Gone From My Sight
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone."
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me — not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"
And that my friend is dying…
My Grief is Better than Your Grief!
The comparison of grief. It doesn't work. Although I find it happens often.
"I know just how you feel about your son." My neighbor began. "The other morning I was out front with my dog and I loved that dog. I saw the car coming and shouldn't have called him. He was across the street and in the neighbor's yard and I called him at the wrong moment and he ran right in front of the car. I felt so bad. I totally cried."
I stood there and I am pretty sure my mouth must have dropped open at some point. Did this guy just compare his dog to my 22-year-old son? I walked away feeling differently about him. Mostly, I just didn't get it. Emotionally I felt angry. I felt like he was stupid. Logically, I knew he was a pretty good guy and was simply wanting to connect and let me know he felt bad for me.
Comparing Grief doesn't Work!
Comparing grief doesn't work. Many of my friends and even strangers have said things like my neighbor said to me. I love my friends and I know they are making feeble attempts to connect with me and let me know they understand. The point is, they don't. They don't understand and I hope they never do understand. My grief is not better than their grief. Their grief is not better than mine. It isn't about comparing emotions.
Trying to Box Grief and put it in a Neat Package
Grief is raw. Grief is personal. Grief is something that we make major attempts to define. As humans, we want to rope it in and contain so we can control it. We have even made a "formula" of the stages of grief. Bullshit. I have found it all to be bullshit. There is no formula. No pat answers. No typical. No normal.
Grief releases all emotions. When there is a loss, emotions won't be corraled. Even if they are stuffed, eventually, they will fester and come out. They will bubble up from wherever they were stuffed and create physical pain, emotional pain, drinking, drugs, or disease.
Grief reminds me of the movie, Clash of the Titans and the release of the Kraken. The Kraken. It was a monster that, once released, there was a possibility the Kraken could not be controlled. Of course, the Kraken was always there in the depths, lying in wait. The Kraken could destroy the entire world if released and allowed to roam unchecked. This is grief. Also, if released, there is no way to know if it can be recaptured.
Grief is not just about the loss of form. It is about a loss of the relationship. A loss of future experiences. What makes it unique is the fact that those future experiences are made up by the griever. This is what makes it so personal. For example, who knows if Phillip would have ever bought a home. In my head, he bought a home and I was the one to help him buy it. This is one of many scenarios.
The Best Case Scenario of Death
The very best case scenario in life is that the Grandfather dies. The Father dies. The son dies. The grandson dies. This is the path to the most happiness. When someone dies early in life, it is a loss of future experiences. When someone lives a long life, it is easier to reconcile in our brain.
As Eckhart Tolle says, all stories are failed stories. In the end, we all lose form. We all die. Suffering is inevitable, and how we respond to that suffering is our choice.
Getting Good at Grief
The only way to get good at grief is to experience it. It is not something for which you can prepare yourself. You can't get ready. There is no class on how to get ready. Well, maybe there is, I don't know. The point is, even if there was a class like that, it wouldn't work. The emotions must be felt. It is healthy. It is a huge part of life. It is the only thing we can all count on. We have 100% death rate in this world.
This is why comparing grief is difficult. It doesn't work. The truth is, my neighbors level of grief could possibly be as deep as mine. Perhaps the loss of his dog is a deep grieving process for him. I don't want to judge that. I also don't want it compared to my son and my grief.
What is the Answer?
The answer is love. It is aways love. Love can be a light touch. Listening. A warm hug. I have found that sometimes I just want a friend to listen. I want them to cry with me and realize that I have lost one of the great loves of my life. There is nothing to do. There is only a way to BE. Just BE with me. I will BE with you. Nothing else matters. My grief is not better than your grief, it is different. That doesn't mean we both cannot be experiencing the same emotions. We have all experienced loss. Let's BE with that and appreciate what we have in front of us NOW.
1498 Days without Phil
It's Fall again Phil. The weather is beautiful. The trees are lush and green, and in Arizona, will be for at least another month. I look at the sky in the morning and I look at the sky in the evening. I am always looking for signs from you.
