The Grief and Happiness Alliance

Grief

Guilty!

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Do you feel guilty related to your grief? Don’t be surprised if you do. Just about everyone who grieves also feels guilt related to who died, what caused the death, or the grieving afterward. No emotion has caused me more pain, or amplified my loss more than guilt. Guilt is just part of what we do. If we don’t have something to feel guilty about, we are good at creating it. Check out this list and see if any of the examples are something you feel, and there is good news.  You can do something about it!

  • The last thing you thought about your loved one was negative and you didn’t get a chance to change your thinking.
  • The last thing you said was hurtful or negative and you didn’t get a chance to apologize.
  • You didn’t insist that your loved one got treatment some enough.
  • You couldn’t seem to do anything about treatment you thought was wrong or harmful.
  • You didn’t visit your loved one often enough or spend enough time.
  • You didn’t do something you said you would.
  • You weren’t there at the time of death.You didn’t come right away when you were called.
  • You didn’t notice when there was something wrong you could have done something about.
  • You survived your loved one’s death.
  • You were happy or felt relieved about the death.
  • You were angry at God.

This list is by no means comprehensive. We can experience or make up all kinds of things to feel guilty about. The thing to keep in mind here is that guilt implies an intent to harm. If any action you did or thought you had was not done with an intention of harming your loved one, you are not guilty. Guilt implies that you failed at something or did something wrong, and most of the items on the list above don’t fall into that category. So as you reflect on the guilt you feel, see if it is about something that isn’t bad or wrong at all.

Has someone told you not to feel guilty? That really doesn’t help. I know that when someone tell tells me how not to feel, I am most likely to feel whatever they say that much more! So when someone says that, just smile and say thank you, then ignore what they said. But sometimes you are guilty, and if that is the case, you do need to deal with that. If you really did make a mistake like giving someone the wrong medicine that lead to their death, or you were driving drunk and had an accident leaving someone you loved to die, those are legitimate reasons for feeling guilty. Getting help from a counselor, minister, or grief group is essential in cases like these.

Our brains like order. When things are out of order in our lives, we tend to try to create things to get back on track. Consider this when you are looking at things you feel guilty about. When you realize what it is that bring you guilt, examine that and see if realistically there actually was something you could have changed, something you could have done differently. In Will Smith’s movie Seven Pounds, he suffered tremendous guilt after using his cell phone while driving lead to the death of his wife. The movie is how he dealt with that guilt. What he chose was extreme making for an interesting movie, but you don’t have to be dramatic. You may discover a path to doing something wonderful to help you through your feelings and get things back into order. Candy Lightner’s daughter was killed by a drink driver, so Candy decided to create something that would prevent others from suffering the way she did. Candy is the founder of Mothers Against Drunk Drivers. What could you do or create that would give you something positive to focus on?

In your memory of the experience that led to your grief, is it true? This may seem like a strange question. You say, “Of course my experience was true!” But was it, all of it, really? For instance, when you tell a close friend of your experience, do you say the same thing that you would say to your employer, your mail delivery person, or your daughter? Sometimes we shift the focus of the story we tell and add or leave out details. So which story is the truth? In creating a variety of stories, you may start feeling quilt when you realize how different they end up being. The solution for this is to stay in truth and focus on the positive.  Are there things you would have liked to have done before your loved one died? I would have loved to have spent more quality time with my mother before she died. We hadn’t spent a lot of time together throughout my whole life, and after she died, I realized how much I had missed. I knew more about my grandmother than my mom. If I had it to do over again, I would have gone way back in time and been a better daughter to her, but that couldn’t happen, and feeling guilty that I couldn’t change anything did not serve me. I had to accept the situation, integrate it into my life by being a better mother, friend, or sister now while a can, then move one with my life.

This leads to all those things that you could have, should have, would have done that didn’t happen. Maybe you could have had a standing date each week with your loved one to catch up. Maybe you could have insisted that your mother get her financial affairs in order. Maybe you would have been nicer to your friend had you known he was going to die suddenly. Maybe you would have been a better wife, brother, friend, employee, or whatever roles you played. Think of all you should have, could have, would have and realize that there is nothing you could do about any of those things now, so speeding time with them does not serve you. Do decide now what you can and will do, then do these things. That will help you release all those old, negative thoughts.

