Some Ways to Help a Grieving Person...

PLEASE DON’T SAY….
~”It could have been worse.”
~”Your loved one is in a better place.”
~”You need to get your mind off of this.”
~”At least you are young enough to find someone else and get married again.”
~”You can still have more children.”
~”At least you still have other children.”~
”At least you got to have your children for ‘x’ number of years.”
~”At least you didn’t have the baby long enough to get attached.”
~”At least the baby died before birth so you didn’t get attached.”
~”Wow, looks like you are all better now.”
~”Now you have an angel watching over you.”
~”It’s probably for the best.”
~”There must have been something wrong.”
~”I know how you feel.”
~”Be grateful for the time you did have together.”
~”Be grateful that you still have other children.”
~”At least you got to be married (or fall in love or have a child), even if you lost them. Some people never get to be married (or fall in love or have a child) at all.

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THINGS YOU MIGHT SAY …
~”I’m sorry.”
~”What can I do to help?”
~”I’m here for you.”
~”I love you.”
~”I really care about you.”
~”I don’t know what to say, but I am sorry.”
~”I’m keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.”

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THINGS THAT MIGHT BE HELPFUL …
*Help field phone calls and greet visitors during the first days after the loss. Many people will call to verify the news or offer condolences. Others will want to know about any services that will be held. It’s very helpful if friends and family members help take care of the phone calls that need to be answered, and also the ones that need to be made (inviting friends and family members to the services).
*Make, or encourage others to make, meals for the bereaved and their family and guests. Snack foods are great donations, too. Breakfast rolls, casseroles, salads – foods that need little or no preparation or that can just be heated and served are wonderful help to the family.
*Extend words of sympathy. Saying, “I’m so sorry” or “You are in my thoughts and prayers” are just fine. It’s hard to know what to say, and just saying “I really don’t know what to say, but I am sorry for your loss” is just fine.
*There is no set time on grieving. The grief period varies with the individual and the situation. For parents who lose a child, grief may be more intense and extended. Telling the person they need to “get on with their life” or that they need to “get over it” or that it’s time to “move on” won’t help them heal any faster.
*Let the grieving person talk about his grief and loss, share his feelings, shed tears. Be patient with your friend or loved one – their moods may change back and forth from sadness to anger to numbness without much notice. Remember that their behaviors may also be variable or unusual while they are going through all the stages of grief.
*Listen without interrupting or changing the subject, without dispensing advice, and without trying to cheer them up.
*Visit frequently, gauging the length of your visits on how the grieving person is doing. Ask them if they need more space or if they need to have you around more frequently.
*Ask what you can do to help rather than inviting them to call you if they need anything. They may not know what they need or what they need to do first. Sometimes you can help them brainstorm or make lists of things that are needed or that need to be done. You can volunteer specifically for something they need help with. Can you help with some laundry? Dishes? Vacuuming? Watering the plants or feeding the pets?
*The death of a loved one causes an abrupt halt to every day living, and even things such as finances can be stressed. It may have been the member of the family who provided the main income source who has died. The person in grief may need to take time off from work without pay while in the acute stages of mourning. Extra company means extra food, heat, and other expenses during visitations following the death and funeral. Funerals and other types of services may or may not have been anticipated in most budgets and frequently are a huge burden on the remaining family members. You might encourage other family and friends to contribute to a fund to help the family out during this time.
*Give hugs or hold hands if acceptable, or just sit close by. Sometimes a person in grief may want to be physically close one minute and want to be separate and untouched the next. Be patient with her or him.
*Remember the special days in your friend or loved one’s days as these may be difficult for her to navigate. Dates such as birthdays, the anniversary of the death, special holidays may be times of renewed grief for her.
*Talk to your friend about their loss when they bring the subject up. Sometimes people will try to avoid the topic, but usually the grieving person feels more comfortable sharing with someone who does talk about their loss. In some cases, the grieving person might specifically ask that you don’t bring up the topic or mention it in certain situations where they are trying to keep emotions under control (a meeting, the work place, etc.).
*Encourage your friend or loved one to check in with their medical doctor. It’s a good time to get a check up – grief puts a great deal of stress and strain on the body and mind. You might suggest they ask their doctor for a referral to a grief support group.

Healing Times - Taking Care of You

~Sleep will sometimes be difficult, but try to remain on a fairly regular schedule as far as going to bed and rising. You may need to take some extra little rests through the days.
~Drink lots of water. Try to restrict your intake of caffeine.
~Get some daily exercise. Go for a walk around the block or through a park. Take a friend with you. Cry while you are walking if you need to. You are going to feel physically tired and depleted, but you need to get some daily exercise. Try to get even just 15 minutes of walking in a day for benefit.
~Be aware that certain calendar markers (monthly anniversary dates of the death, a birthday – yours or your loved one, holidays … can trigger intense sorrow and grief. Plan ahead to do something on those days or to be with somebody.
~Talk about your loved one and your relationship – with friends, support groups online or local groups or journal online in a blog or write in a notebook. It’s important to get your feelings out. Friends, family, and co-workers may tire of the subject - that’s why grief support groups, people who understand the need to keep talking about our departed ones, are so wonderful. Try to always include a positive point in your conversations or writing: something positive about the relationship you had, a good memory of a time together.
~Distractions are good, too. Plan a short trip away to visit friends or relatives.
~Concentration can suffer during grief, as can organization. Keep a notebook handy to make lists of things you need (grocery, household items), things you need to do (pay bills, take pet to vet), things you want to do as time and energy and desire allow (scrapbook, thank you cards, paint a room), and resources you might want to explore later (a support group you’ve heard mentioned, a book you might want to locate and read, a new class you might want to take).
~Start some new traditions – perhaps you can plan these with your family and friends – during holidays or on other special days. You could, perhaps, participate in a fundraising marathon every year in memory of your loved one, or donate to a special cause. Maybe you might want to consider serving meals to the hungry and homeless during the holidays. You could have a special holiday memorial wreath to honor your loved one in addition to your regular holiday traditions.
~Be careful driving. Plan driving during daylight hours after you are most rested. Drive short trips only or plan for more frequent rest stops on route.
~Be careful with candles. Because our concentration and coordination isn’t the best, especially during the early stages of grief, candles can be left burning unsafely when we go to bed or take naps or leave the house. One of my doctors suggested not even using candles for the first six months or putting someone else in charge of extinguishing them.
~Limit your exposure to news reports on the radio, television and newspaper about tragic events.

Please See Me Through My Tears

by Kelly Osmont

You asked, "How am I doing?"
As I told you, tears came to my eyes... and you looked away and quickly began to talk again. All the attention you had given me drained away.

"How am I doing?"...
I do better when people listen, though I may shed a tear or two. This pain is indescribable. If you've never known it you cannot fully understand. Yet I need you. When you look away, When I'm ignored, I am again alone with it.

Your attention means more than you can ever know. Really, tears are not a bad sign, you know! They're nature's way of helping me to heal...They relieve some of the stress of sadness.

I know you fear that asking how I'm doing brings me sadness ...but you're wrong. The memory of my loved one's death will always be with me, Only a thought away. My tears make my pain more visible to you, but you did not give me the pain...it was already there.

