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When Grief Knocks Softly

Thoughts on loss and my mother on the anniversary of her death.

There has been so much collective grief and loss this past year and a half. Today I sit with my personal grief and remember my mother as she passed away 7 years ago today.

Her voice in my mind isn’t as strong, but it’s still so close. To all of you who have felt grief or loss, be it the death of a family member, partner, friend, or even bff pet, I hope you also feel them with you. Death is inevitable, as I wrote the day before my mom died, but sometimes it really feels unfair when someone we love gets taken sooner than we think they should.

I feel that pain with you today. I feel the anger of missing out on tons of opportunities, to travel, to talk, to get and give advice, a hug, to laugh, or even argue, just to be together, the joy we could have kept sharing.

I also feel the deep appreciation for love that was here, that was felt, that is in me and will live on and on and on.

This date is always really hard…but it is also really good. I love moments that bring me closer to my mom again, and today I feel close to our communal human experience as well.

I am thinking of you out there, in your pain, joy, and memory.

I hope this last journal I wrote the day before my mom died can somehow connect with you and help you feel what you need to feel.

I love you friend, stranger. And I’m glad that you are alive here with me today.

August 25th, 2014

Today was hard, beautiful, overwhelming sad, hopeful, tiring, peaceful.  So much in one day.

I’m thankful that my mom is still here. I don’t want to go forward to a future where she’s not…but it’s all starting to be a little less impossible…and with that I feel a little bit more like the world is going to be okay, even after.

My mom lost her ability to communicate now, almost totally.  She did turn into me when I snuggled up in the bed though, and then held her hand on my leg and then in my hand.

She’s there, she’s just also very far away.

So many people to make sure that they know, so many people to call.  I would hate for someone to be taken by surprise after she’s gone…but it might happen.  It’s just so fast, a few extra days of slowing would be nice to sit, and grieve, smile, even laugh, and do lots of crying.

Which I have to say I will be ready to be done with.  The crying just comes so easy sometimes, but I’m exhausted and don’t want to be sad for the rest of my life.

But, it has been a good one up until now hasn’t it.  And she has gone through it like a blazing star.  So bright you can’t be near her and not be affected by her joy and her positive spirit.  

And this is today.  And if we focus on this moment now it is all a bit easier to bare.  

And death is inevitable.  And we go bravely into the dying of the light.  And we except that it is. And we grieve and we live, always remembering, always carrying her with us.

I carry you with me–i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

And sitting here, next to you with the family…I think you know that.  I think you know that you are still here with us, and you will always be.

Yellow, and Teal, and Green

Can a color teach you joy like a Sunday school lesson?

Come around, children, and listen to how teal taught the sea to part and your fears to drown!

Listen to how orange tamed the lion in my heart and how red taught me to cry.

Learn from me this morning about the wisdom in the yellow my grandmother’s house used to be and how green couldn’t reach the sky so it instead taught itself how to grow whenever it finds dirt.

And it even can teach you how you ever move on when someone dies;

.
You look deep in the purple, blue of the bottomless ocean and see how we are all atoms connected to the sea and you are with me, mother;
And so is
Yellow,
And teal,
And green.

Pottery I’ve made since I wrote this poem. Colors always teach me to love and feel connected to the life around me.
Bright like the sun and heavy like the earth. This piece is now down in Puerto Rico brightening up some extended family’s home.
Warm and happy, like a hug from Momma Carol.

To Tell Our Story

It’s a funny thing, to hear your own story played back for you.  It gets down into your bones, into the deep parts of your brain that hold smell, and place, and love, not just memories.  

I didn’t know when Colleen emailed me last Fall and asked me to tell the story of our Celebration on her podcast that she would be giving me such a priceless gift, but now I have it.  

If you don’t know me, or didn’t know me when my mom was dying, this is a big part of who I am.  

