brought me happiness because they now bring me sadness. Or am I brave enough to start a fire to spark change. Changes that may transform my sadness into moments of enjoyment. As did that evening. Bliss can be present, even if we are dancing in the dark.

Keep Moving by Maggie Smith

July 27, 2025 / Mama Fish

My husband gifted me with a book he thought I might enjoy related to loss, creativity and change. The author, Maggie Smith, is a poet and her book was a different style from the other books on my shelf. I snuggled into what I thought would be an easy read.

Her loss was a marriage of almost nineteen years. To cope with her pain, she began each day writing a note to herself to answer the question, “What now?” And her answer inspired the last sentence of each thought, “Keep moving.” I wasn’t sure I would be able to relate to her suggestions. How could her grief compare to the loss of a child? Her first post was about the ending of one thing is the beginning of another, to not stay in the past…I realized this might not be such an easy read after all.

She has three sections to this book. Revision, resilience, transformation. Each chapter begins with her sharing an experience of hers, so you begin to get to know her story deeper. It is then followed by several poetic posts each ending with Keep Moving. Each post carries with it a reason or idea to ponder how one might better manage grief.

Some posts I debated. One of her first posts read, “Stop calling your heart broken; your heart works just fine. If you are feeling-love, anger, gratitude, grief-it is because your heart is doing its work. Let it. Keep Moving.” I believe that my heart is broken and such, I am learning to live with that. I am also in awe of how it does its work with such pain.

Some posts affirmed what every griever experiences, the resistance of transformation. She writes, “It is not your job to make other people comfortable with who you are. Be wary of those who don’t want you to change or grow. Grow anyway-there is no alternative. Keep Moving.” Sound advice for anyone having to move forward by choice or by fate.

Other posts were profound. “Sit with your doubt, your questions, your fear of the unknown, and do your best to be comfortable with them. Remember that you have no choice; knowing everything isn’t an option. Don’t compound your anxiety by being ashamed of it. Keep Moving.”

Her address to how we feel weary, she refers to as soul hangovers to which she encourages the reader, “…Even as you carry darkness inside you, shine. Defy the darkness by shining. Keep Moving.”

And I think that is my favorite takeaway from this book, her mantra Keep Moving. With grief, often we feel as if we move forward only to fall back, again. But we get up and we keep going, we keep moving in the direction of hope. We keep moving with the memories of our loved ones. We keep moving to honor, to celebrate their love. We keep moving towards the possibility of peace, of connection. We keep moving because we must.

The Heart Continues

July 20, 2025 / Mama Fish

I have had high blood pressure most of my life and it has always been easy to manage with diet and natural supplements. However, since May, I have struggled, and I am now in the care of cardiologists with my weeks spent in medical offices or at home preparing for more ugly tests.

After several exams, and the wearing of a heart monitor for a 24-hour period, the tests are inconclusive. What was found is that there is a spike in heart activity in the moments where my heart should be resting which seem abnormal. Especially around three in the morning. More tests have been scheduled.

Since 2018 I have woken early each morning around three. The time Zane was killed. Sometimes I fall back to sleep but often I lay awake. I have gotten used to this routine, never thinking how hard on my heart it might be. It has become an odd routine from the day-time reality. I have accepted that I will wake, I will remember, I will feel a pain in my chest. So, when I do, I whisper into the night, “hello, who is here to chat with me” Someone is always there. It is my red thread to the other realm.

The red thread or red string of fate is seen as both a physical and spiritual entity, the nature of human relationships that are tangible and deeply rooted in the metaphysical. Original folklore stated the red string was about meeting the person you were to marry. Over time, it has morphed into something deeper, related to all connections of the heart. Simply, the red string ties you to those you share destiny with. It goes beyond time and space. It is meant to be a reminder to reflect on relationships with mindfulness and gratitude.

Our heart hurts when we experience grief. It is bound to shake up the electrical wiring of our being. We are told that grief brings with it complicated emotional and physical symptoms. Why then would it be so unusual for my heart to become abnormal, living with such loss.

Grief warriors are taught that pain inside the heart can be a loved one reaching out to you. A physical tug to say, “I’m still here”. I like to believe that Zane pulls on that string. Letting me know that I have not lost him. He is still with me, connected by the abstract idea that the red string cannot be broken.

