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International Women’s Day

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“International Women’s Day is a global day celebrating the social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women. The day also marks a call to action for accelerating women’s equality.  The first International Women’s Day was in 1911.”

https://www.internationalwomensday.com

I see this day as a day to celebrate each of us individually for the impact we have made in the world.  In my lifetime, I have won many awards, earned many degrees, and written four books, but I see my impact in ways I have served other people. All service starts with individual acts, and much or most of what you do is service. I am listing some of the ways I have served others to encourage you to reflect on all the service you have done which impacts all of society.

I have been a wife. In this role, I have created a living home environment and demonstrated what a wonderful relationship looks like. I also cared for two husbands for two years each though the process of living fully until they died.

I have been a mother. In this role I raised two amazing, brilliant, talented children and have loved five stepchildren. The nurturing role of being a mother is a creative feat to be admired.

I have been a daughter and daughter-in-law. In these roles I have been nurtured by loving parents and inspired by their examples. I also was able to serve them especially in their late years.

I have been a nurse, scrub tech, and EMT. In these roles I cared for many patients and provided much teaching on how to be healthy.

I have been a teacher in many fields. In this role I have taught swimming, childbirth education, nursing assistants, writing, communications, theatre, weaving, vegan cooking, and writing through grief.

I have been a business owner. In that role I have provided arts education for children, healthy food from my café and catering company, art shows in my gallery, entertainment in my theatre, life-saving and emergency transportation from my ambulance company, and housing for friends.

I have been a public servant. In that role I serving on the Bakersfield Californian Editorial Board, served on the Kern Medical Center Ethics Committee, served as President of the Bakersfield Chapter of the American Association of University Women,  served as class president of my nursing class, served on the Democratic Central Committee in Kern County, served on the Dorian Society board, served on the board of the after school program for the Greenfield School District, was a member of Ventura County Pitter’s Guild, am a life member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars Auxiliary, and more.

I am an artist. In this role I have in theatre acted, directed, designed costumes, make-up, and sets. I have also sewn, quilted, weaved, painted, drawn, and created ceramics.

I facilitate groups in my home. In this role I host an intention setting circle, a writing through grief group, and a produce share where our neighbors bring the abundance from their gardens.

I am a writer. In this role I have written four books. My most recent book, Loving and Living Your Way Through Grief, will be available later this year.

As you can see, everything I do is basically in service of others.  I’ll bet most of what you do serves others too.  I encourage you to write in your journal a list of all the ways you serve. I am sure you have done much more than you realize, and you will be amazed at what you discover. And this Sunday, March 8, celebrate you and/or the women you know for all the things they do to make this world a better, more loving, peaceful place. I’ll be celebrating with you!

 

An equal world is an enabled world.

#IWD2020 #EachforEqual

Peripheral Grief

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I was born and raised in a small town in central California named Porterville. Growing up, I spent lots of time at our library. My very first job was there when my teacher recommended me to read stories to the children on Saturday mornings for pay.  I was thrilled to be in a place I loved doing what I loved to do. I haven’t lived in Porterville for many years, but I still am an owner of Imperial Ambulance, the company my father traded our home for when I was 13.

I started going on ambulance calls at 14 because you only had to be 14 then and have an advanced first aid certificate.  I have a deep respect and admiration for first responders and am happy to provide jobs for them.  When the fire started Tuesday, I knew our crews would be there. They stayed there around the clock until last night when the second firefighter’s body was found. He was only 25. The first firefighter was a Captain at age 34 and had started his career at our ambulance company as an EMT. These two firefighters were friends of most of my crew.

I have found myself grieving since the fire started, first for the library, then when I found out about the fire fighters, then for the two 13-year-old boys who started the fire. I am also thinking about the families of all the firefighters and the boys. Also, my crews who spent so many hours on duty at the fire and who lost their friends. And I feel for the fire crews coming in from the surrounding fire departments as far away as LA so that the Porterville fire fighters can stand down to mourn.

The grief has settled in on the city of Porterville and Tulare County like the dense Tule fog known to blanket the area. Ripples of the grief flow out to all the people who know anyone involved with the fire in any way. This morning there was a procession from the library in Porterville to the county coroner in Tulare. Following the vehicle carrying the fallen firefighter found last night, came fire fighters, our Imperial ambulances, the firefighters family, police cars, and other emergency vehicles from throughout the county all with red lights and sirens to show their respect.

