My Turn to Grieve

The Growing Through Grief series

I am known to many as the one who is easy with matters of dying and death. I can discuss ways to make the end of life sacred, the paperwork of death, funeral options and military honors. I do this with the conversational tone you would use to discuss the price of organic veggies, local car repair shops, or summer travel plans. For over ten years, I’ve been known as the Condolence Coach by a world of readers, but I am long overdue for a new post, and here’s why.

Last fall, when my mother entered hospice, my zeal to discuss death’s details and grief journeys, withered. In truth, it cowered in the corner, shunning all but the most necessary social contact. Sharing the life-altering news became my daily ‘small talk.’ A dog walking neighbor might comment on last night’s wind and I replied: “my mother is in hospice.” Meeting another shopper at the grocer’s card rack, I offered, “my mother is in hospice but I think she’ll make her 90th birthday.” To my relief, people were kind.

Perhaps it’s not accurate to say I lost my 'zeal,' when the real loss was ‘innocence.’ While my experience and knowledge as a hospice volunteer and funeral professional deepened insight and compassion, it was always ‘someone else’s loved one.’ Detachment preserved the innocence of my heart. Now, this was my heartache.

Sadness Selfie

Across the country, heavily sedated with the standard hospice cocktail of morphine and lorazepam, Mother wasn’t taking birthday phone calls. I quelled the panic of her slipping away by reaching out psychically. I imagined her approval and laughter as I played dress-up with the pink paisley poncho she had sewn for me fifty years ago.

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Digging through my jewelry box, I ringed its neckline with lapel pins she’d given: quirky cat, pine cone, straw dolls, and artsy swirl. Like the young bride seeking her mirrored reflection on the morning after deflowering, I sought mine and took a selfie, seeking to preserve the transforming mystery of my profound sadness. 

Until I was called to serve at my mother’s deathbed, my vigil occurred thousands of miles to the west with intense meditations, journaling, tears, and talks with my husband. I began to trust the truth of a message I’d texted when she was still able to communicate: 

“You are a fabulous woman:  

and will always be so, with or without a body.”

Photo used with permission,
Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK

Sacred Grieving

I began reading Grieving- the Sacred Art, Hope in the Land of Loss by Lisa Irish. Long believing death is not a medical event but a sacred one, I embraced the idea of sacred grief. Initially stunned by what Irish calls “a swirl of painful and overwhelming emotions,” I felt validated by her words, accepting that my moments of disorientation were sacramental emotions. Irish promised that if I did not identify grief as ‘the problem’ it would become ‘the solution’ and offer me hidden gifts. 

The first gift was an opportunity to vigil at my mother’s bedside. Though I was not new to this process, the intimate ministry of care for someone I adored was as riveting as it was taxing. ‘Profound’ remains one of the few useful words for this time.

Photo used with permission,
Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK

In the months since my mother’s death, I have received more of grief’s gifts: peace, wisdom, and gratitude. Glimpses of siblings’ grief have proven that we all walk personal paths through loss. My long held advocacy of the value of condolence notes, was affirmed. After I shared the news of my mother’s death--along with the narrative obituary I’d composed, the arrival of sympathy cards and supportive emails became an invaluable balm. I shared most of them with my family, thus multiplying their comforting impact. As the Condolence Coach, I reversed my rigid opposition to electronic condolence; for expediency and privacy, it has a place.

Sacred grieving deepened my spirituality. I celebrate my mother’s legacy of preferences and mannerisms. I believe her soul remains within reach through love. I find that memories should be curated-- as enduring or disposable. I strive to avoid regrets-- those shoulda, coulda, woulda’s-- which only sour the sweet gift of recollections.

Am I done grieving? Deadlines and calendar pages have no place in this sacred experience. I have--and will have--days of longing for my mother. 