As my doctors continue attempting to pinpoint a cause for my heart’s tribulations, I wonder if they could diagnose the effects of long-term grief. Of grief so heavy that the heart screams with each beat, “I miss you”. A heart that continues, although shattered by so much sadness. Maybe the question should be, how long does the heart go on before it starts to show the wear and tear of its brokenness. Apparently, for me, it is coming up seven years.

Loss Through Divorce and Death

July 13, 2025 / Mama Fish

It is hard to sit next to a loved one and watch them continue to make decisions that will extend or accentuate their state of sadness. One of our own has been trying for over a year to ‘save’ their relationship. Although, to all of us it seems very one-sided, I find patience in the fact that to the truth, there are always three sides. Then, recently I overheard a conversation of someone we don’t know, which made me think about the correlation between death and divorce and the role of loss.

A couple was arguing of his whereabouts. I heard him defend himself, explaining in detail where he had been and what had happened. It seemed simple. His lack of patience and tone increased as her refusal to accept his explanation continued. Screaming ensued and she left. I don’t know the full story, I do know neither were happy.

Relationships should end when there is abuse or reconciliation is impossible. It’s when do you say enough and go your separate ways. That is the tricky part. Relationships are hard. There should be a gallant effort to save the love that once was, that might still be there. But when, at the end of the day, there is a divorce, that is where loss steps in. And grief soon to follow.

Some of the books I have read, the author shares their story of loss through divorce. It contains all the aspects of grief; the emotions, the struggle to accept this change, the emptiness of reality, the search for identity of who they are now. If the heavy pain of loss becomes too much in this scenario, there is an urgency to get the relationship back. Regardless of the notion that together might not be better, for one or both.

With death, they are not coming back in physical form. The only option here is we must learn to live with grief. As I pondered this detail, the obvious difference between the two types of losses, I realized how important the mantra, “loss is loss” truly is. There is a different strength required to let go of something that has died but that still lives elsewhere. I believe that it has its own unique bag of questions, challenges and heartaches.

I’m not comparing the two. Not in the least. I am only suggesting that it is important to recognize the loss, more so than how it came to be. My loved one, as they struggle with an unwanted breakup, is focused on how to fix this, hoping for reconciliation. The use of energy is spent working out the odds of maybe. It is an option, rather than selecting loss. When sitting still, my loved one can admit this. Their brain comprehends ending this relationship is for the best. It is the heart that is unaccepting.

True loss is something is gone, regardless of why. With death, loss is very clear. Grief arrives with it. With divorce, loss is misconstrued, accompanied with necessary decisions that make it messy. It is only when loss stands alone with no other options that grief arrives in its entirety.

What is needed, with any loss, is to focus on the exquisiteness of the love that was once and shape this into something beautiful to carry in the heart, honoring the memories and the impact of the time shared. That may not be simple. But it is all that we can do. That we should do. Because loss, no matter how it arrives, stays with us forever.

When Purpose Must Change

July 6, 2025 / Mama Fish

The art of finding your way, your purpose, who you want to be when you grow up is often lost in the day-to-day busyness of life. Major events are the catalyst of bringing us back to the attention of what am I doing here. Most often it is a milestone birthday, an achieved goal like graduation, a proposal or retirement. And for mothers, often, it is the birth of their child.

I was visiting a friend of my nephew’s, who has recently had a baby. She was telling me that she had an epiphany in the hospital as her partner wheeled her to NICU to see their son. She told me, “I am thinking that I am a mom now. I can’t just be. I have to save the world or something. For him.” I smiled, her sweet baby nestled in my arms, his big eyes looking straight into my soul. “Yes, motherhood does that to you”, I said. She went on to tell me about how she has gone back to school and her plans for a business degree. I am so proud of her.

Motherhood is a purpose. It is the driving energy behind a lot of movements. The maternal, mother bear instinct to protect and to nurture. To be better, make better, live better. And when you lose a child, that huge purpose in your life feels like it too died. Who am I now?

It is perhaps the reason why, with grief, there is a shift in our attitudes. At first, we are strangers with ourselves, not wanting any difference from before. Slowly, we begin to realize that the choice is not to stay the same. It is not possible, it can’t be. This acceptance gives us the freedom to seek out what our new purpose may be. It gives us permission to take our time to ponder who am I with this life on earth and my child in spirit. What now is my purpose.

