Feathers From Heaven: Loving Blessings From Beyond

Author Image

First, the loneliness

Tony and Liz* met at a widower/widow support group. They clicked and continued a steady, comforting companionship. Although we grow in numbers day by day, being widowed---losing a spouse/life partner sure feels lonely! Who else but another grieving spouse can understand how it feels to now wake alone, eat meals alone, make decisions alone, do all the little daily things alone. You look at that section called 'Emergency Contact' on various applications and medical information forms and you're struck (often stuck) wondering: No one's got my back! No one's waiting for me!

So Tony and Liz had many conversations, learned each others' stories---joys and heartbreaks, accomplishments and dreams. They appreciated being real with each other about losing 'the love of their life.' And that's when Liz shared about the feathers. 

People have long had experiences of contact with a departed loved one. It may be a familiar scent in the air, the appearance of a symbol, object, song; the possibilities are endless and deeply personal. Sometimes, a surviving spouse or family member had requested "when you get to heaven, send me a sign," and there may have been an agreed-upon indicator. Liz had heard of someone receiving a feather as a sign of wellbeing after death. She liked that idea and told her dying husband, Lenny: Please send me feathers of encouragement.

Well, she got feathers! Liz has told of feathers wafting in her home, and laying on unexpected surfaces. It warms her heart. She shared the story of feathers with Tony, who'd never heard of such things. He'd not asked his weakening wife for a heavenly signal and now regretted it. What a comfort it would be to somehow hear from Maura!

One afternoon, sitting together on Liz's patio, a feather drifted down and settled on her leg. Look at that! they both happily acknowledged. Moments later, the feather lifted on a slight breeze and, "of all the places it could have gone to settle, it landed on my leg!" Tony marveled.

There was no doubt in their minds. It was a loving blessing from beyond. 

How To Respond

Author image

Readers come to this blog to learn and grow in sensitivity. The takeaways I'll leave you with, as a caring friend are these:

• Be supportive, whether or not you believe in unusual or paranormal experience. Say:
•  I can tell you have been comforted by this, and I am so happy for you. 
• Who am I to judge whether this is possible or not? It is fascinating, wonderful, and a blessing!
• Do not judge, belittle, try to explain, or re-direct your widowed friend to what you deem are more worthwhile activities or insights. 
• Read: Be Brave With Your Life

Read more about special messages from departed loved ones: 

Unusual Comforts in Grief: keep your opinions to yourself

Thank you for caring and sharing!

*This true story was shared with me, but for their privacy, I've changed names.

Bedside Stories for a Loving Goodbye Vigil

Author image

The Rural Doctor

My friend Charlotte's father was a rural Iowa doctor; one of those special people who could calmly set a bone and stitch you up after a nasty farm accident, or cheerfully deliver your twins on a snowy winter night. Doc was both confidante and neighbor to his patients in an era when storytelling served the human need for connection.

Storytelling, sometimes called the oral tradition, spans history and cultures. Stories can teach, preach, entertain and comfort. We are born with an eagerness to ask for, listen to, and share stories. Pause just a moment and you will be flooded with memories, which are themselves, stories.

Source:
The Plain Needle Woman.com

One afternoon, Doc was called to the home of a dying patient. He found the grandfather in bed, surrounded by family; one by one, anecdotes and accounts were told. There was nothing fancy or formal in the room; patched pockets, darned socks, and flyaway hair were worn all around, and the draping of a softly faded quilt barely moved with the old man's slow rasp of breaths.
There were no whispers, either. Each story was a farewell blessing--a living tribute of love, admiration and humor, told with the same voices that their loved one heard on the porch or around the kitchen table.

"My family are all storytellers," Charlotte told me. She'd held this memory for many years until one day, with grown children of her own, the story came full circle. "My husband had suffered a brain bleed and was on life support. As my son and daughter gathered at their father's bedside, we decided to tell some stories about Dad."

Charlotte believed strongly in the tradition of stories as a tool for comfort, saying "I am sure their dad heard the stories and I know he loved it. Ultimately, the vigil of storytelling transformed our removal of life support into a loving farewell."

Ways to prompt stories

• Tell stories that allow expressions of admiration, love, gratitude. The caregiving person in charge may suggest:
• How did _____ inspire you?
• Let's talk about the time when _____
• What were some of his/her favorite sayings, and when did he/she most often use them?
• If someone wants to express a personal message to the dying person, give them some privacy. 

Suggestions to support the dying experience

• If the person normally wears hearing aids, remember to keep them in the ears, with fresh batteries. Even if someone is comatose (a state of deep, unresponsive unconsciousness that is common at the end of life,) the reception of sounds and words should be supported. 