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In 2014, I reblogged Elaine Stillwell's article, An Emergency Kit For a Bad Day . She stressed the importance of self-care, and the value of being prepared for the unexpected "black days" that can arise after a loss. My emergency kit also includes outdoor exercise, meditation moments, gratitude for a birdsong greeting, the surprise of a heart rock in the trail, and volunteering in my community. These are the stepping stones for my inner peace, one day at a time.

Thank you for caring!

There's a Bear in the Closet: finding your safe spaces

(Photo Credit: Missoula County Sheriff's Office / Facebook)

The Growing Through Grief series

Lions and Tigers and Bears--oh my!

I couldn't resist clicking on the Geek.com story accompanying this photo. A black bear entered a residence in Missoula County, Montana, relocked the door and, after some mischief, sought out this high closet shelf for a snooze. After owners called 911, the bruin was safely removed by Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks Department. 

Beyond the fact that yet another wacky animal scene resides online, my interest is deeply personal! Many years ago, "Little Debbie" would find herself in the landscape of a scary dream, and seek out a high closet shelf for safe hiding. Bears, tigers, snakes, harsh footsteps of the bogeyman clomping up the basement stairs-- all required a good hiding place. Everyone knows that successful hiding is mostly mental-- if you feel safe, you are. Think of the dog who noses his head under a blanket and falls asleep:  he felt safe so he was.

Where do you feel safe?

Grieving people need time off and time away. The duration of time outs is up to each person. After the demands of caregiving and deathbed vigiling, some space, privacy and safety are due.  Elaine Stillwell writing in Grief Digest advised grieving people to anticipate difficult days in her essay Grief Tools: An Emergency Kit for a Bad Day:

"As hard as we try to keep our heads above water in grief, there are some days that sneak up on us and catch us totally off guard, spiraling us backwards to what seems like day one. It just doesn't seem fair to fall down when we thought we were doing so well or were giving it our best effort. So, do yourself a favor and plan ahead. Be ready for that black day that knocks you over in your grief. "   Elaine Stillwell

Supporting the need for safety

Photo used with permission:
Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK

The greatest gift you can give a grieving person is accepting them exactly where they are at the moment, and valuing their need for self care and safe space. Giving unsolicited advice or issuing a timeline to normalcy is stressful. I understand that these "supports" are grounded in care but they are hard to process. Grief can be similar to a lingering virus: one day you feel okay, the next you are a wreck. In my post What's the Big Hurry? Stop pushing the bereaved I counsel caring patience.

Patience doesn't mean distance. It's been medically proven that feeling cared for is healing. This is what friends can focus on: a one-day-at-a-time delivery of care. Use gestures and words that say:  I've got your back. 

Supportive Gestures may include food gifts in nonreturnable containers; a new mug with some teabags or cocoa pouches; chores such as pulling trash containers to and from the curb, trimming shrubs and weeds, mowing a lawn or shoveling snow.

Supportive Words should be shared in the way most common to your relationship: over the fence or over a cup of coffee, by text or email. Stay in the present; be affirming; listen.

• How are you today?
• Your maple tree is showing off-- those colors are bolder than last year.
• When I hear the word 'hero', I think of you; [name of deceased] couldn't have had a better [wife/husband.]
• Can I drive you [or the kids] anywhere today?

Photo used with permission: 

Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK

Wellness and wholeness are not yours to deliver. It can be a long journey to the new horizon; it's best to count only the moments.

Read more about managing stress:
Coping with Covid-19 Stress: Finding Pleasure and Peace in Slow

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5 Lessons Little Kids Teach Us About Loss: Guest post by Alexis Marie Chute

Once again, Grief Digest Magazine, produced by Centering Corporation has inspired me with an excellent article. 

What are your views and concerns about how children view death? 

• Do you feel youngsters should be protected from sad events? 
• Do you hire a babysitter when you have to attend a funeral or memorial service?
• Do you tell the kids you "have somewhere to go" instead of explaining the occasion? 