I can’t talk to my mother any more, I can’t send her cards, or texts, or surprise her with a quick visit because plane tickets are so cheap right now (#washyourhands #donttouchyourface) but I can remember that it is because of her audacity and strength that I am able to live the life I have today.  Even though she would not chose the path I made for myself (to leave the faith she grounded me in and move to Philadelphia, far away from the Fargo she loved) she is the reason why any of it was possible, and I think that she would still be so proud.

And so I sit in that today.  Knowing that she would be proud of the woman I am and am still becoming.  Knowing that that day was so special to Brandon and I, to our families, and such a deep moment of love for my mom.  Knowing that I am giving parts of her joy, love and energy to my students, to friends, blood and chosen family, and I hope maybe and someday to people I hardly even know.  She lived a simple yet incredible life.  Bringing so much joy to the world–let me repeat the sounding joy.

 

Full Transcript of S1E4 I Want to Have a Ceremony with You

First aired on Mar 13, 2020

Betsy and Brandon didn’t want to get married. But when Betsy’s mother was nearing the end of her life, they decided to honor their love in a ceremony called A Celebration of Love and Family.

Weiss: You know, both of our families are actually religious, Christian, and have a different sense of, you know, that you should get married if you’re in this committed relationship but we don’t feel that way. And so there’s sort of this tension, but reality in life of while we feel differently, but that’s okay.

What happens when our values and choices don’t match the expectations of our family? When we grow into different people than those who are closest to us? How can we still keep them close and nurture those important relationships while also finding ways to be true to ourselves? Today we will meet Betsy and Brandon who wanted to do their commitment a bit differently than their families expected. Join me to learn how they did it, and kept their families close.

This is Shame Piñata. I’m Colleen Thomas.

Welcome to Shame Piñata, where we talk about creating rites of passage for real-life transitions. I’m going to share a very special story with you today. Or, rather, our guest is. Betsy Weiss knew she didn’t want to get married. She became clear on that shortly after college, in her early 20’s. She had very clear and thought-out reasons for making this decision. When she met someone and started a relationship that meant a lot to her, that didn’t change. In fact it never changed. What did change is that her mom got sick, and then better, and then sick again. And Betsy was faced with the thought of losing her mother without having had the chance to mark the importance of her relationship with her mother there. She wanted to share the love she and her partner had with her mom. She also wanted to honor her mom for being the cornerstone of the family she had always been. So Betsy and her partner planned a ceremony, a non-wedding. They called it a celebration of life and family.

Weiss: I guess my story actually really starts like how I grew up. I grew up in a pretty conservative Christian family, school, church where I was taught that you shouldn’t have sex until you’re married, that you, as a woman, will serve your husband that he’ll be the head of the household. And, you know, a lot of my friends that I knew when were was young got married when they were 21-22. And I always knew… I was always an independent person, I always know that I was going to wait till I was 26. That was like my, well, I’m not gonna get married at 22 or 23 but I’m gonna wait until I’m a little bit older. Because that felt important to me and that was when my mama got married. She was actually 27. And then when I was in college, I really changed my perspective, my mindset, and actually left the faith that I had grown up in. And it felt like there’s a lot of toxic things, especially some of the things I was taught as a woman about my self-worth about like that I was told that I was causing men to sin and I was a problem because I was a female and an attractive person. And so I decided after college kind of in my early 20s, I wasn’t really interested in getting married anymore, that I might want to have a connection to someone, but that I never wanted to be… to feel like I had to serve someone else like I was lesser. I didn’t want to feel like a religion had power over me in that way and didn’t feel like I needed the government’s approval either. I also really didn’t like the sense of property that used to be attached, and in some ways, maybe still is attached to women and marriage. And so I sort of felt like, you know, that’s just not something I want. But then I met someone. I met someone named Brandon and we became really close. It was the first really healthy relationship I’d had. When I was in college actually, my mom had gotten sick. She had stage one breast cancer but had gotten better. And then a couple years later, it came back a stage four breast cancer and she had really good results through chemo, but in a moment when she was actually doing a lot better, I was in the car with Brandon, we were on the way to see his family. And I was sitting there and thinking, I want to have a ceremony with you. I want to do something with my mom, before she dies, like if something were to happen. And at the time, we’re thinking she had 10-20 years. We thought, you know, she was recovering really well. But I just said, like, I want to do this. I want to recognize our relationship with my mom. And he said, yeah, okay.