My tears from all this of course bring up memories not only of the loved ones I have lost but of all the people I cared for in the ambulances and later as a nurse. Every life and death I have touched with my caring has settled in a special place in my heart, and reminders like this rock me every time. I am reminded to pay attention and to live and love in every moment, to be grateful that I could be there to help who most times were perfect strangers as they transitioned.

We often think of grief only in relation to those we are very close to, but grief can come for people you don’t even know. When this happens, realize it is part of your humanness and shed the tears you need to. Talk to someone about how you are feeling or write in your journal and pour your heart out to discover exactly what you are feeling and why. Take good care of yourself and be there for others when you can to share the experience.

I am glad I have this outlet to write to you. Thank you for reading.

 

Grateful for My Love

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Valentine’s Day is always a tough one.  Everywhere I look I see hearts, flowers, and diamonds. People are smiling and holding hands, and here I sit trying to remember what it felt like to be kissed.  When I realized what I was doing, I decided I had better shift my focus, so I started remembering the Valentines of days past.

I never wanted to go out for dinner on Valentine’s Day because I always imagined it would be crowded, but on our first Valentine’s, Ron showed up and wanted to take me out to dinner. We walked to one of our favorite places, and we happened to be the first ones there so not having reservations was not a problem. And he brought me a beautiful necklace that had two hearts, overlapping. One was silver and the other gold. A perfect representation of us. We had a wonderful evening with dessert back at my place after dinner.

Thinking about that sweet experience, I started to recall things I was grateful about both Ron and Jacques. And I started writing them down.  I always write what I am grateful for every day, but this was different. I intentionally wrote about the sweet romantic things my husbands did that remind me of how very much they loved me.  I wrote, and wrote, and wrote.

I recalled how when Jacques and I got married, I made my dress and he didn’t get to see it before the wedding. We got married at his house.  Everyone was gathered in the living room, and he came to the bedroom to get me when it was time to start the wedding. He was so entranced by the dress, that he came in to look at it and all the little details till the minister came to get us, and everyone laughed.

One year I purchased a little black journal with red hearts on it for Ron. And I filled it up with 100 examples of one thing on each page that was a reason I loved him and was grateful for him.  Once I started writing it, I had no problem filling up the book. I still have that book and can open it every once in a while, when I am missing him.

Once I started writing just beautiful things about my loves and wonderful experiences we had, I couldn’t help but smile. This Valentine’s Day try making a list of things you are grateful about for about your loved one.  It doesn’t have to be a husband. Write about your mother, your son, you’re your friend, your special pet: anyone you miss.  Smile as you write and feel the comforting presence of their love.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Dangling

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I saw a leaf dangling in the breeze, barely connected to the branch where it had grown, and I thought of me and my relationship with grief. Dangling is that tenuous position where I delicately hang, fluttering in the breeze not sure of whether to hang on or let go.

Hanging on seems important. I’ve been grieving for so long for one person after another that there is some security in grief. I know how to be and what to expect there, but it certainly is not a place of peace or comfort. Always feeling that ragged edge of constant yearning and sadness is heavy in my heart. Grief does serve an important purpose, and grief never really goes away, but I see now that I don’t have to live fully immersed in it. Instead of drowning from its weight, I can place it gently into a special place in my heart, offer it my gratitude, and see how much more life has in store for me.

Instead of continuing to dangle precariously, I am choosing to use my inner strength and live to break free, or really rather to break open away from that strenuous and draining clutch on that branch to the freedom of letting go allowing the wind to gently blow me forward to blue skies and sunshine.

I now breath deep with an ever present smile knowing that my world is filled with the giving and receiving of love and constant beauty. I love that I have discovered my purpose along the way of holding your hand and supporting and guiding you along your way to also discover all the joy, love, and beauty that awaits you as you open your heart and eyes and arms to embrace it all. I am grateful to be on this journey with you.

Bring My Flowers Now

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I enjoyed watching the Grammy Awards last night, though the constant reminders of the death of Kobe Bryant and his daughter kept me thinking about his family. In that context, one song really affected me. Tanya Tucker sang “Bring My Flowers Now” for which she earned her first Grammy 47 years after her first Grammy nomination.  Not only that, but it took her 30 years to write the song.

