Tag Archives: grief

REFOCUS

01 Friday Jan 2021

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I attended a Zoom photography workshop last spring. I’m not a photographer, but I love pictures. What I learned during the three sessions was to watch for what I almost missed.  Sounds contradictory, doesn’t it? Kim McKellar suggests in her poetry, “I took a photo but didn’t see you little bird, I’d focussed on a sassy Jay . . . our tools in life for survival ‘sometimes feather soft but oh so very strong, like kindness, like hope, like love.’ That is vitalizing advice for those among us who grieve. 

In this year, 2020, there have been many experiences and layers of grief. Some may take a lifetime to understand, define and to process our thoughts. This is world-wide, among the rich and the poor, the accepted and the rejected – we all stand together.

What do you think of when you look at this photograph. This tall sentinel grabs my attention. I think of loneliness, rejection or being left behind. Maybe the phrase, “Now what? Or why me?” comes to mind.  After I looked at this lone corn stalk for a moment, I began to see other areas of the picture, a bush standing tall waiting for spring, a beautiful field pausing, and the grass along the bottom. It is not bright, easily missed, but it’s green, alive. It won’t keep its colour through the harsh days of Southern Ontario’s winter. But, it’ll be the first of everything else to boast a kaleidoscope of green across the headland as it spreads and strengthens with rain and sunrays.  

Yes, the old revived, and the new will take root. We will walk into 2021, scarred by the losses of 2020, but with a new vision and interpretation of what waits there for us. 

Photograph: Sarah Runstadtier-Auld Quote: Kim McKellar (What the Earth Already Knows, May 2020)

Helpful Words?

25 Sunday Oct 2020

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My mother died many years ago, in 1983, to be exact. I remember the day. It was just before Christmas. No, that didn’t make it more difficult. If anything, the joy of new life was alive around me, and I drew from it. I didn’t apply cliches, which, for me, only pads the raw truth. I found ongoing challenges to hear that I’d ‘lost’ my mother. It seemed to be a common thought that I would ‘lose’ her.

I have a question for you. How do you feel about the term, lost and lose, when you’re coping with relational grief? What words do you use to express your sympathy? And do you like those cliches that one person passes to another?

Granted, we suffer in and through the tragedy of ‘loss.’ We grieve. We mourn the loss of a relationship and the one with whom we have shared life. We feel alone. There are elements of our relationship that we lose and will never regain. When the time is right for families, is it helpful to assist them in positive ways to remember, tell stories and dig into photo albums. Is it useful to give thought to a different understanding or choice of other words for ‘lose’ and ‘loss’ when considering death?

Since I’m reviewing words, consider the term “Lost and Found”. Can those of us surround the family and close friends who grieve deeply, help them emotionally find their loved ones in stories or memory? Can we gently open this topic when the time is right and ask questions about the people for whom they grieve? To see their loved one in photo albums, hear her on a video and watch him in home-movies can be healing. I know it’s not the same. It doesn’t cut it for being with a loved one in person. It doesn’t replace the one for whom they mourn. Grief is a process, hard work, and there’s always time to watch for the opportunity to help ourself and others take the next step.

If these words prompt some thoughts for you, take some time and make some notes.

 

Where Do We Begin?

27 Friday Mar 2020

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The world has changed. It is grieving. We are in a different Canada than we were this time last month. You will be in a different space in your country. We share differently. And we care differently. Some of us are encircled by family and loved ones which makes it easier to live in this difference. Some people are alone, taking careful steps. Wherever you live on the world’s map, Covid-19 has emotionally decreased the space between us, and yet we are encouraged to widen our personal space with others. We hear stories on the television or radio or social media of grief-stricken areas, people of all ages, and in different situations.

Where do we begin to grieve? How to we support others who are grieving? How do we grieve for a world that is not like it was and will not be again? Because of our contacts, it is not unusual to have friends and acquaintances around the world. Many parents have adult children in different parts of the globe. And many people travel the world for their employment. There are those who are housebound and can not see their community past their window. And of course, we remember the sick and ageing in hospitals and nursing homes. And those in senior’s residence who wait when the door is closed to visitors. The list is long. Where do we begin? How do we keep ourselves aware of those grieving, those in need and those who need a caring thought? And how are you able to receive support and comfort in your grieving?