No Christmas without Phillip
1498 days ago, you left. It seems like it just happened and yet I am about to launch my fourth Holiday season without you. I haven't put up a Christmas tree or decoration since. This year, I suppose I will drag out the decorations and spruce this place up a bit. How can it be 1498 days?
How Long will it Take?
Each day I wake up and I think of you. I fall into bed at night and think of you. Losing a child is so strange. It is the pain. It is like an open wound that will never heal. I keep hoping for a scab to form. Even when it does, I pick at it. I suppose one day there could be a scar that perhaps I will just touch and remember. How the heck long is it going to take?
Directing My Emotions
Dad says we are badasses Phil. I think I can get behind that when I look at our results. Though, it is tough to find meaning again. Everything seems so small in comparison to your life. Fatigue comes and goes. No rest for the weary is what they say. Whomever "they" are, they are right. I feel weary and tired most of the time.
On the other hand, I am grateful. I work with this daily. I am in charge of my emotions. I am in charge of my life and I do not want to live in sadness. Directing my emotions is way more difficult now with this than the small, trivial problems I thought I had before.
Sorry Phil, I Don't Care what You Want!
Well meaning friends and acquaintances remind me, "Your son wouldn't want you to be sad." Sorry Phil, I don't really care what you want. This is about me and I am a mom and you don't know anything about being a mom. I'm not upset at friends and qcquantnaces, it is their way to avoid the uncomfortable fact that sometimes I will visit the sadness when I speak of you. I will always speak of you to anyone who will listen. I also know if they lost their child FOREVER, they would not want to hear such a pat answer as your child wouldn't want you to be sad. It's too pat. Cliche. Perhaps I am being too hard on my friends. I know they only want to support me. Still I wish our society was more in tune to grief. We should could support each other. It seems like something we know nothing about.
Random Memories of Phillip
So many thoughts of you. What a strong name you had. Phillip Henry Shelton. A kings name. Random memories. Remember the times you went to Bisbee with Joey and loved it? Dad and I finally went. We took Ava. Ava. She is so beautiful Phil. Her mom took her to Turkey. Another loss for us. Our Fridays and Saturdays used to be filled with love of Ava. She would call me at work on Friday and say, "Gigi, are you done yet?" She couldn't wait to come over and hang with us. Now we sit at home and don't do a whole lot on the weekends. Everything is different with you gone Phil Henry. I wish it wasn't so and I wish you hadn't gone.
1498 days is too long. I know it is just the start. I miss you Phil and wish you were here.
How I Saved a Woman’s Life on Facebook
Last night there was a woman in a private group I am part of on Facebook. Her daughter had died a year and a half ago and she and her husband had since divorced. She was struggling.
There were a couple of posts. One said, something like, I thought I could do this but I can’t. Then the other looked as though she had been drinking and doing drugs. It talked about her husband and divorce attorney and taking a lot of pills and being done with it.
I didn’t know if I should take it serious at first and then I remembered back to some of my deepest, darkest days early on after Phil died. I wanted to die. I wanted to live. I didn’t know what I wanted. I wanted my baby back. I wanted to hold him. My emotions were all over the place. The pain was so intense that it felt like I couldn’t get through it and it did seem, at times, that it would be easier without me. Others were struggling dealing with my openness about Phil’s death. There was always something that stopped me from taking action. My husband. My other children. My family. My friends. I had a huge support system who had surrounded me. I wondered who this woman had in her life? Her and her husband hadn’t made it through the trauma. Divorce alone is a grieving process, I cannot imagine it coupled with the death of my child.
I read her words again and made a feeble attempt to decipher what she was saying. I felt a chill up my spine. I think she was serious. In a nutshell, she said she was done. She had no last name and I was not friends with her. I went to her profile and poked around. I couldn’t see much. The first thing I did was fill out a Facebook Report Suicidal Content form I began to contact the people who had commented on her photos. It looked like she could be from the East Coast. It was after 10:30 Arizona time. That would make it after 1:30 in the morning on the East Coast. How many of these people would still be awake and on Facebook? I couldn’t tell where she was from as it was blocked on her profile, but many of her friends were either from New York or New Jersey. I messaged each and every one of them. I tried to call her and them from Facebook. Nada. I’m not friends with them either so that won’t work.