I related to her lyrics as a read them.  The chorus is:

“Bring my flowers now, while I’m liven’ . . .

Don’t spend time, tears, or money on my old breathless body,

If your heart is in them flowers, bring ‘em on.”

This reminded me of my sweet Jacques who believed I should always have fresh flowers. When they were blooming in our garden, he’d cut them to bring inside. When they weren’t blooming at home, he would bring them from the grocery store, and always from the florist for special occasions. I never doubted his love. I didn’t need the flowers to know that, but I did love how he cared for me.

Love doesn’t have to be demonstrated with flowers. But a constant demonstration of love is a beautiful gift. My daughter always signs any messages with “I love you.” This is a special reminder. And there are so many other ways to demonstrate love.  My neighbor and good friend Dawn brings us servings of delicious food she makes.  Robin meditates with me daily and runs to the grocery store or pharmacy for me when I can’t go myself. Henry gives my son rides since he doesn’t drive, and he’s always available with his truck when we need to haul something big. Kind words from people I work with, and vegetables and fruits that my neighbors share are all signs of love.

I make a point to say what I need to say to those I love while I can. As Tanya says:

“The days are long, but the years are lightning

They’re bright and they will never strike again.

I wish I’d been a better friend, daughter . . . .”

I wonder what people are thinking today that they wish they had told Kobe while they could. An uncertainty we will always have is when it will be too late to express our love. Take this inspiration to express your love, to express your gratitude, and to love yourself. Don’t put it off. In the end, love is all that matters.

 

Listen to Tanya’s song here.

Wabi-Sabi and Grief

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Wabi-Sabi is the Japanese aesthetic of finding the beauty of imperfection.  Grief is like this. There is nothing perfect about grief. Grief goes all over the place with highs and lows and unexpected sharp turns and cliffs. Yet grief also has the beauty of precious memories, the coming together of family and friends, and the peace of relief when we catch our breath.

A roller-coaster is akin to the Wabi-Sabi of grief. While if you step back to look at a roller coaster, it may seem chaotic a messy. Creating a roller coaster actually takes years of thought and effort to design. Things like safety and thrills as well as what makes a new roller coaster bigger, better, and faster are all considered to create a carefully crafted, perfectly operating machine. And when the roller coaster ceases to function, a great deal of work is required to take it apart. The relationship you had with your loved one also took a long time to build and perfect, and it was likely filled with twists and turns and will take a long time and effort to shift when transition comes.

As your relationship grew with your loved one, your path was not always straight. Chances are it ranged from blue skies and butterflies, to passion and deep love, to occasional hick-ups bringing disagreements or resentment, but overall, it was pretty wonderful and definitely had thrills at times, just like that roller coaster.  The last time I was on a roller coaster, I experienced an overwhelming need to stand up right in the middle of the ride and just get off. This all could be included in the experience of grief. There are high and lows. Sometimes it goes so fast that you can’t catch your breath, while other times you can escape into the depths of meditation for a brief period of respite. And you always wish to somehow get off, to have the grief to not be happening or have it be over.

Looking at your grief from the perspective of Wabi-Sabi where you know that grief is not a straight line from point A to point B, will allow you to recognize that all of the experiences are part of a whole, big experience. Each part is a simple part, not the whole thing. If you collapse into tears, the tears will not flow forever. If your feel isolated, the aloneness won’t last forever. Look at each experience as just part of a some-what messy or imperfect Wabi-Sabi whole. Experience the sadness that you need to. Cry the tears that you need to. Spend time alone when you need to. And also remember the joys of the times you spent together. The smile of your loved one. The depths of your love. Eventually the high points and beauty of the experience will be much more and last longer than the low points. You have that to look forward to as you do the rest of your life. Instead of focusing on the negativity of this imperfect part of your life, focus on the beauty of the imperfection.

When I taught basket weaving, some students would come to learn how to make a perfect basket. But I taught my students how to allow the process of responding to the materials being used to allow the basket to become a unique, imperfect work of art. The picture I include here is an example of a basket I wove. Allow your grief to become that work of art that is perfect in its imperfection.

 

Reclaiming Your Joy After Loss