Author: Grief Blessings

As you know celebrating the holidays is not easy for me. After the death of my daughter, celebrating Thanksgiving and Christmas just gave me a heartache. As the years have passed I have slowly introduced feeling “celebratory” during the holiday season. I must admit at first it was simply putting on the face for all. I find putting up the tree and decorating for the holidays more palatable. But that does not, I repeat, not make it easy. It is just my new normal.

In looking back it was my mother’s passing 25 years ago that created my angst for celebrating the holidays. The holidays became so different for me after my mom’s death and then quickly following five years later, my grandmother passing sealed it for me. I had to create a new normal then with my daughter. Living away from my hometown and family also made it difficult to have that family tradition feeling that I had grown up with. Some of my fondest memories are the ones where my entire extended family joined together each year at Thanksgiving and Christmas. I have had to recreate my own traditions many times over as my life changed. Loss from death or divorce – either way – a loss is a loss and starting over means just that.

If it had not been for some of the most incredible friends along my journey that have shown me such love and friendship, I’m not sure I could have gotten to where I am today. You don’t really know who your friends are until you find yourself starting over with just about nothing. My journey to today has been built on my foundational faith in God and a strong network of friends who continue to lift me up and show me what love truly is. Being the hands and feet of Jesus consistently has encouraged me to see beyond my grief.

New Years for me is a time of rebirth. A time to start fresh. Shake off the cloak of grief from the holidays and bring some life back into my world. If anyone taught me the value of living an extraordinary life it was my daughter Brittany. I’ve always said I choose to live a life that gives honor to my daughter’s presence on this earth. She lived an extraordinary life during her 17 years. Facing many trials and tribulations – yet always with a smile on her face and joy in her heart. So I too try to live an extraordinary life. Choosing to be extraordinary rather than ordinary takes faith and it takes a village.

So as you all look at what 2014 will bring – don’t look back but only for a moment to cherish and learn what our children and loved ones taught us while they were here with us. The go forward and live an extraordinary life.

Happy New Year

Until next time,

M

It’s been a while since I had my last good cry. In a sense I’ve been avoiding it because the process is overwhelming. It’s hard to sort out the good and bad memories sometimes. Having watched my daughter die makes it more difficult to bring the good memories forward.

I sat down and had a good cry then proceeded to open the box that contains some of her most favorite things. Her American Girl doll that she wanted because it looked so much like her. I remember when we made the train trip from Grand Rapids to Chicago with some other friends to spend the day shopping in Chicago and of course, tea at the American Girl Store. I kept two t-shirts that she liked to wear – one that says “fly girl” and one that she wore in her senior pictures. She was my fly girl.

Then there laid the envelope. The one marked “do not open”. I put some very private things in there and had previously stored them in a safe deposit box. Did not want anyone opening it. The contents sacred to me. In the hours after Brittany died I was helping prepare her body by removing all the tubes and wires and cleaning her up. While straightening her hair I remembered that she said after graduation she wanted to cut her hair – so I took a pair of scissors and took her hair from the pony tail on the top of her head and made a quick cut. Saying out loud “there you go honey – just as I promised”. While looking in that envelope I took out the pony tail that still remained untouched since her death and so very lightly touched it. It brought a flood of tears to my eyes because I so loved that girl.

I placed the hair back into the envelope and reached in to pull out the few pics taken by the Child Life Specialist. They were taken once Brittany was looking so peaceful with her favorite blanket from her room. She looked like an angel. I looked so longingly at her face and the many freckles she had searching hard in my memory for how she looked alive and how she hated her freckles so. Those freckles made her unique. Lastly I placed my hand over her hand, the mold that was taken of her hand after she died. Another memento to be cherished for years to come. Her hand was bigger than mine. She would have laughed at that as if to say “ha mom – I’m already bigger than you”.

You all can’t imagine how my heart breaks again and again every time I open those dear treasures. I go to a place I don’t go often for it is too painful to bear. I want to just throw something and yell and scream because I can’t keep the pain in any longer. In the movie Forest Gump he says “sometimes there are not enough rocks”. In the movie Jenny was so angry at something that had happened in the past – she threw rock after rock until she collapses on the ground. It takes a long time to move through the many stages of grief. Sometimes it feels good to remember special moments about your loved one, but sometimes you just need to get mad and throw a few rocks.