That's how it went in my childhood; my siblings and I did not visit a grandmother's deathbed or attend her funeral; when an uncle died in a farm tractor accident, my dad travelled alone to attend his brother's services and comfort surviving family. 

These are very common responses, but Alexis Marie Chute tells a different story. When her newborn survived only one day, her whole family faced the loss. Here is her story...

Alexis Marie Chute

 5 Lessons Little Kids Teach Us About Loss

by Alexis Marie Chute

I think it’s safe to say that our society does not prepare us for the death of a loved one, either in how to experience it when it is happening or in how to grieve afterward. We are taught to shelter the living from death as if it is an unfortunate reality, better ignored than embraced. Grieving individuals, and those that support them, often struggle for a vocabulary to talk about the loss and the resulting feelings. Instead we have a vernacular ripe with cliche that leaves mourners wanting and isolated, instead of comforted and encouraged.

I experienced all of this when I lost my son, Zachary, from a cardiac tumor at birth in 2010. He was minutes old. He died in my arms. That day was a stake in the road for me; I ceased to be my old naive self and began – what is called in grief literature – my “new normal.” As I look back on myself, I recognize that much of the trauma of Zachary’s death came from my childlike desire that we all will live forever and that everything will be okay. My parents did not talk to me about loss when I was little. I wish they had.

My husband, Aaron, and I have been honest with our living children about Zachary, what happened to him, how it affected us, and how we still miss him today. That discussion has opened the door for my children to think about death. Some of their responses have taught me valuable lessons.

1. Talk about the dead.

This sounds like something out of the Sixth Sense movie or the perfect set-up for being labeled the weirdo at the party. It shouldn’t be. Children are not predisposed (unless we teach them) to the negative societal taboos around loss. My seven and four-year-old kids bring up Zachary all the time. If someone dies, they mention Zach. If I am asked how many kids I have and I say, “Three,” I am immediately corrected. “No, Mom. You have four kids!” they say proudly. Sometimes I worry how others will respond to this behavior from my children, but then I give my head a shake. Talking about those we love, even if they have passed, should be the most normal thing in the world.

2. Accept death as a natural and beautiful part of life.

We have a cultural obsession with youth and beauty. This is one area, among many, where the cult of celebrity sets us up for heartache. We do not have public and prolific guidance to help us accept death as inseparable from life. I believe life and death are yin-yang, two equal parts of one complete whole. In contrast, our society has erected opposing notions of life and death as one being good and the other bad.

Children, however, when spoken to about death as a part of life, do not fear it as a scary monster to avoid, but integrate it into the fabric of their understanding. There are many natural parallels that children more innately connect with on this topic. The seasons are one example. Leaves fall from the trees each autumn and we have winter. Then new life grows again in the spring. A seed that is buried in the ground, just when we’ve nearly forgotten about it, sprouts and blossoms into a flower. In a short span of time a great grandparent passes and a new sibling birthed. This is all natural, cyclical, and connected.

3. Think about death and strive for personal understanding.

My older children used to go to a day-home while I worked. One day the woman who ran the home took a step closer to me than normal and in a hushed voice said, “I just wanted you to know, your kids were playing make-believe today and they said the baby-doll died. I made sure to tell them that they shouldn’t play like that.” Instead of being concerned, I was proud that my kids were working out their own personal understanding of our experience and what death means to them! They were doing that in the only way they knew how - through play. When I talked to them about it, I affirmed their actions and encouraged them to make-believe however they wanted. They were not distracting themselves or repressing their feelings on loss, like so many adults do, only to rack up steep therapy bills just to re-open their hearts in this expressive way.

4. Loss is a family matter, not only a solo experience.

The bonds between family are not severed because of loss. That is what my children have taught me. When my kids talk about Zachary, he “is” their brother, not past tense. We talk about how Zach lives on in our hearts. If we are discussing loneliness, my kids pipe up and say, “You are never alone because Zachary is right here,” as they point to their chests. I know they do process the loss in an individual way, we all do, but in mourning and celebrating Zach’s life, it is a family matter.