Betsy and Brandon didn’t really talk about it again for months, maybe up to a year. But in the summer of 2014, Betsy went home to help her mom because she was going through chemo again.

Weiss: And actually the day I got home, she told me that she had just learned from her doctor that they didn’t think that chemo was really going to work anymore, and she probably had about six months left in her life. And so in that moment, and as like a week or two went by, I called Brandon and said, I want to do something. I want to like have a ceremony with my mom. And, you know, he needed to think about it. Because what did that mean to him? What did that mean to our relationship? We’d been together for two years, which wasn’t actually that long. I actually was 27, which is funny that that’s sort of the age I had put in my mind when I was a kid that I wanted to get married. So as we started to think well, okay, this isn’t going to be wedding or marriage, what is it going to be?

This is the part of the story where we get to learn about the magic of Betsy’s mom, Carol. Despite having cancer, Carol found unique and creative ways to stay connected to joy and she brought those around her with her on that journey.

Weiss: We actually took, or I took lessons from my mom, who every time she had chemotherapy, she would throw a party. So she did this so that she could encourage herself and encourage people she saw in the hospital. She had told me that she would go in and it just seemed so depressing and sad and everyone was down because chemo is hard. And, you know, and a lot of people are facing the end of their life there. But she thought, well, I don’t want to be depressed and sad, I want to have fun and enjoy, and have this joy. Her name’s Carol and that like singing songs of joy sort of like what she would do with her whole life. So she would have theme parties. She had a twins party because we love the baseball team Twins because we’re from Minnesota. We had like a caterpillar theme, she would have a fourth of July theme and she would always make a little candy goodie basket. The caterpillar one I think she had like, made a line of little cupcakes that looked like a caterpillar. And the hospital would start to know like, oh Carol is going to come in today! And everyone would stop by and see these decorations and themes in the little chemo room. And you know, they would laugh and have this kind of party. And people will come in all dressed up for whatever the theme was, and you know, it’d be a really special thing to go to win a Carol’s chemo parties. And so I wanted to, you know, to keep that going that my mother was dying but, but instead of mourning together, why don’t we celebrate and have this party together of life and love that we’ve had? So we decided to call this ceremony a celebration of love and family.

The celebration of love and family took about a month to plan. As Betsy and Brandon began telling other people about it, it became clear that not everyone understood where they were going with the idea.

Weiss: Especially my aunts all were like, “Well, but so are you getting married? Or are you engaged? Like, I don’t understand.” We’re like, “No, we’re not. We’re just going to have a party and we want you to be there. And we’re going to talk about how we love each other. And we’re going to celebrate our families.”

I love this part of the story because we begin to see how the members of Betsy’s family, while they didn’t necessarily understand the vision for the ceremony, or understand why Betsy and Brandon were not getting married, were still supportive and loving.