  

  Author image

  
  
• Make contact: using a method that does not cause pain or other discomfort, options include a light hand on the head or stroke of a brow, holding a hand or resting a light hand on their shoulder, forearm or shin.
• Always inform the dying person about who is coming into or leaving the room. Casual statements such as: “Mom is going to take a nap,” or  “Hi Mary, this is Tom. I’m going to sit with you for awhile,” or “Mary, Tom is here now,” or "The kids are coming after school, in an hour."

Read more about vigiling:

Laughing Condolence: When life overflows, share a story

Silent Night, Holy Night: Sacred Dying is another reason to write condolence

Veterans at the End of Life: An Essential Salute

When You Cannot Vigil the Dying: Be There

Thank you for caring and sharing!

Journey of the Mind: Co-Meditation with the Dying

 Sacred Journey

Off and on for over twenty years, I’ve been a hospice volunteer and my favorite duty has been sitting with the actively dying. Tough, right? Actually, I view dying as a sacred journey--the counterpoint to the wonder of birth and thus, it’s a privilege to share that space with someone. One afternoon, I was called to visit “Cheryl,” who was quickly declining. Medications had been administered but I found her restless and distressed after a fall and painful arm injury. “I just want to go into the woods and die,” she cried. “Well, you can, Cheryl. Let’s go together,” was my reply.

Author image

Gently stroking her hand, I described our walk from the sidewalk of a noisy Tucson street into the breeze whispering stillness of the woods.
Underfoot, the dense loam of brown leaves and pine needles hushed and softened our footsteps. Pale light filtered through the forest canopy; a squirrel darted by and unseen birds chittered now and then. “The woods smell so sweet; why don’t we sit on this big log for awhile, Cheryl.” In the afternoon stillness, our breathing slowed and words were unnecessary. We had arrived at the doorway to peace, and Cheryl left her body a few hours later.

Author image

Freedom of Spirit

Jack Kornfield, author and a key teacher of mindfulness, calls this experience “freedom of spirit.” No matter what circumstances weigh on your physical life, your spirit--the ‘you’ behind the flesh--is always free. Kornfield reminds us, “your mind is not limited to your head,” so you need only be still and aware to enter unrestricted spaciousness. Older adults often find it easier to settle in a comfy chair, close the eyes, enjoy some full breaths and then float in awareness. The seas and breezes of your being may drift through memory and gratitude, to a place of deep peace. Some people call it a ‘practice’ and use bells and rituals to get here. Increasingly, health professionals are putting down the prescription pads and pointing to quiet places. 

Comeditation

If you find yourself with a loved one who is dying, or struggling with an illness, follow my example of introducing comeditation. It has been proven to calm physical and mental distress. It can be focused on natural, rhythmic breathing without words, but an explanation to the person you are caring for, helps them orient to the calm. It is also important to note that the dying person does not need to be conscious to benefit!

You can make a difference:  pull up a chair, take their hand, and ask: 

If you could be some place else right now, where would you go?

What a wonderful gift to offer! If their go-to place is something you can describe, do so; if they feel able to describe the journey, encourage them to be as vivid and sensory in their description, as possible. But for the fullest calming benefit, don't turn it into a dialogue. Finally, once you both have "arrived" at the place, sit quietly with eyes closed. Let the journey last for its comfortable duration. 

Read more about impermanence and mindfulness:

Impermanence: changing how you cope with change

Read more about mindfulness:

Finding pleasure and peace in slow

Thank you for caring...and sharing!

Coping with Covid-19 Stress: Finding Pleasure and Peace in Slow

Jackrabbit on trail
Author image

While hiking under a gently warming Arizona sun last summer, I was on the verge of a panic attack. I was used to avoiding the occasional free ranging cattle and their plops. I was also used to scanning the surroundings for snakes. But, discovering that a resting, coiled snake may resemble a dry manure mound, was startling.

My usual panoply of sensory pleasures--wide sky, bird calls and blooms--with the addition of now-suspicious plops, became a Code Red cacophony. At my usual swift stride, I called back to my hiking buddy, “I’m feeling overwhelmed by everything I need to watch out for!” His simple reply changed my life: Why don’t you slow down?

Crisis Intervention

Slow down. This message permeates health and wellness media with calls to be mindful, focused, conscious, present, aware, tuned in, receptive, centered, grounded. Now, Covid-19 prevention is mandating us to slow down, too. During a crisis, the sense of vulnerability heightens and our tolerance for mental chaos may fluctuate. This is highly characteristic of the grief journey. Individual thresholds for ‘chaos’ vary, like a strong radio signal that turns to static. If you’re feeling mental static, it’s time to turn off the “breaking news” and tune in to yourself. Slow down.

