Category Archives: Grief

Grief after grief

31 Sunday Jul 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief

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I wrote in my previous post (4 days ago) called Shifting Gears about the declining health of my stepmom, Delores. Yesterday afternoon she slipped away at last and went to get her angel wings.  She was 86.

Last night, I could not get to sleep. It is so very easy to slide down that slippery slope to a pit that is littered with questions like Why Am I Still Here, and Why Them, and What Is The Purpose of Life???  I obsessed for hours.  From near-Acceptance of my new station in life, I tumbled backward to sadness, to confusion, to frustration, and smack into anger. I don’t get it. I. Just. Do. Not. Get. It.  What the hell is life about? I just served my sentence, just worked my way through the death of my husband. I’m done. Don’t want to do this any more. I can understand why people want to be islands, or at least go to one. Away from anyone who can hurt you again by leaving. I’m building my own wall up around my heart, and I’m getting a large Do Not Disturb sign to wear on my tee-shirt.  I’ve tried to be strong, and now I’m tired of that. But too tired to sleep.

And then I had these thoughts. About my own mother, and about Delores, and what they have taught me. Two women connected to me by my dad. They probably could have been friends at another time under other circumstances.  They were different, but they also had things in common, and not just Dad.

I know they must have had their own purposes in living, but this is what I took away from my late-night analysis.  My parents divorced in 1976, when I was 17. My mother never remarried. I rather thought she played a victim role a little too well, and I found it hard to relate to that.  Admittedly, she had other things going on in her life from time to time, things that weren’t easy, like getting cancer in 1978, which she survived. But then I got divorced.  My mom died years later, in 2002, at the age of 70, a few months after I got remarried (which was 11 years after my divorce). I compared my life to hers now and again, and I understood her a little better. When Kevin died, I gave a lot of attention to the fact that my parents lost a baby boy at 2 months old, and how that must have affected both of them, although they never talked about it.  She wasn’t around to talk about death and grief either, when Kevin died.

Delores was a widow when she married Dad. Her husband Melvin had died suddenly of a heart attack at about 50 years of age. It was around 4 years later she married my dad, who had 5 children, all teenagers or younger. Her one son was 10 years old than I was. I couldn’t relate to her much either, although I made friends with her. I mostly though of her as Dad’s Wife. And then I remarried, to a man with 3 children.  I took a lot of my Stepmother cues from Delores, because I didn’t know how else to be one. I don’t think I was as graceful as she was, but in my defense, my son was still in high school and Kevin’s son lived with us.  Anyway, when Kevin died, I gained an awareness of Delores’s life as a widow before my dad, and again after my dad died, which was 10 months before Kevin.  Suddenly, we had much more in common to talk about.

These two women.  70 and 86. How would I know that they would both teach me so much at different times about life and death, about marriage and divorce and widowhood, about family and friends, about grief, about time and that proverbial “dash between the dates.”  It seems like every time I think I’m okay, back on my feet, strong again, ready to move on, I get a nudge that pushes me just far back enough to make sure I don’t forget or get complacent about the meaning of my life and the time I have left.  I wonder about my own influencing, and not knowing for sure who or when I am impacting, I am reminded to be kind and gentle more often. To not take work (or myself) too seriously.  To take the extra days and miles to see the friends and family you almost would rather catch next time if you could. To eat ice cream whenever I feel like it, and to go to bed early if I feel like it.

It doesn’t make any sense at all for there not to be some kind of master plan. There has to be.  And not knowing what it is, I just have to keep trying, to seek the possibilities, to do big things, to play and learn and dream.  I would go crazy if I didn’t believe this. Especially today. I would like to believe Mom and Delores are friends now, and that they will together keep an eye on me, keep me upright, and keep me going.

 

 

Shifting gears

26 Tuesday Jul 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, New Biz, Sabbatical

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You may have noticed that my twice-a-week blog posts are down to once a week, more or less.  My plan is to get on a stable schedule that gives me the flexibility of posting to my business site once a week also.  My sabbatical is not over yet, I don’t think… but it’s clear that my world is turning and the shifting gears keep me in motion quite a bit.

