When the explosions went off at the Boston Marathon I was on an Amtrak Train. At Back Bay Station, near the finish line, they made an announcement that passengers could stay on until the final station - South Station. They also warned people who were getting off to proceed with caution. At South Station my daughter and granddaughter greeted me with hugs and smiles. We are trying to teach Gwendy that Grandma goes away and comes back on a train so she doesn't look for me in the house when I'm not there. We saw a few police cars and ambulances on the way to the scene. We were always safe.
Even in the following days we were safe. On the day that one suspect was killed and the other captured we were safe. My daughter had taken Gwendy to music class and I texted her each update to make sure she knew what was happening and that she wasn't anywhere near the lockdown areas. I also texted her about the controlled explosion in Cambridge in case she heard anything. Still we were safe.
The truth is even most of the people who ran in the Boston Marathon and those that cheered them on went home safe. I cannot even begin to imagine the grief of the families and friends of the victims. I cannot even begin to imagine the grief of the family and friends of the perpetrators. Their mother had two sons on Thursday; on Friday one was dead and the other was wounded and will either spend the rest of his life in prison or be executed. I am not excusing in any way what they did. I am only trying to state an obvious fact - grief casts a wide net.
However, nothing happened to me. I am selfish about grief. I have compassion and sadness but my grief is not the grief of others. The media runs images of horror over and over again as if there is no good news to be had anywhere in the world. School shootings are also horrific. However, most children around the world go off to school and come home happy and safe. People ask, "What do we tell our children." Tell them that they are safe. Tell them to look outside and see the breeze gently blowing the leaves in the trees and people laughing.
I also find it strange that as the president and religious leaders came together people talked about how the healing has begun. If it didn't happen to you, you can perhaps feel an immediate healing. To people who had their loved ones murdered, to people who lost limbs or had their loved ones lose limbs it will take more than a few inspirational words from important men and women to heal. There is a lot of hard work ahead and a lot of tears.
My friend Mathilde who suffered the genocide in Rwanda and further suffered the death of her beloved husband Kimenyi has just been appointed the Rwandan ambassador. Even though after her husband's death she described herself as a bird flying with one wing, she has continued to fly. She gives her life helping children to be safe.
The reason I have been thinking about this is that every since my husband died I have felt unsafe. I say it all the time, "I haven't felt safe since Artie died." It's a false construct. I am lonely, I am sad, I am a lot of things. It is difficult not to find comfort in his eyes and his touch - but I am safe. You have to be where the bad thing is happening and for most of us we are somewhere else. We focus on the bad thing and not the good things. When Artie died, for a long time I thought of him only as dead Artie. Then I realized that I had spent much more time with the living Artie than with his ashes. I started thinking a lot more about the memories of the living Artie. It makes me happy to think of the living Artie. It makes me happy to think of him still being alive in a spirit kind of way.
I remind you of Nick Kemp who says we are only one thought away from a good feeling. It doesn't always seem that way. However, if we think only of the painful things we miss so much. The painful things need our attention to be sure - but they don't need it 24 hours a day. Hello pain. I need to spend time with you. Now I need to do something else.
In Boston there are many heroes. Many first responders but also ordinary people. People who helped. If our vision is fixed only on the victims and the perpetrators we can't see the heroes. We need to see them too, so we can be reassured that while there is evil and death there is also good and life.
I encourage you today to look for the helpers and the heroes. To think of all those who work hard and despite, or maybe because of, their struggle are decent caring people. I encourage you to look at yourself. Don't forget to see those things in yourself that are good and true. Send your inner critic off on spring break. If you love and are loved -as you must be if you are reading a blog on grief - there is great joy in that. It might be buried under piles of why bother? and it's too hard and it hurts too much. What that means is that you need to dig a little (or a lot) for it.
In my daughter's back yard there is a beautiful flower growing in a quite desolate place. When I was walking I almost didn't see it. I don't know where it came from or how it survives without being watered except by rain - but there it is. I have a feeling you have seeds sprouting somewhere - because you are alive. You have to notice the flowers.
If you are the one that a bad thing happened to today - or you are the one facing a date - or many difficulties - I wish you Boston courage. Their new slogan - even on T-shirts very quickly - is Boston Strong. The t-shirts also say Never Forget. I will never forget but I am Jan Strong. Try saying your name followed by the word Strong. You can encompass it all. Good gracious - if I'm still here - anyone can do it!! xo
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Grief: Carol Burnett Talks and Writes about Her Daughter Carrie Who Was Killed By Cancer
Sometimes I feel like I am a death or grief magnet. I turned on the TV the other morning to get ready while watching the news. There was Carol Burnett talking about her new book. I didn't even know she had a daughter who was killed by cancer. I looked up when Carrie died. It was in 2002, almost 11 years ago. During the entire interview Carol, a great comedienne, had tears in her eyes as she talked about the wonderful woman her daughter was and her enthusiasm for life. Then came the question. The question so many of us get. "What did you and your two other daughters do to recover from her death?" Carol looked a little unsettled and paused. Thinking of all the slapstick skits she has done, I kind of wanted someone to dump a bucket of cold water over the interviewer's head or slap him with a huge fake hand. Didn't happen. I can't know what she was thinking but what she said was, "We learn how to cope but Carrie is in my heart every day."