Cloud gazing
Author image

I utilize a variety of methods to get grounded. Is the setting day or night, sunny or cloudy, private or public? Develop some methods that empower you with choice and comfort. Simple “meditation” can be sitting with eyes closed and focusing on breath. Get on the floor or a yoga mat and stretch, roll, breathe. I also highly recommend cloud gazing (best done with formations, not full-sky gray.) Relax and watch them drift, change shape. Brief, light tapping on oneself (also known as the Emotional Freedom Technique,) may be calming and done anywhere, with subtlety. Can you step outside for a walk or play a soothing tune? If traveling, find the airport terminal art gallery before takeoff or, read a short, enjoyable text.

Blue Skipper on leaf
Photo used with permission
Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK

Savor the Slow

As a writer, I value words for many reasons; language is amazing! Does my sentence need a dandelion or dahlia? Most of us enjoy reading, but I have discovered the calming pleasure of reading word... by...word. Taking that brief text, prayer, proverb or affirmation, I read one word at a time. Try this: Savor that word! Let its shape and sound and nuance roll around in your mind like a peppermint on the tongue. Then, read the next word, and so on. I am usually a happy, limp noodle after only one sentence!

It is important to remember that slowing down is not just for Code Red situations. In The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle advises that a steady practice of being mindful during all daily activities will strengthen mindfulness during difficult moments. I hope you, too, can discover the pleasure and peace of ‘slow.’

Read other posts about mindfulness: 

Beth Surdut: Paying Attention is an Art

Living with a Disability, Part 1: Debunking Stereotypes

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

Carry On! What Ants Can Teach Us About Struggle

Thank you for caring!

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.

Author Image

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. 

Author photo

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!

Remember Who You Are: Condolence Poetry

Loss can trigger self doubt

On a personal level, the people in our daily circles:  spouse, children, parents, friends and co-workers contribute to our dreams and our dramas. This is normal. Interactions at the breakfast table or coffee shop, over the phone or while sharing a commute help us grow roots and branches.

Author image

And when a root or branch is severed by loss, a part of us seems suddenly missing. It hurts and it's confusing; it demands change and pushes us into the unknown. This upset to our equilibrium often triggers self doubt.

Overcoming inertia

While it can be a very good thing to momentarily apply the childhood street-crossing lesson, "STOP and LOOK BOTH WAYS BEFORE CROSSING," isolating yourself with a loss should not become a habit. Sometimes, I find that visiting a fresh inspirational thought: a paragraph or poem or song--can motivate me past self doubt or inertia. Today, I offer readers a poem.

SOON

Soon it will be noon

And what have

You done?

The pool water

is smooth, you

Did not disturb

It.

The grass is high.

You sleep and it

Grows higher.

Would you like

A tall cool drink

On the veranda?

A lime garnish,

Sweat on the glass?