Perhaps your relationship with your loved one wasn’t always rosy and you fall into dwelling on the bad times. Guilt can run wild with telling you that you weren’t good enough, that you shouldn’t have raised your voice. I went through a period where I kept replaying things Ron said that I didn’t like. He would sometimes criticize me in front of others, and that drove me crazy. A friend pointed out an example of that to me, and I dwelled on it for a few days. Now this isn’t something that happened all the time and he was generally supportive of me, and I know he thought he was being supportive when he would say something like that. I dealt with it by focusing on all the good things in our relationship and realizing that no harm was intended. Then I had to let it go. Stewing about things past would never change anything or bring me joy, and realizing that allowed me to keep things in perspective and move on.

Consider these factors as you explore the guilt that you may feel:

  • Guilt is normal. Don’t let others minimize it.
  • You are not alone. Everybody feels guilt at some time.
  • Is the guilt you are feeling the truth? If yes, admit it and deal with it. If not, let it go.
  • Are you being rational? You can’t control someone else’s addiction or mental illness, Alzheimer’s, cancer, or anything else.
  • Think about who you can talk to about your guilt, then talk to whoever it is. A friend, counselor, group, minister?
  • Forgive yourself.
  • Do something positive to assuage your guilt.
  • Think about what your loved one would say about your guilt.
  • Find something good to dwell on
  • What has your guilt taught you?
  • Make restitution if there is a way to.
  • Know that you can feel good and bad or happy and sad at the same time.

When Ron came home from the hospital the last time, we had arranged for a hospital bed in a spare room that had a bathroom where it would be easiest for the caregivers to take care of him. I am sure he would have preferred to come home to our bed, but there just wasn’t room for all he required and for the care givers to move around him. I was exhausted having stayed up with him, helping with his care around the clock for the last week. After we got him settled, I went into our bedroom and just crashed. I could not stay awake. That night I had a dream that he came into the bedroom to wake me up so we could talk. In the dream, his care giver was standing in the doorway. The next day, I told him about the dream, and he told me that it wasn’t a dream.  He just wanted to snuggle with me in our bed one last time. I was devastated. He was never able to return to our room, and I felt guilty about that for a long time. Rationally I know that I wasn’t physically able to change that moment. I stayed by his side for the rest of the week, sleeping on the floor, until he died. I think I will always have tears with this memory.

I’ll bet you feel guilty about something. Something you said or didn’t say. Something you did or didn’t do. Guilt can be a nasty enemy. You don’t need that enemy clinging on to you. Shake it off. Let it go. Do this by forgiving yourself. Say out loud or write it down: “I forgive me. I forgive me. I forgive you. I forgive us.” Say or write it as many times as you need to. Know in your heart that your forgiveness is done. It is accepted. It is real. And it feels so much better for that nasty creature to be booted out of your life! Kick it out now!

 

Times of Remembering

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On Memorial Day, my sweet neighbor Dawn brought me a bouquet of camellias and hydrangeas in remembrance of Ron. The camellias reminded me of the first day I visited Ron at his house and he picked me a beautiful camellia to put in my hair. He was so romantic. And that led us to talk of memories of Memorial Day. Ron and I always hosted a big bar-b-que. He made his famous ribs and chicken, and I cooked corn on the cob, potato salad, and peach cobbler and we invited everyone we knew. I miss those parties.

Now that I live in Hawaii, instead of having a bar-b-que, we celebrate Memorial Day by watching the Shinnyo Lantern Floating on television which takes place on Oahu.  This year was the 20thanniversary of this event that takes place on Ala Moana Beach. Families and friends honor their departed loved ones by decorating small lantern boats with the names, letters, poems, and flowers. Then the families wade out into the ocean to float the boats out into the bay. They have beautiful Hawaiian music and dancing combined with Japanese Buddhist Shinnyo-en traditions. Forty thousand people participate. After the lanterns float on the water for the evening, volunteers retrieve them to refurbish them to use again next year.