Bad news

There has been a little personal drama in the past week that has set me back just a bit.  My stepmother, the last link to a parent in our family, is in declining health. She fell back in early June and fractured her hip.  She had a partial replacement, but within days fell again and had to have it reset. Then she fell again and got a brace as a result. And the next time after that, she broke her nose. It’s not just the physical healing she is dealing with; it’s the after-effects of the anesthesia each time that continue to be problematic for her. She is 86 and she hasn’t been as able to get back on her feet (no pun intended) as if she was 76 or 66.  She has now been showing signs of her body shutting down, and Hospice care has been arranged. It has us all wondering if she is giving up, as we know she has been lonely and unhappy for a while since my dad died a bit over 2 years ago.  So prayers for her to be comfortable and have her pain managed during this last transition phase are asked for.

Delores

When I got the message two days ago that she was “not good,” I felt myself start to crumble.  I think I even got a little angry that she may be making a choice to give up, which was an option that Kevin didn’t have -or if he did, I didn’t recognize. That then got me to wondering if we all have this choice, and assuming we do, why anyone else thinks they have the right to insist we make the choice to stay here on this earth at this time. How very arrogant of us. So I quickly offered up a prayer for forgiveness for when I have done that.

I also got sad because she is one that keeps me still connected to my dad. When I have to let go of her, things change again even in subtle ways. Then I will be truly orphaned. Even at my age of 58 now, that just seems too much to think about.  And I know I’ve started my grieving already, although she is still here. Why is it so hard to remember that she will still be with me? Grief sure does make you think!!

There’s been a lot of death lately – Mary Jo’s dog, Rosanne’s nephew, Lorie’s dad, that I can’t help but be reminded how temporary life is.  And that thought has me impatient to make up for lost time – all the things I haven’t done yet, the places I want to go, the books I want to read.  Now I have fleeting thoughts that I should stay on my sabbatical forever (which would now likely be termed retirement).

Good work

But it’s the work I’m now starting to do that has me meeting new people and keeping me stimulated. This week already I have gone for ice cream with a new neighbor, and had lunch with a new friend Karen. Sunday I went to a meeting and got to know 6 fellow Toastmasters better as we start a year of being officers for our club together.  I went to lunch in Richmond last week with Karine to the eWomen’s Network gathering, where we both met new people – like us, women engaged in business, who want to make a difference, who are helping each other figure out the things we need to know and do. Next week I’ll be speaking at a luncheon of the Solopreneur Success Circle.  No, I’m not just keeping myself busy so I don’t have to think.  I recognize that this is my time, this is what I do to keep being me.  I’m having my kind of fun.  And yes, I know there are other kinds of fun to be had,  but for me, for now, this is pretty great.

My path

So even though the world keeps turning and I’m shifting gears along with it, I step back now and then to appreciate what I have had, what I do have, the people I’ve known and will know, the path I have been on that has lead me here and wherever I’m going. I know that Kevin and Delores have done their parts along the way, and I thank them. It’s not always easy stepping back into an active grief when you think you’re moving on, but in the Big Picture of Life, I have been so fortunate.  Even Delores’ failing health now has me exploring my thoughts and beliefs again about the meaning of life and death.  I guess I need to be reminded every now and then.  We all do, so we can make the most of what we have left, whatever that is.   Rest in comfort, Delores, until it is your time to go on to The Next Place.

 

An interview with me

14 Thursday Jul 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, Transformation

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I don’t think I have ever posted twice on the same day, but this just came out today and am excited to share it with you. Check her website www.yvonneortega.net.  She is an author of three books.  She knows all about moving From Broken to Beautiful.  Here is her interview of me about my past year and a half as a new widow:  http://yvonneortega.net/patricia-duggan-moving-forward-in-widowhood/#comment-1759.

Pieces of the Grieving Process

20 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by in Grief, Traditions, Transformation

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Yesterday morning I made myself some pancakes for breakfast. As I got out the plate from the cupboard, I was suddenly struck by the blah-ness of that plate.  I have used these plates for about a year and a half. Guess what happened a year and a half ago?? Yes, you guessed it; I started the next phase of my life.  I used to have these very pretty plates that I worked hard for, and I mean worked. I wanted them but didn’t want to pay the retail price, so I took a job selling Princess House products to earn them. It took me about a year to buy the full set and the stainless steel pots and pans, plus a few pretty bowls (I love big bowls!).  BTW, both sets of dishes are PH.