If you do,

Put on your shoes

And remember

Who you are.

~~~

Martin Ringwood, a Michigan poet

Care for ourselves, care for each other. Thank you for caring!

Gifts for Someone Grieving: Priceless Privacy and Peace

When I read the tweet from my blogging colleague, Kelly, about her 2016 list of gift ideas for a Highly Sensitive Person, my first reaction was to imagine the themes of comfort they would offer. And isn't comfort exactly what we try to offer to a grieving person? I retweeted that tweet to followers of @condolencecoach and they were pleased.

It is the month of Christmas and Hanukkah:  where do you stand with your gifting ideas? Specifically, are you struggling over the paradox of feeling festive but caring, during a friend's grief journey? I wrote about this in my post, Condolence During Holidays. My key message was/is:  Condolence is condolence. Don't try to squeeze condolence and holiday cheer onto one postage stamp. Likewise, don't imagine a grieving person is taking a "timeout" from pain.

Caring sympathy is not about distraction.

Your sensitivity to another person's journey of sadness should be active during gift selection. In happier times, you easily chose the latest and greatest gadget or device, the funniest toy or video, the loveliest jewelry or garment. Now, sensitivity dictates that you acknowledge this person and family's slurry of emotions, the barrage of tasks and uncertainties they are struggling through. Yes, it's complicated. It's called compassion.

Caring gifts deliver c-a-r-e! 

And so I refer my readers to Kelly's 2016-17 Gift Guide for Highly Sensitive People & Introverts. She introduces the Guide as:

"presents for people who are overwhelmed by social and environment stimuli, are empathic, sensitive to beauty, and cherish privacy and peacefulness." 

Early in grief (and the definition of time is up to the individual!) this description may easily fit someone facing the death of a significant person.

Kelly's blog has rich and varied content about what it means to be a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). In her introduction to the phrase, "Highly Sensitive Person," we learn of a unique trait for sensitivity. I propose that there are also times of life when sensitivity spikes...grief is an excellent example. So why not use this tremendous insight in the art of condolence and sympathetic companionship?

Please click on this link to explore a remarkable collection of gift ideas. The 2016/17 Gift Guide for Highly Sensitive People includes book selections for kids and teens.

Thank you, Kelly! And thank you, readers, for caring! 

Update to readers: The Condolence Coach no longer uses social media such as twitter, X, Instagram, etc.

6 Tips for Writing Condolence to a Relative

I have a strong suspicion that many readers have not considered writing a condolence note to a relative. Do you recognize these 6 excuses?

1. We see each other a lot.
2. I just saw them at the service.
3. We call, text, or Facebook each other.
4. Writing seems so formal.
5. I'd rather give a hug than a letter.
6. They'll find out I'm not a writer.

When Grandma died in the airport

I do write condolences to relatives, and readers of my book remember the story of Grandma's death in an airport restroom. Awful, right? Now imagine how frightened, panicked, and devastated her family felt. Grandpop and my father waited in the terminal while my mother accompanied her mother to the ladies room. "I don't feel well. I need to sit down," moaned Grandma as she sunk to the floor. Being a practical woman, she unpinned her 'corset money' from an undergarment, which she earned from bead and crochet crafts, and handed it to her daughter. My mother felt so powerless to render comfort other than her presence. And by the time an EMT team arrived, Grandma had succumbed to the heart attack.

Yes, I wrote a note to my mother! It's in the book. For losses spanning human, pet, job and other difficult life circumstance, I  have written condolences to my father, siblings, sisters-and-mother-in-law, aunts, uncles and cousins. 

Relatives are people, too

Author image

The reasons for writing a condolence are universal. You are striving to lend support and a few moments of comfort. You have many advantages in being a relative:  you likely have one or several special memories--including photos, to share; in fact, your relationship and likely interactions with the deceased are unique, increasing the likelihood of a unique memory! Did your uncle recognize an interest or talent and give you a nurturing gift? Did you pet-sit for your sister's cat and discover something special in its golden-eyed gaze? Did your brother-in-law help you move after a divorce? These memories can be shared, thanks and appreciation can be expressed. Did you watch your aging mother-in-law make--and lose--friend after friend?

The comfort that your note delivers does not--should not--be wrapped in complex, philosophical or religious explanations. You are 'off the hook' to take away pain, map out the future, or give wise advice. Just be sincere. Now, more than ever, real handwritten, hold-in-the-hand condolences are treasures. They are re-read during quiet and lonely times; they are shared with others; they provide what the digital age cannot.

6 Tips for writing to a relative

Let me caution you:  if you think that buying a lovely card and writing "so sorry for your loss, she will be missed" is adequate, please click on the links peppered throughout this post for a quick, comprehensive review of condolence writing. You don't need to use all 6 tips at once. Think about the deceased and the recipient, then listen to your heart.

1. Acknowledge the loss and express sympathy:  "I am so sorry this day has come; Terry's death leaves an empty space."