When I cry, could it be that you feel helpless, not knowing what to do? You are not helpless, And you don't need to do a thing but be there. When I feel your permissionto allow my tears to flow, you've helped me. You need not speak. Your silence as I cry is all I need. Be patient...do not fear.

Listening with your heart to"how I am doing" relieves the pain, for when the tears can freely come and go, I feel lighter. Talking to you releases what I've been wanting to say aloud, clearing space for a touch of joy in my life. I'll cry for a minute or two... and then I'll wipe my eyes, and sometimes you'll even find I'm laughing later.

When I hold back the tears, my throat grows tight, my chest aches, my stomach knots... because I'm trying to protect you from my tears. Then we both hurt...me, because my pain is held inside, a shield against our closeness...and you, because suddenly we're distant. So please, take my handand see me through my tears... then we can be close again.

Cloud Bursts....

I was being driven home the other day so a friend could borrow my car and take it to the repair shop near his home for a little exhaust problem. In the passenger seat, I was able to observe the stretches of a promising beautiful blue sky and the fluffy clouds. I usually am looking at traffic lights and bumpers.

Little puffs of light fluffy clouds danced about here and there, forming those mystical shapes that make you think about laying back on a blanket and just cloud watching. They seem like happy things, those little clouds,slowly meandering across the sky, stretching, rearranging, bumping in to other little clouds.

And then we got closer to my town, and I noticed some bigger heavier clouds hanging lower in the sky. Not too many of them, but they were obviously thicker and darker and lower. Rimmed with whisps of white, their centers and bottoms became progressively grayer and had the appearance of boiling rolls- a churning look to them. Nothing happy about these clouds. They sure stood in contrast to their happier playmates in the sky.

That is me, I thought. I used to be a happy cloud, dancing about, married,children, a wonderful job that I looked forward to working every single day - we would play in the park, or take an impromptu camping trip, or hike around the block looking for leaves and blossoms to press, or search the beach for pretty agates and shells. I would decorate the house for the seasons and the holidays and celebrate all those silly days, too, likeMother Goose Day and National Chocolate Day and we loved April Fool's Day. Some things were planned, but most things were done on the whim.

Now I am a dark rain cloud, gathering tears inside me . progressively feeling heavier and thicker and darker - the tears gathering inside me while I continue to talk to clients, enter orders, check drawings, chat with installers, sit in meetings, drive home, shop, load the dishwasher, record some receipts, feed the animals and get ready for bed.

My chest feels like one of those rain clouds. My marriage has failed, my children have grown,and I've lost my first-born son. My grandchildren live far-away. Even my hopes of a happy future with a wonderful man were dashed to pieces when he unexpectedly died, too. I lost my preschool business and have had to return to the outside business world. My life is totally changed from what it was, what I wanted it to be, what I enjoyed, what I loved so much.

As the days go by, I tend to get more introverted and quiet. I am less tolerant with myself or others. My dismal state casts a shadow around me, blocking others from seeing and enjoying my once more sunny self. It tends to go in cycles now. It will quietly build up and then I will become so full of grief that I must find release. I need my time for allowing the rain to fall. I need a good cry. I will find myself "drizzling" if I don't provide the opportunity to let it all out. "My eyes are just leaking," I'll explain to co-workers and family when I seem to get teary-eyed without any particular prompting.

My friend observed my quieter-than-normal state and asked, "What's wrong,Sandi? Whatcha thinking? Share your thoughts."

I replied, "You know if clouds don't empty out when they get heavy and dark like that, they could end up being storm clouds, full of thunder and electricity and rage and unpredictability. Let's not stop at the store, just take me directly home and drop me off. I think it's time for another cloudburst."

With child-loss grief, sadness continues to accumulate inside us, even when we begin to resume our daily tasks and our interactions with others. Remember to allow yourselves time and find a place where you can release the tears and sadness as often as you feel the need.

Love and hugs,Sandi

Endless Highway

I'm not quite sure how I've made it this far
It seems like I've been in a fast moving car
It's a one-way crowded highway
and there's no turning around
Just pit stops on the shoulder for sorrows and grief,
for nourishment, fuel, and a few stops for relief
Then back into the car and back on the road
Bumper to bumper, driving on, forward, endlessly
I use to see people on the side of the road, standing there
The tears streaming, their heads bowed in prayer
I'd wondered what they were doing, why they'd stopped
But I didn't ask too many questions,
I'd just remember their faces and the feeling of fear
That they may have just lost something sacred and dear
Then I had to pull over a few times on my own
God, it's hard to pull over...
Sometimes you get to gage it a little and pull off carefully
Othertimes it's just like a front tire is blown
And you are just jerked off the road
But it's even harder to get back in the car and drive
And leave my loved ones behind
And the farther I keep driving, the more the space grows ...
between me and them ....
And there's no turning back
No turning around
No starting over
No U-turns
I can object to the rules of this road,
It often feels like nobody's listening or nobody cares
But I know really that it's just because
that's the way this road was laid out
And no one can change it...
It's difficult to see any landmarks of hope ahead
When your vision is blurred with tears...
And I keep denting fenders because
I'm not watching where I'm driving
I'm busy looking in my rearview mirror

I Feel That No One Cares

A list member writes:
I hope to share my story here. I see many others have shared their stories. I feel that many of my family and friends have deserted me. It's hard to believe there is anyone who cares.

Grief alone is so much for our hearts and mind and body to handle. Complicated grief, that is, when there is more than one loss to deal with or issues that must also be dealt with simultaneously (like anger, unresolved fights, anxiety, health or financial issues, depression, etc) can make the grief even that much harder to carry by ourselves.

It does help to tell your story over and over again. It helps with the processing of the grief. It helps us understand our grief. It also helps us know that we are not alone.

Grief and sorrow and depression are not a natural state for humans. They want to laugh and play and relax and enjoy. They want to smile and have hope and hear encouraging things. Most people would prefer color to a black and gray world. Most people would prefer some sunshine to endless cloudy rainy days.

The worst grief there is, is the grief that WE are experiencing. No one else will feel and experience OUR loss the same way we do. Our worlds become black and gray and cloudy and rainy. Our worlds become talk of the events of our loss, the days before, memories of our loved ones, the guilt we are experiencing, the things we are going to miss, the sadness in our hearts. Our stories are not something any human being, unless also experiencing loss and grief or being paid to counsel those in mourning, are going to naturally be attracted to. A few close friends and family members will do their best to listen and console us at first, but their tolerance level of the grief is limited to their involvement with the loss itself or their relationship with us. They will recover more quickly and return to the colorful, more joyful, sunny world of normal living.

Yes, it feels like we are deserted by many of our family and friends. In truth, we also desert many of them during this time by isolating ourselves and "bridging off" from them. We don't go places with them. We don't ask about their recent promotion or congratulate them on the discovery of their pregnancy. We don't really hear them pour out their feelings about their difficulties with their families, their marriages, or their jobs. We don't really hear them express their worries and concerns. Frequently as not, we don't make phone calls to them or answer their calls.

Also, grief changes our "being" - it changes our outlook on life (good or bad), our energy level, our interests (at least for a while). We may also find, as time goes by, that we may not have as much in common with old friends and family members as we did before.

