Grief

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

The Power of Your Words

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I’m sure you’ve heard someone say, “Be careful what you wish for!” Have you thought about what that means? When we wish for something, the universe grants that wish, whatever it is; however, how it is granted may not be what you thought you were asking for.

When you say, I know I will never be happy again since the love of my life died. When you say that, you never will be happy again. When you say I can’t afford a new home, or new car, or a trip, or even groceries, then that’s what happens. You can’t afford any of that. Now is any of that what you really want? I hear you yell NO! So why do you ask for it? I doubt that you think that’s what you are doing, but it is.

When I felt so alone after Jacques died, I thought about what I really wanted. I made a conscious decision to not ask for something specific, but actually to say, “I love and I am loved.” Notice what I didn’t say. I didn’t say “I want to,” rather I made the statement knowing that it was true right then, not some vague place in the future. And sure enough, I started noticing love in my life, love that was already there on so many levels, from friends and from family and love for things like my job teaching writing, that I had created a theatre, a school of arts, a gallery, a café. The more I thought about love, the more love I saw, and this prepared be to be fully ready for Ron when I met him. I recognized him right away as the romantic and deep spiritual love that I knew was waiting for me to see.

So how can you go about having what would make your life the best it can be? An easy way to start is to journal. Journal every day. Put journaling on your calendar or in your to do list and make no excuses to avoid writing. Start by writing what you need to do to unclutter your mind. You probably have thoughts floating around of not being worthy of what you want, thinking you can’t afford what you want, thinking you can’t have what you want. Instead of carrying thoughts like this around which get in the way of your true desires, write all that stuff down. When you read what you have written, you’ll see that it isn’t your truth. When you actually see it in writing, you then can release it. You can say “I am so much more than that! I do deserve what I want. I am worthy.” So, write all that down, how wonderful you are, how deserving.

Now, every day write the truth of what you want. If you are lonely, write “I am loved and I love unconditionally.” If you are wanting your ideal job, say “I am grateful for my skills, inspiration, and talent which insure the perfect job for me where I can make a beautiful difference in the world!” When you start saying that instead of that old story that you just can’t get a job, be ready for what comes to you. Recognize opportunities, and enjoy where they take you.

When you slip into the sadness that can come in grieving, instead of saying, “I am so sad,” or “I just can’t handle this,” get out your journal and write all about a beautiful memory of a time you spent with your loved one, or write about something you can do right now that brings you joy, whatever that is. When you write from a positive perspective, that’s what comes in your life. If you find yourself using negative language, notice that. Stop saying whatever it was. Consciously say to yourself, “I take that back,” and then restate your words with a positive focus. Eliminate words like can’t, won’t, don’t, and should from what you speak.

So I offer you this. Keep that appointment with yourself each day to write in your journal. Allow your journal to show you the beauty and joy of your life, and focus on that. When you do, when you look in the mirror, all you’ll see is beauty and joy!

Bliss

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I have been reading Viktor Frankl’s book Man’s Search For Meaning, which I highly recommend, and have received much inspiration. The first half of the book reflects on the time he spent in Nazi Concentration camps. Reading his thoughts reminded me so much of my early grief.

Early grief is a time when we can feel totally alone even when surrounded by others. Our whole perspective on life has changed and all territory is unfamiliar. We feel empty in a way, and full in another. In this period of readjustment, we can sink into despair and lose our will to survive in a meaningful way, or we can choose to discover our next step in our own way.

Frankel said “My mind still clung to the image of my wife. A thought crossed my mind: I didn’t even know if she were still alive. I knew only one thing . . . . Love goes far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he is still alive at all, ceases somehow to be of importance.”

When I read this, I reflected on Ron and Jacques. They always are a precious part of me, of my life experience. Whether they are physically here with me loses its significance when I focus on the love we share. That love has not and will not diminish. And that thought brings so much comfort. I am constantly wrapped in this beautiful love, and I allow myself to experience it.

I encourage you to live in the awareness of the love you share. As Frankl says: “a man who has nothing left can still know bliss . . . in the contemplation of his beloved.”