2. Acknowledge the relationship:  "Your sister, Mary, knew she could count on you." 
3. Share a classic, well known memory:  "Bailey's greeting at the door always made me smile." 
4. Share a personal/unique memory:  "Uncle Rick saw my creative side and gave me a set of pastel crayons." (Never break a confidence, or share cruel or embarrassing memories.) 
5. Offer encouragement and/or help:  "I know you're facing a big job to ready the house for sale, so remember: my truck and my time are at your service." 
6. Express gratitude for the recipient or deceased:  "You were so supportive to Elsa, especially when she couldn't feed herself; it taught me a lot about compassion."

Which relative should I write to?

Who is the next-of-kin? Who do you have a connection to? If you are closer to your cousin than to your aunt who just lost her husband, it's okay to write to your cousin; he or she will probably share the note.

Should I write to more than one relative?

Author image

You certainly can, but don't feel pressured to blow through a 12-pack of note cards. While considering which relative to write to, your heart will put checkmarks by those you want to express sympathy to. Attending a visitation or service allows you to touch base with many people, which can 'winnow' the roster of notes. Review your memories and your emotional, heartfelt responses; if you feel the impulse, writing two or three simple and caring notes is lovely.

When should I write?

We write condolence notes even when we attend services. If you can be present for gatherings, consider delaying your note until after; you will return to your desk ready to share feelings and observations with enriched awareness of:

• the scope of a family and community's shared affection
• life details you did not know such as quiet achievements and talents, branch of military service, significant dates
• qualities of your note's recipient

Thank you for caring!

Climbing Out of Deep Space: through and beyond grief

My friend, artist Suzy St. John recently posted some new images on her blog. The group is titled:

Throwback to High School Ceramics:  Pinch Pot Figures

Suzy shared her thoughts about them:

"The pinch pot was and still is my favorite work of art. I was a high school student and it came from those angst ridden feelings most teenagers experience. I still relate to that piece!"

Each pot creates a very deep well of space. 

Is it a place to hide and feel safe? Is it a dark place--where you may feel lost? I think that space (like silence) is something that many in western culture are uncomfortable with. Like the figures, we are more at ease outside, surrounded by active people, stuff, sounds, structures. did you notice my use of the term 'active people'?  I recently wrote about our culture's unease with people during their grief and re-adjustment. In Stop Pushing the Bereaved, I suggested that after a death, taking a break from life's typical vibrancy is a sane response to a sudden deep well of space. 

Caregiving during a loved one's end of life "fills the pot" of each day. 

When caregiving ends, the tasks that fill the pot abate. But you are different. You do not bounce back like a rubber band released. Honoring the changes is an important step. 

The Compassionate Friends, an international support network for parents who have lost a child, share a message with newly bereaved moms and dads. Finding The New Me, explains that grief is work that takes time. It is not a straight line on a map. 

"You will learn coping skills from other bereaved parents who, like you, never thought they'd survive." 

Coping skills develop over time.

Learning what feels okay, how to manage when it doesn't feel okay, and how to tackle a new (scary) experience, involve trial and error, courage and cowering, agony and the flutter of recognition that you managed to do something you had dreaded. In this last pinch pot image, Suzy's figures are experimenting:

• Will my grip on this edge hold?
• Can I lift my leg that high?
• Do I have the strength to support my partner?
• Is it okay to enjoy this moment?

Pinch Pot Figures by Suzy St. John
Used with permission

Do you know someone climbing out of deep space? 

The Condolence Coach suggests the following ideas to encourage or assist them:

• Be lavish with confidence boosters. Whenever an opportunity arises, offer positive reinforcement. It doesn't have to be a big deal, but spot something and express: 
• You do that so well... 
• You were so patient when... 
• Would you show me how to... 
• You have a remarkable... 
• Thanks for telling me about... 
• Turn off your urge to criticize or advise. Even if your friend describes stresses or struggles, you are most valuable as a listener, acknowledging the matter with simple phrases: 
• What a bummer... 
• That stuff is confusing... 
• You'll find a way... 
• That's not easy to talk about, thank you for trusting me... 
• Would a hug help? 
• Keep talking about the deceased loved one. Freely bring up stories, anecdotes, admiring comments. You are not causing pain! The loved one will always live in the heart and memory. 
• Give your friend the gift of judgement-free time. 
• Take time off for yourself, too. 
• Let intuition guide you on when to be present and encouraging. Remember, your friend's grief work and healing are not your "mission". It's not "all up to you."

For some fresh reflections and insights on grief and time, read:

"You Didn't Waste Any Time" and other reactions

Thank you for caring!

From MIA to RIP: A One Year Anniversary Reflection

One of my most frequently read posts continues to be the riveting story, Missing In Action! A Soldier's Sister Keeps Vigil.
After 44 years, in May, 2014, Sue Scott's dear brother began his Final Journey Home.  With the anniversary approaching, I asked Sue to share her reflections.