When I was married, a large percent of the population of my "friends" were married couples with families. A great deal of the activities I was involved with and enjoyed were centered around things married people with families would do. Now it is really different to get together with married women friends and chat about planning anniversary surprises or second honeymoons.Even chit chat about family meal planning is rather irrelevant to me. I work very long hours so have little time for cooking right now and only cook for one - me. The activities we enjoyed together were often planned around twosomes (card games for instance). I've also feel that some couples felt extremely disloyal to either me or my ex-spouse by continuing on with either of us. And then there is the two other underlying problems with being suddenly single - I am a possible threat to the couple's stability (I am a single woman, lonely, and possibly "on the prowl") and also a general threat of divorce (if it can happen to their marriage, it could happen to ours .). I don't think they consciously think those things; I am aware those fears exist in people. If it's in their face, they see it and may have to realize it is a possibility. They are reminded that NO marriage is forever - it will END in divorce or death. No one likes to think of that.

Much the same, but even stronger, is the instinct to avoid thinking on possible losses. Before we lost someone, we might hear of a loss and grieve a bit for that person and/or feel sorry for the survivors. But we would immerse ourselves in our regular daily living; we would not dwell on it. We might read an article in the paper and think, what a tragedy, but we could put that paper down and get busy with something else.

Grief and sorrow are not natural choices of daily living.When people are confronted by those in grief, mortality issues are "put in their faces". IF it could happen to her or him, perhaps it could happen to me. When they hear someone has lost a parent, they realize the age of their own parents and are suddenly presented with thoughts about losing their own parents. People have to think about their own mortality and that is very traumatic for many people. If they hear about a child-loss, it is extremely frightening to them. I remember watching The Titanic when it came out and coming to the scene just after the ship had gone down and all of the bodies were floating about- old men, young men, old women, young women, children, and infants. The scene cast an extremely terrifying emotional response in me that lasted for days. We had even briefly "met" some of those characters in the movie and now they were gone. No one saved them. And the movie was based on a true story. I knew I would never watch The Titanic again. It was too much for me emotionally. (Of course, now, in my current state I certainly won't watch any movies of that emotional content!)

I think we are avoided, to some degree, because our emotional despair is not a state that people can naturally exist in. We avoid burns and car accidents and knife cuts and falls as best we can. We also avoid grief. We may find, as time goes by, because of our new insights and new interests, that we have the need to develop new friends who share some of those insights and interests.

When I was a stay-at-home mother with small children, I was attracted to and attractive to the friendships of other young stay-at-home moms with small children. That changed over the years. Of course, a few friendships have evolved with me and survived all the changes in me. This latest challenge, that of dealing with intense grief, has certainly challenged even those friendships - it's something they cannot understand because they haven't experienced it.

I am most sorry for your loss and pain.I hope you will find this a good place to tell your story, even over and over again from different angles, when you feel ready to share. Don't try telling the whole story all at once if that is too uncomfortable. We'll still be here when you are ready to share more. Don't ever feel you need to share things that you don't want to share! Please feel free to share anything YOU want to.

Offering you a new friendship on your journey,
With love and hugs and prayers,
Sandi

Searching for Comfort and Cures ...

A list member writes:
I rarely post but do read. I am trying to find something - maybe comfort in someone else's messages. But I do not find it. Instead I find many others just like me. I do not understand how time keeps passing. I am afraid I might forget my loved one's face or other details. I sleep too much - it is my only escape, but then I have awful dreams.

Your post came in on my birthday so I did not have the chance to read it – I was avoiding the computer and family and friends by working extremely long hours at work that day (14 hours), then coming home and doing some chores,until I fell, exhausted in to bed. I can sleep for 5-6 hours at the best,any other time I spend in bed would be just laying there with my eyes open or closed … and that’s something I can’t handle. Too much time to dwell on things and become too grief-stricken. Even with medication for my depression, it is a difficult fight. I’ve found that spending too much time in bed makes me more vulnerable.

I remember when my father died and I signed up for a grief group at ahospital. Certainly with as many people who die and all of the loved ones who are left to survive in this world with hearts so shattered, and all the medical knowledge that has developed over the years…certainly, I felt, there would be some answers or direction at such a group. Someone must be able to help me “fix” the situation – bring my father back, turn back time and find a cure, or help me stop hurting so badly. It was a journey, this death and grief and loss stuff, that I did not choose to take and did not want to take. Certainly someone must have developed an alternative for people like me!

I don’t think I consciously thought all of this at the time, but as I signed up for the class, I think I truly was hoping for a lot more than I got. What I found was six other people in the midst of their grief, too, all NOT wanting to be there, but desperately needing to be there, just like me. And two counselors, minus any magic wands for curing anyone, who kindly were available to listen and to explain some of the generalities of the grief cycle and some of the more common affects of grief. It was held in a room decorated simply and beautifully for people in grief – there were no optional doors to go into rooms for those of us who didn’t WANT to be in grief.

I did find comfort in knowing I was not alone and not going crazy. I did find some understanding of the grief cycle which helped me understand a little more about what I was feeling when my feelings were rocking back and forth and indescribable. And I made a couple of new, temporary friends with whom I could relate.

My father was still dead. And I still missed him.

I also found myself joining some divorce support groups when shortly thereafter my 20 year marriage went belly up and my husband left with another woman to start a new life without me. I think I was still hoping for someone to take over the steering wheel of my life and help me do the right things, say the right things, to bring my husband back, put our family back together, and take away the loss, the anger, the worry and anxiety, the huge sadness that had clouded over and enveloped my life so suddenly.

Instead, again, I found many, many others like myself, trying to make sense of something that wasn’t really sensible; trying to find a cure for a pain for which their wasn’t any medication or magic words to heal. But I did find people with whom I could relate. And again, I found friends who understood me and whom I could understand.

Again, when I lost my beloved son last January and my boyfriend eight months later, I sought a magic cure. Perhaps with all the people going through this grief thing, someone knows something – maybe some secret path you can travel or religion you should practice or book you can read or something you can order where things will be better again – where I can have my loved ones back or find some special relief from all this pain.

There are no magic words or special remedies.

We are dropped, often without warning into a deep, dark pit called Grief. It is confusing and dark and cold and scary. The only way out of the pit is to travel a journey. First we have to find the door in the dark. We find there are others in the pit, as scared and confused as we are. But we also hear whispers of the door that leads out and onto the path. As one person finds the door, he or she whispers back and says, This way. One by one, we all stumble around, following the whispers to the door, remembering to whisper to those behind us, too, so they can find their way.

Outside the door, we discover there are many paths actually for us to chose from. None lead backward to the life we have known. All lead forward into the unknown. Each path has its own branches, detours, hills and valleys to navigate. We hear the whispers of others ahead. Some have chosen a quieter,slow path. Some have chosen a winding path. Some a path that requires climbing hills right from the start and others chose a path that begins with a downwards slope. We have to chose our own, but we do find some comfort, as human beings, knowing that there are others on the same journey as us, and someeeven following the same paths as us, if even for a while.

We reach out and accept the hands of strangers who are ahead of us and let them help us up a rocky incline. We reach back and offer our hand to those behind us.

I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved. I just want you to know I am on this journey with you and it appears we both started about the same timein our lives.