The touching part of the ceremony to me is how the presenters encourage the participants to discover their Shinnyo within to bless the community. On their website LaternFloatingHawaii.com, they define Shinnyo as:

“Shinnyo is reality, or the true nature of all things. It is the innate goodness, wisdom, and compassion inherently at the core of every living being. Shinnyo is the light that exists in all, without exception.

Shinnyo can also be understood as external forces, vibrant and infinite, that compassionaty lead us to moments of awakening – those serendipitous moments of feeling present and inspired. When we become aware of Shinnyo existing in and warmly encompassing us all, we can appreciate how interconnected we are.”

May we all remember our Shinnyo throughout the year by honoring our loved ones who have died and by supporting and loving the communities we live in.

Cocooning

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Cocooning is a time that all you can do is maybe sit at home in front of a fire, and that is OK. If you don’t want to go somewhere, don’t.  Be easy on yourself now because grief is unpredictable.

A few months before Ron transitioned, we were sitting on our lanai, Hawaiian for deck, in our beautiful back yard. We live on the side of Haleakala, a dormant volcano, that gently slopes down our yard vibrant with avocado, ficus, banana, and papaya trees and much tropical foliage including giant hibiscus and lilikoi plants. We frequently witnessed rainbows from this perch which appeared to be lower than we were allowing us to think that we lived romantically over the rainbow. Enjoying the gentle Trade Winds, orange and black butterflies were plentiful and would actually land on Ron as though they were attracted to him. He told me that there would come a time that every time I saw a butterfly or a rainbow or smelled the smoke of a cigar, which he relished every day, that I would know that he was near.

A few months after he was gone, I was feeling in a vacuum where time seemed to be standing still and I couldn’t connect with the world. Before I started being with Ron constantly because of his health, I loved doing ceramics. When we moved to Maui, he had a perfect studio built for me in our yard, but I couldn’t seem to go there to create.  I felt blank. I decided I had to do something, so I signed up for a ceramics class at the Hui No’eau art center in Makawao. The translation of Hui No’eau is “people coming together for a common purpose” for the development of artistic skill and the wisdom which derives from that expression.” This sounded to me like the perfect place to open my path to healing. When driving to class, I was surrounded by butterflies.  I have never seen so many butterflies in the same place. They floated around my car for literally miles, and unlike before when I have had butterflies or moths come to their ends against my car window or grill, not one stuck to the car. And of course, that week there were rainbows too.

This experience made me realize that what I had been doing was cocooning. We have a big Brugmansia plant in our yard which the common name for is Angel’s Trumpet. I had noticed that it had been covered with caterpillars that were yellow and black. I found it ironic that the butterflies which were also in my yard, had been created from the caterpillars eating the Angel’s Trumpet vines. I looked this process up, and it was different from what I had been told in school years ago.   What really happens is that the caterpillar sheds its skin and a protective shell called a chrysalis is formed.  Then everything inside the chrysalis turns into liquid that is similar to human stem cells. From this comes what are called imaginal cells which sounds to me like the imagination where new things come from.  Though there is no structural similarity between the caterpillar and the butterfly, these cells transform into beautiful butterflies.

I remember in one of Ron’s sermons he told the story of a person who noticed a chrysalis moving. That person assumes that the butterfly was working to emerge, so he decided to help.  But the process of breaking out of the chrysalis is crucial to building the strength of the butterfly so it can survive, and by the person helping this process along, the butterfly that emerged died. This made me think of my grief process.

For several months after Ron’s transition, I felt like that goo that forms during the transformation from the caterpillar to the butterfly. I felt like it was too hard to think, to eat, to walk, to read, or really to do anything. During this time, I recorded and watched many silly romantic movies I didn’t have to think about.  The plots were formulaic, and there was always a happy ending. The movies were actually just background noise.  If I stayed in silence or tried to listen to music, my monkey mind would run wild. The movies dulled the pain.  I could lie in bed and actually felt like I was being held. I see now that was like my own chrysalis, and that I had to go through this process to help me adjust or transition to my new life.