I thought about why I tell all these celebrity stories. I am looking for commonality of experience (although so many young people haven't heard of the people I know so well from movies and television) but also for validation. There is this pervasive idea that if you don't "recover" or "heal" that there is something wrong. There is this terrible diagnosis of morbid grief if you don't "recover" or
"heal" in six months. There are so many well meaning people that don't understand why you are still talking about someone who died "such a long time ago". They even ask you why you don't just move on. The danger is that we will think there IS something wrong with us that we are still sad, that we still feel pain. News flash. There's nothing wrong with me - or with you.
The truth is that although I have not done scientific studies my anecdotal evidence is that if you really truly love someone - or a pet - that you miss them for the rest of your life. Time makes it different but sometimes the passage of time makes it harder not easier. Why? Because you have ten years of living with the loneliness of missing someone instead of just two. It hurts. I watch true crime programs too. (Now you are learning all my vices!) I used to watch them because it is unbelievable to me what people do to each other. Now I watch them for that, but also because of the compassion I have for the victim's family and friends. I can not tell you how many big burly tough guys I have seen with tears filling their eyes talking about a brother or a son or a parent that was killed - no matter how many years ago. Women, children, so many people. Normal people. They cry.
People I have seen only on television and people I have met in real life. Personal friends and strangers. People who have e-mailed me. People who are stuck - but many people who live full productive happy lives. I believe that the truth is normalcy is not "recovery" "healing" "getting over it" but living with the sadness, loneliness, anger or whatever feelings come to you. It can come in strange ways. I was talking to someone who said they lived somewhere for 23 years. Artie and I were together 23 years. When I heard that number I felt so sad. I acknowledged that sadness silently and then came back to the fun of being with a friend. Later, I told her about it. I think it is easier to find your path to that productive life with a lot of happy moments if you don't have to waste time criticizing yourself for feeling what you feel.
When I look at the statistics on my blog one post that gets many hits over time is called Thank you, I am NOT wallowing... I would like to still change my pattern of behavior so that I spend less time in bed feeling like I've been thwacked on the head - or in the heart - and more time having those happy moments. Although, I've done so many interesting things in the last couple of weeks that if I wasn't the one doing them I would think I was making it up! I need to spend time with the loneliness. With all the gratitude and love I have - I can't imagine ever not being lonely without Artie here in the flesh to comfort and annoy me!
So...spread the word. As I tell people - if you are a teacher or a pastor or a grief counselor or a grieving person - these words are yours. You can use any post you want with or without attribution. Let's get the word out. I want us to be a society that honors grief. I want us to be a society that honors the fact hat we can be wounded by grief and still be whole, fully alive people. I want grieving people to feel that they don't need to remain silent in case they are judged.
What you feel is normal. Someone may be doing better than you. Someone may look like they are doing better than you but not really. Someone may be doing not better than you. It's about who you are and who you want to be. Work on changing the bits that will give you more happy moments; that will help you feel better about your life. Never stop looking for and shining that beautiful light that is you. There are no stages of grief. Grief is the number 23 that you never knew about until someone said it. It's a roller coaster. Some times you will be swinging at the top close to the stars. Then roundabout you go and there you are on the bottom.
You can be grieving and funny and smart and loving. That's the lesson I keep learning. While some may disagree with me - and bless them - we all have the right to be us (not that always act like that!) I still feel the same way I did when I called this blog "Stop Thief - Don't Steal My Grief". I love my husband. Even if I remarried some day (probably not but who knows) I would still love Artie and miss him. It's my recovery not to be recovered; my healing not to be healed; my moving on not to move on.
Any yet...the life I have in me - the miraculous friends - the unbelievable experiences that I share with you - have come because with my grief I have learned ways to allow life to come back into my heart - a heart that four years ago this July was so shattered - I never thought I would have these adventures and stories to tell. That's the journey. Crafting a life big enough for all the emotions - even the joyous, peaceful ones. I wish you those moments and adventures big and small. xo
I thought about why I tell all these celebrity stories. I am looking for commonality of experience (although so many young people haven't heard of the people I know so well from movies and television) but also for validation. There is this pervasive idea that if you don't "recover" or "heal" that there is something wrong. There is this terrible diagnosis of morbid grief if you don't "recover" or
"heal" in six months. There are so many well meaning people that don't understand why you are still talking about someone who died "such a long time ago". They even ask you why you don't just move on. The danger is that we will think there IS something wrong with us that we are still sad, that we still feel pain. News flash. There's nothing wrong with me - or with you.
The truth is that although I have not done scientific studies my anecdotal evidence is that if you really truly love someone - or a pet - that you miss them for the rest of your life. Time makes it different but sometimes the passage of time makes it harder not easier. Why? Because you have ten years of living with the loneliness of missing someone instead of just two. It hurts. I watch true crime programs too. (Now you are learning all my vices!) I used to watch them because it is unbelievable to me what people do to each other. Now I watch them for that, but also because of the compassion I have for the victim's family and friends. I can not tell you how many big burly tough guys I have seen with tears filling their eyes talking about a brother or a son or a parent that was killed - no matter how many years ago. Women, children, so many people. Normal people. They cry.
People I have seen only on television and people I have met in real life. Personal friends and strangers. People who have e-mailed me. People who are stuck - but many people who live full productive happy lives. I believe that the truth is normalcy is not "recovery" "healing" "getting over it" but living with the sadness, loneliness, anger or whatever feelings come to you. It can come in strange ways. I was talking to someone who said they lived somewhere for 23 years. Artie and I were together 23 years. When I heard that number I felt so sad. I acknowledged that sadness silently and then came back to the fun of being with a friend. Later, I told her about it. I think it is easier to find your path to that productive life with a lot of happy moments if you don't have to waste time criticizing yourself for feeling what you feel.