Death is the mother of major events that stop us in our tracks to review who we are. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross once said, “…you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to”. Death insists on us finding a new or altered purpose from the one we had before. It’s another piece of grief work to do which takes energy and time. It is an exploration of what it is now to be, with you as the sole explorer of this new journey. Who do you want on your path, who will walk and sit beside you. Who will you become. It is scary, but it can also be liberating.

I believe that purpose is born out of love for something or someone. Such that, when grief enters, it shakes up the purpose, it makes you redesign your purpose, but it doesn’t take it away. Our purpose is shifted. It might be shifted to bring justice for our loved one’s death, or an awareness to others. It might be shifted to others needing you. It might be shifted to a past calling or a reconnection to the person or life you had once imagined. Purpose, like love, does not die. It just changes energy.

The Souls of Rotary

June 29, 2025 / Mama Fish

Our city welcomed Rotarians from around the globe to visit and celebrate community service through the annual International Conference. My husband’s Rotary Chapter hosted a BBQ for fifty delegates to which we were invited to. A beautiful moment with old friends meeting new friends and sharing stories of personal experiences had through the involvement of Rotary. It was enjoyable, to which many emotions were felt as I caught up with people who I have not seen for years and some whom I will never see again. Surreal might be a good word to describe the night.

There were the new introductions which included how I was connected to Rotary and what did I do and how many children did I have. For the most part, easily answered. As I was chatting with one of the wives of Jon’s Rotary group, another joined us. We exchanged pleasantries and then she asked me, “what are your two kids up to?” She had remembered, we had the same number of children but had forgotten what we have gone through. I smiled and told her about Payton getting married and her upcoming trip this summer and then moved the conversation back to her by asking about her son’s recent travels. When she left, the woman I was previously chatting to, noticed my tattoo as I reached for my drink and asked, “was this for Zane?” Yes. “Do you have other tattoos?”, she asked. Yes. “May I see them?” As I pointed out each tattoo I have in memory of my son, she nodded. Her sincerity was genuine. It was wonderful how she remembered. And I realized why she did that. She was ensuring me that Zane was not forgotten, as was seemingly the case from the previous conversation with the other woman.

I was not angry with the other woman; I knew that it was an oversight on her part. We are not close, and we see each other seldom. She is a wonderful caring being who came over to say hello. The beauty in the innocence of her question was that she will always remember me as the mother of two children.

Another mother who has lost a child in this small Rotary family, came over to give me a hug. Our hugs are different. They are more of a “I see you are still standing” hug with never the question, “how are you”. I remembered this was the time of year she had lost her daughter. We had attended the funeral, with no ability, at the time, to comprehend the horror of what she was going through. She told me of how they celebrated her this year. I reached out to hold her hand. She squeezed back and said, “it’s been sixteen years, and it still feels like yesterday”.

The night carried on, catching up with others of their own challenges with health, family, retirement and as I listened, I thought of how it has been over thirty years that I have associated with this group. When Jon joined, we were all so young, starting families, buying a new home, eager to help change the world. And now, we stand, together, much older, each carrying the scars of experience that life has bestowed upon us.

The fellowship of this group is steadfast. We have celebrated happy times and stood behind each other during hard times. It is the Rotary way, “service above self.” It is how we live, how we raised our children. A surge of gratitude filled my heart that night, to be a part of a collective whose soul purpose is to shine their light such that others may see the way.

“Just a Dream Away” by Claudia Carlton Lambright”

June 22, 2025 / Mama Fish

I found a note I wrote to myself from August of 2021 which read, “my dream last night, Zane approached me and told me to buy the book Just a Dream Away.” I have no recollection of why I didn’t buy it right away and I don’t have an explanation of why I rediscovered the note. I can only imagine, the Universe decided to nudge me. Better late than never, I bought the book and read it.

Claudia, the author, writes about the after-death communication she has with her father and her spouse. It is written in short, easy-to-read chapters, beginning with the loss of her beloved father who began showing up in her dreams about a month after he passed. Claudia, who has been invested in dreamwork since she was a child, explains to the reader of the two altered states of consciousness when we fall asleep and wake up. She also talks about the concept of lucid dreaming whereby one can learn to hold conversations with those they dream about within the dream. The idea of communicating with those of the other realm is fascinating.