Everybody will experience this transition in their grieving process in their own ways. This is the time where you prepare for or develop the skills that will help you move forward. For some, this gestation is relatively brief. Others take a long time. The key is to recognize this is normal and to do what you need to so that you can take care of yourself. I would sit on my lanai or soak in my bathtub without putting any restrictions on me. This may be a time where you resist the change that you have been forced into. Everything can’t help but be different without your loved one in your life.  This was not something you can plan for or escape. Releasing into the process will ultimately help bring you peace and allow your butterfly to emerge. This is the time that your transformation occurs.

You will think new thoughts and do things differently than you ever have before. Know this is OK. As much as you would like to go on the way things were before, you can’t. Take this time to explore what to do now, and be patient with yourself.  This isn’t a time for a quick fix or a magical solution. Your grief does not disappear, but you will become used to it. You will assimilate it into your life so that it changes from being all encompassing to being a natural part of you. As you shed your old skin, you can shed your old habits that no longer serve you. You can grow and develop your new, beautiful, powerful wings.

Many refer to death as a transition, but you are going through a transition, too, and it may feel like you are dying. Actually, the old you is dying. The new you will have different hopes and dreams and desires. You may have the tendency to fight this transition as you would fight death if you are not ready, but that will only prolong the process. The most important part of the journey Ron and I shared was to commit to living in the moment. We dealt with any symptom that came up when it came up. We did not worry in advance about what would be happening next. And actually, I didn’t realize that he was really dying.  Our moments were so precious, sharing our love, having long wonderful talks or just sitting in silence enjoying the beauty of our surroundings.  His birthday was about a month before he left, and he was given the book Death of a King by Tavis Smiley which was the story of Martin Luther King’s last year. He wanted to read it, but he discovered that reading was difficult for him, so I read the entire book to him out loud.  Those are cherished moments. Time stood still as we were immersed in the greatness of this man. Having this experience helped me to stay in the moment as I was going through this cocooning process.  All I dealt with was how I was feeling or what was happening to me at that time, right then.  And living in the moment has allowed me to move forward one moment at a time.

Right now, think about what you can do that feels best to you. You may like to have a cup of tea, go for a walk, read a book, record and watch silly romance movies. Whatever it is, do it. Don’t judge yourself or your desires. I found myself putting together puzzles or playing Sudoku. The process of keeping occupied allowed me to not just sit and cry, although there is nothing wrong with that. Tears are cleansing, and I have certainly cried until my eyes feel dry. The key in not living in fear which is the opposite of love. Right now, love yourself. Fearing being alone or fearing your future does not serve you. Loving yourself unconditionally will always serve you.

This is the time to seek out a friend who has been through this process. Your friend may have experienced a different kind of loss, but everyone who grieves does go through a process of some form of cocooning. You may have lost a husband, while your friend has lost a mother. It doesn’t matter.  What matters is that you can support each other. I noticed that during this time after the deaths of both my husbands, friends mostly kept their distance. I assume that they didn’t know what to say or did not want to be dragged down into my despair. And I didn’t seem to be able to reach out to my friends. If the experience is similar for you, this may be the time you’d like to seek counseling. There are many counselors out there that specialize in grief, but I suggest you go to one who has actually experienced loss. The common experience can make all the difference in how helpful a counselor can be.

Cocooning can be so hard on your body and soul. Be aware of this, and take care of yourself during the process. Be sure to rest, to eat, and to exercise. And in the words of Dr. Alan B. Wolfelt, “Feelings have one ambition, to be felt.” So, feel what you feel. Love who you love. Grieve how you grieve. But most of all, be gentle with you.