Then I clicked on her friends list. I could only see two of them. I clicked on relationships and one of the visible friends said she was a family memeber. I sent messages and again tried to call. Meanwhile, people in the group are frantically trying to get her to engage. It has been over an hour by now. There were well over 100 comments on her post.
My husband had come home from work late and said, “What are you doing? Come watch TV with me.” So I did. I took the computer with me and read some of the comments. I didn’t seem that anyone was having any luck with reaching her. It was weighing heavily on me. I grabbed her family members name and googled it. Nada. Then I went to white pages and typed it in…I didn’t even know where she lived. Bingo. New York. There she was. Maybe.
I excused myself to the other room and dialed the phone. She was not happy and was very direct….well…because she was a New Yorker of course! My New Yorker friends are very direct. It was late there. She did say she wasn’t sleeping. But who was I and what family member did I think might be in danger? How did I get her number? She didn’t seem to have the urgency of the situation. She said, “Let me call her on my cell, hold on.” I heard her leave a message. Then she said, I don’t know what else I can do, I will wait to hear back from her.”
I said, “Call the police and they will do a well check on her.”
I gave her name and number to the administrator of the Facebook group and asked her to call as well. She did call and apparently, the family member, said she thought, because of what I had communicated, her loved one was still posting in the group and that is why she wasn’t urgent. This was NOT the case!
An hour and a half later the family member called me back. She had been found and was taken to the hospital and was resting. She didn’t know much because of the Hippa Privacy Act. She just knew she was alive and getting care.
This morning I was at the gym and when I came out there was a message from the woman’s family member. She said she was resting comfortably and was still in ICU. I had saved her life. She was so grateful. I felt pretty good about that message.
Losing a child is a hard road. I don’t know this woman. I don’t know her family or her circumstances. I don’t even know how her daughter died. None of that matters.
I am her and she is me. I have been there. I have contemplated ending it all after my son died. In our culture the belief seems to be that people who contemplate suicide are crazy and should be on medication. They need help. This could be true that they need help, it does not make them crazy. Because of this thinking, oftentimes people don’t open up about their pain and share. This intensifies the problem.
I have had my ups and downs. For the most part, I think it is part of the struggle of losing a child. Coping. Finding new ways to cope. Getting to the next day. Each day. Breathing. In. And. Out. I am not ashamed of my contemplation. I know all of you have thoughts that you never act on and if it came down to it, never would. So, I see this for me as the same thing. However, with suicide you never know if someone simply needs attention. Needs a friend. A hug. Someone to listen. Someone to CARE. That seems to be another thing with humans. We don’t want anyone to know we need attention. So instead of simply stating, I could use some attention now, humans play games to get it.
As you go out in the world today. Instead of judging, being pissy, angry or opinionated, reach for your compassion. Consider what the other person could be going through. And then do something to really GIVE. Give with no hope of return. Basically, I am asking you to CARE. Care for someone elses well being even if you do not know them.
And finally, I will leave you with this: It’s all love. Phil used to say that. It’s all love.
My Son Sam Shelton
I have been appreciating my son, Sam, more than ever! Having only one son after having two for so long is a strange feeling. I enjoy his antics. I enjoy his voice, expressions and his quirkey personality. He is not really like Phillip at all. He is unique, he is Sam.
I think of the book, Green Eggs and Ham. It is one of Ava's favorite books. I read it at least 17 times a day when she is here. That Sam I am, that Sam I am, I do not like that Sam I am.
When I think of Phil, I think about how much he admired Sam. He looked up to his little brother and wished he could be more like him. He told me several times how cool he thought Sam was. He is right, Sam is way cool. I am so grateful I have him.
Today I want to write about Sam. He writes music. He plays guitar. He attends leadership classes and he has deep discussions with his mom and dad about Spiritual truths. He shares his thoughts on the Universe and how he thinks it all works. It is facinating to hear how his young mind works and processes the world around him. I cannot imagine the world without him.