She writes, “Death is an ending only for the survivors. For the dying person, it is just a change in frequency.” If we believe that we are made of energy, and science tells us that energy can never vanish, it only changes form, then we can believe that as energy, our loved ones are still around. In our sleep, our subconscious energy can reach those who have passed and connect with their energy through our dreams. It is a very hopeful theory that she shares her experiences of its truth.

Six years after her father had passed, her husband Rusty passed of metastatic lung cancer. The dragonfly, their favorite song, were signs that Claudia knew were Rusty letting her know he was still with her. Shortly after his passing, the dream communications began. She shares her many dreams with the readers and her interpretations of what they meant. She talks about how, with practice, we can become aware when we are dreaming and engage in questions and conversations to remember when we wake. This is the power and beauty of lucid dreaming.

We all dream, the challenge is remembering them. Claudia suggests falling asleep with intention. “Tonight, I will realize I’m dreaming”. Write your dreams down as soon as you wake, while the memory is fresh. Speaking the mantra “raom gaom”, pronounced “rah…ohm..gah..ohm”, can help recapture lost parts of a dream. And practice. Practice. Practice.

My husband speaks of how I live two full lives. One here, with family and friends, and one, when I retire to bed, to connect with my son and other loved ones. I am grateful to travel to other realms. I practice it often and although I do not receive a visit every night, I often do. Claudia’s book was validation that lucid dreaming can link us, confirming that those we love are never truly gone.

The Yin and Yang of Grief

June 15, 2025 / Mama Fish

Men are different. They are built to be problem solvers, strong and non-emotional. And yes, ‘modern men’, are more in touch with their feelings and many do not shy away from tears. Yet, there is a difference in the make up of grief between men and women. It has been a recent discussion amongst my female grief warriors; how their husbands handle, or don’t handle grief.

Grief being a very personal and often lonely journey, can also be blinding. We get immersed in our own pain and instinct takes front seat. Researchers have confirmed this and have identified it as two different types of grieving, masculine and feminine.

Masculine grievers keep to themselves, they appear in control, getting on with life, believing they need to fix their grief. Feminine grievers want to tell their story, feel their way through the pain with support and connection. Feminine grievers often have a deeper feeling of guilt when life pushes them to move on. It is important to note that these patterns are on a spectrum to which individuals can exhibit both styles.

I didn’t handle my grief when it first arrived. I focused on my family, their needs and how I could help. I ignored mine. I watched my husband pack his car to visit friends and family, following his energy with social and solitude. I watched my daughter try to cope with a combination of remembrance and finding new relationships. My family needed to gather for the holidays, and I arranged the details. Looking back, I was a mix of masculine and feminine. More masculine in the early days; I wanted to fix the pain my family was feeling. I wanted to control the tiny, shattered pieces left of our life. But in no way, did I want to get on with life. What was life without Zane?

My true grief, the grief I have come to know and am trying to honor, is feminine. I want to share my story, to connect with others walking this path for support and to support. I still do not want to move on. That is the part of my grief that I believe will always be within me and why I struggle with giving up anything that is related in any way to my life before Zane was killed. That complicated concept of feminine grief makes so much sense now.

It is the reason why my mother friends can’t change the bedroom their child lived in or discard the boxes of personal items from their apartment. It is the reason why my mother friends showcase a tattoo symbolic of their precious child. It is why they wear their child’s ashes in a charm or bead. The feminine side of grief shouting out for remembrance.

Within the conversations of my friends who have lost a child, there are common denominators. One of them is that they worry their husbands are not ok because they appear to be discounting their grief. The truth is that they are grieving, just differently. Understanding that there are generalities around gender and grieving sheds light to why we sometimes are not on the same page.

The important factor is to recognize that the grief journey is a solitude one to which we may not understand the path the other chooses. When we respect the yin and yang of grief, which is felt within each of us, we can then respond with love in the knowledge that the essence of all life is trying to find our own balance.

Under the Lilac Trees

June 8, 2025 / Mama Fish

Zane was two when I took him to the Lilac Festival for the first time. It was a free event with vendors and music and bubbles filling the streets of downtown. It was magical. We both loved the energy of so many people gathering to celebrate the upcoming spring and enjoy the scents of the lilac trees outlining the walkway. After that, he was hooked and attended every year.

