Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #grief (Page 9 of 9)

Filling the Empty Chair

December 20, 2020 /

The holidays are here. It is a time of year when all messages are about  hearts coming home, being together, cheer and joy that becomes, to those grieving, a LOUD reminder that there sits ‘an empty chair’.   The pain is compounded when your loved one was born or passed this time of year.

This morning, friends from our grief community dropped by to bring us a piece of cake, napkins, chocolates, a sour candy cane and pictures of their sweet son.  Tomorrow he should be turning 27. I know they have planned this for the last while.  A distraction from the empty chair, they chose to create a celebration that had components of what would be happening if he was still living here on earth.

Celebrating what should be but cannot be isn’t easy.  It takes a lot of energy to which we have little or none. And how do we celebrate one that can no longer be physically here to enjoy it?  We do, by reminding ourselves that our children are still with us.  However you wish to define it; in spirit or energy or in your heart, our children are still with us. And keeping special occasions, including their favorites in your gatherings, is important.  I believe our children want us to celebrate them.  I believe it is a way to honor their life.  I believe it is a way to create space to remember them and the unique place they have in our lives.

I know, in the moments of planning a birthday sharing for their son, it brought my friends some comfort.  It created an opportunity for them to share stories about their son.  I now know sour candy is his favorite. I know blue is his favorite color. By creating a birthday remembrance for their son, and then sharing it with us, he is recognized and celebrated.   And that is good mourning.

Forever, I will speak your name

December 14, 2020 /

Yesterday was National Candle Lighting Day.  My on-line support groups blew up with pictures of loved ones no longer on earth.  I am always shocked at the number of children who have finished their journey here, too early and whose moving to another realm has left so many here, lost.

Our own support group gathered in a park.  Bundled to face the cold, cold weather, we huddled and shared how we were feeling with the upcoming holidays.  Covid was a big topic; how it has brought in the walls and the isolation heightens the loneliness of grief.  The ‘empty chair’ at Christmas was an acknowledgement; how this time is so different now. There were tears.  There was a nodding of agreement to the feelings shared.  We wish we didn’t know the people holding their candle and speaking their child’s name.  Oh how we wish we didn’t belong here.

But we do.  And as I looked around and listened to my fellow grief warriors, sharing with raw honesty, I also felt strength and love. This group gets me. This group walks the path I walk. Suddenly, I could feel the presence of our children.  Through speaking their names and sharing some of the reasons why their child loved this season, the chill of the evening seemed to melt away.

The hour together reminded me I am not alone.  And the hugs we shared reminded me I am loved. It also reminded me of the importance of human contact.  We must find ways to keep in touch.  It is essential for our mental health.

We reminded ourselves too, that we need to speak our loved one’s name.  Forever. We must honor them.  Forever.  And we did that by showing up and speaking about them and lighting a candle to send a message to the heaven’s, to our children.  You are loved.  Forever.  You are remembered.  Forever.

Zane, you will always be the light of my life. Forever.

Examining the ‘What Ifs’

December 6, 2020 /

This past week a neighbor lost her 36 year old daughter to a diabetic complication.  As we all do,  she is experiencing anger.  We want to blame something or someone for this terrible injustice.  She believes that if our current times were different, she would have been visiting her daughter more and would have been able to support her better, avoiding this outcome.  It is the beginning of her ‘what ifs’.

My ‘what ifs’ with Zane are long and complicated. What if I had listened to his fears more?  What if I had insisted he not go out? What if he had stayed there a little longer? What if I had sent him to school away from here? What if….and each time a ‘what if’ comes up, it brings with it a gut wrenching agony. 

 ‘What ifs’ are about examining what control we might have had and why we didn’t exercise it then that we might not be here now.  ‘What ifs’ are all about how things might have turned out differently.  The problem with ‘what ifs’ is that they can’t be answered. We don’t know.  We will never know. So the possible outcomes of the ‘what ifs’ only create regrets or exaggerate a regret we already had.  And regrets complicate grief.

So how do we stop the ‘what if’ scenarios that play over and over again?  I believe you can’t and I also believe that sometimes facing the pain of the ‘what ifs’ can bring a little healing.

Some ‘what ifs’ we face are about things we couldn’t control in the first place.  What if I had insisted he not go out?  He was 26; he would have called me cute and told me he was going. By facing this ‘what if’ and understanding this was never in my control, I can let it go.  I am so sad that he chose to go out that night, but why shouldn’t he have?  He was enjoying a beautiful night with a beautiful friend. If they hadn’t been killed, I would have wanted this night to happen for him.  There would have been no ‘what if’.

What if I had sent him to school?  I don’t know his life plan.  This ‘what if’ understanding is powerful.  Only God knows the plan and thus many of our ‘what ifs’ are known by God, the Universe, whatever your higher power belief is. So a bigger picture is in place; one that we don’t see or understand in our grief.  But that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

I try not to soak in the ‘what ifs’ because there are no answers. If I do go there, I ask myself, do I know for certain that ‘what if’ would have kept him alive?  No.  My ego may think it can, but the truth is, I will never know. So I shift my thinking to what I do know. I think of all the things I did do, we did have and my mind begins to move on to more pleasant memories of our life together.

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.

Can Gratitude be Found in Grief?

October 11, 2020 /

A Thanksgiving tradition around our table was to state what you were most grateful for that year.  Zane would always include mashed potatoes and dressing in his list. Any other side dishes were unnecessary.

It can be hard to feel grateful, especially during the holidays.  The deep, sincere feeling of true gratitude is tainted with the ache of not having your loved one physically sitting at the table. “Count your blessings” is harder to do when one of your biggest blessings is not here to mash the potatoes.

I am told that actively seeking things to be grateful for helps your grief. When we are grieving it is difficult to see past the pain; but if we can try, there are small and big things that we can be grateful for.

As a mom I know that the once happy traditions still need to go on.  It is very important that we keep up the celebrations of yesterday.  Yet a big piece is missing.  So each year I play with tradition just a bit; I try something new, tweak how things were done to ensure I am honoring both my family here and my family of the other realm.  

Of course I am grateful for my daughter, our family and our friends who have sustained us during our grief.  I am grateful for the professional care and the fellow parents I have met through group counselling.   And I remind myself, as I set the table, that each place setting there will sit an individual that I love and that shares this life with me.  There is comfort in that.  The fact that I have conjured up the strength to be with others, I am grateful for that.

  I believe that we grief warriors can find gratitude.  It is different than the gratitude I felt before Zane was killed.  It is softer.  It carries an awareness of how fragile special moments are.  It can remind us of the many things our loved one brought into our lives that we will always be grateful for.  Seeking gratitude is important; it gives our heart hope to carry on.

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