Re-Balancing After Loss: Carry Two Buckets

(Author's source,
used with permission)

Grandpa Gus was a hard working farmer in Iowa. It was a good life and in wartime, demand was high for eggs, milk, corn and soybean crops. 

Gus, like most grandparents, welcomed the eager participation of visiting grandkids. Chores were assigned because chores are a part of life, but for a townie, the farm was loaded with adventures. From dumping a pail of kitchen scraps in the hog pen, balancing on a milking stool, or avoiding hen pecks while collecting eggs, each task came with a few how-to's and occasionally some patient I-told-you-so's. The lessons were basic and sometimes--profound.

Always Carry Two Buckets

Balancing heavy loads is both art and science. Grandpa Gus routinely carried two buckets loaded with any number of things, and while weights could be substantial, he'd learned that balance was key. 

Isn't it true that one of the most difficult aspects of losing a loved one is the sudden sense of imbalance? Countless habits and routines now feel off-kilter. In her song "My Old Man," Joni Mitchell lamented, "The bed's too big, the frying pan's too wide."  Not simply the realm of spouse/partner death, this lopsided, not-right feeling can surge with the death of a child, the loss of a close friend, or the end of a job. It may seem like everything needs to be figured out again!

Will I Ever Feel Happy?

Our basic quest to feel balanced is normal; like gravity, it anchors almost all choices and activities. Fortunately, I believe life balance can be healed and restored in the metaphor of Grandpa Gus's advice:  always carry two buckets. 

Here's how to get started...Identify your buckets

(Source: Hemerson Coelho on Unsplash)

One bucket is already brimful of feelings. Accept and be gentle with that deeply personal load. Follow the McCartney lyrical adage: Let It Be. 

Your second bucket should hold whatever (used to) makes you smile, feel good, and awaken curiosity. Consider experiences that reduce self absorption. Trust that your first bucket is doing its job of holding emotions and fears. As you fill, empty, and refill this second bucket, I promise you that the first bucket will begin to feel a little bit lighter. 

(Source: Heather McKean on Unsplash)

Consider Lighter Loads

1. Exercise and Spend time in nature
2. Volunteer
3. Find new homes for (gifting/donating) some of the decedent's belongings
4. Start a Gratitude Journal or Bowl
5. Meet trusted friends for coffee
6. Walk through a gallery or museum
7. Explore spirituality
8. Take a just-for-fun class
9. Review your own bucket list and make a plan!
10. Challenge 'Life' to send you wonderful surprises (It will!)

(Source: Rafael Garcin on Unsplash)

Thank you for caring...and sharing!

Grief Recovery: Grinding Up the Old Road, Paving the New

Author image

The Growing Through Grief series

A great force at work

There’s a tremendous rumbling outside my home, as beasts of steel move slowly on their low-slung circular tracks. The fiercest of them claws unrelentingly at the roadway, churning up the old macadam. Scooped onto a skyward conveyor, the rough debris are launched into the cavity of a giant white dump truck.

Slim, sunglassed workers in bright yellow safety vests and hard hats live out childhood Tonka Toy dreams, sauntering beside the beasts. A secret bliss beats in their hearts, aglow with the knowledge that no mother waits at home to scold them over the filthy pants they will arrive in. They are the grinders, obliterating all previous roads. Out of sight, the debris-laden lorry will travel to a location in need of its material. For new roads are being constructed, and a foundation of ‘what was,’ suits a new way to come. 

You are the foundation of your new path

People--and roads--are an amalgam of everything known and experienced. And yet, it is crucial to respect the dynamics of change because change--like the grinders’ force--will leave nothing untouched. Daily, there is an expansion of the known and experienced. Layer on top of layer, our lives are paved with rigors and roses, relationships and realizations. What may seem like habit or routine will, if examined under a microscope, be infinitesimally different and new, each day.

Recognizing these facts, I know that the cacophony outside will abate and I will return to my patio, cool drink in hand. I know that a new road will be built outside my door and likewise, inside my heart and mind. It is happening now, with each keystroke.

Author image

Moving forward is what matters most; I spread words left to right on this digital page and as needed, backspace my way to better expression. Left to right, auto-return, left to right again. 

I thank the grinders who are helping me let go of old roads because there is so much more to discover on a new one.

Thankyou for caring and sharing!

Responding to Tragedy: A Million Pieces of Grief

Explosive grief

Mitzi Cowell, Facebook

I was enjoying Tucson's Smart Blues guitarist Mitzi Cowell, when these lyrics grabbed me:

"Sometimes I feel like I've been blown into a million pieces, and every once in a while, I find one."

There is a long list of events and situations that have such explosive power; grief can certainly be one of them. When the familiar explodes apart by a sudden tragic event, the early moments vibrate with absolute change.

Consider this apt description by Kirsti M. Dyer, M.D.,M.S. on her website Journey of Hearts:

"A sudden tragic event shatters our sense of order and thrusts us into a world forever changed. Survivors of sudden loss may experience a greater sense of vulnerability and heightened anxiety. The safe world we once knew, no longer exists. We fear for ourselves, our family and friends. Survivors can become overwhelmingly preoccupied with thoughts that such a random act of violence might happen again."  [Source]

We may see tragedy on an intimate scale--someone you know commits suicide; and again on break-the-scale proportions of terrorist acts.

Condolence after terrorism

I was recently asked, "I feel badly about the Brussels bombings, but who should I write to?"
I advised that, if you do not have a personal connection with someone stricken by the tragedy, you may, after a little research, send words of support to an aid organization actively responding to the affected community. The condolence response for a tragedy that shakes the world can also take on symbolic proportions:

• Performing acts of kindness or peacemaking where you live or work.
• Sending a donation of goods or money to a relief organization.
• Add your voice to social media campaigns that denounce violence, promote conflict resolution, or improve lives.

However you respond, respect the power of your own voice; speak (or write) from your heart. Be true to your outrage, sadness, despair...and desire to drive change. This is the nature of a truly compassionate response:  sharing your impassioned self with others.

Hope and recovery

Mitzi Cowell's lyrics include the beacon of hope, "every once in a while, I find one [a piece.]" The recovery of the familiar, piece by piece, is often a startling, bittersweet experience. The piece may have its original proportions, but recovery has embedded new lenses on the eyes of the grieving person. Nothing will ever be the same, yet the found piece "fertilizes" the soul, feeding growth, allowing a scar to toughen the once-raw wound. What can you do to nurture hope?

• Share good memories of when things were "in one piece":  a story, a thought, an old photo, a song
• Encourage expression: be a listener, give a condolence gift such as a journal, or art supplies for a memory box
• Offer time honored symbols of hope: a plant or sapling, seeds for a garden, a candle, images of a butterfly or sunrise
• Stay in touch:  a person recovering from tragedy must walk a long road--most of it alone because companions tire and drop off. You don't have to be a saint or a social worker, but be the person who stays in touch with an occasional note or email, a shared cup of coffee, a thinking-of-you item left at a front door or office desk.

Thank you for caring!