When I look at the statistics on my blog one post that gets many hits over time is called Thank you, I am NOT wallowing... I would like to still change my pattern of behavior so that I spend less time in bed feeling like I've been thwacked on the head - or in the heart - and more time having those happy moments. Although, I've done so many interesting things in the last couple of weeks that if I wasn't the one doing them I would think I was making it up! I need to spend time with the loneliness. With all the gratitude and love I have - I can't imagine ever not being lonely without Artie here in the flesh to comfort and annoy me!
So...spread the word. As I tell people - if you are a teacher or a pastor or a grief counselor or a grieving person - these words are yours. You can use any post you want with or without attribution. Let's get the word out. I want us to be a society that honors grief. I want us to be a society that honors the fact hat we can be wounded by grief and still be whole, fully alive people. I want grieving people to feel that they don't need to remain silent in case they are judged.
What you feel is normal. Someone may be doing better than you. Someone may look like they are doing better than you but not really. Someone may be doing not better than you. It's about who you are and who you want to be. Work on changing the bits that will give you more happy moments; that will help you feel better about your life. Never stop looking for and shining that beautiful light that is you. There are no stages of grief. Grief is the number 23 that you never knew about until someone said it. It's a roller coaster. Some times you will be swinging at the top close to the stars. Then roundabout you go and there you are on the bottom.
You can be grieving and funny and smart and loving. That's the lesson I keep learning. While some may disagree with me - and bless them - we all have the right to be us (not that always act like that!) I still feel the same way I did when I called this blog "Stop Thief - Don't Steal My Grief". I love my husband. Even if I remarried some day (probably not but who knows) I would still love Artie and miss him. It's my recovery not to be recovered; my healing not to be healed; my moving on not to move on.
Any yet...the life I have in me - the miraculous friends - the unbelievable experiences that I share with you - have come because with my grief I have learned ways to allow life to come back into my heart - a heart that four years ago this July was so shattered - I never thought I would have these adventures and stories to tell. That's the journey. Crafting a life big enough for all the emotions - even the joyous, peaceful ones. I wish you those moments and adventures big and small. xo
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Grief: Why Bother?
My bedroom is much too comfortable. It's painted black. There is burnt out velvet covering the window so there is never any natural light. There is a TV. My sheets are soft and cosy. Artie's Yankee jacket is on the bed. My craziest bit is that the plastic bag filled with his ashes is in a Donna Karan pillow sham on a pillow next to my pillow. I have never opened the plastic bag because I am klutzy and don't want to risk spilling him. I also know that the bag contents are not him. It's why they call them human remains. While I may bask in what I believe to be his otherworldly presence and in memory - the ashes are all I have left of his physical being. But really? A Donna Karan pillow sham? I thought I was going to keep the ashes in a wooden box that my woodworker daughter was going to craft. I tell you this so that you know we all have our own ways of dealing with death and as crazy as some of them seem they are in the realm of grief quite normal.
On an inactive day my bedroom has great magnetic powers. It will not let me go. That of course is totally untrue. I will not let me go. It is my inertia room. It is my why bother? room.
The problem is if I spend too much time there I don't feel good about myself. I don't think it matters much in the course of the entire universe what i do - but it matters to me. It matters to me if I decide to make it matter to me. It matters to the people who love me and to the people I make laugh or help or have fun with. It matters to me. That's what I have to keep reminding myself. It matters to me to be someone I enjoy being. I can feel sorry for myself, I can be lonely, I can be sad. However if I never bother I am wasting myself. Artie wouldn't want me to do that. I don't really want to do that - at least not every day.
So...I show up. What happens when you show up? I had the amazing experience on Thursday of getting to spend an hour with the Duchess of York. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement but she said I could mention her in my blog. Me? How did that happen to me? It was through a charity - but it was also through putting myself in certain places and being willing to ask the question. I can tell you that she is very direct, honest, and loving. Direct. She asked me if I was lonely. She asked me what my goals were. She acknowledged immediately that living without someone you love is so difficult. Honest. She talked about the negative voices in our head. Said we are like a beautiful house and the voices are squatters that come in to live in our house. We have to evict them. But they come back. So we have to evict them again. She said in her darkest moments she came to a point where she realized she must have a very bright light if circumstances were working so hard to extinguish it. Loving. She gave me time out of her busy schedule and when I left gave me a big hug. The point for me is that it doesn't matter if you are royalty or just and average person - you face the same challenges. You face the same choices. Of course she has resources I don't. That doesn't mean I can't use the resources I have to better advantage.
I would like to say I was so inspired the next day I accomplished great things. I went back to my old pattern of finding feeling great stressful. My bedroom won. Today I made an appointment so I have to leave the bedroom and go out into the world. I feel better. I'm writing this blog post. I answered e-mails. I reached out to people.
Each of you has to find your own answer to "Why bother?" but I believe that each of you has that answer. Everyone has the ability to create meaning in their life. Sometimes meaning, purpose, motivation are slippery. You feel you have them firmly in your hands and then like a greased pig they all slip away and you are holding emptiness again. There's nothing wrong with that. It's what you do afterwards. How long do you let yourself stay in "Why Bother?"?
I read an Oscar Wilde quote that said something like Instead of thinking of all the things you want that you didn't get, why not think of all the things you didn't want that you didn't get. It made me laugh. My loving Artie space and missing him - and all my other friends who are dead too soon for me - will always be - I think - a little prickly. No one will ever take Artie's place. Sometimes I will fall into the place where the whole crowded world seems empty because he is no longer here. The important thing is that I crawl out again and see what there is to be done.