Sam also eats all of our food, he sleeps over at the houe and doesn't make his bed…it may sound strange but these are the things I often miss about Phil…the normal, every day stuff. I miss it about Sam when he is not here. I cannot imagine my life without Sam.
Each child has a place in the family…they contribute something. Sam is the entertainer. He makes everyone shake their head and laugh. He provides humor and seriousness. This may sound funny because they are opposites of sort. He does though…he has a very deep spirit. He is fun and thoughtful and he is a driving force in the world
Now with Phillip gone, I think I appreciate Sam much more. I had a very deep and special relationship with Phillip. This sometimes shadowed the relationship with Sam. Big brother would always fill the gap between him and mom. Big brother would fight his battles for him and also smooth things over for him. Now he has to do it on his own. I was like Phil was a part of him. I mean really a part of him.
I am looking for the good in my life right now. I am searching for purpose and a reason to go on. Don't worry, I am not that depressed that I would check out…I am just needing to find the joy that is there waiting for me to recognize it. Sam is one of those joys. He contributes to my life. He is part of me. Just as Phil was. I am so happy Sam is my son.
A Brother’s Love – Death of a Brother
Phillip and Sam were 21 months apart. Phillip was always the good big brother. He taught Sam by example. He was quiet, gentle and patient. Phil was born this way. He came in with nothing to prove. He was here to enjoy life and other people.
Sam was clumsy, loud and reckless. I don’t mean this in an unkind way. Sam is an amazing child. He simply had “heavy hands” in everything he did from birth. He did not have a soft touch. He jumped in full fledged, feet first and just did it…the quality would come later.
Speaking at the Funeral
At Phils memorial Sam spoke quite eloquently about his big brother Phil. Everyone had been getting up and talking about how they got to know Phil. Sam said, “I didn’t have to get to know Phil. I always knew him.” It was a perfect thing to say.
This was a very true statement. Phil had always been there from the time Sam was born. The overseer, the protector of his little brother. Like his dad. The peacekeeper. The watcher. What stuck with me about Sam was he dealt with the pain of his loss as if one of his limbs had been cut off. We was aloof, alone, tired, disconnected and encouraging. Yes, I said encouraging. It is sort of a weird combination and grief can do that to a person.
He stayed up late at night. Played his music. He wound’t call. Wouldn’t check-in. Didn’t talk to us much. When I talked to him he was busy. I remember calling him at 3:AM one morning when I was overwhelmed with it all. I couldn’t sleep, everyone else was asleep and I felt sick to my stomach and I felt as though I would die. I hoped I would, though I couldn’t, and wouldn’t make that happen for myself. As selfish as I am…I wasn’t that selfish. So I called Sam. The encourager.
“Hey mom.” He answered.
“Hey Sammy. You up? Can you talk? I just need to talk to someone.” I said.
“Sure. What’s up?” He answered.
On the verge of hysteria now, I sobbed. “I just can’t do this. I can’t go on without Phil.”
He was quiet and listened to me cry as he gathered his thoughts and then said. “Mom. MOM. This is the thing mom, (long pause), you had your time with Phil.”
It was a profound thing to say. I clung to it for a long time and I still revisit this saying from time to time. I had my time with Phil. I had my shot. I spent all the time I had.
In that moment I realized. Paul and I had done an amazing job of raising our kids. Teaching them coping skills for the real world. Teaching them a healthy mindset. I don’t know how I did it exactly because I was a red hot mess. Perhaps they got it all from Paul. I knew from that moment on that I had to come through this…for them. For Ava. For Paul. For Josie. For Emma. For Sam. For Marie. Even for my little dog who followed me everywhere and seemed to pick up on my sadness. And for Phil. Although, I hate it when others say what Phil would or would not have wanted….how would they know? I do know Phil would want me happy. I know this because he wanted everyone happy when he was alive. It was his way.
Grief is NOT Logical
Grief is an interesting process. There are so many unspoken emotions. There is zero logic. ZERO. When people try to fix it or give words of advice or how to tips, the words fall on deaf ears. It is pure, raw, unbridled emotion. Not only does it not have logic, it actually defies logic. It is like a dog looking at you when you speak and they tip their head that certain way as to say WTF are you even saying? That’s grief. No understanding. The only path to salvation is acceptance and that takes guts, determination and focus. I don’t think time does it. Although people like to offer up this pat line of “you just need time, or give it some time”, I think pure WILL does it. A mind-set. A decision that you WANT to do it. You want to LIVE.