Doug’s Return, One Year Later

"It has been a year since Captain Douglas Ferguson, USAF, MIA December 30, 1969, was identified and made his Final Journey Home..."

Author Image

There is satisfaction and peace that Doug is home and at rest, and that Linda (his widow) has a place to visit Doug, as do others.  One day I too will be able to visit and know in my heart that all has been done and that his marker reflects who he was and how he was cherished!

In this last year, I have allowed myself to feel the pain of losing someone so dear.  I have listened and continue to listen to ‘50s Hits on XM that take me back to our youth and the sweet sorrow of knowing that, even on his 70th birthday, he will never be older than the handsome Air Force pilot who I said goodbye to as he stepped aboard the plane at Lambert-St.Louis Airport in July, 1969.

Though he met our two oldest sons as infants, he never knew them as the wonderful, successful human beings they have become.  He never met our youngest son who was born three years after he was shot down over Laos.  He never met any of their wives or any of his great-nephews and nieces. We never got to know his children that might have been.

He never had to see the pain of our father’s broken heart at his son, of whom he was so proud; or the dementia that ravished our mother’s mind when she could no longer stand the pain of not knowing the fate of her beloved son.

One of the last things I said to her as she passed from this earth was, “Now you are going to be with Doug!”  She seemed at peace!  Or maybe he did know!  It would have been one of his biggest regrets that he might have been the cause.

Even bigger than the pain his plight caused our parents would have been the pain his loss brought to the love of his life, Linda and the years of being together, of which they were robbed.

We cannot dwell in the “House of What If’s”, but we do need to know that we can travel through our grief and find the precious memories that will sustain us the rest of our lives.  Though this has not been the journey I would have chosen, I am proud to say I have kept the commitment, I made in early February, 1970, and that was to bring Doug home.  On that journey I have done things and gone places beyond my wildest dreams.  It was an opportunity to rise from a devastating loss and make a life far “richer” than I ever could have imagined.

Now a year since Doug’s return, I know my journey is not yet complete because too many with whom I have travelled, do not yet have answers, including Captain Wes Featherstone, USAF, the front seater in Doug’s F-4D aircraft.  It is because I know the joy and peace that can be the Final Gift, I still have work to do……to help sustain others so they can continue their search, their quest for the return of their loved ones…..to fulfill the Promise our country made to their loved ones when they left family and friends to serve and to possibly make the ultimate sacrifice for our Freedom.

What great gifts I have been given!  Why me?

I don’t know for sure, but this is what I believe: God has great gifts for each of us!  Our job is to be open to his abundance! That in itself is a life-time journey to learn to trust God for all things!  To know that though I may choose my own way, it is not always God’s way. I may not be ready at a given moment in time, to accept God’s gifts…….think of Moses and his people wandering in the wilderness for 40 years.  They didn't seem to be ready to hear God’s message.  I know I am not always ready to hear and trust in God’s messages either, but for Doug, I am grateful that I was able to listen, trust and therefore find enormous peace.

God Bless You Doug!  And, God Bless each One of You!"

Read treasured memories and tributes, and browse photos of Doug's life and Final Journey Home, on the Forever Missed memorial site.

Sue's strength is remarkable but she has "paid her dues" on that path through grief. The Condolence Coach reminds readers that anniversary notes are a very special comfort. For suggestions on how to compose this note, read: When Little Birds Chirp: Anniversary Notes.

Thank you for caring!

Fall Wrap Up: Looking for burrs and hope

A FALL WRAP-UP.
Isn't that what happens around this time of year? We say things like:

• I can't believe it's November, or
• It's my favorite time of year, or
• It's the hardest time of year, or
• A lot's happened this year, or
• I can't wait for this year to end.

Which one did you find yourself saying? Have you had a year of life-altering events? Have you been accumulating burrs or dealing with open wounds? Are you hungry for hope?

This has been a busy year for the Condolence Coach:

• 55 posts (as of 11-11)
• 5 posts about Angels Above Baby Gowns
• 2 posts about The Hero Project, Capes for Kids
• 3 posts with military family stories
• 4 posts about kids and teens facing loss
• 5 posts about creativity in condolence
• 3 posts about professional protocol for condolences from the medical field, and in business.

I've interviewed parents who have grieved the deaths of children born premature, unexpectedly during infancy, by accident or suspicious circumstances, by murder, by suicide. Because they survive, they are my heroes.

It is important to learn about grief, even if we cannot change it.

We explored how to write supportively to a friend with a terminal illness. We've heard the stories of widows, dog owners, and grandparents who all agree how much they cherish memories and shared stories.

Burrs are tenacious. It's that time of year when walking in woods or fields renders your clothing in a terrible state. My husband was putting our yard to bed for the winter: taking down garden fencing so deer can browse the remains, lopping off giant pokeweed plants once the birds have feasted on its berry clusters, mulch mowing leaves and debris to nourish the soil, and making countless trips on that snow dusted path back to the compost bins.