I wish I could learn to keep commitments to myself as well as I do to other people. I have made a good life for myself. At 62 I am still learning. Goodness gracious, I never imagined in my wildest dreams sitting having a conversation with the Duchess of York and feeling like I was talking to an old friend. As wild and wonderful as that was it isn't better than sitting on the floor playing with my granddaughter. Gwendy has learned how to kiss and when I was holding her she just gave me a big smack on my lips. Hooray for that.
Maybe that's it. There are a lot of things to boo - and a lot of boo hoos. The answer to Why Bother? is that we need a lot of Hoorays!! to balance them out. May you have at least one Hooray! in your life today. If not today - maybe tomorrow. You know how. If you are grieving for a person or a pet you have great love for - you have a lot of Hoorays! in your past - all they need to do is leap frog into your present and your future. xo
On an inactive day my bedroom has great magnetic powers. It will not let me go. That of course is totally untrue. I will not let me go. It is my inertia room. It is my why bother? room.
The problem is if I spend too much time there I don't feel good about myself. I don't think it matters much in the course of the entire universe what i do - but it matters to me. It matters to me if I decide to make it matter to me. It matters to the people who love me and to the people I make laugh or help or have fun with. It matters to me. That's what I have to keep reminding myself. It matters to me to be someone I enjoy being. I can feel sorry for myself, I can be lonely, I can be sad. However if I never bother I am wasting myself. Artie wouldn't want me to do that. I don't really want to do that - at least not every day.
So...I show up. What happens when you show up? I had the amazing experience on Thursday of getting to spend an hour with the Duchess of York. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement but she said I could mention her in my blog. Me? How did that happen to me? It was through a charity - but it was also through putting myself in certain places and being willing to ask the question. I can tell you that she is very direct, honest, and loving. Direct. She asked me if I was lonely. She asked me what my goals were. She acknowledged immediately that living without someone you love is so difficult. Honest. She talked about the negative voices in our head. Said we are like a beautiful house and the voices are squatters that come in to live in our house. We have to evict them. But they come back. So we have to evict them again. She said in her darkest moments she came to a point where she realized she must have a very bright light if circumstances were working so hard to extinguish it. Loving. She gave me time out of her busy schedule and when I left gave me a big hug. The point for me is that it doesn't matter if you are royalty or just and average person - you face the same challenges. You face the same choices. Of course she has resources I don't. That doesn't mean I can't use the resources I have to better advantage.
I would like to say I was so inspired the next day I accomplished great things. I went back to my old pattern of finding feeling great stressful. My bedroom won. Today I made an appointment so I have to leave the bedroom and go out into the world. I feel better. I'm writing this blog post. I answered e-mails. I reached out to people.
Each of you has to find your own answer to "Why bother?" but I believe that each of you has that answer. Everyone has the ability to create meaning in their life. Sometimes meaning, purpose, motivation are slippery. You feel you have them firmly in your hands and then like a greased pig they all slip away and you are holding emptiness again. There's nothing wrong with that. It's what you do afterwards. How long do you let yourself stay in "Why Bother?"?
I read an Oscar Wilde quote that said something like Instead of thinking of all the things you want that you didn't get, why not think of all the things you didn't want that you didn't get. It made me laugh. My loving Artie space and missing him - and all my other friends who are dead too soon for me - will always be - I think - a little prickly. No one will ever take Artie's place. Sometimes I will fall into the place where the whole crowded world seems empty because he is no longer here. The important thing is that I crawl out again and see what there is to be done.
I wish I could learn to keep commitments to myself as well as I do to other people. I have made a good life for myself. At 62 I am still learning. Goodness gracious, I never imagined in my wildest dreams sitting having a conversation with the Duchess of York and feeling like I was talking to an old friend. As wild and wonderful as that was it isn't better than sitting on the floor playing with my granddaughter. Gwendy has learned how to kiss and when I was holding her she just gave me a big smack on my lips. Hooray for that.
Maybe that's it. There are a lot of things to boo - and a lot of boo hoos. The answer to Why Bother? is that we need a lot of Hoorays!! to balance them out. May you have at least one Hooray! in your life today. If not today - maybe tomorrow. You know how. If you are grieving for a person or a pet you have great love for - you have a lot of Hoorays! in your past - all they need to do is leap frog into your present and your future. xo
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Grief: Yoko Ono: Another Wise Widow
It's funny, isn't it, how we notice people who are like us. With famous people, I don't even know if they are really like me - I only know what I read. For those of you who don't know, there was a group of musicians who were mega popular called the Beatles. John Lennon was one of the "Fab Four". He fell in love with Yoko Ono and they did a lot of performance art together. The Beatles split up and some people blamed her. I couldn't believe that the newspaper article said that she is 80. John Lennon was shot to death in front of an apartment building in NYC called the Dakota. He was shot by someone wanting to become famous,which is why I am not mentioning his name. I was in a theater once and John Lennon and Yoko Ono walked in. They were mesmerizing together.
She recently posted an anti-gun message on her Twitter account but that wasn't what I noticed. On what would have been her 44th wedding anniversary she said she walked through a park recalling how much she and John had laughed and smiled on their wedding day. Then she said, "Then I felt the emptiness more acutely because of the beautiful memory." That is what I noticed. She also said, "The death of a loved one is a hollowing experience. After 33 years our son Sean and I still miss him."