My daughter, Hannah, my seven-year-old, will draw a portrait of our family and, without prompting, include Zach in the picture. That is her solo action, but she immediately shows Aaron and me the drawing, and then hangs it from the fridge with magnets. As a family, on the anniversary of Zach’s birth, and death, we take the day off from work and school and bake a cake, go swimming, plant a tree, and just generally cuddle-up and spend quality time together. I believe because of this, the kids do not feel they carry their grief, or the weight of death, all on their own. It is a shared experience and therefore shared support and love.

5. Speaking of love… It never dies.

My kids often say, “I love my whole family! I love Mommy and Daddy, and Hannah, and Eden, and Luca, AND Zachary!” They talk about loving their unseen brother. They talk about missing him and wishing he was alive and with us. In these moments, I take a deep breath, pause from busyness, and feel my own love for Zachary and the throb of ache in missing him and the life I had hoped we would share together. Yes, my child died and that is my personal tragedy, but the love I have for him can never be taken from me. Though society uses phrases like “move on,” I choose to take the lead from my kids. Zachary is a part of us and we love him – present tense, and that is okay.

Expecting Sunshine, A Memoir by Alexis Marie Chute

💔💕💗  

In her memoir Expecting Sunshine, A Journey of Grief, Healing, and Pregnancy After Loss, Alexis shared her journey--from pregnancy and the discovery of Zachary's in-utero condition, to the family's decision to always love him as son and brother: present tense!

Click here to learn more about the book

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Alexis Marie Chute is the author of the award-winning memoir Expecting Sunshine: A Journey of Grief, Healing and Pregnancy After Loss, available on Amazon and wherever books are sold. Alexis Marie is a writer, artist, filmmaker, public speaker, and bereavement expert. Learn more about her book and documentary, Expecting Sunshine: The Truth About Pregnancy After Loss, at www.ExpectingSunshine.com. She is a healthy-grief advocate educating others on how to heal in creative and authentic ways. You can also connect with Alexis Marie Chute on Facebook, LinkedIn Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Tumblr, and YouTube.

RESOURCES:
 Visit Alexis' bereavement blog:  www.WantedChosenPlanned.com

Condolence Coach Photo

The Condolence Coach did a 5-part series on how to understand and respond to a family facing miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death:

1. Angels Above Baby Gowns: Soothing a Terrible Loss
2. Angels Above Baby Gowns: Someday I'll Meet My Brothers
3. Angels Above Baby Gowns: Delivery at a Birthing Center
4. Angels Above Baby Gowns: A Time to Tear and a Time to Mend
5. Angels Above Baby Gowns: Heartbeats and Lightening Bolts

And remember that the grieving family includes grandparents:

When Grandparents Grieve

"Punk Bird" by Suzy St.John

A widely celebrated project for kids is the creation of a memory box. Here's how to introduce the idea:  Grieving Children and the Memory Box Condolence Gift. 

In this season of giving thanks, I say to all readers:

Thank you for caring!

Nan Zastrow's 8 Steps to Tame the Holiday Blues

This article appeared in the November 2015 issue of one of my favorite grief support publications, GRIEF DIGEST MAGAZINE published by the dedicated people of Centering Corporation. Their motto:  "We give you support. We give you information. We give you hope." is a doorway to innumerable resources and sensitive support. I love that they even have gifts for grieving individuals: Because We Care- Care Packages. Need Spanish language grief resources? Centering Corporation is there for you and even carries a lovely sympathy card in Spanish.

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A lot of people find the holiday season challenging. Traditions, extra gatherings and the expectations of

• shopping and gift-giving, 
• hospitality in a tidy, festive home, and
• hours of baking and cooking

...are a recipe for incredible pressure. Oh-- and if you are grieving, multiply that by one thousand. Nan Zastrow has been through it, and shares her strategies.