A few days after Kevin died, for some reason (subconscious, I’m sure), I put the pretty plates away and began using the clear glass plates and cereal bowls.  In fact,  I have never really liked the clear plates since I got those.  I can’t imagine buying a set like that now.  Anyway, before my pancakes got cold, I pulled the pretty set from where they had been stored and replaced the clear ones in the cabinet.  I am sure my pancakes tasted better! I know I felt better.

I had just finished breakfast when my phone rang, and it was a long-time friend of mine. Josie lost her husband Mike after a very quick diagnosis of pancreatic cancer in January of 2000, so 16 years ago.  I told her about the dishes, and she said, “Oh, Pat, I did the same thing!”  She said she sat at the table and cried one night shortly after Mike’s funeral, and it was because the dishes reminded her of Mike. She put them in a box and the next day went and bought a new set of dishes she has used ever since. We laughed over that, wondering what it was about the dishes. She has not regretted getting rid of her first set; I just put mine away in the bottom of the cupboards.

Later on I went upstairs for something and glanced at my bed.  It’s the same bed we shared, and I haven’t even changed the quilt, although sometimes I flip it over when I’m too lazy to wash it and so buy me a few more days. Oddly, I sleep on his side of the bed now, but when I’m in another bed in a hotel or at my sister’s, I sleep on “my” side. And I park on my side of the driveway still.  I sit at my same place at the dinner table. I sit at the same end of the couch when watching a movie. And I use my same sink at the double-sink vanity in the bathroom. But I gave away his recliner, his truck, and his boat, and I sold his motorcycle.

Why do certain things affect us the way they do, and others don’t? I can’t say.  Why do some things strike us as appropriate or inappropriate, acceptable or unacceptable, or necessary or unnecessary in the early days of our grief…and then shift again later (or not), as we move along in the grieving process and on through the days. This grief is a bit mercurial. I’m just glad I can laugh about it now. And I am okay with not having the answers. I just like noting that it is what it is.

Do you have a dish preference above? It’s okay either way; I’ve made up my mind which one I’m using, so I’m not looking for advice or agreement. I’m just curious.

 

This version of me

16 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, New Biz, Transformation

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There are 11 things on my To Do list for today. Most of them were there yesterday, too, and some of them were also on the list Tuesday and Monday.  I should have come back from my trip home relaxed and refreshed and ready to do things. I came back with a handful of powerful questions AGAIN.

Should I pack up and move back to where my siblings are? Should I move closer to or very near to my children and grandchildren? How would things be different if I moved? What will my life be like if I stay?  Can I do this on my own? Now that I have stepped onto the path of The Next Thing, I should be more certain, right?

The good news is that “powerful” questions are those that empower you when you can think about them without getting overanxious, or that you can live with even when you don’t have the answers. Powerful questions propel you deeper and wider into discovering who you are, so you can BE even when you DO. This past year and a  half has seen a lot of time when I was feeling lost, which I now think means that my feelings were lost. Slow motion is not the same as slowing down. I was on autopilot way too often, and I didn’t honor my feelings. I just tried to wait them out, until I couldn’t any more.  When I realized I had to express them, and that I could express them, and I did express them, I let go of so much anxiety, fear, insecurity.  At the same time, I took in so much calmness and freshness and lightness.

Here is what it’s been like to feel my feelings just in these past couple of weeks. I was enchanted with the farmlands and the peacefulness of the Minnesota landscape. I was joyful to be riding around with my sisters, going for tats, shopping, and birthday dinner.  I was proud to have my brother show me around his workplace, and I noticed I missed male comraderie (admit it – they just think differently than women do). I was very happy to spend an evening with Kevin’s kids and grandkids, and to feel the peace of being connected to him. I felt like the old me again when I had dinner with two former co-workers who “knew me when.” And I laughed again with two good friends who knew me before I was with Kevin.  In all those ways and more, I was the old me again, and it felt good.