Weiss: So we did need to figure out sort of what the day would look like. And we decided that we wanted to have sort of this simple ceremony in a park close to my house called Trefoil Park by the Red River in Fargo. This really beautiful spot that we put a canopy up and my immediate family, my dad and mom and brother and then Brandon’s family, his parents and his brother and sister-in-law came and we just told them to prepare some words if they wanted to share about how they love our families. And we were going to share about our love for each other too. We hired a photographer, which is something I’m so grateful for it because now as I look back, and remember my mother, I have these really wonderful pictures from our celebration. You know, Brandon spoke words to me and I spoke to him and there’s a lot of tears and laughter and, and one of the things I really remember that I said, that’s been with me and helped me stay strong as I know and my mom is gone, like you Brandon will be what helps hold me together. You know, she was like my best friend. We were really, really close. And when she did pass that was really true and, and saying those words and having that moment together, I think did bring us closer in a way I didn’t expect. To me, it was when I was planning the party, although it was about Brandon and I’s relationship, I was doing it for my mom and to share with her. But in doing the ceremony, and the celebration, I did feel much closer to Brandon. And I think it did kind of solidify our relationship in a way that surprised me. And then after we all spoke and shared words of love with each other, we went to my favorite Mexican restaurant called Mango’s and ate with my extended family. So my cousins and aunts and uncles were there. And then we… although you know, it wasn’t really anything that felt like we needed to follow tradition, I do really, really love wedding dances and my family loves wedding dances, and we all love to have a good time. So we had bought a hall, a space, and we invited extended friends family to that area. So we had about 60-70 people all come together and we had little, you know, desserts and d’oeuvres. And in the planning phase it was funny that one of my aunts was just like… it was so hard for her not to plan a wedding and so she was like, “Okay, well, we need centerpieces. So I’m going to create these centerpieces and we need a theme.” And they kept trying to ask me these questions. And I was… at the time I was trying to help my mother who was really sick and I’m like, “I don’t care. I don’t want a wedding. Please don’t make it like a wedding. But if you want to make a centerpiece…” Like, it actually was really thoughtful at the same time that they were… Although they didn’t understand maybe what we were doing, they wanted to be a part of it and and share. And so we had these really lovely, sort of like beachy-themed centerpieces on the tables. That was really fun. And then we danced. My mom was in her wheelchair, so we kind of wheeled her around and she even stood up a little bit with her oxygen tank and had a dance with my dad. And there’s these lovely pictures of her dancing with my dad and Brandon and myself. And it was a beautiful night that so many people got to share with us. And then it was actually two weeks later that my mom passed away. And so, I think, you know, she actually also got really excited planning the party just like she had for her chemo parties. And I think it really gave her some of the energy to make it a little bit longer in life. And then when she, after the party, I think she… She shared with us, she just was done. She was done with the chemotherapy that made her feel really terrible. She was tired. And although she wanted to live longer, it was like, you know, I’m okay with letting go. Which was a lot harder for the rest of us, but something beautiful I get to… we got to share and be a part of with her. So that’s really that’s the story of what the celebration was, how it connected, and sort of the story of losing my mother, you know, it’s all wrapped up in and tied in together too.

Thomas: Yeah. Oh, that’s… that’s such a beautiful story, just so much love and so much acceptance of the situation, all the different parts of the situation all together and allowing everybody to be who they are including the aunts who need to make centerpieces because it’s a wedding in their mind and that’s what you do.

Weiss: Well, and that was… it was interesting. It wasn’t just them too. A lot of people when we talked to them that were older and we’d say something about how we weren’t getting married. You know, some of them I think were happy we were doing something but also a bit concerned because a lot of people they were like, “Oh, well, aren’t you gonna get married?” and don’t understand when we say like, “No, we did. We did what we wanted to do. We had our ceremony like, that was it. That was great. We threw the party.” But you know, it also was a moment even when people didn’t understand or had a different sense of what relationships should be, they still came together with us and celebrated and had a wonderful time.

Thomas: I love what you shared about it being… it sounded kind of tiered in my head that you had different people at different parts of the ceremony. So you had like, you brought them in where you wanted them.