Unfair Assignments
We now look to Sam to solve the problems that Phil did. To step in and fill Phillips shoes. He doesn’t of course and it is unfair to even have that expectation and this is yet another unreasonable and unspoken quality of grief. At least it has been in our family. Phil was the peacemaker of the world. When people would become emotional, he was the calming force. He brought a sense of peace to those around him. If we would fight he would remind us of our love for each other. If something happened, he would hug and hold. When Sam and I would fight, it was Phil who would step in and reassure me that Sam would come around and apologize for the harsh words he never should speak to his mother. Phil would remind me how much Sam loved me and that he was just upset with the situation at hand. Soon Sam would come walking in with a commanding walk and give me a tight hug. No words. I knew Phil had spoken logic to him and Sam had once again conceded to his big brother. The 21 month authority and respect Phillip had simply by being the first born.
What Sam Learned from Phillip
It must be difficult for Sam not to have that buffer. Not to have a real outside force who always had his back and made sure he maintained the most important relationships of family. He has never said much about it…nor would I expect him to. I am very proud of my only living son. He has handled his brothers death with dignity and grace. Much as if he had lost a limb. He has learned to accommodate and exercise his weaknesses into strengths. I have seen him be loving, tender, and understanding. I have seen him realize that Phil is no longer there to patch things up. He is more aware of his actions and the affect they have on others. He is a dad. A great dad. Phil would be proud. I am proud. His dad is proud.
I know Phil would be so happy that Sam was learning to have the empathy that came to Phil so naturally. That Phil patiently taught him when they were together those few short years. They complimented each other and Phil was a great contributor to Sam’s life and Sam was a great contributor to Phil’s life. Phil would not have done as well as Sam has done with this tremendous loss. He had to be the one to go first as he would have crumbled. Sam is strong and has taught me much since the loss of Phil. I wish Phillip could see what a great man his little brother has become…of course maybe he can. Maybe he can.
My Husbands Grief
Recently, my husbands grief has surfaced. It was always there, lying in wait, like a stealth lioness waiting to pounce. He is the strong one. The one who peeled me off the floor and held me when I was sobbing to the point of vomiting. The one who would talk to the kids about processing the grief. The one who would allow. Allow me to talk about Phil anytime I wanted and I knew he hurt to the core for the sadness would show in his eyes. The crows feet became deeper and the headaches became more frequent. Yet, he comforted me. The one who comforted the kids and spoke softly to them about life. Who guided and watched for signs of depression in others. The overseer. The caretaker. The strong one.
Grief Wins
There is no timeline for grief. There is no way out of grief. It can creep up on you…and if you do not acknowledge its presence, it will steal into your dreams and make itself known. It will not be yielded. If you ignore it, it comes from the inside out. It will escape. It will win.
The Longest Journey
On September 1, 2015, it was three years since the Phil we knew and loved left this planet. The journey is long. Exhausting. It is like driving on the longest trip ever….on a winding dirt road with no protection. Perhaps on a motorcycle or a covered wagon. A dirt road that has not been maintained with very few service stations. Just enough to give you fuel to get to the next one. Not a convenance store. For grief is inconvenient. It comes when you least expect it. You are riding along and all of a sudden there is a huge rutt in the road that jolts you to the core. Bumps and sharp turns to make you car sick and signs everywhere. Only unlike most road signs meant to make the journey easier, these signs tend to make the journey more drawn out and difficult. Signs of familiar places and things. The restaurants we used to go to. The tee-shirt you used to wear. The band logo. The songs. The photos. The route I took to your friends house. The look-a-likes. The signs. So many signs that come in all shapes and sizes. They seem to be in neon with flashing lights around them. Yet others go by unaware that there was even a sign. On autopilot zipping down the road. HOW CAN THEY NOT KNOW THE WORLD IS JACKED UP? It will never be the same? Where is the sign letting everyone else know?