Here is my hand.

Love and hugs,
Sandi

Child Loss - A Different Dimension of Grief

“I’m trying to deal with multiple losses. Actually my child died many years ago, but every time I lose someone else, it seems like I’ve lost her all over again. I have many good days now, but have never gotten over her death. I am not the same person I used to be – maybe people think I am, but I’m not inside. Sometimes my heart will start aching for her and I can’t even figure out what triggered it. The grief still comes and goes. Not to discredit the grief I’ve experienced with other people I’ve loved and lost, but I haven’t recovered the same way from losing my daughter. It seems it is always with me.”


CHILD LOSS BRINGS A GRIEF OF A DIFFERENT DIMENSION
My sympathy is with you for your losses. I’ve also lost many relatives and friends since 1999, as well as had a streak of rather bad luck or whatever you want to call it (car accident, motorcycle accident, divorce, shingles, fall down two flights of stairs & dislocated shoulder, surgeries, loss of my business….).

Multiple losses, changes in our lives, our previous life experiences, the type of support we have available, and our level of determination to fight to get back “into the stream” of life all have an affect on our grief and our ability to cope with it. It can be complicated by our health, anxiety and depression, finances, guilt, fear, and unresolved relationships. I had never experienced child loss before, so I am only learning as I go, but I agree pretty much with every mother and father who has lost a child, it is a grief of a different dimension than other griefs.

EVERY LOSS, OR CHANGE, BRINGS GRIEF THAT TUGS ON PREVIOUS WOUNDS

Every time we lose something or something changes, there is a loss. I think of little losses as pin prinks to our hearts – sometimes they are so quick, we hardly notice them and we recover from them with little or no scarring at all. Sometimes larger or more meaningful losses occur and bigger holes are made – sometimes they take a little longer to heal and there may be some scarring, but generally the scarring will fade away.When it comes to people and pets, the gashes in our hearts are much bigger and more ragged edged. The closer the person was to us, the more meaningful the pet was to us, the deeper the gash. Because it’s not a quick prick or a clean cut, damage is done to the area around it as well. It is much more painful and the pain is much stronger and longer lasting. The more complicated the grief (multiple griefs, anger, unresolved problems, guilt, etc), the harder it is for the area to scab over and the scar tissue to begin growing.

Because there are so many “touchpoints” (reminders in our daily lives and thoughts) about our loved ones, we often break open the scabs repetitively. Thicker, less flexible, scar tissue begins to formeventually – but the area is always tender. Each time we get another wound, it pulls and tugs on the previous scar tissue, causing it to become inflamed and painful again.

THE WOUND FROM CHILD LOSS IS PERMANENTLY SENSITIVE

With a child loss, I envision the grief as a huge gaping hole right through the heart – because it is so huge and so much tissue is lost, the scabs must cover so much area inside the tunnel as well as the outside – there is so much more area that is susceptible to breaking open again. It takes much, much longer for the scar tissue to form. The damage around the hole is moresignificant and wide spread. It pulls and tugs on every single big or little scar we’ve already incurred in life. The gape never completely fills in. The nerves around the wound are permanently disturbed and reactive. Memories, stress, tiredness, changes in our lives, and future wounds, big or small losses, will undoubtedly trigger a child-loss wound to painfully ache and throb again as they either pull on the unmovable, unflexible scars of the wound itself, redamage the affected area, or stimulate the pain nerves surrounding the wound. In other words, as I see it, a child-loss wound never completely heals.

WE MAY FIND WE ARE PERMANENTLY CHANGED

We learn to live with the wound. We learn to take hikes again in our lives, but we stop and rest more frequently. We don’t run quite as fast. Perhaps we might still climb some steep hills, maybe even some mountains, but we are most observant about our footholds and we tend to try to find secure things to hold on to. We are a little more quiet. We are much more observant. Other people seem to zoom on past up, and we feel we are in slow motion most of the time. Like arthritis can bother some people daily and others seasonally, sometimes after a strenuous or stressful day, other times when the weather is cold or they are feeling ill or fatigued, our wounds tend to ache and throb without rhythm or schedule or reason sometimes.

CARE OF SELF IS MANDATORY – MENTAL AND PHYSICAL GRIEF THERAPY

Basics like eating healthily, trying to get into a good routine of sleeping/waking hours, and getting daily fresh air and exercise are vital for managing our pain. Sometimes medication might be needed (antidepressants, anti-anxiety medications, sleeping aids – see a doctor for assistance in determining what might help you).

Mental therapy (counseling, support groups, journaling our thoughts, expressing our grief, etc) is usually needed.

Physical therapy is also a good idea – doing something about your depression and grief. For me, physical therapy for grief includes listing the things I need to get done as far as errands, chores, employment responsibilities, family interaction and working on them each day, a little more each day. It also involves listing the things I want to do (getting active again socially, entertaining, going out, crafting, improving my home and atmosphere, getting back into better physical condition) and working on those things a little every day or every other day, a little more each day.

GRIEF WORK HELPS BRING SOME FOCUS AND PURPOSE TO OUR LIVES

It also means, for me, finding my grief work or different types of grief work that I can do (one time projects or ongoing ones). For me, grief work is working on scrapbooks for my son’s two daughters, working on his memorial site and that of my boyfriend’s, writing stories of my son’s life as they come to mind to share with his children, donating to the diabetesassociation and, eventually, helping to fund raise to find new treatments or cures. It has also now grown to include to trying to be a support to others who are grieving. For others it might be pledging to do a good dead in the name of their loved one every day or once a week, or helping to raise funds and/or build a new playground for children. Perhaps doing a walkathon or race for pledges to a specific cause in memory of their loved one. It could be planting wild flower seeds wherever you go or planting a little garden in an area of your yard in tribute. Maybe putting a bench someplace in your yard for reflective moments. It could be building ramps for the handicapped or helping to build homes for the homeless. It could be knitting prayer shawls for others in grief or baby blankets for preemies or to give to unwed mothers. It could be helping with a food drive for the hungry.

I seriously think that finding one’s “grief work”, whether it is a one-time effort or a short term project , an annual event, or an ongoing work, or a variety of tasks and projects, is very important to our souls. It helps me to keep focused and it is helping me, slowly but surely, helping me rejoin the human race as a participant rather than someone just watching from the sidelines. I have not plunged back in … I am taking small, considered steps forward. There are days that I relapse and feel physically and mentally tired (and this is something that happens more frequently now since loss than before even when I overworked myself) that I just can’t get anything done.

YOU GOTTA KEEP TRYING, EVERY DAY, ONE STEP AT A TIME

I definitely have to fight depression. It definitely does nothing to bring my son or other loved ones back. But it isn’t something I can just dismiss –it seems to be entwined in me and hampers my efforts to move forward. But I keep on trying. A little more each day. One step at a time.

The Elusive Good Night's Sleep ...

We need a basic amount of sleep each night to function at our best physically and emotionally during the day. Grief robs us of emotional and physical energy and disrupts our sleep. Lack of sleep compounds grief and sabotages our abilities to function at all. It can become a vicious cycle.

If sleep is evasive, however, we have four choices: 1. natural sleep remedies, 2) changes to your diet, environment and habits, 3) prescription sleeping medications, or 4) combinations of the other three choices.

