Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #pictures

Pictures of Loss

May 23, 2021 /

Grief comes back to haunt you when you move. As we come to the final round of preparing to leave the home we raised our children in, I am in awe of the endless amount of sentimental clutter that I have no room for. I have my grandmothers, my mothers and my own china. I have blankets and linen from aunts, grandparents and great grandparents. I have furniture that my grandfather made, my grandmother cared for, my father made and my mother loved. I realize I have been blessed to be the caregiver of their valued items for so many years. And then there are all of Zane’s things.

Each item holds not one but many cherished stories of its history and its purpose. Each item has been with me for over 30 years…some since I was a child. Giving up the material things we love brings grief with it. I am saddened that I no longer have the capacity to keep these things and somehow, because of this, I feel like I am failing those I love who have moved on and left me with their personal possessions.  This is about my son, about my parents, about all those I have lost whose material items stay with me.

This is a new grief I had not experienced before. This grief is a slap-in-the-face sort of feeling that there is a concrete end. In my new place, these things will never be. Only the memory of them will be. And that brings me back to the centre of my grief around losing not just the items, but the person attached to these items.

The imprinted energy will be gone. The physical touch will be gone. The visual sight…wait, can I keep the visual sight?  And then it hit me. I wrote about this (Grief Hits home); it was a suggestion to take pictures of each thing I must ‘leave behind’.  What if I have a collection of photos (at the end of the day) of all the cherished items that when I am missing them, I can look at the picture and see their glory? So, I have been doing that.  I have taken a picture of each item that I will not be taking with me.

Yes, I am strategically taking what I know I can’t leave behind without regret. And then there are some that I am leaving behind that I hope I won’t regret. (But I will have their picture). And then, there is still some, and probably too many, but these things I will bring with me. And in my new place, in some future time, I will have the ability to release them to their new life.  Just not now.

The items that I have said good-by to, I have found comfort when I find them a new loving home.  My Aunt’s beloved dresser is getting a face lift (thank you Karen) and will find a new home. The island sold to the single father who said he was going to use it to do his rice wraps on for his children brought comfort to me. The young woman who took Zane’s bathroom shelf said “it is the piece I have been looking for to fit in my home”. That made me smile.

Each of these items has a picture which honors them by creating a scrapbook of sorts of all of them that will include their moving away story.  And with that choice, I am finding some peace.  

Pictures Immortalize

September 6, 2020 /

It took one phone call to one close friend of Zane’s to fill our home that day.  In a matter of hours, over fifty people came through the front door, bringing food and drink and tears. I watched Zane’s friends, many who we knew since they were babies, have a shot of Jameson’s in honor of our son.  They laughed. They cried. They hugged.  They shared stories of Zane and reassured us how much our son loved us.  “We were his all”.  They stayed until late that night. One friend, as he left, hugged me and said;

“Thank you for opening up your home to all of us.  It is the only place we can find comfort right now.”   

His words reminded me that we were all in pain.

Zane’s friends are inherited blessings. They brought pictures of Zane and the adventures they shared.  They brought letters and stories Zane had written.  They left them with us.  The pictures adorn our walls now and the letters and memorabilia given to us bring us comfort. We would not have these without his wonderful friends.

Some people have troubles with pictures.  We have one friend who asks us each time they see Zane’s picture up if it is slowing our healing down.  Some grief warriors can’t look at any pictures.  It’s kryptonite.  There is no right way to grieve.  For us, I have Zane’s pictures and his belongings naturally scattered around the house.  As if he was still living with us.  I find comfort in these reminders that he is and will always be a part of our life.

Pictures and items of our loved ones are filled with their energy.  They hold the essence of our child.  They are a snapshot of an experience they had, one of their stories.  These stories are now one of our shared memories.  His pictures bring me back to that happy time and place.  I can feel grateful that he laughed and had such fun times. 

Yes, certain days his pictures are painful when my grief is crashing in.  But it is not the picture that brings this grief on.  I don’t need a picture to remind me that there will not be another snapshot to frame.  Zane’s things are proof that my son was involved, adventurous and loved. And when I hold his things or look at the pictures, I tell my grief that.   

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