Weiss: Yeah. So we wanted… and actually Brandon was more concerned and protective of having some intimate moments. I was a little more like “Let’s invite everybody!” And he was like, “Well, I don’t know if I want that…” Like, he didn’t want it to become a wedding. He wanted it to be something different. And I was a little less concerned about… I knew for myself, it wasn’t gonna be. Like, well, we weren’t getting married. So, you know, that wasn’t as much a concern. But for him it was important that people know like, no, this isn’t a wedding, it’s different. So like he didn’t want every… everyone in our lives to come to celebrate us. And I think some of that protected the intimate moment that we got to have as two families coming together to celebrate us, like Brandon and I wanting to be together and also sharing appreciate this wonderful legacy and cornerstone of family that my mother had been. And they’re actually… Right after the ceremony and a little bit as we processed, both of us had some moments of regret that we didn’t share it with more people, not the ceremony, the moment of celebration, with… The intimate moment in the park, I think we’re really glad that was just our immediate family. But knowing afterwards that it would be my mother’s last couple weeks, and that the ceremony became even more meaningful than we had initially thought. You know, we did regret a bit that we hadn’t just invited everyone. We had friends from Philadelphia saying, “We want to come, we want to come to Fargo!” And I saying like, “No, like, we… it might be too much” or, you know, “No, this isn’t our wedding, you don’t need to come.” But afterwards, we thought, you know, it would have been great to celebrate with them. It was a really meaningful moment, though, you know. We in some ways, didn’t know what we were creating. But the one thing that we’ve talked about is, well, you know, we did it differently before. So if we want to, again, like we can throw another party and just celebrate something different in life. It doesn’t have to be the fact that we’re like committing to be together in my be you know if we have a baby or we might adopt, and maybe like, we’ll have a really big party with family then. And that can be a time when people come together in our lives that are important. And we can have a dance because we love to have dances! And just do it do it differently because who says it has to be just weddings when people get together and celebrate and dance and have time together?

Thomas: Absolutely. That is what the whole show is about that I’m doing so…

Weiss: Great!

Thomas: That’s perfect.

Weiss: Well, I’ll be listening! And I’ll be like yeah! I’m gonna do… I’m gonna steal all the ideas.

Thomas: And I was also curious what rite of passage do you wish you’d had?

Weiss: It’s interesting, I think with women there’s so much tied up in our sexuality actually. But I think like women there’s this sense of like purity, right? And that this is their rite of passage is like, are they still pure? And then, you know, they were this like white gown to show that they’ve never had any sexual experiences, and then they can finally, with their father’s permission, have sex, you know. And so a rite of passage that I wish I’d had was like teaching me healthy sexuality when I was young, instead of… Like, I had a purity ring and I was told that I needed to… I couldn’t even like, kiss someone until I was married. Those things really were unhealthy I think. And I just wish that people would have said, “You’re a person. A part of who you are is this sexuality. You can experience that. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” And that we could have like, celebrated our humanity kind of maybe, you know, in my early teens, not in a hyper-sexualized way, but in something that recognizes like, “It’s okay for you to like other women. It’s okay for you to feel sexual thoughts. It’s okay for you to not.” You know, like those things are okay. And I would love if there was some magical rite of passage that we could do for for young men and women to say like, “It’s okay for you to become a sexual being.” Like that’s a good thing.

Thomas: I love that. That is not traditional ritual that I know of. But should be!

Weiss: Yeah, what we had was, you know, a lot of the keep your purity. Here’s your purity ring. And, you know, the best women are the virginal, same kind of women.

Thomas: Right. Right. Goodness.

I am so grateful to radio fairy godmother Anne Hoffman for introducing me to Betsy and to Betsy for sharing her story with us. I especially love the clarity that Betsy and Brandon brought to the ceremony, their love for Carol, their respect for the family members who didn’t quite get it in the moment, and their commitment to honoring their desire to not get married. Ceremonies can be whatever we want them to be. They are a way to honor ourselves, our relationships and our growth. We can use them to mark transition, release old ties, start off on new paths, and affirm our commitments. Family and society will expect us to do predictable things, but we can surprise them if we want to!

Betsy Weiss carries on her mother’s audacity for life, sharing it as Carol would have wanted her to. You can read how she processes grief and life at the website thethingssheleftme.com.