She is a vibrant expressive woman. She appears to have lived fully since the awful day when her husband stopped to autograph a record album and fell victim to the bullets that tore through his body.
I think the truth is not that there is morbid grieving or stages of grieving. I think the truth is that when you love someone you love someone. When they die you go on loving them; you go on missing them. The lesson isn't to forget or let go. The lesson is to respect the empty space, the hollow space, as a sign of much you love and are loved. The lesson is to let those memories - when you can - inspire you to transform your self in ways that you could not have imagined when the person who died was alive. To be extra gentle with yourself when you hide away and collapse - but to be extra proud of yourself when you do simple things and also great things.
Sometimes the greatest thing someone can do is look at another human being and smile. You have to have a face to smile with. That means - smile and laugh while you still can. There must be a way of smiling after we are dead - but it won't be with the face we have now. So much is impossible to understand - but this isn't. Understand that you are important, you have a purpose, and as grief warriors we stand together to hold each other up and cheer each other on. xo
She recently posted an anti-gun message on her Twitter account but that wasn't what I noticed. On what would have been her 44th wedding anniversary she said she walked through a park recalling how much she and John had laughed and smiled on their wedding day. Then she said, "Then I felt the emptiness more acutely because of the beautiful memory." That is what I noticed. She also said, "The death of a loved one is a hollowing experience. After 33 years our son Sean and I still miss him."
She is a vibrant expressive woman. She appears to have lived fully since the awful day when her husband stopped to autograph a record album and fell victim to the bullets that tore through his body.
I think the truth is not that there is morbid grieving or stages of grieving. I think the truth is that when you love someone you love someone. When they die you go on loving them; you go on missing them. The lesson isn't to forget or let go. The lesson is to respect the empty space, the hollow space, as a sign of much you love and are loved. The lesson is to let those memories - when you can - inspire you to transform your self in ways that you could not have imagined when the person who died was alive. To be extra gentle with yourself when you hide away and collapse - but to be extra proud of yourself when you do simple things and also great things.
Sometimes the greatest thing someone can do is look at another human being and smile. You have to have a face to smile with. That means - smile and laugh while you still can. There must be a way of smiling after we are dead - but it won't be with the face we have now. So much is impossible to understand - but this isn't. Understand that you are important, you have a purpose, and as grief warriors we stand together to hold each other up and cheer each other on. xo
Grief: Another Round Of Holidays
I went to see a professional person (I try to be a little vague in describing real people since I don't know who may be reading this). When I made the appointment I was told that his father had died and he was going to the funeral. When I did see him I wanted to honor what he was experiencing. He is very knowledgeable and proficient so it didn't bother me that he was unshaven and his office was in disarray. I told him whatever he was feeling was normal. I said that there weren't really stages of grieving, it was more like a roller coaster. His eyes were drinking in my words. He told me that for his entire life his father had led the family Seder (the meal shared which tells the story of Passover). This year he would have to take his father's place. He wasn't nervous. He couldn't believe that his father would no longer be at this important family meal - or anywhere. After almost four years I still sometimes am rather startled, angry, or sad that I am going through another holiday and Artie won't either be with me or be waiting for me at home because he didn't want to go somewhere!
Easter, is this year, like Passover in March instead of April. A great time for families gathering to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Children painting eggs and bunnies and baby chicks. All symbols of new life. Who is physically present to say a prayer before eating food lovingly cooked? Who is not.
With time the empty chair doesn't speak quite as loudly. When Artie first died even a simple dinner outing seemed very strange. Especially with a couple friend; seated at a table set for four. Where the heck was Artie? In no shape, obviously, to join us. How could I be sitting there without him?
With time, while I am still conscious of his physical absence, I am also aware of his spiritual presence. I can look down and concentrate on the almost physical pain of his death if I need to - remembering when I look up to fully root myself in the present. In the present I can use my five senses to see color, hear the sounds of people's voices, smell food cooking, touch a friend's a face, taste something delicious. If I am alone this holiday I can still use my five senses to experience what is around me. I can create a day, a series of days that I want to be alive in. I don't believe in pretending the missing, the loneliness isn't there. I believe in saying hello to it and then, forcibly if necessary, bringing myself back into the now. When I say look down for a second it's a modified NLP technique. If you are in public and you look down or close your eyes for a moment people won't notice.
The best way to anchor yourself in the present is to notice things. I'm one of those people with a mind that doesn't quit. It babbles and shrieks and won't leave me alone. I can quiet it by really looking at my surroundings. If I am washing dishes - what does the water feel like on my hands? If I am walking - what color are all the cars that drive by? The more I pay attention to what is outside of me the less I am able to pay attention to what is inside of my hyperactive mind. This is a practice. The more I practice, the easier it gets. For me, I am lucky to have my granddaughter. When she walks up and says, "Hi! Up!" her blue eyes call me to be there for her completely. I have to learn to say "Hi! Up!" to be there for myself completely.
It's okay to be sad that it yet another holiday. It is okay to be happy that it is yet another holiday.
Celebrate the memory. Celebrate the creation of new memories. Whether it is Passover - the freedom from my own slavery to what keeps me from being fully alive (yes - that it is not the same as being enslaved by other people), or Easter - the ability to resurrect myself from Artie's death and mine (I hope no one is thinking I am a heretic!) there are metaphoric reasons for these holidays. They are about remembering the sacrifice and the pain - and filling our senses with joy and love because of the triumph that came after.
