Grief

Letters to My Mother

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My parents we married 80 years ago today. They were married on Mother’s Day. So this week, my thoughts keep drifting toward them. I lead a Writing Through Grief group here on Maui, and one of our favorite exercises is to write letters, so I’m going to write a letter to my mother this week. The problem is, I haven’t done this before, and there are so many things I could say. I’ve been thinking of ideas to focus on. Here are a few:

  • I could pick out a few of my favorite memories and reminisce with her, like the time we found her mother’s love letters to her first husband when we were cleaning out her garage together. Or how when I was writing my book she would sit in a chair behind me so she could watch me write over my shoulder. She was fascinated by my computer which at that time was a new thing. Or I could write about how we shopped together to buy material for my bridesmaids’ dresses, then we shopped together again to buy material for my daughter’s wedding dress.
  • I could write to her about how I discovered how much she must have loved me when I was rocking my baby in the middle of the night and feeling overwhelmed by my love for him. She wasn’t one to express her emotions, but at that moment, I knew how she must have felt when she held me.
  • I could thank her for what she did for me throughout my life remembering how hard she worked to help me get to college, and how hard it must have been to let her 18 year old daughter move so far away. And how she let my best friend move into my bedroom when her new husband was sent off to Vietnam..
  • I could tell her how grateful I am that she chose to come live with us during her last year and all the amazing adventures we had during that precious time.

I could write a whole book about her. I only wish I would have talked to her about so many things while I still could. We didn’t communicate well, and I am sure that’s one of the reasons I became a writer because I want nothing left unsaid.

In our writing group, after we write a letter, we take a breath, then write another letter that is from who we just wrote to back to us. So when I write my Mom, I would write from her back to me. These letters aren’t planned. We just let whatever comes to us flow out on to the page. We have received beautiful, meaningful answers. I’m sure we could debate on where these answers come from, but what matters to me is the peace and joy they can bring.

So I encourage you today to write a letter to your mother. You may want to write it in your journal or find a special place to save it so you can go back and read it when you could use some mom time. And if your mom is still here, be sure to put it in the mail.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Flow

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“The only thing that is constant is change.”

Heraclitus of Ephesus, Greek Philosopher

 

 

When we grieve, we often feel like things will never get better. We know we can’t go back to how things were before whatever happened leading to our loved one’s death. And we can’t see a future beyond where we are right now. With all this, there is one thing I can guarantee, things will change.

Every morning, the sun comes up to brighten our day. Every evening, the sun goes down so we can have the peace of darkness to get our rest. Every time we blink our eyes, we open them back up again. Every time we breath in, we exhale. Every time our heart contracts with a beat, it relaxes again. So you know in your heart that the next moment can’t be just like the present one.

The key to moving forward is to relax and allow changes. Holding on tightly to something takes and enormous amount of energy, while releasing what you hold allows you to lighten your load of concern. Try this. Sit in a calm, quiet space. Get comfortable. Close your eyes. Focus on your breath. Breath in slowly. Breathe out slowly. Recognize the flow of air. Feel as oxygen circulates throughout your body, nourishing you cells, exchanging with carbon dioxide to be released as you exhale. Keep breathing slowly observing how your body feels in the process. Notice that your body is constantly moving. The movement is your life, and the flow is how you move forward. So even when you feel like your grief is not allowing you to move forward, you can feel now how you can’t be mired, unable to move, because your life will not allow that stillness.

Recognizing this flow of your life allows you to release what you need to and move toward your next new thought, new feeling, new adventure, new love. Being in sync with your flow allows everything to flow to you, through you, and from you. You can recognize how your life is here to serve you, not to hold you down or hold you back.

So right now, today, pay attention to your flow, and be grateful for it. Know that everything is working together for your good.

 

Spring Up!

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Easter for me has always reminded me of a fresh start. That after a time of stillness, it’s time to begin again. In my heart I know that I am whole, complete, and perfect, and I know that making the best of each moment is my goal.

I remember wonderful times growing up where the family gathered with tons of food, especially ham and potato salad. We’d eat outdoors and wild flowers blanketed the hillside. Mom taught me the names of all the different wild flowers. I especially loved lupine and poppies. 

Now missing all that family, I will remember them and start my own new tradition of a little beach picnic that must include potato salad and flowers. I will bring to mind each of those loved ones with sweet memories and in their honor, plan my fresh start blossoming more each day, opening up to more light, more, love, more joy. I wish this for you, too!

I have created a new, Closed Facebook group just for my followers to share about reclaiming their joy after loss. I will be posting ideas to support you on your journey. Go to this link to join:  http://facebook.com/groups/ReclaimingYourJoyAfterLoss

The Power of Your Words

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I’m sure you’ve heard someone say, “Be careful what you wish for!” Have you thought about what that means? When we wish for something, the universe grants that wish, whatever it is; however, how it is granted may not be what you thought you were asking for.

When you say, I know I will never be happy again since the love of my life died. When you say that, you never will be happy again. When you say I can’t afford a new home, or new car, or a trip, or even groceries, then that’s what happens. You can’t afford any of that. Now is any of that what you really want? I hear you yell NO! So why do you ask for it? I doubt that you think that’s what you are doing, but it is.