Taming the Holiday Blues   

 an essay by Nan Zastrow  

What can I do to help me through holiday blues during my difficult time?

Trust that the holiday blues are normal and they will pass. There isn't any single recipe that works for everyone and probably none that will cure the blues completely. But here are some ideas for taming the holiday blues that I've used in the past years to help my family and me.

Taming the "blues" #1: Cancel your expectations; traditions change. The pressure to be "happy" and "merry" over the holidays sometimes creates deeper sadness and loneliness. There are so many expectations to live up to--everyone's expectations but our own! Accept that it is difficult for family and friends to understand what and how you are feeling during this time. In most cases, it's not intentional. They want us to be happy like they are, and they think they are doing us a favor by enticing us to join in the merriment. It may be necessary to "ask for understanding and support."

Recognize that all family relationships change over time and so do traditions. So update your current situation to modify the traditions that will work for you. Your family and friends will also modify their holiday traditions at some time--and not necessarily because of the death of a loved one. You will see that as children grow and go off to college or get married, as parents and spouses die, family celebrations for most families change also. While this death in your life is the immediate source of your emptiness and grief, soothe your pain by accepting that changes are inevitable for many reasons.

Taming the "blues" #2:  Communicate, but stand your ground. You know you are feeling anxious about the pending holidays. You know what your fears are and what your potential problems will be. The rest of your family and friends don't know what you are thinking or feeling. If you clue them into your fears, they may try to understand the reason for your actions and decisions and it will be easier for them to accept. However, it's important to stand your ground. Sometimes, your family and friends will try to coerce you into doing something you aren't able to handle. If you feel very firmly that this wouldn't be good for you this year, simply say, "I'm sorry. Not this time (this year), but ask me again sometime."

Taming the "blues" #3:  Be socially flexible and escape. Don't make plans for social events and dinners too far in advance. But keep the option open to participate. Sometimes it's easier to say, "I'm not going to go to the church recital or to Grandma's for Christmas dinner," because you believe that it would be better to just be alone, but this isn't always true. Feel free to tell people that you are taking one day at a time, one hour at a time, or one event at a time. Most family and friends will respect your need to reserve a last-minute decision. Also, build in an escape. Drive your own car so when you are ready to leave, you can leave. Notify your host prior to coming, that you aren't certain how long you will stay. Prepare an excuse if you feel you need one to allow you to leave with no questions asked.

If you feel you really want to hold a social event in your own home over the holidays but aren't sure if you can "handle it," set limits. Invite guests, but give them a beginning and ending time such as 7:00-9:00 p.m. Ask someone you know well to be the "lead exiter" when it's time for company to leave. This will give others the hint that it's time to go, and it also gives them permission to leave without offending you.

Pre-planning 

This makes the event bearable because you can control whether you go and when you leave. There's no need to skip all of the holiday social events, but I can certainly attest to the fact that often emotions can get in the way. Remember, it's okay to be social; it's okay to laugh and have fun.

Taming the "blues" #4:  Decorate your heart first. If your heart tells you that decorating would be nice and would soothe the painful thoughts of the holidays, by all means decorate to your heart's content. If decorations and the thought of them scare you, don't put out any more decorations than your emotions will tolerate. In other words, do only what makes you feel good.

If a nativity instills the real meaning of Christmas, put it up. If a tree with keepsake ornaments is painful, forget the tree this year. I tortured myself the first year, but I felt I was making a sacrifice for my family. My daughter and Chad had received a keepsake ornament every year that was theme based. Jalane wanted to put the "kids" tree up; Gary thought it might be good for me. I did it, in private, and cried through every keepsake ornament I hung. Once the tree was decorated--a few days later--it was a source of loving memories.

I didn't hang stockings. I didn't send holiday cards. I didn't attend the usual church and social events. I didn't bake cookies. I struggled with buying simple gifts. I didn't watch the favorite holiday videos. I didn't put out my Santa collection, but I did add to my angel collection. These were some of my limitations and my sources of comfort.