Some people worry prescription sleeping medications can be addictive and that they will be just trading one situation (little or no sleep) for another (addiction). There are sleeping medications which can be addictive and others that are not. Even the ones with potential to become addictive (that is, you would have trouble sleeping without taking them after a prolonged period of use), can be used under a doctor’s supervision to break a cycle of disrupted sleep and get you back on track. Talk to your medical doctor about what might be best for your situation.

In my case, I had a painful shoulder injury that was already causing sleep difficulties for me. When I was plunged into grief, I could not sleep at all. I became extremely anxious over the sleep issue. The anxiety caused even further sleep complications, as did becoming too tired to get a restorative night’s rest. The answer for me was a short-term prescription medication (less than a week) to break the cycle, allowing me to get several nights of good sleep. After that, I was able to implement some natural sleep remedies and changes to my environment, diet and habits.

The main problem with prescription medications, I think, is that they don’t “cure” the sleep problem. They just treat the symptoms. They can be extremely helpful, or at least they were for me and others I’ve known, in disrupting the cycle I was in, that of little or no sleep, allowing me to get some much needed rest, and allowing me some time to implement some other remedies and changes.

Here are some things you can try. Hopefully, you’ll find something that will help you get your needed rest.

NATURAL REMEDIES

Check with your doctor or nutritionist to find out what amounts you should take. Be sure to mention any natural remedies and supplements to your doctor, especially if you are already being treated for another condition or taking other medications.

1. Valerian - An old herbal sleep remedy, actually subjected to trials that have shown it does help people get a better night’s sleep. Pills, liquid, tea form.
2. Chamomile - A good standby tea for calming down when stressed or over-fatigued.
3. Melatonin
4. Catnip - Contains chemicals similar to those in valerian root and can be brewed as a tea or is available as a liquid extract. Calms you down, but this herb causes cats to become very active. Seems strange to me, but they say it works.
5. Lavender - Lavender can help reduce and even reverse the effects of caffeine in some people. It comes in tea form. It also comes as an essential oil that you can use in your bath, in potpourri or as a massage oil. Some people put drops of it on their pillows.
6. Lemon balm - A wonderful lemon scent and is effective at calming the nerves. Tea, capsules, or liquid extract.
7. Ignatia - For insomnia caused by emotional upset

CHANGES IN YOUR DIET, ENVIRONMENT AND HABITS

Physical Activity
a. Be sure to get exercise even during your grief – especially during your grief! As little as a 15-20 minute brisk walk outdoors can help counteract stress and anxiety levels, your energy levels and help promote a better night’s sleep. Some sources suggest that your vigorous exercise be completed at least three hours prior to your bedtime – exercise can get your blood flowing and your brain operating during the day, promoting deeper, more beneficial sleep at night. If you don’t get enough physical activity during the day, your body will respond with a lower sleep requirement. You will have trouble falling and staying asleep.
b. Get outside in natural light. Melatonin is the main hormone that controls our sleep/awake cycle. When the body produces melatonin (more when there is no light entering the eye), it results in feelings of sleepiness. The control system works on the different amounts of melatonin the body is receiving during the awake state and the sleeping state. It’s production is reduced when sunlight enters the eyes (blue light). If you are not getting enough exposure to sunlight or wearing blue light blocking sunglasses, the body will continue to produce higher levels of melatonin during the day. This will reduce the difference in the day and night levels and will make it harder to fall asleep.

Diet
a. Limit food and drinks that contain alcohol or caffeine and stop consuming them well before bedtime. Caffeine and alcohol will disturb sleep. Most people will find they need to stop caffeine consumption by around noon or 1pm.
b. Do not consume large, heavy meals before bedtime. Although after eating we often feel drowsy, our digestive systems have to work harder at night and can sabotage a good night’s sleep. Consider eating your last meal at least three hours before bedtime and making it a lighter meal.
c. Have a small healthy, high-carbohyrate snack before bedtime so you are not too full or too hungry.
d. Sip a mug of hot steamed or a milk or glass of cold milk before bed. The amino acid L-tryptophan found in milk can help you sleep without side effects.
e. Avoid food and drinks high in sugar before bedtime. Sugar can give you a boost in physical and mental alertness that you just don’t need in the middle of the night.
f. Nicotine may make it difficult to fall asleep and lead to fragmented sleep. If you smoke, consider eliminating those cigarettes during the last part of the evening.
g. Be sure to drink PLENTY of water during the day but stop drinking…
h. Drink some hot, soothing tea (non-caffeine) before bed.

Environment
a. Try playing some soothing background music. I have three “bedtime” CD’s that I use for this, rotating them every now and then. I put them on as I am making final preparations for getting into bed. There are also some “white noise” and “natural sounds” (ocean waves, trickling creeks, rain) to cover up other noises in your house or neighborhood and to help your brain wave patterns slow down.
b. Keep your room dark.
c. If you have to get up in the middle of the night, be sure to keep lights dim. Bright lights can send a signal to the eye that instructs the rest of the body that day has begun and it is time to start waking.
d. Make sure your bed clothes, bed coverings, sheets, and pillows are all comfortable.
e. Make sure the temperature in your bedroom is comfortable – not too hot, not too cold.
f. Make your room a sleeping sanctuary, not a work or entertainment center. Remove televisions, upbeat music, bright lights, computers and laptops.
g. Consider using relaxing scents or aromatherapy oils in the bedroom.

Bedtime Routines
a. Establish a regular retiring and rising time. Go to bed and get up at the same time every night and every day throughout the week, not just week days. Staying up late on the weekends and sleeping in just resets your internal clock making it more difficult to fall asleep and sleep soundly.
b. Don’t nap during the day. This also resets your internal sleep clock.
c. Before getting into bed, empty your head. Get the items you need to do and things you want to remember out of your brain and onto paper. Put a notepad and pen beside your bed. Just before turning out the light, write down everything you’re worried about, and those things we want to remember that seem to pop into our heads just as we are retiring for the day.
d. Take a warm, relaxing shower or bath before bed. Our bodies tend to also regulate by temperature. At the end of a warm day, the temperature around us and in our bodies drops, causing the body to slow down and get sleepy. Taking a warm bath heightens the temperature temporarily but tends to cause a quicker drop once we are out of the tub/shower bringing on quicker sleepy feelings.
e. Run your bath, turn out the lights, and light a candle or two – maybe add some relaxing background music while you enjoy your relaxing bath.
f. After you’ve run your bath, consider adding 4 to 5 drops of one of the following essential oils to the water: chamomile, hops, lavender, neroli, rose, vetiver, and ylang-ylang.
g. Use a handful of one or two of the following herbs, wrapped in netting, in your bathtub (while running your hot water into the tub): chamomile, lavender, lime flower, mint, or passion flower.
h. Read in bed for 15-20 minutes – something meditative (religious readings, poetry). Reading can be distracting. Religious readings can be comforting, especially if familiar. Poetry can help relax us with its gentle rhythm.
i. Snuggle up with a comfort object (i.e., a shirt or teddy bear that belonged to your loved one). Hug it and let the tears flow if you feel like crying. Letting out some of our grief with tears helps lessen the physical tightness of holding so much of it inside all day long.
j. A breathing meditation that calms and works, shared by a wonderful online support facilitator: Close one nostril with two fingers while exhaling deeply through the open nostril. Now use two fingers to cover the opposite nostril and inhale deeply. One nostril is always closed and the other is open. Do not breath through your mouth. Keep repeating saying to yourself exhale, inhale, while you are doing the exhaling and inhaling. Saying the words to yourself does not allow you to think about anything else. Try to do this for at least 20 minutes beforebedtime. And do it as often as possible during the day.Practice other relaxation exercises, meditation, deep breathing and/or gentle stretching (not vigorous exercise) before bed.