The Caretaker
My husbands grief has settled in his bones. He walks a bit slower. He is not as motivated to get things done. The lines on his face are etched deeper. The loss is now part of him. He says things like, “it doesn’t really matter.” He waits for “it” to all be over. He is patient. He won’t say this more than once for he knows it is not allowed. He did say it once though, so I know. He just doesn’t really want to do it anymore. And yet, he will. There is no other option for him. He is the caretaker. The strong one. He will bear his burden. He will support others. He will carry on the good fight. One day rest will come for him. Until then he is a warrior. The strong one. I am thankful.
Breaking Through to the Other Side: Coping with Death
by Jessica Kane
In comparison with the past, people are currently living very fast-paced lives. While this certainly has its perks, it tends to interfere with some of the natural processes people must experience. When a person loses a loved one, he or she needs time to mourn that loss. Even more, that person needs support from other people. There was a time when entire neighborhoods shared in this experience, but that time has long passed. Nevertheless, it is essential for an individual’s well-being to actively participate in the grieving process. While everyone is different, there are coping strategies available to suit each individual.
Participate in Ceremonies
When a loved one dies, it is common practice for friends and families to hold funerals and other goodbye ceremonies. Participating in such rituals will provide individuals with a socially-acceptable venue to safely express their grief. They won’t feel out of place in their tears and sorrow because many others will be experiencing the same thing.
Funerals and memorial services also give people a break from their grief. By sharing funny or heartfelt stories, grieving individuals will be reminded of happier times with the deceased. They may even come to know new and interesting things about that person’s life that they never knew. Such a revelation will paint a fuller picture of the deceased in the minds and hearts of those left behind.
Preserve Memories
One of the biggest fears after losing a loved one is that he or she will be forgotten. This causes people to confuse the pain of grief with preserving a loved one’s memory. However, the length of time a person spends grieving is not an indication of the importance of the deceased.
A more effective way to preserve a loved one’s memory is to create a scrapbook. This is done by organizing pictures and placing them in a book. While sorting through the pictures and other mementos, people will be inadvertently preserving their loved one’s memories in their minds. At the same time, they will have created an item that immortalizes their loved one.
Join a Support Group
It is important to be around friends and family during times of grief. However, there may be times in which a person does not feel comfortable being completely vulnerable with those people. This is where a support group comes in handy.
Support groups provide a structured environment for individuals who are trying to cope with loss. They are places where people can be open and honest without the fear of being judged. They also give each member an opportunity to hear the thoughts and feelings of others. This may provide individuals an opportunity to recognize their own unrealized emotions.
Ultimately, these groups fulfill two basic human needs: the need to receive love and support, and the need to give it.
Exercise and Meditation
It’s no secret that exercise is beneficial for the mind and body. Not only does it boost the immune system, but also enhances a person’s mood. Understandably, exercise provides an avenue for grieving individuals to get a grip on their pain.
Some people consider the physical activity to be a welcomed distraction. While they’re running, dancing, or lifting weights, they find themselves focused on the task at hand. Such a break may be needed if a person hasn’t been coping well with a loved one’s death.
On the other hand, meditation gives grieving individuals a space to quiet their minds. By quieting their thoughts, they will be able to acknowledge what they’re feeling in the moment. If they’re willing, then grieving individuals can stare their pain directly in the face and embrace it. They will stop seeing it as something they need to run from. Instead, it will be seen as a natural part of the human experience that gets easier with time.
Get Creative
Some people have a difficult time putting their feelings into words. Grief is a highly-stressful experience, so it stands to reason that people won’t always have words to explain it. A way to move past this obstacle is through artwork.
Many well-known songs, poems, and paintings were inspired during times of grief. However, even a novice can utilize art as a medium to express feelings about loss. Art gives people the opportunity to externalize their grief. Being able to actually look at what they’re feeling will help people understand those feelings. Understanding those feelings will take a bit of the sting out of them.
Jessica Kane is a professional blogger who writes for Legacy Headstones, a leading Ohio-based headstone manufacturer and vendor.