Taming the "blues" #5:  Seek support, not sympathy. Rethink your attitudes about the holiday season and be honest with yourself. Are you rebelling because you are feeling sorry for yourself? Or are you truly feeling helpless, blue and a need for quiet, private time to sort out your thoughts? Or do you need someone to talk to, give you a hug or spend some time with you?

Sympathy will come automatically. How could anyone who cares about you not sympathize with the loss you are feeling? I don't believe for a moment that a loving human being can deny the evidence of pain and deliberately withhold comfort. Disarm your feeling of helplessness and use the feeling of sympathy to gain control. Ask for support. This is something everyone can relate to and rally around. People want to help, so tell them what they can do to help you.

If your blues are part of multiple past losses, and you are feeling the magnitude of loss, recognize that when you grieve wholly, you will be able to experience good feelings when you reminisce. You may feel a twinge of sadness, but the deep pain will recede.

Coping with and enjoying the holidays doesn't mean that you don't miss the person who was a special part of your life. Nor does it mean that you don't miss times the way they used to be. It means that you will continue to live after this difficult change. And you will honor the memory of your loved one in new ways.

Surround yourself with people who understand that the holidays may increase your grief and you need their loving support that honors your feelings and helps you express your grief as needed.

Taming the "blues" #6:  Forget words; find ritual. This is a lesson we learned repeatedly from Dr. Alan Wolfelt. Rituals can emphasize loving memories and give expression to feelings far beyond our vocabularies. As an individual or as a family, find a ritual that demonstrates your heartfelt feelings and do it! Memories are your keepsakes; treasure them. Take some time during the holidays to talk about good memories, share pictures, light a candle, place a wreath, contribute to a charity, or anything else that makes you think of your loved one.

Taming the "blues"#7:  Seek treasures of the soul. Going forward into the New Year is often difficult, but it can also be a time for cleansing and rejuvenation. Spend some time thinking about the experience you have been going through. What does it mean in your present and future life? Think about purpose and assess yourself as an individual. How can you help others through difficult times? Think about the positive things in your life and how you can use them to help you cope. Find a renewed sense of faith or discover a new meaning for existence.

Taming the "blues" #8:  When the giving hurts, keep on giving. We are nurtured to believe that when something hurts, it's time to pull back, quit or change what we are doing. Not a holiday has passed since Chad's death in 1993 that hasn't caused me to hurt in some way. So Gary and I decided if it hurts anyhow, we may as well "give" until it hurts a little more.

Each year, we host a "When the Holidays Hurt" workshop for the community, and in our hearts we feel the newness of the pain everyone in our workshop feels. We've walked in their shoes. But it's our way to give of ourselves and remind them that life goes on--and we need to catch up or it will pass us by. We also give to charities, but the most upsetting of these was a program we participated in that purchases gifts for unfortunate children and food to fill the family's refrigerator. Along with Santa, we delivered these gifts to the door and saw the beautiful smiles and laughter of children whom Santa wouldn't have visited any other way. We also felt the thankfulness of parents who were grateful for blessings. It was a beautiful "hurt" and it felt so good to give.

Giving of self to others is by far the best antidote for holiday blues. 

Source: Nexu4.deviantart.com

When you wipe away the tears, clear the frog in your throat and calm the racing of your heart, you know what love and true joy are all about. There is no louder message that speaks of infinite peace on earth, goodwill to men.

 I know that Chad and my departed family will be looking down on us--missing the good times we had together--but giving us the grandest "atta boy" of them all.
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Published in the Wings magazine, Vol. X, No.4, 2003. This piece was taken from Grief Digest Magazine, Oct. 2005. For a full copy of the article email: centeringcorp@aol.com.

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Read another Condolence Coach post about the holidays:
Condolence During the Holidays

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