Ideas submitted by others:
1. Tylenol PM
2. Xanax
3. Simply Sleep, also by Tylenol
4. Repetitive hair brushing (even more affective, I think, when someone else is doing the brushing)
5. Rocking in a rocking chair
6. What sometimes works for me is to lay on my back, close my eyes, and (wow this sounds weird) picture my toes. Then I picture them melting into the bed (see, half the reason I can't sleep is my imagination runs wild all night long, so this is easy for me), then move on up my body, one by one picturing parts of me melting into my bed (sometimes I imagine them turning to sand) usually by the time I hit my torso I'm out..... It's kind of a relaxation technique, and since I have to use my mind, It kind of helps shut my brain off regarding everything else.
7. lay with your eyes closed on your back. starting at your toes, tell yourself to relax them. when they are completely relaxed move on to your calf muscles. keep moving on until every muscle in your body is completely relaxed.
8. Epson salts with lavender or chamomile
9. When I can't sleep I pray and recite scriptures that I have memorized it works everytime!!
10. sleep i do not recommend this for everyone but benadryl will help 25mg will usually do it used to be used for a sleep aid but again i do not recommend for everyone depending on medical history ect. but most people that have taken cold meds have taken a antihistamine

Things that can sabotage your sleep:
1. Alertness medications
2. Pain relievers
3. Antidepressants
4. Arthritis medications
5. Asthma medications
6. Blood pressure medications
7. Cold and allergy medications
8. Diet pills

Check with your doctor and/or pharmacist to see if any of the medications you are taking could be causing or accenting problems with your sleep. Ask if taking these medications at a different time of the day or night would help, if the prescriptive dosage might need to be changed, or if there are possible alternatives that might work for you and not affect your sleep.

Thanks to the members of the following for submitting their suggestions: TheBereavementJourney.com; CafeMom Newcomers Club; CafeMom Grief & Loss Group; CafeMom Grieving: Surviving The Loss of A Child Group; co-workers, friends, and family.

Our grief becomes part of who we are ...

In response to a fellow grief traveler who is worried that she is becoming a mean and angry person:

We don't return to the past, to our old selves, after we pass through the acute stages of grief.

Every day, with or without grief, we are evolving, learning, changing ... usually in ways so slight we don't notice their assimulation.

You are not the same person you were when you were five, or six, or fifteen or twenty. To those who are parents now, you know you are not the same as before you were parents. And to all of us who have lost someone, we will not be quite the same even after the grief passes.

We have new knowledge and new experience ... and it is becoming part of who we are. We are full of a whole realm of emotions that are part of the grief process, but they are our feelings, not WHO we are.

It will be up to us to shape and mold it a bit here and there, trim off the anger by letting it out in some way, walk off the depression, fill in those moments of sadness with good memories and positive actions of remembrance, and to move forward. Anger is part of grief, just as is the sadness. We often don't want to be angry at the person who left us (but deep inside we sometimes are, just at the fact they left us), and there are plenty of people who could have done things differently, responded differently, done more, or who just didn't do it OUR way that we often turn our anger towards. Very frequently we turn our anger inwards at ourselves (depression is usually anger turned inwards).

But there will be anger. And if you work through it - talk to people about it, write it out in a journal, take a fast paced walk and stomp it out - then eventually you'll find yourselves feeling less angry, or not angry every day, and you'll find there are more days in between the days you are feeling angry and spiteful ... just like the days of shock ... and the ones of sadness ... You'll also find something in the future that will bring on angry feelings, seemingly out of no where, just like the sadness part of grief. You might see someone acting like someone who made you made in the past, or you'll hear words that stir up the anger. Or you'll even just see a color or smell something, and you might not even notice that you have, and all of a sudden you'll have a day of rage.

Please know you are not turning into a "forever angry, mean, spiteful" person ... this, too, will pass ... of course, it takes time and work. Be patient with yourself.

They Are Worthy Of Our Grief ...

How people cope with grief, that is how they process through the initialacute grief stages and how they continue on the rest of their lives with thegrief that always remains, is so varied.

It depends so much on our past histories and previous griefs we may havealready endured, what our relationship was with the person we lost, if there were any complications in that relationship that we are left to deal with(for instance, an unresolved fight), what unfinished business we had withthem that we must take care of ourselves now, what kind of support system we have around us, what our religious or spiritual beliefs are and how strongthey are, and the state of our own mental and physical health.

The first thing is to be able to find time and space to actually grieve.This may mean yell, cry, scream, sit and ponder, question. Sometimes it'shard to find this time and space because we have to go back to work so quickly, we have others to care for, and we have people who want us to"hurry up and getting over this."

Then, I think, and I think a lot of people here will agree, that the telling of our story, of our relationship with our lost one, of their life and theirpassing, and of our feelings about this person and this loss, is almostmandatory. It can be told to family, friends, and co-workers, but eventuallya majority of them will become tired of hearing the same story told, even ifit is told in a variety of ways. You can tell it to strangers (I think most of us have done this). You can write about it in a private journal. You can talk to your doctor, your dentist, your barber. You can talk to a counselor about it. You can usually find some sort of grief support group in or nearyour community. You can put together a scrapbook of photos and memories. You can make an online memorial or a little memorial in your own home or garden.You can join support groups like this (where, because we understand the need, we won't get tired of hearing your story over and over again). These are all ways to tell your story. You may want to try all of them. You may want to try some of them now and some of them later.

If there were complications or too much unfinished business in your relationship with your loved one, then those feelings need to be discoveredand dealt with. Sometimes just in telling our stories and gettingconfirmation from others that we are not guilty, or that we did the best we could under the conditions we had to deal with, will help with this. Othertimes, it might be wise to consult with a professional.

The next thing on the list is taking care of yourself. Grief attacks all our nerves and feelings, our energy, our appetites, our sleeping habits. We needto drink extra water and less caffeine during this time. We need to get at least 15 minutes of exercise (it can be simple walking outside in the fresh air). We need to go to bed and rise at regular times, even when we cannot sleep. We need a check up at our doctor and we need to ask for help in anyof the areas of physical or mental problems we may be experiencing.Sometimes an anti-depressant might be prescribed; sometimes a sleeping aid for a short time to help you get back on track or get some much needed sleep. We need to stay away from junk foods and eat healthier foods right now - even if they are in smaller portions.