Our music is by Terry Hughes. If you like the show, please take a minute to share it with a friend. Learn more at shamepinata.com. I’m Colleen Thomas. Thanks for listening.

 

2 Years Gone Tomorrow

Missing my momma today (not like I don’t miss her every day–I do, but today is different.)

 

I’m to that place where I know nothing will bring her back.  I’m at that step when you accept that the person you love, your mother, your best friend, is never coming back.

 

I’m not telling sweet stories about how everything is going to be okay, because it would’ve been better with her here, us telling stories to each other about the last adventure and mishap we went through.

 

The hole doesn’t get smaller, you just get used to it as you walk through your day, always a little more empty than you were before she died.

 

2 years gone tomorrow.  I wish I could wish you back.

 

But you’re gone. And I know that.  And I’ll still make you proud momma.  I’ll still keep trying to fix everything and enjoy life while I’m at it.

 

I’ll still keep holding you, your memories, your lessons, your love with me forever (or for my forever—as long as that may be.)

 


 

No one knew how to make me feel better like my momma did.

 

I’ve dealt with depression probably since middle school, I just didn’t realize it was depression until I was an adult.

 

At night when I was a kid I used to get sad and I didn’t know why. I would usually find my mother, or buzz her on the intercom from the basement and tell her that I wasn’t feeling well.  She’d come down to my room and I’d tell her how overwhelmed and bad I felt. She would always hold me and tell me that it’s okay to cry. “Sometimes we just get full of emotions and have to let them out.”

 

I still struggle with my emotions, usually now it’s in the morning; not wanting to get out of bed because what’s the point. She used to make me get up too ( I always hated that) and would tell me, “Don’t waste the daylight!”  Now I have a guilt complex about sleeping in, even though I do it all the time.  But it can be a good voice in there too, telling me to live this life and not let the dark thoughts and corners eat me up.

 

“Get out there and do something!”

Not today though mom.  Today I’m going to sit inside, cry, and remember you.

And I think you would say that’s okay, and want to hold me if you could.

Loved and remembered. Carol Ann (Comstock) Weiss ~ January 22 1953 - August 26 2014

Loved and remembered.   Carol Ann (Comstock) Weiss ~ January 22 1953 – August 26 2014

 

Fireworks on the 4th

Not only did my mother love fireworks, she also loved to try and capture a good one with a photo. Usually they are pretty elusive, but my mom got a pretty good one in this shot here.

Not only did my mother love fireworks, she also loved to try and capture them with a photo. Usually they were pretty elusive, but she got a good one in this shot.

Two years ago today my mom sat in her wheel chair at MSUM’s Nemzek field.  A yearly ritual, we would park nearby, walk up to the stands, listen to the cover band play old American classics and wait for the lights to dim.  Once it was fully dark we would see the first reload shoot up with a “thwump”, a swirling smoke stream left in its wake, and then the first “pop” and “ahh” would echo the stands.  My mom was usually the loudest to “ooo” and “ahh”; sometimes a pop would sparkle so impressively she would start to clap.  She always remembered to tell us that the “palm tree” ones were her favorite—an opinion that I shared either because of her immense proselytization of their beauty and “awesomeness” or just because they really are the best and most awesome—I’ll never really be sure.

 

Two years ago was different though.  This time we sat on the side because my mother would never be able to make it up the steps of the bleachers.  We brought her walker/wheelchair and parked in the handicap spots about 100 meters from where we plopped our chairs on the grass.  It was still a great view and you could hear the music off the side of the bleachers.   My mother had wanted to go and had rallied a significant amount of energy just to make it to this unorthodox spot.  We talked about small things that I can’t remember much until the fireworks began. After the first pop or two it wasn’t an “ooo” and “ahh” that I heard, but a remark filled with knowledge and sadness, “I just keep thinking—long pause—that these are the last fireworks that I’ll see.”