Letters to My Mother

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My parents we married 80 years ago today. They were married on Mother’s Day. So this week, my thoughts keep drifting toward them. I lead a Writing Through Grief group here on Maui, and one of our favorite exercises is to write letters, so I’m going to write a letter to my mother this week. The problem is, I haven’t done this before, and there are so many things I could say. I’ve been thinking of ideas to focus on. Here are a few:

  • I could pick out a few of my favorite memories and reminisce with her, like the time we found her mother’s love letters to her first husband when we were cleaning out her garage together. Or how when I was writing my book she would sit in a chair behind me so she could watch me write over my shoulder. She was fascinated by my computer which at that time was a new thing. Or I could write about how we shopped together to buy material for my bridesmaids’ dresses, then we shopped together again to buy material for my daughter’s wedding dress.
  • I could write to her about how I discovered how much she must have loved me when I was rocking my baby in the middle of the night and feeling overwhelmed by my love for him. She wasn’t one to express her emotions, but at that moment, I knew how she must have felt when she held me.
  • I could thank her for what she did for me throughout my life remembering how hard she worked to help me get to college, and how hard it must have been to let her 18 year old daughter move so far away. And how she let my best friend move into my bedroom when her new husband was sent off to Vietnam..
  • I could tell her how grateful I am that she chose to come live with us during her last year and all the amazing adventures we had during that precious time.

I could write a whole book about her. I only wish I would have talked to her about so many things while I still could. We didn’t communicate well, and I am sure that’s one of the reasons I became a writer because I want nothing left unsaid.

In our writing group, after we write a letter, we take a breath, then write another letter that is from who we just wrote to back to us. So when I write my Mom, I would write from her back to me. These letters aren’t planned. We just let whatever comes to us flow out on to the page. We have received beautiful, meaningful answers. I’m sure we could debate on where these answers come from, but what matters to me is the peace and joy they can bring.

So I encourage you today to write a letter to your mother. You may want to write it in your journal or find a special place to save it so you can go back and read it when you could use some mom time. And if your mom is still here, be sure to put it in the mail.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Flow

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“The only thing that is constant is change.”

Heraclitus of Ephesus, Greek Philosopher

 

 

When we grieve, we often feel like things will never get better. We know we can’t go back to how things were before whatever happened leading to our loved one’s death. And we can’t see a future beyond where we are right now. With all this, there is one thing I can guarantee, things will change.

Every morning, the sun comes up to brighten our day. Every evening, the sun goes down so we can have the peace of darkness to get our rest. Every time we blink our eyes, we open them back up again. Every time we breath in, we exhale. Every time our heart contracts with a beat, it relaxes again. So you know in your heart that the next moment can’t be just like the present one.

The key to moving forward is to relax and allow changes. Holding on tightly to something takes and enormous amount of energy, while releasing what you hold allows you to lighten your load of concern. Try this. Sit in a calm, quiet space. Get comfortable. Close your eyes. Focus on your breath. Breath in slowly. Breathe out slowly. Recognize the flow of air. Feel as oxygen circulates throughout your body, nourishing you cells, exchanging with carbon dioxide to be released as you exhale. Keep breathing slowly observing how your body feels in the process. Notice that your body is constantly moving. The movement is your life, and the flow is how you move forward. So even when you feel like your grief is not allowing you to move forward, you can feel now how you can’t be mired, unable to move, because your life will not allow that stillness.

Recognizing this flow of your life allows you to release what you need to and move toward your next new thought, new feeling, new adventure, new love. Being in sync with your flow allows everything to flow to you, through you, and from you. You can recognize how your life is here to serve you, not to hold you down or hold you back.

So right now, today, pay attention to your flow, and be grateful for it. Know that everything is working together for your good.

 

Spring Up!

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Easter for me has always reminded me of a fresh start. That after a time of stillness, it’s time to begin again. In my heart I know that I am whole, complete, and perfect, and I know that making the best of each moment is my goal.

I remember wonderful times growing up where the family gathered with tons of food, especially ham and potato salad. We’d eat outdoors and wild flowers blanketed the hillside. Mom taught me the names of all the different wild flowers. I especially loved lupine and poppies. 

Now missing all that family, I will remember them and start my own new tradition of a little beach picnic that must include potato salad and flowers. I will bring to mind each of those loved ones with sweet memories and in their honor, plan my fresh start blossoming more each day, opening up to more light, more, love, more joy. I wish this for you, too!

I have created a new, Closed Facebook group just for my followers to share about reclaiming their joy after loss. I will be posting ideas to support you on your journey. Go to this link to join:  http://facebook.com/groups/ReclaimingYourJoyAfterLoss