Then I came home Friday and jumped right into a packed schedule.  I went to an educational class on Sunday night, and I got pumped up because I learned something new, something that made sense, something that will definitely work for me. On Monday morning, I had breakfast with a good friend here, and I came away feeling so positive about myself. I spent that evening in a speaker academy class, and I was actively engaged in the discussions. Tuesday I stayed in bed with dogs until 11:30, and I loved every minute of not having to get up.  I spent part of the afternoon at the library, loving the freedom to go in the middle of the day. Wednesday I went to a networking event for women, and I met some fabulous new people and participated in a Wisdom Circle. It’s a forum I have been looking for, and I was completely satisfied I had found it.  Last night I went for ice cream with another friend and again felt a certainty about The Next Thing. I’ve read two books in two days, once sitting on my deck for an afternoon in the warm sun.  I was just doing what felt good to me.  Both here and while on my trip.

So what I know is this.  I cannot give up the wonderful flexibility of working from home, for myself.  I am willing to work hard to keep that. I have love in my life, and blossoming friendships, and intellectual stimulation…all things I need and will not give up on. I have learned to appreciate the moment, and I am pretty good these days at catching myself while in that flow as it is happening.  I have learned to slow down even while keeping busy.  I have an abundance of wonderful people and things and experiences in my life.  It doesn’t matter where I am, because this is the real me, the me I want to be.  So I will stay a little longer because I like this version of me.  I’ll just make sure to visit Minnesota (and my families) more often.

The ties that bind

13 Friday May 2016

Posted by in Grief, Traditions

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One of the more difficult realities after a spouse passes away is the level of familial relationships that are retained or maintained or just fall away. It’s not the same as a divorce, where both spouses are still around and often friends or family are pressured to take sides.  But especially in a second marriage, where there was a divorce previously, there are some occasional awkward times that can grow more uncomfortable as times goes on. In my case, there are also miles between us, making it easy for all of us to neglect our relationship.

dfamilywedding

I’ve been through my own divorce, and that of my parents also. So I know something about this.  I was fortunate that in the care of my parents, there were so many other intertwining ties that family events involved many of the same people anyway.  I’d have to say I actually had a good model for how to stay on friendly terms with the rest of the family afPapa Duggan and Laylater the decree. If Kevin and I had divorced, there is no doubt I’d never had a continuing relationship with his kids. We just were never on the same plane.

But a death adds a layer of complexity, especially when the children are his and hers, and are mostly adults already Kids k funeralwhen you get married.  And you live at least a thousand miles away…or a few hundred anyway for about half  of the time, so physical contact is nil.

It’s hard to know what my role is at this juncture – nearly 1-1/2 years later. There is not much contact of any kind between his kids and me, or for that matter, between his brothers and me. I do talk with his Mom about once a month or so.  Now the first one of his kids is getting married.  The uncles and grandma are not planning to attend the wedding. Kevin should be (and would want to be) represented at the wedding, and he will be there in spirit and in the brother and sister and niece and nephew of the bride.  No matter what, I know it won’t be the same for the bride to not have him there.

And I won’t be there either. It’s unfortunate timing that I’ll be near there just two weeks before that for graduations of my niece and nephew.  Yesterday, I was asked if I  would be attending the wedding, and I said I felt like I was really just someone they used to know, since there hasn’t been much communication between us at all.  When that made its way back to the bride, she contacted me and said that although we hadn’t been close, she never thought of me as just her dad’s wife.  She said she thought I was “the most amazing spouse for my dad and now that he’s gone that means more to me than you will ever know. I feel so at peace knowing that he left this world a happy man and we have you to thank for that.” So yeah, I’ve been crying for the past two hours over that. Just when you think you’re about to move on, you find you’re about to step into some quicksand.

So if it’s true what Neale Donald Walsch said in Conversations with God (and I believe it is true), that the only reason to do anything is as an expression of who you are, the question I must ask myself is, do I cut these ties that bind, or do I mend the edges that are frayed?  It’s not about what they will think, or even what I might want them to think of me.  It’s about how do I see myself in this relationship, and how do I express that?  I have offered to meet up with them when I am back for graduations, and at least the bride has accepted. It’s a start.

 

Abundance abounds

09 Monday May 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, Transformation

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Last week was an incredible (as in amazing, not unbelievable, because I do believe) week in terms of abundance making its way to me. I have been focusing on having a lifestyle full of abundance: abundant health, abundant friends, abundant money and other gifts, abundant love. Let me tell you about three messages I received that validate how not only the Law of Attraction works, but how the world works. I didn’t just manifest these things, I truly believe these are proof that the Universe responds to what we need.