I hope this is a holiday season that creates new memories that tug the ends of your mouth upwards. If this isn't a holiday season for you at all I still wish that. I don't know if the snow will every stop falling but I hope for spring to be a season that can come back into my heart. xo
Easter, is this year, like Passover in March instead of April. A great time for families gathering to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Children painting eggs and bunnies and baby chicks. All symbols of new life. Who is physically present to say a prayer before eating food lovingly cooked? Who is not.
With time the empty chair doesn't speak quite as loudly. When Artie first died even a simple dinner outing seemed very strange. Especially with a couple friend; seated at a table set for four. Where the heck was Artie? In no shape, obviously, to join us. How could I be sitting there without him?
With time, while I am still conscious of his physical absence, I am also aware of his spiritual presence. I can look down and concentrate on the almost physical pain of his death if I need to - remembering when I look up to fully root myself in the present. In the present I can use my five senses to see color, hear the sounds of people's voices, smell food cooking, touch a friend's a face, taste something delicious. If I am alone this holiday I can still use my five senses to experience what is around me. I can create a day, a series of days that I want to be alive in. I don't believe in pretending the missing, the loneliness isn't there. I believe in saying hello to it and then, forcibly if necessary, bringing myself back into the now. When I say look down for a second it's a modified NLP technique. If you are in public and you look down or close your eyes for a moment people won't notice.
The best way to anchor yourself in the present is to notice things. I'm one of those people with a mind that doesn't quit. It babbles and shrieks and won't leave me alone. I can quiet it by really looking at my surroundings. If I am washing dishes - what does the water feel like on my hands? If I am walking - what color are all the cars that drive by? The more I pay attention to what is outside of me the less I am able to pay attention to what is inside of my hyperactive mind. This is a practice. The more I practice, the easier it gets. For me, I am lucky to have my granddaughter. When she walks up and says, "Hi! Up!" her blue eyes call me to be there for her completely. I have to learn to say "Hi! Up!" to be there for myself completely.
It's okay to be sad that it yet another holiday. It is okay to be happy that it is yet another holiday.
Celebrate the memory. Celebrate the creation of new memories. Whether it is Passover - the freedom from my own slavery to what keeps me from being fully alive (yes - that it is not the same as being enslaved by other people), or Easter - the ability to resurrect myself from Artie's death and mine (I hope no one is thinking I am a heretic!) there are metaphoric reasons for these holidays. They are about remembering the sacrifice and the pain - and filling our senses with joy and love because of the triumph that came after.
I hope this is a holiday season that creates new memories that tug the ends of your mouth upwards. If this isn't a holiday season for you at all I still wish that. I don't know if the snow will every stop falling but I hope for spring to be a season that can come back into my heart. xo
Friday, March 22, 2013
Grief: Ethel and Bobby Kennedy - A Contributory Life
When Bobby Kennedy was shot and killed his wife Ethel was pregnant with her 11th child, Rory. Rory has made a documentary about her mother and her family, simply called Ethel. Thinking of them more as "the Kennedys" it is interesting to hear the now grown children call people we know as historical figures Mummy and Daddy and Uncle Jack.
Ethel talks about how after President Kennedy was assassinated Bobby "dwelt in the pain" for six months. It was as if both his arms had been cut off. However, the day after the assassination he wrote his oldest daughter a letter telling her that she must always think of others and what she could do for them and her country. What brought him out of total despair was a lot of reading, his children, and this idea of doing something for others.
When Rory asks Ethel about the day "we lost daddy" Ethel's eyes well up with tears and she says she doesn't want to talk about that. It's been over 40 years since her husband died and still the tears have not dried up. She does say that every morning when she wakes up her first thought is, "Bobby is happy. He is with his brothers and sons and family." She is, like many, someone who has had too much death to handle: her brother-in-law, her husband, and two of her grown sons. Yet she lives a spirited giving life. Her way back in was her family, her faith, and this idea of doing for others.
I don't talk too much about faith because this is a very personal blog and I am not a religious person. I like that Elie Wiesel says that if you are cursing God that also is a prayer because you are still making a connection. I have developed a faith in and seem to have evidence for some kind of existence after death. If there isn't one, it doesn't matter to me because believing that Artie and I can continue our journey keeps me sane. Faith provides comfort for many people.
I know I'm always finding people who live fully and stay married to dead people. Although, most of them wouldn't say it that way!
Ethel and Bobby, at least in this documentary, are a true love story. A love story that didn't end with death. Part of that love story is always what they could do in real time for not just family but for folks that suffer. One of their grown sons called it a contributory life.
I dislike the idea of visualize it and it is yours; or you can have anything you want. It's not true. I can't have Artie back. I still ask him to come back, but I know it's impossible. However, I do have choices about what I do with my own life. I don't always treasure it. Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I died too. At the beginning I felt like I had died. I used to say, "We died" by mistake.
I've come to believe that I'm still alive because I have work to do and it is up to me to figure out what that is. It goes back to creating meaning instead of asking why there isn't any. If I do something for someone else - no matter how small - it takes me out of my own self pity. I am thinking of them instead of about me. It doesn't have to be a stranger. It could be a family member. It makes people a little crazy because when I'm with my granddaughter I don't answer the phone. Giving her my time; sitting down on the floor playing with her is doing something for someone else. It's important to do this with family members and friends. Sometimes people who are involved in causes forget about those at home.
If you have time, there are many volunteer organizations that can help you get involved with other people, animals, the environment. You don't have to feel like doing it - you just have to show up for a while and see what happens.