Take a few moments and write a list of people who come to mind that you can phone or drop a note. As well, be ready for someone who reaches out to you through a loving greeting card, text or message, and receive it graciously. It is a new world we’re living in. And we grieve. 

Moving toward safe ground

24 Monday Jun 2019

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When a person steps back from life to regain strength while suffering grief, it’s usually to restore one’s footing or to find a familiar normal. When someone in your life is missing or has died, life changes. If a situation cannot recover in a lifetime, or if a person suffers one loss after another in a short period, life changes forever. Support systems can be fragile or may be absent, so it seems natural to move into oneself. It helps to withdraw, to seek a safe place away from voices who say ‘don’t worry, be happy.’ It’s natural to want to hide one’s head.

Several years ago, I found a turtle on the side of the road. Its cracked, hard shell showed a remarkable pattern of a long life.  No doubt, a vehicle had hit it. Every day I walked to the bottom of our lane to get the mail and while there, I checked on Franklin—I’d named him after the turtle in the children’s storybooks.

Because a narrow but robust stream ran under a bridge on our lane, I assumed Franklin lived there. When he grew stronger, I consistently steered him toward the water. At first, he resisted my nudging and then finally put out one foot and then the other one from the gravelly side of the road to the long grass, and onto the soft mud on the banks of the creek.  One day I came down for the mail and Franklin was gone.

I liken this experience to opportunities to care for one another. Sometimes, it’s a neighbour, or the legion, or the church, or a family member. Sometimes it is not any of those. A person who tumbles out of the ordinary into ongoing change benefits from someone helping him or her put one foot in front of the other, to be gently steered back to solid ground, assisted to trust little steps through changes to a new normal.

While reading this, did someone come to your mind that you’ve helped to find solid ground,, walked beside, nudged until new confidence is born? Perhaps jotting a few notes will bring some good memories.

 

Trudging Through the Winters of Life

01 Monday Apr 2019

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It’s been a long winter in some areas of Canada. As I write this blog at the end of March, I watch for a robin or some sign that the calendar page will turn soon. I wait for a new beginning, a spring full of colour and sunshine.

A couple of nights ago as I sat in front of the wood fire, watching the flames dart here and there, I thought of the movie Kiss and Cry. This true story of a Canadian girl wants life over death. She wants a new beginning after months of surgery, chemotherapy, exercises, and disappointment. She has a career in skating and singing, but her winter continues. She does not see her springtime.

I was intrigued by the way 18-year-old Carley Allison lived a day at a time to her death. I was captivated by the way her family and boyfriend walked her to death’s door. And her constant response to their concern and distress was to smile. She didn’t deny where her journey was taking her, but she showed yet another way to move toward her death.

Some of us are going through this with another. A few are not able to smile. And many of us won’t even attempt to walk a similar passage of time with a loved one who is facing death. If you can, do it. The ones whose footsteps are shorter than ours will help us. And at times, they will lead the way.

If you have walked a loved one through this time of their life and death, jot down a few notes as a reminder of sharing this holy time.

Grief Can Surface on Any Corner

28 Thursday Feb 2019

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Do you ever wonder when you turn on the news what crisis, tragedy or loss of life the broadcasters are going to throw across your television screen? When I watch, sometimes I am brought to tears. House fires, airplane crashes, car accidents, and the list continues. Sometimes names of missing persons flash in front of me with people’s faces, names, and locations.

Realizing that each incident, involves women, men, and children, I always take it further to think about their families. Who is grieving? How does Grandma grieve alone in her apartment or retirement home? How do parents mourn loss when they don’t know all of the particulars? How do families tell their children, cousins, and neighbours?

Some people can’t bring themselves to post personal and painful news. They need a little time before seeing their situation in print. Others use Facebook or LinkedIn to tell friends, immediately. Sometimes people ‘share’ these posts, so many people as possible receive the message.  Whichever way works for you is the right way.