Linda

First, I got a phone call from my friend Linda. We were both court administrators back in the mid-to- late 90’s, in the same judicial district in Minnesota.  I left there in 2000, and she retired not to long after that.  We managed to see each other once during these intervening years, and there has also been the infrequent phone call and, of course, Facebook.  Last week Tuesday she called me and told me how much she loves reading this blog. In fact, she wanted to know when I would turn it in to a book she can buy because she wants to give it as a gift. Her brother passed away recently, and she thinks her sister-in-law could use some support.  I was thrilled to hear from her, sad about the brother, and flattered by her encouragement to continue my efforts. You might think this was a bit of a random call (but it wasn’t, according to the Universe); it came  at a time when I have been in need of support for starting my own business. I felt validated.  Thanks, Linda!

Pauly

Then, on Wednesday night, I got another “random” phone call. Pauly was a very good friend of my mother, and she lost her husband after a 5 year battle with cancer about a year ago.  I have been friendly with Pauly, see her occasionally at family events (the last time was a year ago at my niece’s wedding).  I must have been outside with dogs and missed the call but she left me a voice mail message that said this:

“I just felt moved to tell you that I appreciate your blog and I appreciate what you are doing with your business.  You are really an inspiration and I want to thank you. I hope you continue to do well.  You’re helping me to get along with my – whatever you want to call it – widowship? or whatever it is. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.” 

How amazing is that?  I called her back the next night, and we had a lovely conversation.  She also has a step-daughter who recently suffered a loss, and she hopes she will at least read the blog if not talk to me for that necessary listening ear. I felt “right,” like I am on the right path. Thanks, Pauly! (I saved your voice mail.)

Carol

But that’s not all.  Saturday I went to a Toastmasters speech contest in Chesapeake, about 60 miles or so from here. I met a woman named Carol, who has light black hair like me, except she puts purple streaks in hers.  (Oh, yes, I am considering it!)  We hit it off instantly, and it turns out she lost her husband two weeks after Kevin passed away.  We agreed to have lunch soon. Yesterday morning I got this email from her:

“When I met you yesterday, it was like looking in a mirror of my life. I was so surprised and delighted to know you are working through the same things I am for the same reasons. I have so got to get to know you better. I am not going to overwhelm you. I just wanted to know how you are doing some  of the things you are into.”

I felt needed, like I have something of value to share with her. And it’s all good, no pity-parties planned.  Thanks, Carol! (I saved your email.)

Abundant blessings and gratitude

So here I am, looking to feed my soul, and along come three amazing women all in one week, to offer nourishment.  I am so grateful for their friendship, their messages, and their timing. And I am doubly grateful that I am in a place emotionally and intellectually where I can recognize this blessing.  Thank you, God!!  And all because Kevin passed to the next place.  I miss you still, and I think of you all the time, but mostly, I thank you for showing me who I can be.  This business thing was our plan for quite a while, and now I’m doing it! A year ago I couldn’t see this as an option, but now I can’t see how I missed it. I was blessed to have you in my life, and I’m now blessed by you. PS-I trust the money wlll follow soon.  ;o)

 

Flying solo, but not alone

28 Thursday Apr 2016

Posted by in Dreaming, Grief

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A few interesting things have been happening lately, somewhat funny, maybe a little spooky if you’re of that mind. I choose to think that they are just proof of how the world works and who’s in it (it’s not always who you see).

First, I had a flashlight I was taking to the camper last week. It didn’t work , so I threw out the old batteries (set 1) and put in different ones I had on hand  (set 2). They didn’t work either, and I thought they must be old or cheap. I bought new batteries (set 3), which also  didn’t work.  I took those batteries (set 3)  out and again put in the other set (2) thinking that I’ll save what are likely the “good” batteries (set 3) for something else. I put the flashlight in a junk basket by the sink.  Two nights later I was sitting at the kitchen table reading, and the flashlight turned on all by itself. I even heard it “click” on.  It stayed on until I shut it off.  It works fine now.