When I felt so alone after Jacques died, I thought about what I really wanted. I made a conscious decision to not ask for something specific, but actually to say, “I love and I am loved.” Notice what I didn’t say. I didn’t say “I want to,” rather I made the statement knowing that it was true right then, not some vague place in the future. And sure enough, I started noticing love in my life, love that was already there on so many levels, from friends and from family and love for things like my job teaching writing, that I had created a theatre, a school of arts, a gallery, a café. The more I thought about love, the more love I saw, and this prepared be to be fully ready for Ron when I met him. I recognized him right away as the romantic and deep spiritual love that I knew was waiting for me to see.

So how can you go about having what would make your life the best it can be? An easy way to start is to journal. Journal every day. Put journaling on your calendar or in your to do list and make no excuses to avoid writing. Start by writing what you need to do to unclutter your mind. You probably have thoughts floating around of not being worthy of what you want, thinking you can’t afford what you want, thinking you can’t have what you want. Instead of carrying thoughts like this around which get in the way of your true desires, write all that stuff down. When you read what you have written, you’ll see that it isn’t your truth. When you actually see it in writing, you then can release it. You can say “I am so much more than that! I do deserve what I want. I am worthy.” So, write all that down, how wonderful you are, how deserving.

Now, every day write the truth of what you want. If you are lonely, write “I am loved and I love unconditionally.” If you are wanting your ideal job, say “I am grateful for my skills, inspiration, and talent which insure the perfect job for me where I can make a beautiful difference in the world!” When you start saying that instead of that old story that you just can’t get a job, be ready for what comes to you. Recognize opportunities, and enjoy where they take you.

When you slip into the sadness that can come in grieving, instead of saying, “I am so sad,” or “I just can’t handle this,” get out your journal and write all about a beautiful memory of a time you spent with your loved one, or write about something you can do right now that brings you joy, whatever that is. When you write from a positive perspective, that’s what comes in your life. If you find yourself using negative language, notice that. Stop saying whatever it was. Consciously say to yourself, “I take that back,” and then restate your words with a positive focus. Eliminate words like can’t, won’t, don’t, and should from what you speak.

So I offer you this. Keep that appointment with yourself each day to write in your journal. Allow your journal to show you the beauty and joy of your life, and focus on that. When you do, when you look in the mirror, all you’ll see is beauty and joy!

Bliss

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I have been reading Viktor Frankl’s book Man’s Search For Meaning, which I highly recommend, and have received much inspiration. The first half of the book reflects on the time he spent in Nazi Concentration camps. Reading his thoughts reminded me so much of my early grief.

Early grief is a time when we can feel totally alone even when surrounded by others. Our whole perspective on life has changed and all territory is unfamiliar. We feel empty in a way, and full in another. In this period of readjustment, we can sink into despair and lose our will to survive in a meaningful way, or we can choose to discover our next step in our own way.

Frankel said “My mind still clung to the image of my wife. A thought crossed my mind: I didn’t even know if she were still alive. I knew only one thing . . . . Love goes far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.”

When I read this, I reflected on Ron and Jacques. They always are a precious part of me, of my life experience. Whether they are physically here with me loses its significance when I focus on the love we share. That love has not and will not diminish. And that thought brings so much comfort. I am constantly wrapped in this beautiful love, and I allow myself to experience it.

I encourage you to live in the awareness of the love you share. As Frankl says: “a man who has nothing left can still know bliss . . . in the contemplation of his beloved.”

I Just Need to Vent!

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I remember in Jacques’s last couple of years that Queen’s song Under Pressure kept running through my mind. I kept thinking, if we can just get through this crisis, this hospitalization, this challenge, that things would get better, but those things just kept piling up, and the pressure was enormous. At times I felt guilty because I couldn’t wish, hope, or pray enough to make him better. I felt guilty because I would get upset with him for things way beyond his control. I felt frustrated because I had given up my business and my profession to care for him. All this and much more kept building up to the point where although all my focus was on him, I started to fall apart.

 

I realized that I needed to talk to someone, but I didn’t know who, and I felt guilty taking time away from his care to care for me. Then a miraculous blessing came into my life when my best friend from high school knocked at my door. I hadn’t seen her for many years because she had moved to Alaska. Our friendship had remained strong even through the absence. She took one look at me and saw I needed support. Her caring for me made all the difference in the world. She ended up staying with me Jacques’ last few months and for a few months after that. She lovingly shared Jacques’ care and saw to it that I was taking care of me. But most of all, she listened. Whether it was talking about the current challenges or reminiscing times past, we talked for hours.

 

And we laughed. Her presence allowed me to vent all that pressure that had built up inside and have room in my chest to breathe again. This reminded me of my pressure cooker. To use a pressure cooker, you have to seal it and steam builds up pressure inside so that the food cooks quickly. When the cooking is done, the pressure has to be released by cooling and slowly opening a valve on the lid. The remaining steam hisses out, and only when the steam stops is it safe to open that lid without the risk of an explosion. My slow venting of all my pressure to Yvonne allowed me to stabilize, to breathe, to face what was coming, yet face it slowly, one moment at a time.

 

If your pressure is building up, find a way to vent it slowly and safely. Find a friend, a counselor, a minister, someone who will just listen until you have vented all you need to so that you are able to be open again. If there is not someone readily available that you trust, start by pouring out everything into a journal. You will discover that you can release built up anger and guilt knowing that those qualities don’t serve you. When all your steam is vented, you can breathe deep breaths again and focus on the moment. In that moment, you are alive, you are breathing, you are beautiful, and you are loved. Focus on that, one moment at a time, and release that pressure every time it starts to build up. You will discover that it builds up less and less, and that allows you the strength you need right now.