This morning I chatted with a granddaughter who lives many miles from me. As we batted messages back and forth, I found tears resting on my face. It is too far to drop in and offer to stay with the children to provide some free mom-time. I can’t expect to see her for a casual visit or sit at the picnic table on our deck for a BBQ. So we do the next best thing, we pass our news back and forth as best we can and be thankful we have that contact.

We grieve in many different ways. News, both expected and surprised, emerges in many social media posts. We might feel helpless because of the miles that separate us from the one who posted. It is good to remember that we can show care in many ways. We are not expected to solve a problem, but it is always good to respond, to be positive and to help the sender take one more step along a difficult path.

Stay positive; provide whatever good news you can. Offer support even when circumstances have changed. And hopefully, your response will fill a void in someone’s life. Someday they might be the one to return the care.

As you reflect on ways you approach any given situation, think of people at the other end of the message, newscast or newspaper article. What comes to mind for you?

 

Grief and Christmas

17 Monday Dec 2018

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I looked at some old pictures today. My mom and dad were in them. In many ways, it seemed like I turned the hands of the clock backward. Thoughts began to form in my mind. Laughter and favourite sayings brought a smile to my face. Special celebrations marched before me in my memory. This wasn’t always the way, as I remember when I had difficulty looking at pictures, and I recall thinking for a long time that it would have been special to have had my parents longer.

This morning I wrote an email to a friend whose mother died a short time ago. Even though we come close again to remembering our own emotionally painful time when we do this, it is still good to find a way to care for others.  Especially at Christmas when we want every chair to be filled, we are aware that one or more precious people may no longer be with us.

Some of the words I wrote are: “These are significant days with special memories. It’s a painful period of letting go a little bit at a time, as your mind, soul and heart release grief. And at Christmas, when we are used to gathering our friends and family together, we resist letting go of a loved one’s presence. 

And that struggle to keep close and to let go is heartbreaking, and it robs energy day after day. You have the year of firsts ahead of you and in many ways similar to your father, you will make your path through in your own way.

Suffering through his death not so long ago and now your mom . . . leaves insurmountable grief to unpack a little at a time. You will do it in your own process. I’ll keep you in my prayers.

You will easily see that death is the grief for this individual, however, there are many other situations in one’s life that cause deep sorrow: divorce, estranged relations with family, a missing loved one or friend, articles, keepsakes, a limb, poverty and many more.

Perhaps during this Christmas season, you could write a note to someone who is grieving. Maybe your love and compassion will help to ease their pain.

If this blog has brought back some memories, perhaps you can jot them down in your journal to recall at another time.

A Rough Road through Grief

30 Thursday Aug 2018

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This summer, we decided to visit Mississagi Lighthouse on the furthest tip of Western Manitoulin. We looked at pictures of beautiful views of the property and the third floor platform. We read detailed descriptions of the resident building housing the set of steps leading to the visitor’s powerful telescope. In past years, the purpose of this lighthouse was to direct boats away from rocky terrain and rugged shoreline. We could understand the need for such a structure after viewing the shore.

What took us by surprise were the many miles of washboard road leading to the lighthouse. When we realized the scattered gravel was laid over stone, the rough ride was understandable. Did we turn around? No, we didn’t even consider it. Why? Because we wanted to see the lighthouse that had protected ships from dangerous water and built trust betweenship captains and the revolving beacon of safety and life.

Unpredictable emotions of grief can feel like a ride over a washboard road. Noise strips peace and tranquility. Vibrations mentally shake off self-confidence.  Jarring motions separate stability from intentional purpose.

Grief can do all that and more. This is often the way we feel when grieving — life becomes unpredictable as we experience vibration and jarring of what may have been a satisfying life. And yet we continue to walk the path. Because we know that we go through it, to get through it.

Furthermore because grief smacks us in our tear ducts when we least expect it, calls out our sobs at the most inappropriate moment, and robs us of all opportunity to say and do what we would in ordinary time. For in grief, we do not answer to normal anymore but to the new-normal before us that draws us step by step into an unknown journey.