Then, I had a dream on Tuesday night in which Kevin came to sit on the bed by me. He told me to just rest, to calm down, that everything was going to work out fine and be okay.  Just like I had wished earlier.  He put his arm around me and pulled my head to his chest, right where I used to snuggle up on his shoulder.  It was so real I woke up, but he wasn’t there any longer. It was 3:28 am.  I had been waking up at that time every night for the previous week, but not any longer.

Today, I was sitting at my computer typing in my office. I heard this sudden crash, like something had fallen but not broken. I ventured into the hallway and looked around. The trash can in the powder room had fallen from the back of the commode and the top came off, spilling empty toiler paper rolls around the room.  Both dogs were with me in my office. There is no window in that bathroom, and it’s not located where it is subject to other air circulation. Besides, it’s been rainy all day and the windows in the house are closed.

Just when it seems like I’m at the edge of being overwhelmed, I remind myself that I’m not alone.  And then the Universe proves I am right. Whether you call it God, or Father/ Mother, or something else, what I have learned is that being in alignment with Source requires that I come into alignment with Myself.  This is how it seems to me.  If something feels like it’s just too much to handle, or feels off or wrong, I focus on what I do want, what is right- for me, and what feels good.  Then my experience seems to improve.  It’s a bit of a challenge to remember to remember this (ha!), but it gets easier the more I practice.  I know I ask a lot of Her right now, so I’m also learning how to listen for answers.

I think the flashlight means that if I turn my problems over to Source, they will be handled. The dream means that because I hold Kevin in my heart, he will always be with me. As important as our thoughts are, our feelings are stronger.  As for the trash can, I realized that I was making a bigger deal out of what I was working on than was called for.  It’s not trash, but don’t make this project more complicated than it is.

It’s satisfying to tap into this layer of understanding, and especially to feel that it is right. It doesn’t feel woo-woo or scary or like I’m losing my marbles. My soul is being fed in mysterious ways. And I like it!

Drinking from a fire hose

16 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Grief, Transformation

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As I have been learning about starting a speaking business, I keep circling back to what my core message is, who my target audience is, and what kind of problem I am trying to solve. And circle I do, round and round and round. I wish I had Kevin here again to steady me and catch me when I get dizzy.

Cory Mosley: Presence Principle

This morning I attended an NSA session on being “credible, likeable, and bankable.”  A lot of good stuff from Cory Mosley on the Presence Principle.  He talked quite a bit about use of social media (Meerkat? Anchor? Blab? Medium??), all of which I know not enough, apparently.  And then he talked about content distribution on personal blogs, radio, 3rd party blogs, tv, published columns, and online video.(What?!? I’m just a one-person shop right now.)  And written testimonials, video testimonials, audio testimonials, and online testimonials. (Yikes! Do I need more equipment?)  Check out corymosley.com.  He’s got some great information, and was worthwhile listening to. I was scribbling notes as fast as I could write.

Harold Wood: speech critique

In the afternoon, our Speaker Academy class had a session with Harold Wood of www.motivationalentertainer.com.  His goal was to help us further develop our message, add some pizazz to our presentations, and become more memorable to our audiences.  He succeeded! My task was to give a 5 minute presentation (yes, only 5 minutes) for him to critique. I did my speech on generating ideas for your bucket list. I used the fact of Kevin’s death as a prompt to think about what your eulogy might offer, and how we take for granted having time to accomplish our bucket list.  My 5 minutes were up before I got half-way through my speech.  On the plus side, I kept my emotions together while talking about Kevin’s premature death.  On the downside, once Harold started telling me what he liked about the speech and how powerful he thought it was (and offering his condolences), I teared up and struggled to regain my composure. In the end, what he had to offer was very useful feedback, and I’m glad I had it all recorded so I could remember what he said in my moments of feeling vulnerable. He urged me to turn my speech into a keynote and to market my catch-phrases.

Brendon Burchard: I liked his words too much!

As soon as I got home tonight, I looked up the availability of my key words. Taken!  In fact, a very well-known author and speaker has used the exact phrases I used in my overall theme.  I can only surmise that someone told me these same words, or I heard them somewhere else, in the early days of my grieving, or when I was thinking of starting my own business several years ago (since he wrote them in 2011).  I’m glad they stuck with me, since they still give me comfort and inspiration now.  They are “live, love, matter” and the author is Brendon Burchard (MillionaireMessenger.com).    But now I can’t use them, at least not the same way I had planned.