After finding a trick for burr removal at archerytalk.com,  I restored Ray's pants and shirt using a plastic card as a scraper. I feel morally obligated to pass this tip along.  

Some burrs--the emotional kind, are not so easily removed. Methods that can help the release include talking about it, prayer, journaling, and often, forgiveness.

[Source]

As I discovered the charm and relative ease of scraping off the burrs, the enormity of the task faded and hope took its place. These work clothes would see another day, if not another season of burr gathering. I'm reminded of an aphorism that has buoyed me numerous times:  

When the Livonia Public Library invited me to conduct a condolence writing workshop in September, I had plenty of time to dust off my notes. But those old notes didn't suit me or the message I now wanted to share:  

Writing Condolence Notes: It's Not a Dying Art!

Making an intention to try is a powerful thing. It's not always easy; it can require courage, grit, a deep breath. I follow The Compassionate Friends on Twitter TCFofUSA and the majority of their tweets are gentle encouragements to grieving parents: take care of each other; life will get better.

 On the days that I decide to "do a long run," I'm not always feeling like an Olympiad. It had snowed while I sipped coffee and now dressed for the chill, I saw robins as I leaf-slalomed through the off-center gate of the nature preserve. But entering the wooded trails, I heard no tweeting. It was just me and my try-angle and a couple more miles to go. And then I saw it:  the smiling tree. Its greeting was not there last week, but isn't that how encouragement works? A serendipitous blessing imparting energy and hope.

I have said so many things to my readers this year. We have seen plenty of burrs and open wounds. We have seen heroic recovery from losses and seen how kind words (especially those written) can comfort and transform.

What I would like to say now is:

You matter. Thank you for caring!

When Kids Have To Be Brave: Help from The Hero Project

The Caper!

Source

I first introduced readers to Capes For Kids when I celebrated the importance of children caring about other children. My post, Youth Making a Difference: Capes for Kids told the story of a Livonia, Michigan kindergarten class raising money for an organization that gave superhero style capes to hospitalized kids.

What a great caper! Who's idea was this? I spoke with Courtney Kibble, program director for The Hero Project. She explained that the project began in 2012 when a group of women were brought together to create a fundraising body in support of the Peyton Manning Children's Hospital at St. Vincent. 
Located in Indianapolis, Indiana, the hospital opened in 2003 to provide a full range of pediatric services in a setting that is "kid-sized and child friendly." When a hospital is focused on the holistic wellbeing of a child--physical, emotional, and spiritual--it must view the world through young eyes to be effective.

"We created everything from the ground up, with the support of the St.Vincent Foundation. Kids grow up on superheroes; their excitement in mimicking them is empowering. Our goal was for every child who spends the night at the hospital to receive a cape. We have achieved that goal, and our group and vision keeps expanding by leaps and bounds!"  Courtney Kibble

CNN reporter, Henry Hanks, explored this devotion to superheroes and quoted one child:

"They have super powers, strength, and they are brave. They always do the right things. They battle against evil. Superheroes give you strength!"

• Super powers
• Strength
• Bravery
• Battling evil
• Doing the right thing

...That's a near-perfect list of qualities for fighting illness.

The power of a cape.

Courtney explained that one of the first tasks after admission is giving a free cape to the child. "We partner with the hospital's Child Life Specialists, who work with the patients, daily."

The goal of a Child Life Specialist is to "minimize stress and anxiety through play and other resources to promote wellness; expression of feelings; and understanding of the the health care experience." 

[Source]

Keeping the serious side of medicine out of the room allows positive energy to flow unimpeded. And even when 'invasive and painful procedures' must be performed, children are 'educated, prepared, and distracted.' There are no frightening or traumatic surprises.

Courtney Kibble has observed the power of a cape.

"It truly is remarkable. The capes are incredibly comfortable and are like security blankets. They have given children the strength to get through getting an IV, having a CAT scan, and to even get out of bed and walk down the hall. 

"The one story I will never forget is one of our early patients who received a cape. He loved his cape so much that he asked to be buried in it.  Sadly, he was, but it truly touched my heart to know how important it became to him."

Courtney is a mom, and experienced the fear and stress when one's child requires serious care. "My son was hospitalized several times as a toddler and young boy and I know just how hard it can be to entertain a child, let alone make him comfortable and happy.  If our capes make even one child smile a day, it is completely worth all we do!"

How are capes created?

Providing every child with a handcrafted cape takes time and talent. Courtney explained that capes for patients are created by volunteer groups across Indiana and beyond.  "We have had corporate groups, girl scout troops, high school key clubs, science classes, a college marching band, college fashion design classes and even a women’s prison participate in making capes! The capes are mostly the no-sew variety, but we provide instructions for sewn and non-sewn capes on our website."