 

And right away I quipped back with a, “You don’t know that mom.  You might be able to see them next year.  Things could get better like they have before!” But, she did know and had grasped something remarkable that few of us get to experience.

 

What would it be like to see fireworks with eyes that knew they were the last you’d ever see?  What would it be like to be aware that it was the end?  Even in old age it’s rare to know exactly when you’re going to go.  How good and bad and overwhelming and peaceful would it feel to get to say goodbye to someone with finality?

 

My mother, in her brown wig with highlights and her uncomfortable walker/wheelchair sitting outside the Moorhead football field, knowing this would be it; “ooo” and “ahh” she continued after we both let the comments be forgotten.  “These palm tree ones are my favorite.  I always love the way they sparkle.”

 

Me too mom.  And I still do.

Pretend Tomorrow Is from Me

 

20160423_121407

These past days (weeks, months?) I’ve been so caught up in a job and driving places and sharing in wonderful and major life events.  It’s been like a giant train speeding ahead and all I can do is look forward.

 

And there my mother’s ashes sit of the shelf.  Static. Cold. Still permanent.

 

This morning I woke up to the rain dropping through the leaves in my back yard.  I think of my mother. I think of the new house I just bought.  I talk about the first joint checking account I will open with someone.  I talk about all the weddings I’ve been to and that they were just the right kind of love.  I talk about you, and how I wish we could talk.

 

Last summer I got to write and grieve and write and grieve.   It was a fevered sort of peace that let me process and had me desperate to hold onto you.

Then I took a job, and it has turned out to be heavy, and distracting, and full of its own consuming challenges.  I can’t stop because the job won’t let me, because I love these little kids, because public education in the city of Philadelphia is a joke compared to what it should be and it tears my heart everyday that I can’t make it better.

 

You, there on the shelf, are you still a part of this struggle with me?

 

She comes back to me in waves while I’m moving through stress and joy and moments.

You still guide me when I feel like a failure and I need someone to tell me that they love me, that I can do anything, that there’s no reason to question myself because of course you know I can.

 

You are still there in pockets of my every day.

But I want to write you in permanently.  I want to welcome you back through the words of your story.  I want to remember you always:  not just in the tattoo I want to get or a picture that shows your smile.

 

Sometime in 2014 you sent me a card that says on the front:  “Every day is a gift” and in the middle:  “Pretend tomorrow is from me.”  You crossed out the part below that said “Happy Birthday” and wrote “Happy You are Loved day.”

 

Every day is a gift from you, mom. I miss you and I’ll never forget.

 

20160423_121450

i carry your heart with me(I carry it in my heart)

 

“Getting Better” or How Grief Lets You Grow (even when you don’t want to)

Time is hard, and time is healing.

 

Mom, I’ve been doing so much better.  I can talk about you and feel pride and love instead of pain. I can go out and enjoy time with friends and not feel overwhelmed with thoughts of retreating into the corner to be alone.  I can think about the future and feel good about moving forward without being afraid to go anywhere without you.   I’m healing. I’m moving. Which is so scary mom, because it’s still away from you.

 

I think about you in every major decision, whenever someone is in pain, whenever someone is proud of me, or I hurt, or my life changes–you are a part of my future, even if I can’t tell you about it.

 

Today, sitting in a coffee shop with a good friend, I think about how you would laugh with me at the barbie doll girls sitting next to me, brood with me over the rudeness I felt when someone questioned my intelligence because I’m female, and cry with me when the house I was so excited about slipped through our fingers.

 

And because I can still remember you and feel you, it’s like you are sharing these things with me.  I still fear that I’ll keep forgetting you, that time will erode away the strength of my sense of you.  Will I be able to remember your scent, you hugs, the details of your smile and love 30 years from now?

 

Time is hard…and time is healing.

 

Grief has a way of making you change and develop even when you don’t want to, maybe especially when you don’t want to.