It also addresses the question of why bother. For me, why bother is my selfish question. It's about my unbelievably huge capacity for self pity! I can't do it. It's too hard. Especially now. How can I do anything if Artie isn't here physically to hold me and comfort me and make me laugh? The answer is I can. I may not want to. I may not do it. It might not be easy. But - I can.
From the day Artie died until now I feel a struggle between the part of me that embraces life and the part of me that is quite comfy, thank you very much, staying in bed hiding from everything surrounded by cupcake crumbs. Sometimes doing good things, having fun times makes me as anxious as doing nothing.
The thing is - when I look back on my day I want to see that the balance keeps changing in the direction of life. I want to see that I am trying. That I am taking some action.
I have no control over whether or not I will fall in love again. I have no control over when I will die. I do have some control over how I will live. I look to people who live passionately. I don't compare myself. Well, I do sometimes. But that's not good because I have to give what I have to give, not what someone else has. What if I don't write that novel but I make someone laugh who is sad?
Some days I feel like I am struggling through quicksand and I stop struggling. However, the days on which I look outside myself and do something - the days in which I take an action that makes me think about someone other than myself - those are days with happy moments.
A contributory life doesn't have to be the whole. I do a lot for myself as well. There is time to be silly and have fun. There is time to cry and shake your fist. However, when that moment comes that you get to be with the one(s) you are missing so much (please, please, please!) I hope you can say that your life touched others, like a thrown stone casting ever widening ripples in a pond. xo
Ethel talks about how after President Kennedy was assassinated Bobby "dwelt in the pain" for six months. It was as if both his arms had been cut off. However, the day after the assassination he wrote his oldest daughter a letter telling her that she must always think of others and what she could do for them and her country. What brought him out of total despair was a lot of reading, his children, and this idea of doing something for others.
When Rory asks Ethel about the day "we lost daddy" Ethel's eyes well up with tears and she says she doesn't want to talk about that. It's been over 40 years since her husband died and still the tears have not dried up. She does say that every morning when she wakes up her first thought is, "Bobby is happy. He is with his brothers and sons and family." She is, like many, someone who has had too much death to handle: her brother-in-law, her husband, and two of her grown sons. Yet she lives a spirited giving life. Her way back in was her family, her faith, and this idea of doing for others.
I don't talk too much about faith because this is a very personal blog and I am not a religious person. I like that Elie Wiesel says that if you are cursing God that also is a prayer because you are still making a connection. I have developed a faith in and seem to have evidence for some kind of existence after death. If there isn't one, it doesn't matter to me because believing that Artie and I can continue our journey keeps me sane. Faith provides comfort for many people.
I know I'm always finding people who live fully and stay married to dead people. Although, most of them wouldn't say it that way!
Ethel and Bobby, at least in this documentary, are a true love story. A love story that didn't end with death. Part of that love story is always what they could do in real time for not just family but for folks that suffer. One of their grown sons called it a contributory life.
I dislike the idea of visualize it and it is yours; or you can have anything you want. It's not true. I can't have Artie back. I still ask him to come back, but I know it's impossible. However, I do have choices about what I do with my own life. I don't always treasure it. Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I died too. At the beginning I felt like I had died. I used to say, "We died" by mistake.
I've come to believe that I'm still alive because I have work to do and it is up to me to figure out what that is. It goes back to creating meaning instead of asking why there isn't any. If I do something for someone else - no matter how small - it takes me out of my own self pity. I am thinking of them instead of about me. It doesn't have to be a stranger. It could be a family member. It makes people a little crazy because when I'm with my granddaughter I don't answer the phone. Giving her my time; sitting down on the floor playing with her is doing something for someone else. It's important to do this with family members and friends. Sometimes people who are involved in causes forget about those at home.
If you have time, there are many volunteer organizations that can help you get involved with other people, animals, the environment. You don't have to feel like doing it - you just have to show up for a while and see what happens.
It also addresses the question of why bother. For me, why bother is my selfish question. It's about my unbelievably huge capacity for self pity! I can't do it. It's too hard. Especially now. How can I do anything if Artie isn't here physically to hold me and comfort me and make me laugh? The answer is I can. I may not want to. I may not do it. It might not be easy. But - I can.
From the day Artie died until now I feel a struggle between the part of me that embraces life and the part of me that is quite comfy, thank you very much, staying in bed hiding from everything surrounded by cupcake crumbs. Sometimes doing good things, having fun times makes me as anxious as doing nothing.
The thing is - when I look back on my day I want to see that the balance keeps changing in the direction of life. I want to see that I am trying. That I am taking some action.
I have no control over whether or not I will fall in love again. I have no control over when I will die. I do have some control over how I will live. I look to people who live passionately. I don't compare myself. Well, I do sometimes. But that's not good because I have to give what I have to give, not what someone else has. What if I don't write that novel but I make someone laugh who is sad?
Some days I feel like I am struggling through quicksand and I stop struggling. However, the days on which I look outside myself and do something - the days in which I take an action that makes me think about someone other than myself - those are days with happy moments.
A contributory life doesn't have to be the whole. I do a lot for myself as well. There is time to be silly and have fun. There is time to cry and shake your fist. However, when that moment comes that you get to be with the one(s) you are missing so much (please, please, please!) I hope you can say that your life touched others, like a thrown stone casting ever widening ripples in a pond. xo
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Grief: Was That A Breeze of Happiness Blowing On My Neck?