I miss Brittany more than I can ever have the words to express. It’s so very wrong that she is not here. It’s just so very wrong……

I woke up sometime during the night thinking about what Thanksgiving was like growing up as a child and young adult. Family looked different then. The entire extended family got together each Thanksgiving and we ate together, laughed together and prayed together. I was looking through photos of Thanksgiving past and it brought such mixed emotions to the surface.

Those memories are the ones that made us who we are as adults. I never realized how truly blessed I was to have such a great family who came together and celebrated as family each year. Then one by one they began to pass on. My great-grand father, aunts, uncles, mom, grandparents and daughter. Thanksgiving has never been the same for me. While I still try to get home for Thanksgiving to see my brothers and their families – it’s different.

Now this year I’m not even going home. Just when things begin to settle for me into a pattern that I could actually look forward to since Brittany’s death – it’s changed. Life has always been like that for me – different. Never staying the same for very long. Some of it by my own choice and some not. Nevertheless I find myself searching and trying to find my way at this point in my life. The meaning, the purpose, the “why”. I’m getting a bit old for this crap. That is all I know.

A turn of events is making this Thanksgiving one that I am looking forward to because my best friend of 30 years is coming to spend a week with me. Something we have wanted to do for so long and could never get it organized. My uncle is going to make a turkey on Thanksgiving and we are going to share and enjoy with his neighbors and friends. The blessings this year are ones that are not easily seen, but strongly felt.

Simple Blessings

I am blessed that I can still breathe

I am blessed that I can still see

I am blessed that I can still laugh

I am blessed that I can still cry

I am blessed that I am alive

This year look at your simple blessings and try to find that while your life may be totally different than what you would have wanted or asked for, it’s the simplicity of life that makes it easier to see what is truly important.

Until next time,

M

Be careful not to look deeply for the things that cause sorrow for they are buried along with the memories and laughter. Only proceed if you’re willing to go the distance. The journey is a lifetime and the days can be filled with sunshine or rain. The most difficult hurdle is not knowing the difference as seen from the outside. It’s one step at a time with one foot in front of the other. The timeline is undefined and the outcome can only be measured by the love you have in your heart.

Until next time

M

Well it is again that time of year when I am brought to my knees with vivid memories of that horrific day back in 2006 when I said goodbye to my world. My daughter Brittany died after suffering a seizure at our home. While she was no stranger to seizures, she had been doing well on medication with the exception of the last 12 months of her life. Being a nurse I think either prepared me for what I knew clinically would happen over that long 12 hour night. Understanding the story the monitors where telling me. That she was struggling to stay alive. Her body was not responding to the medications and she was entering multi-system shutdown.

As her heart failed, mine began to break. I will never be able to remove that moment at 6:55 am when one of her nurses was on top of her in the bed performing CPR. The fourth and final round of CPR while other medical personnel surrounded her bed providing all the necessary means to revive her one last time. The previous three attempts had been successful but not without taking a toll on her body. This time seemed different. The monitors did not lie. We all knew it was too late – her body was telling us it had nothing left. The nurse and my eyes met and instinctively I knew it was futile. It was time to call it off – to stop the assault that was happening to her and let her go.

I try not to go back to this dark place very often. It’s one of the darkest places I can be and it takes my breath aware every time I do. It’s painful beyond words to speak it. To this day I can only write about it. And I don’t write about every detail because it is just too much to acknowledge. But trust me when I say I would not wish this experience on any one. Watching the life of your only child being taken from you is beyond comprehension. The agony of it all is too much even today to linger on.

In seven years I have come far in my journey to recover from the loss of my daughter Brittany. It’s a process that will take my lifetime to heal. I’ll never be over her death – just so we set the record straight here. You never get over a death – you just continue to heal. I think we all have a choice to move forward and make something good happen out of the horrible loss, but understand it is not easy and takes the strength of many to support and love when there are times when it doesn’t seem possible to take another breath or to go on one more day. I am blessed beyond measure to have a strong support group that are my closest friends. They know when I need to have some time alone, when I need prayer, when I need them to hug me and make me laugh. God truly blessed me with such great friends.

As October 13^th approaches please take a moment and look up to the sky and thank God for your loved ones – whether they have crossed over or still living. We are all better people for having our loved ones and I know for sure my daughter would be very proud of who I am today.