This year, I wanted to be there. At my work, we are creating a social media project in honor of Zane. What better day to kick it off then at Lilac Festival, the symbolic event of shaking of the (winter) blues and reconnecting with nature and people. This day captures Zane’s persona beautifully.

There were over 100,000 people this year. Including Zane. The bubbles floating around us. The man who stood in front of us wearing a t-shirt with the quote ‘the dude abides’ were all signs that my son continues to attend this springtime favorite. The festival was as wonderful as I had remembered. We stopped for lunch at a favorite watering hole and nestled into the booth. Jose had invited a friend to join us. When she arrived, she slid in between Jon and Roydon and Jose began introductions. Pointing to each of us as he spoke, he said, “this is mom and dad, this is my brother-in-law and this is my sister”. My heart lit up. I have called Jose my other kid for years. He calls me his Mama J. But hearing it out loud to someone who doesn’t know us or our story, was different.

I speak of how blessed our family is that Zane has such great friends who continue to include us in their lives, in his honor. My daughter spoke at his celebration of how she grew up with many of his friends, who were like brothers to her. On that day, they promised her to be there as Zane would have been, and they have kept that promise. The bonus is Jon, and I were also adopted by them. I am the mother of five other boys.

We left the kids that afternoon in the company of their friends to continue soaking up Lilac Festival. My heart was full, a rare day where sweet seemed to reign over bitter. The essence of the Lilac Festival showering over us, the bonds of la familia celebrating a sunny Sunday. A moment each year that Zane discovered early in his life, and whose love of the energy this event brings, he has shared with all of us. Lilac Festival is a tradition of warm, simple connections. An annual gathering our entire family enjoys. I must remember to attend each year, as my kids do. It is good mourning.

Regrets That Masquerade

June 1, 2025 / Mama Fish

My wish, when I turned thirty, was to have fewer regrets in my next thirty than I did in my first thirty years. I felt I failed. When I look back on my first thirty years, the regrets I had are so small compared to the regrets in adulthood, specifically motherhood. In my first thirty years I was young, learning, supposed to make mistakes. After thirty, you are expected to be grown up and raising the next generation so one better be complicated free. Yes, I realize this is unrealistic; idealistic expectations are the doorway to regret. I read the posts about how your first born ‘grew up’ with you as you learned to parent. Your second one shares with you a sense of freedom or adventure you wish for. Both are true for me.

Regrets can be powerful teachers in the lessons of life. In grief, they can also become a trap that snares any chance of healing. Exploring what is a regret, my list includes things that have happened that I had control of and some I had no control of. So, are they all regrets? I regret not putting a tire swing on the tree for the kids. Why? They had lots; the lack of a tree swing did not alter their development. Get over it. I regret moving to a new community albeit we returned. So, mistake fixed. I regret telling Zane to go and enjoy that night he was killed. I think the things that I say I regret are the things I will never know if they were the decisions that forged the path to where I now travel on.

Pondering my feelings, meditating with my angels, as I often do, I came across a quote. “Regret is the only wound the soul does not recover from.” Could this be why I feel stuck? It encouraged me to think about if what I am feeling is regret (I was in control) or disappointment (out of my control). Then I read the author of this quote was Sarah Ban Breathnack. She wrote Simple Abundance, a book I read over and over, and that Zane knows is my all time favorite. And I knew that her quote came to me, through Zane. Perhaps it is not regret that I am feeling, perhaps the emotion is disappointment.

Regrets are all the things said or unsaid, done or undone that we no longer have a chance to fix. Or at least we feel we have no chance. And sometimes we don’t. And I think that is where disappointment lies. Part of grieving is that your heart explores every corner, every aspect of what might have been done differently to not have ended up here. The truth settles into your soul disguised as regret, but really it is disappointment of what we wished was to be is not ever to be.

In the end, the answer is always one could have done more. Death takes that away. The quote sent to me is a reminder that if I wish my soul to heal, I must understand that I have no real regrets. I used the daily strength given to me to do my best. With that, whatever came to be, it cannot become a regret chained to me to cause more angst. The regrets I thought I carried are just disappointments that I did not have more time, more experiences with those I love.