 

I can cry now. I couldn’t for about 5 years, unless it was about losing you.

 

I would never wish for this, but now that it is a part of me I will not begrudge it either.

 

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A happy memory: My 27th birthday, the last I got to share with my mom. I’m thankful to be able to look back at this and smile. We shared so much love and fun!

—–

 

When I came across this list from americanhospice.org it rang true for me.  I was happy to feel that I have been healing.  I know my mom would be proud of me to know that I am growing on and growing stronger.

 

I hope that others can feel resonance with the progress of this list.  Maybe you feel some of these changes happening in you after you’ve felt pain or loss.  Maybe you haven’t yet, but you will.

 

As we all move forward through the complications of life, filled with loss and joy, I hope time can continue to bring growth.  Time is hard, but time is healing. Time is hard, but time is growth. Time is hard, but time is life–and she would want us to live it well.

 

You Know You Are Getting Better When…

By Helen Fitzgerald, CT

The progress through grief is so slow, and so often of a “one step forward and two steps backwards” motion, that it is difficult to see signs of improvement. The following are clues that will help you to see that you are beginning to work through your grief:

  • You are in touch with the finality of the death. You now know in your heart that your loved one is truly gone and will never return to this earth.
  • You can review both pleasant and unpleasant memories. In early grief, memories are painful because they remind you of how much you have lost. Now it feels good to remember, and you look for people to share memories with.
  • You can enjoy time alone and feel comfortable. You no longer need to have someone with you all the time or look for activities to keep you distracted.
  • You can drive somewhere by yourself without crying the whole time. Driving seems to be a place where many people cry, which can be dangerous for you and other drivers.
  • You are less sensitive to some of the comments people make. You realize that painful comments made by family or friends are made in ignorance.
  • You look forward to holidays. Once dreaded occasions can now be anticipated with excitement, perhaps through returning to old traditions or creating new ones.
  • You can reach out to help someone else in a similar situation. It is healing to be able to use your experience to help others.
  • The music you shared with the one you lost is no longer painful to hear. Now, you may even find it comforting.
  • You can sit through a church service without crying.
  • Some time passes in which you have not thought of your loved one. When this first happens, you may panic, thinking, “I am forgetting.” This is not true. You will never forget. You are giving yourself permission to go on with your life and your loved one would want you to do this.
  • You can enjoy a good joke and have a good laugh without feeling guilty.
  • Your eating, sleeping, and exercise patterns return to what they were beforehand.
  • You no longer feel tired all the time.
  • You have developed a routine or a new schedule in your daily life that does not include your loved one.
  • You can concentrate on a book or favorite television program. You can even retain information you have just read or viewed.
  • You no longer have to make daily or weekly trips to the cemetery. You now feel comfortable going once a month or only on holidays or other special occasions.
  • You can find something to be thankful for. You always knew there were good things going on in your life, but they didn’t matter much before.
  • You can establish new and healthy relationships. New friends are now part of your life and you enjoy participating in activities with them.
  • You feel confident again. You are in touch with your new identity and have a stronger sense of what you are going to do with the rest of your life.
  • You can organize and plan your future.
  • You can accept things as they are and not keep trying to return things to what they were.
  • You have patience with yourself through “grief attacks.” You know they are becoming further apart and less frightening and painful.
  • You look forward to getting up in the morning.
  • You stop to smell the flowers along the way and enjoy experiences in life that are meant to be enjoyed.
  • The vacated roles that your loved one filled in your life are now being filled by yourself or others. When a loved one dies he or she leaves many “holes” in your life. Now those holes are being filled with other people and activities, although some will remain empty. You are more at ease with these changes.
  • You can take the energy and time spent thinking about your loss and put those energies elsewhere, perhaps by helping others in similar situations or making concrete plans with your own life.

You acknowledge your new life and even discover personal growth from experiencing grief.

 

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

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