I was on Madison Ave. which is the street in NYC that has a lot of high end fashion and jewelry stores. I was looking in the window of Chopard at the most beautiful gemstones. Color and sparkle.I had been to my wonderful chiropractor Dr. Safko. I don't get snapped. They start by putting electrical stimulation pulses on my sore muscle places, cover me with a blanket with heat and leave me resting in a darkened room for ten minutes. With my muscles more supple, masage follows. Then Dr. Safko does Active Release Technique and/or other stretches. In other words, my body was feeling good. I have to admit that in my bag I had a big cupcake. I had read Celeste's letter (see the last post). As I was walking and window shopping I was thinking how lucky I was to love Artie and have him love me.
I felt a kind of lightness that I have not felt since Artie died. I didn't know what it was. I laugh a lot; I have a lot of happy moments. However, there is always a kind of heaviness weighing me down. Dead husband heaviness. Longine, missing, loneliness for a specific person. For a minute I felt as though I was a helium balloon floating above the clouds. I was feeling happy.
I used to live in Phoenix, Arizona. In the summer it can be 120 degrees. At night it "cools down" to maybe 100 degrees. One summer I went up to Flagstaff which is on higher ground and is much cooler. I left my motel room window open. I felt something. I didn't know what it was. Then I laughed. It was a cool breeze. I had forgotten what a cool breeze felt like. That is what this moment of happiness felt like - the unexpected, forgotten caress of a cool breeze after a long hard time. It was like Artie was tousling my hair and kissing my neck.
I'd like to say that I welcomed it. I did for a little while but then I poked it, analyzed it, stabbed it, punched it, threw it away. I made a space for all the sadness and heaviness to come back. I'm used to living this way. It's as comfortable as it is uncomfortable. The thing is - you can't really push away a breeze. It comes back when it will. It makes its own space and its own time.
There is a poem by Li Young Lee that says (I have to find the exact quote) something about the very thing we do to survive keeps us from living. I read that line and cried. How does my grief still keep me from living? It isn't a bad thing to survive. We need to survive to live. However, some of our coping mechanisms grow old and we cling on to them anyway.
I've felt that light breeze of happiiness a couple of more times since that day. I want to learn how to invite it in. It's all part of the process of letting the joy of Artie's love and his love for life inspire me and be stronger than how diffiuclt every breath seems without him here with me in his old earthly form. I'm not interested in losing my connections. When I am present my past is part of my present and my presence. I don't make letting go a necessary part of my reaching for complete aliveness.
I think of my granddaughter Gwendy blue eyes - now almost 15 months old. When she is happy she laughs. When she is sad or frustrated she cries. She delights in so many things but her delight doesn't stop her from expressing her other feelings very strongly. That's what we lose as we grow up. The ability to be intensely present with the wonder and awe as well as the tears and the shaking of the head while saying, "Nooooo". (When she says no she makes the O part long and quavery.) So...here's to more moments of light breezes of happiness blowing our way. And here's to the ability to enjoy them. Sometimes unbearable and happiness can be in the same phrase - and sometimes happiness can wander off by itself and stand alone.
Why bother to live? Becasue we're alive. xo
I felt a kind of lightness that I have not felt since Artie died. I didn't know what it was. I laugh a lot; I have a lot of happy moments. However, there is always a kind of heaviness weighing me down. Dead husband heaviness. Longine, missing, loneliness for a specific person. For a minute I felt as though I was a helium balloon floating above the clouds. I was feeling happy.
I used to live in Phoenix, Arizona. In the summer it can be 120 degrees. At night it "cools down" to maybe 100 degrees. One summer I went up to Flagstaff which is on higher ground and is much cooler. I left my motel room window open. I felt something. I didn't know what it was. Then I laughed. It was a cool breeze. I had forgotten what a cool breeze felt like. That is what this moment of happiness felt like - the unexpected, forgotten caress of a cool breeze after a long hard time. It was like Artie was tousling my hair and kissing my neck.
I'd like to say that I welcomed it. I did for a little while but then I poked it, analyzed it, stabbed it, punched it, threw it away. I made a space for all the sadness and heaviness to come back. I'm used to living this way. It's as comfortable as it is uncomfortable. The thing is - you can't really push away a breeze. It comes back when it will. It makes its own space and its own time.
There is a poem by Li Young Lee that says (I have to find the exact quote) something about the very thing we do to survive keeps us from living. I read that line and cried. How does my grief still keep me from living? It isn't a bad thing to survive. We need to survive to live. However, some of our coping mechanisms grow old and we cling on to them anyway.
I've felt that light breeze of happiiness a couple of more times since that day. I want to learn how to invite it in. It's all part of the process of letting the joy of Artie's love and his love for life inspire me and be stronger than how diffiuclt every breath seems without him here with me in his old earthly form. I'm not interested in losing my connections. When I am present my past is part of my present and my presence. I don't make letting go a necessary part of my reaching for complete aliveness.
I think of my granddaughter Gwendy blue eyes - now almost 15 months old. When she is happy she laughs. When she is sad or frustrated she cries. She delights in so many things but her delight doesn't stop her from expressing her other feelings very strongly. That's what we lose as we grow up. The ability to be intensely present with the wonder and awe as well as the tears and the shaking of the head while saying, "Nooooo". (When she says no she makes the O part long and quavery.) So...here's to more moments of light breezes of happiness blowing our way. And here's to the ability to enjoy them. Sometimes unbearable and happiness can be in the same phrase - and sometimes happiness can wander off by itself and stand alone.
Why bother to live? Becasue we're alive. xo
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