Then we need to find our own "grief work". Again, this is very personal,very individual. It can be a short term, one time thing or an ongoing thing.We need to find something in our life to DO in tribute to our loved ones.Maybe it's becoming a better, kinder, more patient person. Maybe doing anonymous good deeds. Perhaps it's helping to build a new community park or raising funds for a resting bench in a preserve. Maybe it's going to the beach every year and picking up litter. Or raising funds for more research in the disease or condition that took our loved one away. Perhaps it's joining a group that fights drinking and driving. Or perhaps its resolving to be on the lookout for someone in grief and being as supportive as possible. You might find your grief work resolved in creating the online memorial or a scrapbook of tribute or in planting a new little memorialgarden or in digging up earth and planting a new flower or bush in tribute.Again, you might want to do one thing now and something later, too. Or you may want to do many things.

Sometimes we need to initially restrict our extra activities to help reserve our energy for grieving (it takes a lot of energy). Some people find a comfort in returning to as much of a regular routine as possible as quicklyas possible, just so that so much more of their life isn't disrupted anymore than it already has been.

I have lost my father, aunt, grandparents, and just last year lost my beloved first born son and my boyfriend. It was, perhaps, time for mygrandparents to pass on but it doesn't make the space they left in my lifeany less empty, but my father and aunt both died of quick and unexplainedhealth issues. My son was stricken with sudden and uncontrollable diabetes Iin his late 20s and it attacked his body with a vengeance. He died last January. My boyfriend died, very unexpectedly, also from complications ofdiabetes I, this past September.

Grief is hard and painful work. The more valuable and loved our departed was to us, the harder and more painful our grief will be. They are worthy of this grief we endure. We do get through the initial acute stages, and we learn how to carry on with our lives, incorporating our loss into who we are.

Coming back to life again ... thanks to you!

The notations on the doctor's clipboard read, "53 year old woman, complicated grief, depression, socially withdrawn." He had stepped out of the room for a moment and I snuck a peek. They were notes about me, after all, and I was always curious to see what doctors were really writing as they sat and talked with me.

After the death of my son, there was little mental or physical energy in me that wasn't expended at work. If it weren't for Matthew gently pushing me to go for a walk, watch a movie, or cook a meal together, I could have been satisfied with coming home from work and going straight to bed. Matthew even got me to go back to church.

Then Matthew died and I just stepped back inside my home and closed the doors. Work, family, and keeping up with the house was almost too much anyway.

I need to truly thank my doctors, my family (especially my daughter and son), my neighbors, my co-workers, my old friends and new, and the members of CafeMom groups and the BereavementJourney online support group for helping me return to life. My doctors have been firm. My family has been ears for all my screaming, crying, and questioning, as well as an abundant source of hugs. My neighbors are always doing sneaky little things to help out around here. My co-workers have been so kind and helpful, especially during a year where I've also taken on so much more work and responsibility. My friends, God bless you all, for hanging in there with me through divorce, son's illness, job change, car accident, dislocating my shoulder, not returning phone calls promptly, showing up late at functions and ocassionally bowing out at the last minute, my son's death, my shoulder surgery, and Matthew's death.

To the new friends I've made online through support groups and CafeMom, oh, I wish I could meet you all in person and give you big hugs for allowing me to share my stories and to be there for you in your time of need as well. It's not so easy for me to be on the receiving end and you've made it easier for me by allowing me to give back to you.

Thank you.

Go At Your Own Pace...But Keep Trying

A fellow grief support member asks, "When will I laugh again? Will I laugh again?"

So far I've found grief continues. The ragged edges of the wound begin to heal, so it doesn't snag sooften and so painfully as time goes on. But we have lost someone who was apart of our lives, a part of our families, a part of our very beings - and that hole, that wound, does not go away. It does become, I think, part of who we are and will always be.

We do eventually smile again, and work withour full energy and attention, and laugh and even make jokes. We remember the good times and are grateful that we, at least, had these moments. We had the moments we carried our babies in our wombs if nothing else. Or we had the hours they were in our arms. Or observing them grow during childhood. In my case, I was blessed to have 32 years of my son's life with me.

The sad moments will always come, and not only on holidays or special events- sometimes five or 10 years later, we'll see someone who might be the age that our loved one would have been. They might not resemble them in the least. Or we'll see a bicycle and we'll become acutely aware of the times we watched our child ride, or the fact that our child never got to ride. We'll see a color or smell a fragrance. It will trigger the sad, almost fresh grief feelings all over again.

But, eventually, it won't be so overwhelming that we can hardly find the energy to take care of ourselves or the living loved ones who still surround us. We'll still have to be prepared and know that those unexpected moments can arise.

A problem can be "complicated grief". That is, grief that also carries extra feelings of anger (murder, violence, drunk driving accident) or guilt (valid or just assumed). We'll all have some anger and guilt, but there are circumstances where those issues make the grief even more complicated and hard to work through. You may have made promises you couldn't keep. You may have had an unresolved fight before the death or spoken words you wished you hadn't spoken.

I promised my son we would find someone to help us; that we'd find some way to get him back on his feet;that we'd find a way to get some money and treatments. He died before the money and the help came. There are moments I'm still regretting terribly.They pop up and invade my mind and mingle with the grief. Things that maybe I could have done differently - maybe I should have gotten naked and stood on top of city hall and yelled for help. I should have just sat and held him more, but some days I was so tired from working extra hours (and two jobs) to earn money to pay for the help- and meds we could get without insurance that I would stagger in late at night and collapse. I wish beyond wishes that I could have afforded the internet and cable tv while he was alive. He was awake and in pain in long cycles day and night and having interaction and contact with people on the internet could have been a distraction and entertainment for him.

I don't know yet how to deal with all of this because I, like you, am just a fellow traveler on this grief journey. I know we have to keep walking, though. We have to get up each morning and get done what needs to be done. We need to take care of ourselves and the others who are hurting around us (whether they are handling their grief the same way we are or not, it is still painful for our spouses and children of all ages when a family memberis lost). We have to put one foot in front of the other and start going to the soccer games and watching our living children play. And we have to clap and cheer whether we feel like it or not right now. Eventually, the clapping and cheering will become easier and will not require such effort. And even further down the road we may find ourselves clapping and cheering joyfully because of the event in front of us.I've learned this so far: You will not get anywhere unless you start moving towards that goal. You will not swim again unless you put on a swimsuit and step into the water. You may not feel like swimming laps or racing the first times back in the pool. And you may find it more comfortable in a smaller pool or with a smaller group of people. And maybe you might just want to float or dog paddle for a while. Maybe you might want to get right back out after only a few minutes. But then you get back in and stay a few minutes longer the next time. You go at your own pace, but you have to keep on trying.

The same with the joy and the laughter in our lives. We have to keep on trying. We go at our own pace, but we keep trying.

GRIEF: ANOTHER CALENDAR PAGE FALLS TO THE FLOOR

... and we start a new month ... putting more and more distance between us and our beloved son and daughter. A whole new calendar? Everything is poignant, my dear ... any changes that keep slapping us with reality of our loss, the irreversible changes that have occured and our powerlessness to d'o anything to make it different.

I had to pack away last year's Christmas tree - the last one my son saw and put away the decorations he'd helped me put out. There would be no more shared trees or shared moments of decorating.