Until next time,

M

I have been reluctant to write about the topic of “conversations I have with myself” for fear some might not understand or make inferences to something they do not understand. The conversations I have with myself about my grief are sometimes enlightening, profound and quite frankly – scary. I hope you can understand then my reservations about posting such personal thoughts. But wait I think you may know me by now and have come to understand I don’t hold much back when it comes to my thoughts and feelings. But I think even this topic could raise a few eyebrows.

I’ve even thought of creating a random Tumblr account and posting my inner most thoughts – but even that seems a bit daunting. Would anyone read it and better yet, would anyone care. I don’t know. As I peruse blogs I find such random topics and wonder what actually drives people to blog at all. Is it a need to be heard or a need to vent? I think maybe both. For me personally, it’s a need to vent the pain of loss that pursues me daily and a desire to help others.

Conversations I have with myself are like mini movies in my head. You know like reading a script and I’m the only actor in the movie. Reminds me of the play I saw on Broadway – 700 Sundays by Billy Crystal. He does the whole play by himself. Replaying life for the audience. I think my blog is a lot like that. I wonder if it’s run its course. Have I said all there is to say about grief. What it was then is how it is now. No one understands it. This topic has always been between me and God. In the early days the conversations I had with God, were dynamic and gut-wrenching. Things have changed. I am not sure what to do next. Nothing feels right. The conversations are gray and vague with no real purpose. I have lost my vision.

So what do I do next? Does it matter? If I listen to myself, those conversations in my head, I’d leave it be and let the blog go on to live where old blogs die. But there is a dynamic pull to keep it going. I just know I feel restless and there is a need for change. The one thing I am completely sure of and that is this: Grief has changed me. Grief has become a permanent resident in my life and covers my heart like a scar that covers an open sore. It’s hardened my heart. I’m not sure that is reversible. So perhaps that is where this blog goes from here. From acute to chronic. Finding a way to live again in a meaningful way. Sorting through the conversations in my head that tell me it’s too hard. Yeah I think I might have told you this was a little scary and I’m not gonna lie – it’s a tough way to exist. What has worked thus far is no longer an option, I have to find a way through this fog and make sense of who I am going forward because who I am now – is not who I thought I’d be.

Until next time

m

Chronic sorrow is the periodic recurrence of permanent, pervasive sadness or other grief related feelings associated with a significant loss. (Eakes GG, 1998).

I have often wondered about how long sorrow would hold up residence in my heart. Since the death of my daughter seven years ago I can say with the utmost certainty that it will always be a part of who I am. Sorrow has taken up permanent residence in my heart. Specifically over the space where my lovely daughter holds a forever spot. Scared by loss, and maybe a little broken, but my heart still beats on. It still feels love. It still leaps for joy when something or someone brings happiness into my life.

I have come to understand that sorrow and happiness can live harmoniously in one space if, and only if, they are both respected. Given their time to be heard. Chronic sorrow seems like a disease, but really it’s just a label for a mother’s broken heart. I wouldn’t say that I have a pervasive sadness about me. It’s more like moments in time that I reflect on a life once known, and a time that some days I’d love to hear her voice or her funny laugh, but pervasive sadness – I don’t think so.

Do I think pervasive sadness happens to some? Absolutely and that breaks my heart for them. I understand how it can happen. I do believe if I had not fought hard to come out of the fog of sorrow and into a life that I can bring light to my daughter’s memory – I too would have fallen into this pervasive sadness. So if you find yourself there – seek help. Talk to a professional, write it out – do something. The best years after loss can come but its hard work. At times can be exhausting. But with a lot of support, faith and love you can make it to a space where the sadness and sorrow take their rightful place but does not permeate your soul.

I’m a living testimony that while I have lost much, I want to live on doing the work I was made to do. I want to fulfill my destiny. Just like my sweet Brittany. She is the light that shines brightly and keeps reminding me that I have to stay focused on the good in the world. That is my prayer for you.

Until next time,

M

I know that some days it’s hard to see the beauty that is in front of us
because the clouds of sorrow blind us to it.
But take a moment right now to stop take a deep breath and blow it out.
Take the time to breathe in life and breathe out sorrow. It can be done.
It takes practice, really a conscious effort, but with daily practice –
you will see with more clarity, feel with more depth
and live with more peace.

Until next time,

M