Good Mourning Grief

A blog about my adventures as a grief warrior

Tag: #traditions

Time to Shake Up Traditions

August 18, 2024 /

August is our ugly month. It holds so much loss, so much pain. Each year, our family holds our breath and plunges into the month with the hopes that we will survive.  And we do. This year was different. Our past traditions were challenged by the different emotions of our family.  We are all grieving, and up to this point, compromises seemed easier. This year was a battle of what everyone needed and how to create something that respected each need.

My daughter posted on her social media that this year she was done with being sad. She wants to move forward with all the wonderful and new things in her life. She is tired of being tired. And thus, continuing with our ways of coping unsettled her grief. She needed something different.  Identifying what that might be seemed impossible.

I have accepted that the emotion of sadness will always be a main feeling within me. So, staying with what I know we do each year to celebrate Zane is safe. The past years have proved that I will get through it. My husband wanted whatever we wanted. Although he does have a way of putting his own spin on things each time, no matter what else might be suggested. So, I fretted about how to create an event that would be about Zane, that would include his friends and the new desires of my daughter.

We landed on a simple drink with whoever was available. We chose a bar that had easy access, free parking and a dog friendly patio. The bonus was it also had a nice wine! When this idea was shared and accepted, somewhat questionably, but accepted as what we would try this year, I handed it over to Jon. “Invite the usuals”, I said. And with that, I surrendered to what will be that day, will be. (Yep, still using that mantra because it works.)

Each year, I buy a token for Zane’s friends to keep in memory of him. This year I chose to give a little stone for each friend to carry. Jon came with me, and we picked out a newly found stone called K2. It is suggested that this high vibrational stone is for those wanting to become more aware of their soul and the souls of their loved ones. It holds an energy that is reported to calm emotions and brings people together in harmony. A perfect choice for what Zane did on earth and what each of us wants with him; to connect our souls and feel the warm synchronization of being together.  

I laid the stones out on the table for his friends to choose the stone that spoke to them. As I gathered the left-over stones, one rolled out of the bag and landed in front of me. I looked down and there it was. A small cube shaped stone with an undeniable Z on it! His friends laughed and pointed at it. One friend leaned into me and said, “well if that isn’t Zane telling you he’s here, nothing is”. My son picked out my stone. These are the signs that make the heart explode.

The next day, our family debriefed on the party and agreed that it went well. It was a big change, but it was less work, roughly the same cost (perhaps a bit more) and Jon had invited those we loved and a few surprise guests that enhanced the evening. The truth, I don’t think it matters how we gather, but that we gather. His friends, our family, need this annual ritual of celebrating the person who connected us all. A toast to Zane, on his birthday, will never get old. And with that, we agreed to continue our traditions and be ok with shaking them up as needed.

When Sadness is Doubled

October 1, 2023 /

I woke up tired. There is a lot going on with a wedding to be planned, family in town, work deadlines to be reached and a house that needs attention. I wished I could stay in bed. And then I remembered it was the anniversary of my friends’ son’s death. And a milestone.  Five years. Worse, it was the first year without his wife. There was no choice.  I needed to go.

It was a wet, rainy, cold morning as we pulled up to the site of his son’s crash. As their tradition has it, there were roses to be tied around the lamp post and a rock, spray painted blue with a note of endearment printed on it to place in the grass. His stepdaughter, replacing the role of her mother, helped him tie the ribbon, securing the roses. I watched them work together, taking their picture so she could have one to include with her sentiments she would post on social media.

I wasn’t aware that this year would hit me harder.  It had with Zane, so I think my soul knew how hard this must be on them to have the haunting ‘5-year mark’ come.  And to come without the support of their loving wife and mother. I felt the tears come and walked away to compose myself so that I could be strong for them.

Later that same day, we all met as a larger group at their favorite watering hole to celebrate.  This year there were two pictures on the table. The group hugged and toasted mother and son. More stories of the summer, of the past, of life in general were shared.  I commented how strange it was, that although I never met their son, I felt that I knew him. Sharing the life and the loves of your child over five years makes one feel like you knew them on earth. And thus, maybe why their death touches a little deeper as time goes on.

I overheard my friend and his stepdaughter talk of how small their family has become and how much each other is needed in the others life. And I smiled to myself.  Over death, the two seem to be becoming even closer. My girlfriend would love this.

Being a part of today, I witnessed the pain of loss doubled and the strength found in facing it together. I was a part of the traditions that we create to remember and honor our loved ones. There is nothing more holistic than the moments we stand still, in the rain and look up to the heavens to whisper, I love you, I miss you, I know you are still with me.

Traditions, The Glue Holding Us Together

September 26, 2022 /

My daughter, Payton, and I have an annual tradition to make pickles and jam.  Life has recently gotten too busy. Between what must be done and what should be done, we have had little chance to relax. So, we missed the season of getting pickling cucumbers in time to make our famous dill pickles.  This year we opted for cranberry relish, zucchini relish and a whiskey peach jam.