In our desire to reach the peace and tranquility of the old lighthouse, we had to drive the washboard road from the highway. Going out seemed to be easier — we knew what to expect.

Did some thoughts come to you during this time? Take a few moments and write about a few of the bumpy roads you travelled in the grief.

 

 

 

 

Mixing Joy and Grief

29 Friday Jun 2018

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When thinking that one definition of grief is ‘nowhere to place one’s love’, then I think today’s blog title fits. Mixing grief in what was, while acknowledging joy with what is — offers a common familiarity for many of us.

Recently I decided to organize my pictures. As I went through photographs from baby books to Sunday school picnics to sport’s schedule, in the midst of what seemed like ton’s of family photos, I became aware of seasons of life experiences.

It was enjoyable holding these pictures, thinking about the settings, and looking at everyone’s expressions. When I saw people playing musical instruments, I could hear a song in my head. When I looked at ball fields and hockey rinks, I could hear the excitement of the fans in my memory, cheering the team on. While admiring yearly school pictures of our four children, names of favourite teachers also came to mind. Even looking at pictures of our deceased child  (1972) brought happy memories of the fun we shared together as a family for a short time.

So there’s nothing in any of these pictures that would give me new grief, for in each picture I found excitement for life, anticipation in the situation and a sense of all is well. What stirred my tears and quickened my heartbeat was to look into the eyes of my five children, so innocent, dependant and filled with anticipation for life.

As a parent, I always wonder, self examine my parenting skills and think when I’m going through pictures. We began our family young in the late 50s without much money to spare. It was a blessing to realize the trust our children placed in us. We openly responded with unconditional love. With two sets of grandparents, three great grandparents, and lots of cousins, aunts and uncles for the children, love was abundant.

When I look into their eyes as babies, children, teenagers and adults – through the lens of family life, school pictures, music, church and sports, it seems life spun quickly through the years. So for me, the grief is only stirred in my pictures when I recognize the yearning to hold those babies again, while checking parental skills and recognizing that was a season . . . and this is a new one.

Take a few moments to think what was and what is now, what is ongoing in different ways, and what is gone forever, and then seek to find your peace within it.

When Sorrow Walked With Me

22 Sunday Apr 2018

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On April 6, 2018 the Humboldt Broncos tragedy changed Canada. That seems like a broad statement, but it’s true. In fact, people from around the globe send their commitment to the fundraising project – one effort by one woman provided a response. Parents, brothers, sisters, extended family, neighbours, friends and strangers connected. Even people who didn’t know those who lost their life or those who were injured, wanted to reach out. Social media proved to be a great way to connect, to show love and compassion. Why was all of this important? Was it to help? Perhaps to share their pain? Maybe to enter into the sorrow with the families? As the quote suggests, through sorrow and sharing it with others, we learn. We learn about love, trust and sharing in new ways of living with grief. We learn that being vulnerable allows others to come into our pain . . . and that is healing, even in small ways.

I, for one, could not watch a news broadcast without tearing. As a hockey famly, we were eager to put a hockey stick on our front porch to pay tribute, to remember and to remind others. There’s something else in the picture of the hockey stick beside our front door and that is the clear circle that a crock made on the floor. When I look at this image I see what was and what had been through the winter – a dusty, messy porch floor. When I moved the crock to make room to take the picture, I saw the clean circle, and choose not to sweep,  clean or erase before taking the picture. What do you take from the image? Is there a before and after for you? There usually is in most life tragedies. Life can be messy . . . and grief can be painful  . . . and emotional pain can be hard to live with.

And so we connect in whatever way is helpful to share our pain, to take us through an agonizing time. Maybe we can help others and ourselves to make it a little easier. Perhaps we draw on our faith or understanding to strength us until we find the words.

Jot down some notes in your grief journal. Write whatever comes into your mind. Try not to edit or fix. Leave it for a while and when you come back to it, it may be just the answer to give you peace.