Birthdays and Anniversaries

It’s May again. It happens every year. Lately, I have been more focused on writing my book, on my consulting job, on helping clients and on my herb garden. I spend time trying to decide when to make my Moss Milkshake and spread it on the bare spots in my yard. I imagine soft waves of different shades of green instead of brown mud with weeds struggling to find some sun.

It’s May again, that time of year when everything is sprouting, popping out of the ground, turning from grey and brown to green, red, pink, yellow…It’s May and it is, once again, catching me by surprise. My life is filled with bright spots, soft spots, and underneath it there it is, the mud and muck of grief.

I have witnessed clients anticipate anniversaries and birthdays months before they happen, dissolving into fear and worry. I used to do this too and over the years, have stopped feeling anxious months ahead. I have a plan for May 6 and thought that would be enough this year. But this morning I posted some information on a grief support website and when someone made a slightly negative comment, I felt stabbed. And I realized, well, here it is. It’s May and underneath it all, I feel a bit raw. Maybe more than a bit.

In the midst of the rough pain of grief we beg the universe for it to be over. Slowly we discover that we have longer stretches of calm, longer periods where we are more involved in the lives we have built for ourselves after they died. AND…you see, it is never either or. It is never done with, not really. I have a great life, a growing career, two book contracts, wonderful opportunities and a lot of love. I rejoice in how the “children” are creating their own lives and how our family continues to expand and dive into new adventures. I am grateful for travel, for support and for everything that has come my way since he died.

AND, it’s May again.

I miss him.

Shattering and Becoming WHOLE Again

Spring is coming; even though it is early March, green shoots are rising up from the damp soil. Birdsong has changed and we are collectively hoping for something positive to generate along with the change in seasons. At least I know I am.

I’ve been focusing on a project that’s been burbling just below the surface, sometimes bursting forth and sometimes lying dormant. Over the years it has metamorphosed from intense journal entries to a sort of memoir to a travel guide for the journey with no map. If you’ve ever grieved, you know what I mean. Now, I have committed to the project and in order to hold myself more accountable, I am going public with it.

It’s a book and its working title is Shattering Grief: Picking up the pieces to become WHOLE again.

My theme (my personal mission?) has always been working through those feelings of brokenness, the sense that your life is in shards after the death of someone so integral to you. That feeling of being shattered was so pervasive that it required a quest of repair. I wanted, no, NEEDED to feel WHOLE again. There have been so many discoveries during this process and the most wonderful one is that now, I feel relatively complete. Was that broken feeling just an illusion? In the same way that grief can masquerade as depression and insanity, perhaps it put on a grand costume of fractured mirrors.  Whether this was real or not, it required a lot of attention.  It compelled me to look at all the pieces of my life and my self and consider each one carefully. By considering the various roles I play in my life and in the lives of family and friends, the possibility of growth and even some change appeared.

Death often creates a sort of identity crisis. We can cope with this by considering who we thought we were and who we are now. We can use our relationship as the foundation on which to rebuild; to use qualities of our loved one as some of the bricks. We can enhance our own abilities and develop new interests. Slowly, we can begin to ask another question.  Who do I want to be? And how can I accomplish that?

Remembering Lyn

My meditation walk is covered with yellow and brown leaves but the centers of energy around which I traverse can be brushed off.  Today I will walk in honor of a friend who left this earth on Sunday.

She was very tall and skinny and had been on life-sustaining, cancer abeyance medications for 4 years.  Her struggle to stay alive was coupled with her struggle to continue to work despite dizzying side effects. A gentle soul who cared deeply about ecology, peace and her daughters, we shared several threads of connection: the people we knew and living locations although at different times. Lyn was the Volunteer Coordinator at the hospice where I worked for some time and always tried to offer ideas for working with children since she had run creative programs for little ones for many years.

About a month ago, I visited Lyn in her home. She was still trying treatments but her body was rejecting even hydration attempts. She could no longer drive but she had many friends providing help.  She wanted to clear the energy in her home and we developed an affirmation for her to hold with intent. She wished to release negative thinking and ask for what she needs.  I gently suggested that she ask to receive whatever this was, including peace.  I lit sage and wafted it all over her home, upstairs and down, into nooks and corners, over boxes, books and bedclothes.  Lyn sat on her couch with her eyes close, desperate to hold on to the thinning cord of life that she still had.  With sympathy and love, I made her lunch and then gave her a cardboard circle and some pastels.  She made herself a shield with a golden center, black lines jagging out of the circle and blue lines of peaceful energy pointing in.  Then she said she was tired and I left.

Last week another former colleague and I went to see Lyn in the hospital.  We gave her a stone engraved with the word Peace and another that said “One Day at a Time.” She clutched them both and said she was scared but she also had what she needed – her two daughters had returned to be with her.  Lyn finally decided to enter Hospice on Friday.  My colleague felt that she would be more comfortable there and would probably feel better for a week or two; I thought I would have time to visit her again. But we did not know what was happening inside her.  Perhaps having finally accepted that death was near, she relaxed and let go.  Lyn floated into peace on Sunday.  She was a gentle, loving person and now, she has melted into that peaceful energy that surrounds us.

Today I will walk in Lyn’s memory rather than attend her funeral. I am glad I got to see her, hug her frail body, one more time before she left.  Relax, Lyn. You’ve been holding on for a long time.  You deserve this peace.

Help for the Helpers?

                            When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on.

                                                                                            ~ Thomas Jefferson

I visited with an old friend this week and much reminiscing and catching up was shared.  At this stage in our lives, we spent some time on health issues. He raised an interesting point, one that I sadly admit I had not considered. He spoke about searching for a respectful, compassionate oncologist when his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. He shared that one doctor dismissed him after being introduced, without even a greeting, and summarily banished him to a seat in the corner, behind her computer screen which effectively blocked the view of his wife.  He felt disenfranchised and hurt.  He said, “there is no support for the men in this equation when your partner has cancer.”

I caught my breath because he is right.  There are a lot of expectations on the male partner when a woman has a diagnosis of cancer, particularly when it is one that seems to have sexual connotations. Women struggle with how breast cancer treatment will affect their body image as well as their desirability and need the support of their lovers and husbands to help them through. Conversely, the partner of a man with prostrate cancer, in the midst of stepping up and caring for him, might also be dealing with fears and worries about losing an integral part of their relationship as a result.

What is the impact on these supportive partners? Who is considering and helping them? If you are or have been in that position, what do you need?  Please comment and share!