Picking the scab called Grief
Yesterday my husband came home and told me that one of the nurses he works with had lost her nephew. He was 18 and shot himself while his family was at church. All the emotions came up. The pain was intense. I sought out the boy and looked at his obituary and wondered why. Why? I think about everything Phillip had to live for, Ava Rose, a family who loved him and it is upsetting that someone would intentionally take their own life. I find for those who have lost a loved one to suicide, the pain must even be more intense. To have a loved one in so much pain and not be able to stop such an act would generate feelings of guilt and blame. It is easy to think that we could have done something to change the situation.
Grief and loss is a tricky subject.
Each person processes it differently and the emotions are so very raw. It is hard to find logic in grief. No matter how the person died, the sense of loss runs deep into the soul of the people who loved them. I find people struggle with what to say. Sometimes it is easier to just avoid me altogether.
Mourning Again.
I found myself reading this boys obituary and staring at this young mans face. Why was he in such pain that he could find no other way to cope? I suppose even those closest to him are asking that question. I mourned again. For him. For his family and loved ones. For his friends. Why?
Picking at the Scab called Grief
As a kid I remember falling down and scraping my knees and eventually scabs would form once the raw, bloody spots began to heal. My brain would tell me to pick the scab….often it was too early and it would hurt and then begin to bleed. I remember it being painful, not as painful as the initial injury, but painful in a different way. Why did I do that? Why pick the scabs? There was a deep desire for it to heal. Quicker. I wanted to have my nice looking knees back. I didn’t want the ugly scab and I didn’t want the scar it would leave. I somehow thought by pulling it off, it would have less of a scar. In the end, the only thing that helped was to go through it and allow for natural healing. I had to give it the time it needed to heal. There was no way around it. I had to go through it. There were things I could actually do to make the process easier. Soaking in a bath seemed to help some. Lotions helped. And then there was the scar. It stayed for weeks, months and some I still have today, depending on the extent of the injury.
A Broken Knee
One scar in particular I have is from knee surgery. I remember getting it. I was riding a moped in January in Nebraska. I got stuck going pretty fast in some frozen ruts and lost control. I lay in the dark cold for several minutes hoking the horn hoping my mother would hear. I was 11 years old and it was months of recovery. I still have pain in my hip and knee from the injury. My mother found me and took me in and put me to bed. My knee and hip were in so much pain that I thought I would pass out. There was a painful surgery and recovery. I missed months of school. I felt lonely. I missed my friends. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t play with the other kids. I was helpless and at the mercy of my body. I felt I was missing out on life because of this injury. I lay in bed while others did things I could not do. I remember having a resolve in me that I would not stay there. Much like I have now. I was determined to get back to normal activities. In May I did a 26 mile walk in one day to feed the hungry. Probably not the smartest thing. My mother realized very quickly there was no stopping me. Of course my hip and knee were re-injured. My knee swelled to two, or three times its size. I was back on crutches. Over the years, my knee has done well and at times it has also given me fits. When I was pregnant, when I exercise too much or if I turn it wrong. I have pain when I least expect it. For the most part, I have learned to live with it. When I look at the scar from the multitude of stitches and touch it, it takes me back to that moment years before. The pain. The long recovery. The loneliness. I am glad it is behind me. Or perhaps I should say, it is a part of me.
Never like the First Day
So last night when I became obsessed with the 18 year old boy who died. It was like picking a wound on my soul. It was like going back to the moment in time when Phil died. Very painful. I am still thinking of it this morning. The best I can hope for is one day it will be like the scar on my knee….a reminder of the strength and courage I had to go through such a thing. A reminder that I can and do have a strong resolve and that I can and do go through loneliness and come out on the other side. Daily, I will choose to focus on remembering Phillip a different way. Not the pain. I will focus on his daughter, Ava Rose. His smile. His voice. His swagger when he walked. His smell. I don’t want to pick at the wound anymore. I know I will. Awareness is key. Once I am aware I am doing it, I stop and choose differently. I do miss that boy. I miss him to the depth of my soul and the loneliness and pain is not like the first day. It is now a part of me and I will continue to gather tools to support me in living an amazing life.