Me: still not 100% sure

The bottom line is, participating in this Speakers Academy (nsavirginia.org) has been like drinking from a fire hose every month, and all month long between sessions.  It excites me to consider the possibilities, and I am grateful that the members are so generous with their time and experiences in helping us wannabes get a foot in the door.  I have waffled back and forth  about using my grief experience/transformation as my main topic for development, or sticking in the business lane of court management, which I have done for 25 years.  Either way, a business is a business, and I have much to learn and absorb and explore.  And a mortgage to pay every month.

It seems like the fire hose is always on, full force; there is no out-of-water, roll it up and put it away break.  Every time I go to a class or NSA meeting, I get charged up.  I can’t wait to spend time thinking about it and trying out the ideas.  Before I can get too far, though, it’s time for the next session, and there is so much more to add to the lists I am compiling.

Kevin: you are always on my mind

It’s times like this when I wish Kevin were here, telling me that it will all be okay. I remember when I was working on my ICM Fellows certification, and I was frustrated that my survey results weren’t computing, which meant my research was off kilter. He had no idea what I was talking about, but he patiently listened, and then tried to fix it – which as you might guess, was NOT what I wanted.  But he helped me through it nonetheless. And many other similar “crises” over the years. I guess I am moving out of the wandering-around zone toward my new-life zone now, though, because I can remember these times and they lift me up instead of bringing me down to not have him here by my side…in my world. I am thankful for the time we did have, instead of mourning that the clock stopped.

 

A Friend’s Loss

07 Thursday Apr 2016

Posted by in Grief, Uncategorized

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Today was the funeral for the father of a very good friend of mine.  He fell last week, and there was a quick decline in his condition; he died the next day.  All the planning that goes along with such an event, notifying family and waiting for them to arrive, making decisions, not sleeping, lots of crying…it is all so familiar to me still.  Yet, I do not know what to say to her.  My own father died a little over two years ago, and of course my husband 16 months ago.  You’d think I’d be able to come up with something besides “I’m sorry.”  I offered prayers, asked about how her Mom was doing, and said “I know it’s hard.”  It feels so inadequate.  And I couldn’t be there either; she’s (or I am) a thousand miles away. After everyone goes home, though, that’s when she’ll need to talk about it, I think. I’m planning a trip up her way in June, so will make it a definite stop on the way.

We’re at that age when we are losing parents now.  Or that’s what we expect to happen.  Grandparents leave us first, followed by  aunts and uncles and our own parents, then maybe a friend here or there and older cousins.  We say that if we’re lucky, then we go next, before the spouse, before the kids, and definitely before any grandbabies. And it’s all very sad and numbing in the moment.  But I know people who have suffered the loss of a toddler, or a son whose time was up way too soon, or like me, a spouse in his prime.  It never gets easier, never gets routine, never seems like the right thing. Death seems to raise more questions than it answers. Most of them start with Why?

Yet, we all know that the natural order is birth, life, death.  It can be no other way. There is no guarantee of how long we have, whether our time here will be rags or riches, if we’ll have a legacy to leave behind or not.  So we wonder what the point of it all is.  And try to make sense any way we can, so we can go on until the next time.

Having wandered through this territory recently, I hoped I would have something profound and meaningful to say to my friend…and to others who are still hurting years after their losses.  There are no magic words, though. There is no spoonful of sugar that can make this medicine taste better.  There is no one book that gives directions on how to get through this time quickly or painlessly, or “right.”

The amazing thing about grief is how differently it is experienced by everyone. My father was not her father, and our relationships with those men were different, and we are different, and the rest of our families are made up differently, and on and on and on. But we are two women who both have lost our fathers.  I only met hers maybe once or twice in all the years she and I have known each other. I’m still sad because I know the uncertainty that accompanies us as we wander in the “lost” zone, being in limbo, waiting for it all to be over…which it never really is. We learn to adjust.  And as we start tinkering with the various aspects of what needs adjusting and how we go about that, we reflect on the past and guess at the future; stay connected if we can and at the same time find new connections; discover new options and decide on new directions; all adapting as make it from one hour to the next, one day to the next, one whatever to the next whatever.

My condolences go to the Schmitt and Reller families.  I’ll be remembering all of you in my prayers.