Why not turn all children into Superheroes?

The enthusiastic reception to Capes For Kids made the next step a natural fit to expand fundraising. "We created a store on our website where anyone may purchase SuperHero gear: capes, masks, cuffs, and tutus. Customization is available, too. All items are professionally made by a skilled seamstress in Martinsville, Indiana, and all proceeds go to the Peyton Manning Children’s Hospital. The orders come from all over and we have even had inquiries about starting a Hero Project in other states to support other children’s hospitals."

The SuperHero Cape as a Children's Condolence Gift:

Helping a child be brave 

Visiting with Courtney, the Condolence Coach suddenly realized that the empowering benefits of wearing a cape can extend to a grieving child. We have discussed condolence gifts in other posts; here is a new option! 

Thanks to The Hero Project's Create A Cape page, creating a Super Hero Cape is easy for sewers and non-sewers. And if you enjoy the project, consider making an extra cape for The Hero Project.

Sewing Method: How to sew a Super-Hero Cape

Non-Sewing Method: How to make a no-sew super hero cape

Presenting your Super Hero gift to a child should be done in a simple way:

• Arrange with a parent to leave it in their bedroom, with a note, "For you, love ___"
• Wrap it in a box or bag and hand it to them, saying, "this might be fun."
• Send it as a package through the mail, with a little note, "Does this fit you?"

Other Condolence Gift Ideas:

The Gift of a Memory Box Kit

The Gift of a Journal

The Gift of Home Baked Goods

Creative Condolence: A Life Story In 15 Songs

[Source]

Just beyond the rim of my soup bowl lay an issue of Rolling Stone magazine. Perusing the story titles listed on the cover, 'JACKSON BROWNE My Life In 15 Songs' caught my attention and imagination. The 66 year old singer songwriter likely has many more creative years ahead, but he embraced Senior Writer, David Fricke's invitation to examine a career that began with his 1972 debut album, Jackson Browne. I am the Condolence Coach, so naturally, I wondered:

Can you tell a life story in 15 songs?

Step One:  Create a LIFETRACK.

A very important part of funeral gatherings is celebrating the life lived. Important healing takes place in recounting:

• a summation of the family tree
• anecdotal stories
• life turning points
• military and community service
• achievements
• hobbies and favorite things
• travels and other adventures
• impact and influence on others

I was reminded of the dozens of life avenues that should be examined by glancing through the excellent book, ObitKit A Guide to Celebrating Your Life by Susan Soper. Every family should have--and use--an ObitKit book.

A Lifetrack should be written; whether you use the fill-in-the-blank book format of the ObitKit, a spreadsheet, or a pad of paper, organize your thoughts. Be warned: you may need to do some digging (research.) What was dad's mother's maiden name? Find a birth certificate. What did dad do in the Navy? Find his DD-214 discharge documents.

This recounting is often the basis of photo slideshows.

Photo montages are a very popular feature at visitations and funeral services. These may be prepared professionally by online or local vendors, or assembled by a funeral home using video tribute software. Most often, I find that a family member is drawn to tackle the project. After many hours of scanning old photos and downloading digital assets to their home computer, the memorial slideshow is burned to DVD or sent to a USB stick. Sometimes there is a soundtrack but often, there is not. Which brings us to those 15 songs...

[Source]

Every life has a soundtrack.

Step Two:  Create a SOUNDTRACK.

Armed with a Lifetrack, it's time to make a SOUNDTRACK. I have nothing against the cultural influence of the wonderful music recorded by Bette Midler, but I have heard The Wind Beneath My Wings, too many times. I'm also getting a little weary of Glenn Miller's String of Pearls and The Andrew Sisters' Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. But if these songs were expressed favorites, go ahead and include them.

Step Three:  Creative Condolence: A Life Story in 15 Songs

Is this a condolence note or a music mix? How about both?

A. Giftable Media- a Music Keepsake

If you have the ability to assemble the Life Story in 15 Songs' audio files--the delivery format is wide open--it is sure to enhance your condolence note. But be sure that the recipient has the playback ability; not everyone can stream music, play what you burned, or know which button to press. Consider eliminating hurdles by making a date to meet and, using your device, enjoy the Soundtrack together.

B. Creative Condolence Note

[Source]

Here is where your core skills as a condolence writer are meant to blossom. After the extensive effort of steps one, two, and three-A., your heart and mind are full. Sit down and slowly release the admiration and affection to paper.

• Express your sense of loss.
• Explain your motivation to create A Life Story in 15 Songs
• Write out your playlist.
• Explain your choice of each song. A sentence, a brief story, are sufficient.
• If appropriate, state that you will contact the recipient to schedule a visit for sharing the Soundtrack. (Don't forget to make that call, soon after your note's likely arrival.)

RESOURCES:
The ObitKit was first introduced to readers in my post: Curb Your Enthusiasm? Not In My Condolence!

Share this post with a friend, and thank you for caring!