The truth is I am with Payton a lot. Time together is our tradition.  Zane called us two old ladies as we enjoy shopping, patio hopping, Netflix binges, crafts and cooking together. She is a best friend. Being acutely aware of the pain of loss, traditions with my daughter have become the priority in my life. I have watched her, over the last years, deal with the loss of her big brother and realized how important that these bittersweet traditions we share are. They are the glue that keeps us from falling apart with grief.

This got me thinking, what can we do to revel in the traditions we have. How can we celebrate with our children who live on the other realm. We can tweak the traditions to fit around our grief.  Adding something new or modifying how it is done. We can create a whole new tradition. This all takes practice. Somethings help, somethings don’t. Each year you can refine your traditions to be a little more comforting.  Traditions are long-term, passed down ideals which gives us the freedom to change them up. With loss, traditions need to become events that also honor our loved ones.

Let’s look at traditions and ponder how can we fill these with the memories of our loved one.  What can we incorporate that will acknowledge their likes, their personality. Let’s go a step further and look at the other identifiable holidays that come along each year and what can we do with them to bring to life the memory of our beloved? Why can’t we have a calendar filled with celebrations that we enjoy with family and friends that include, that honor, those we have lost.

Somewhere between the zucchini draining and the peaches boiling, Payton and I talked about who we wanted to share our jars with.  A new part of our fall tradition; someone will receive a jar that would have been devoured by Zane. 

I am blessed to have such a wonderful young woman to create and celebrate traditions with. Her loving heart has a desire to include and commemorate, those that are here and those who should be. I know her brother is smiling as we pour a little of his favorite whiskey into the peach jam.  He will always be a part of our traditions.

Plan for no More

April 4, 2021 /

There is something about knowing it is your last time. As we continue to prep to sell our home, I realized that this Easter will be our last one here. Suddenly it becomes very nostalgic. Each thought around what to serve, how the table will look, what could we do extra consumes my thoughts.  And memories of Easters past come back to visit me.

We had years of egg hunts in this home, always ending up in the laundry room where the ‘big prize’ was hidden in the laundry chute. Friends and family would gather around our table, living out Zane’s definition of happiness; good food, good drink and good company.  We have been blessed.

I have kept our Easter traditions since the crash but with new twists. I make Easter bags to share with friends and family which now include a tube of bubbles to honor Zane. My daughter and I still dye eggs, with one, a bright blue for Zane. This ‘last time’ melancholy encourages me to look at this holiday and ask myself, what do I want this Easter to be? The last Easter in my children’s home.

We often say, “Oh, if only I had known it was the last time.  If only I had one more time.” Why don’t we treat each celebration, even each day, like it might be our last?  In the daily hustle, it is hard to slow down enough to think it might be the last time. We believe there will be more, many more, or at least one more.   But we have learned in the most tragic of ways and now we know better, there is never a guarantee for ‘One more’.

I encourage you this year, as holidays and special occasions arrive to treat them like the last time. Slow down to think about past times and traditions built around each one.  Consider ways to do things different or new or what might you always want the same. With each holiday, think of ways you can honor and include our children who are celebrating with us from a different realm. Acknowledging that each celebration may just be the last time does not have to be depressing. In fact, it can be the fuel to invite gratitude into our lives.  And that is good mourning.

Sweetening Sorrow

February 14, 2021 /

When Zane was a toddler, as most parents do, I would bribe him.  “If you are good while we shop for groceries we can go to Bernard Callebaut after,” I would say as we entered the store.  He was always good.  He couldn’t wait for the milk chocolate sucker in the shape of a bear.  Flash forward to Easter and his Aunt sends the Zeller’s chocolate rabbit special.  Zane took one bite off the ear and spit it out.  “What ‘dis?”; he said with disgust.  It was then that I realized what I had done. I had instilled a taste of expensive chocolate in my 2 year old.  There was no going back.

The holidays, Valentine’s included, are rough for grief warriors. It takes energy, sometimes more than we have, to face the empty day, the missing part of our past traditions that can’t be the same now.  Valentine’s is the first of these after the New Year to face.  And when I remember this, it gives me some understanding as to why we are all a bit edgy and short tempered lately.  It’s the anticipation of another upcoming holiday without my boy.

I need to change this. I ‘host’ holidays but without the excitement and interest I used to have. I know Zane would want me to celebrate and enjoy special occasions. He used to kid me about decorating the house and sending cards for every type of holiday.  “Just another reason for my mom to party,” he would explain to his friends. And he was right.  We are, or were, a social house. And maybe we still are…just not as loud, or not as easy as before. 

So, how do we bring back joy to things we used to love doing? I believe we have to incorporate things our loved ones cared for.  What brought your child joy on Valentine’s Day? Was it a trip to the local chocolate shop? Was it decorating cards to hand out to friends? Was it baking cookies to dip in caramel sauce?  What if we could push past the pain, and instead of not doing these things without our child, we continue to do them in honor of our child?

We know that when we share stories and things that our child loved, we feel better in that moment. They will always be a part of our lives so why push the traditions they loved into past tense?  Why not include what they liked in our present celebrations.  This could be good mourning.

I am going to buy some really good chocolate to share.  I’m going to open a bottle of his favorite red and order the heart shaped pizza.  And maybe, with attitude and practice, the joy Zane would want for me will come.

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