Suffering is Optional
Let’s call grief what it really is, PAIN. Pain hurts and our brain wants to protect us from hurt so we start to shut down. Physically, emotionally, socially. There are many downsides to this, the big one being that all of a sudden our life is defined not by the joy, but by the pain. Everything becomes about pain and sadness. No one does this intentionally and if I had not had a lot of training to be super aware of what was happening in my life, I no doubt could jump into that pit of despair and stay there the rest of my life.
I have had so many people say these words, ” I can’t imagine. I would be a wreck. I would be sitting in the corner sucking my thumb. I really don’t know what I would do if I lost one of my children.”
It seems to be a universal fear amongst parents, not only that they would lose someone they love so much, someone who is genetically a part of them, but that they would lose themselves completely in the process of such a devastating loss. After going through it, I can tell you, I felt the same way.
I remember reading about people who had lost their child. People I knew. People who were strong leaders of their families and communities. I knew them BEFORE. I would EXPECT them to shut down. I would watch quietly on the sidelines and think, it would totally be acceptable if they were never the same again. I could understand it. I would even give them permission in my mind. Not that they needed my permission but I wouldn’t attempt to pull them out of it with coaching or pushing too hard. After all, they are in a fragile state and I don’t understand. How could you ever be the same or better after the loss of a child?
I have been in turmoil over the last few months. Not because Phillip died, because I have let myself go, I am starting to lose myself in the process. I had gained a tremendous amount of weight. I quit working out, my diet has completely gone to the wind….adrift with no rudder. My emotions were all over the place and phone calls to friends and vendors who possibly didn’t even know about my loss, went unreturned. I simply did not have the energy. I felt like a pendulum swinging back and forth between sanity and insanity…every time I would get to the middle and start moving to the other side I would pause and think,“YES, this is where I want to live again!” Then I would fall into a heap and cry over a photo, song or thought of Phillip and the pendulum would once again swing the other way.
I have always prided myself on being balanced. Not so much that I WAS balanced at all times, but that I would seek out balance and the tools to achieve it.
I had watched my father slowly build financial wealth and then destroy it with his lack of discipline with money. He did the same with his body, he didn’t take care of himself and all the strong genetics in the world could not keep him alive after the type of abuse he imposed upon himself. Emotionally? Well, he chipped away at his relationships with his jealousy and emotional lack of awareness. None of these were big things in themselves. He could have mastered each of them with focus and work. Yet, he never sought out the tools to do so. Why? I’m not sure. Perhaps he didn’t feel worthy.
Don’t get me wrong, my father was highly successful, married 63 years to the same woman, 5 children who adored him and were with him on his death bed, people around the state of Nebraska came to know and love him for who he was….what I am saying is, he suffered. I personally know that suffering is optional. It always is. Suffering is a choice just like joy is a choice.
I have known suffering is optional for some time and I have been working with it for years. Working on training my mind to respond to what I want and not the other way around. My mind is running 24/7 and is constantly telling me to do things that are easy, that require little effort, that are habitual. I have and continue to learn to tame my mind. It is like a lion roaring out of control, doing, going and feeling what it wants. Without the lion tamer, complete wreckage will ensue. I know I can not shut my mind off so I choose to form and tame it. In this situation with Phillip dying, the discipline is to first be aware when I am choosing sadness. Then I shift out of it. I am not saying deny my feelings. I am saying feel them and then switch my mind to another feeling of happiness, joy. I have had people ask me how I do this….the how eludes me. The first step is consciousness. Awareness. Then, I just do it and then I know how. It is different each time. Sometimes I must release the emotions and cry until I am a heap on the floor. Then I get up, brush myself off and shift my thoughts to one of my other children or to my grand daughter. People tend to want the easy, quick fix solution. There isn’t one.Like anything worth having, there is no magic fairy dust, this requires thoughtful, focused work and constant awareness of everything from behaviors to language and the people I choose to hang with and how they support me.
The next time you have something where you feel sad, go ahead, go there….just don’t stay too long. Remember, suffering is optional and so is joy, no one will take away your right to suffer. Shifting is how I will create an amazing life AFTER my son died and if I can do it, you can too!