The calendar I have up in the kitchen is one I bought as a stocking stuffer for him last Christmas. He hadn't gotten around to putting it up on the wall yet. He never used it. Another stab in the heart. So I put it up on the kitchen wall. I didn't want to throw away an unused calendar that I had given to my son. However, now the year is done and the calendar is useless.

Unlike my previous calendars, filled with appointment dates - this calendar had no markings. I didn't go many places, except to work and the doctor. I didn't entertain or go out. And there were no special days to celebrate. I used to love the kitchen calendar - marked with teacher conferences, soccer games, dentist appointments, special days of celebrations, notations of expected guests. It was quite colofrul and the sign of a very busy household!

I only just watched this calendar, out of the side of my eye, as if it were now part of the conspiracy, too - the conspiracy to put more and more time between the moment I last saw, talked to and held my son; the conspiracy to keep moving on with life.

I will need to recycle the calendar realistically. It's time for a new month and a whole new year. But now I'm saying goodbye to the last year that contained memories of my son and something inside me makes me want to cling to every and anything that has anything to do with him.

The calendar ... it's just paper with beautiful photos of wolves. He liked Native American things and eagles and wolves. Unseen to others who might look at it, however, it contains the dates of the last nine days he was alive. It contains the date of that morning I was at work and received a phone call from the sheriff giving me news that would cause me to actually collapse and my whole world to spin out of control. It contains the date of our appointment at the funeral home where I would view my son's body for the last time. The date of his memorial service. The date of his 33rd birthday which he wouldn't like to celebrate. The dates of his two daughters' birthdays that came up right after his - and the dates in between their birthdays where he was hoping to get back to Iowa to celebrate with them and see and hold them again. He had only been able to talk by phone to them for over a year and a half before he died. He had missed them desperately every single day.

There's Easter - my beloved Matthew would take me to services during that holiday because I wanted to be at church but couldn't actually get myself there on my own. Matthew and I would take communion together for the last time on Good Friday and I would watch him happily perform in a wonderful, comforting and inspirational cantata with the choir.

I would relate to Mary, mother of Jesus, that Easter with a new deeper understanding. She lost her son at approximately the same age. She watched and knew about his suffering before he died, too. Mary, however, was given some peace and hope and joy just a few days later. I'm still waiting for God to give me just the teeniest of signs that all is well.

Mother's Day would follow. No card from Michael this year and he had never failed to give me a special card he had made or purchased. Fourth of July - our annual family gathering which he loved so much - I could only just sit on the sidelines this year. I didn't even really want to attend but I just keep trying to do these things which are customary and traditional and part of normal livng.

The September page contains more dates of pain - my last phone conversation with Matthew, his death on the 14th (unknown to me at the time), my surgery on the 18th (I thought he was praying for me all that day), the 21st when he was supposed to be coming home and would come to see me and bring me home from my mother's. All those phone calls I kept making to a phone that wouldn't answer. And that last call to his cell when the recording told me the cell phone had been disconnected. The frantic call to one of his daughters to find out where Matthew was and what was going on.

The first Thanksgiving without Michael and Matthew. Matthew's memorial service. Christmas Eve. Christmas Day. New Year's Eve....

A lot of people think I'm strong and brave. I suppose from the outside they may well get that idea. Inside I'm so tired and hurting, still hoping that someone will make me wake up to find this was all a bad dream. I cry often, almost daily, when I'm alone. Almost anything can trigger it - even just glancing at that calendar on the wall.

It has been a year of sorrow. Ah, that reminds me - my given pagaen name is Deidre, of the Sorrows - a name selected for me by a very kind and wise man many years before this all came to be. He also told me tjat the panther was my spirit guide and the wolf was my abiding friend.

I stop at the doorway to the New Year. I don't want to enter and leave 2007. But there is no lingering and no going backwards. There will be the first anniversary of each of their deaths this year, and more holidays to celebrate without them. There is no longer a relationship with possiblities of happiness and comfort in the future now.

I reach up to take down the calendar and walk by the recycling basket. I keep walking right on by it down to my room. I open the closet and pull out a plastic box and place the calendar inside. At least for now..

GRIEF: Holiday Memorial Wreath

Holiday Memorial Wreath (or green swag) - For the winter holidays or can be adapted to any holiday or day of memorial...

A tribute to our loved ones who have passed away, this way shared with me by my ex-husband, father of our son Michael who died January 9, 2007. My ex attended a grief workshop several months after his death and found it quite benefical to share with others who were also experiencing grief. He brought back some little booklets and papers of ideas for the holidays. I really like this one and plan to use it this Christmas.

As we light these three candles in honor of you, we light one for our courage, one for our memories, and one for our love.

The first candle represents our courage -
To confront our sorrow
To comfort each other
To change our lives

The second light is in your memory -
The times we laughed
The times we cried
The times we were angry with each other
The silly things you did
The caring and joy you gave us

The third candle is the light of love. As we enter this holiday season, day by day we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. We thank you for the gift your living brought to each of us.

GRIEF: The Grief Pack

I think I put my arms out and someone helped me get my arms through the shoulder straps, one at a time, slowly; adjusting it to the place in the center of my back where I could carry it the best.

I didn't realize its full impact until they let go of the shoulder straps. The heaviness alarmed me. It pulled on my shoulders. It threw off my sense of balance. Wearing it, carrying all this added weight, slowed me down and made me tire so much quicker. It was hard to think of anything else. It took all my concentration to carry it at first.

I would learn there were now places that would be difficult to go - places I'd often been to before, but now with this huge object on my back I wouldn't be able to slip through small places without a lot of twisting and turning and maneuvering. I would need to plan the routes of any trips I wanted to take, in advance, to avoid difficult pits in the road, steep hills that would be too hard to climb. I would need to seek flat paths with few obstacles.

I was now wearing the Grief Pack.

When I first put on the Grief Pack, it seemed a lot like wearing a cumbersome backpack. But the Grief Pack is invisible to most eyes, so although some close relatives and friends know that when it is put on and realize again when you are adding more weight to it, most people don't realize you are wearing it, have no idea how heavy it, or understand how it affects the rest of your life. And because you adjust your stride and become more careful in planning your movements through life, even those close to you may forget you are wearing it.

It's not something you can take off. It makes getting out of bed in the morning a chore. It makes sitting at the breakfast table somewhat uncomfortable. It makes working at your job or doing your chores more difficult. It makes trying to get a good night's sleep almost impossible.

The Grief Pack.
It's filled with shock and denial and loss and all the tears that don't pour out your eyes, and all the things you think but cannot say, and all the feelings you can't even find words to express. It's filled with memories of good times that will not happen again, and the voice and touch of loved ones that you won't hear or feel again. It's the things that you wish you would have done; the things you wish you could undo. It's filled with a deep longing and sorrow. It's filled with anger at life and frustration at being so powerless to change anything.

Your back aches and so do your shoulders and your neck, and even your head aches. You try to adjust the shoulder straps or shift the weight of the pack to bring some relief. But it doesn't change. It's still there.

I remember whenever it was first put on, the bewilderment and frightening feeling of something so permanent being put on my body. Against my protests and resistance, the straps were secured. Why were those around me allowing this to happen to me? Why didn't anyone help me fight against it? Why did everyone in the world continue on with their normal routines? Couldn't they see this awful pack and didn't they realize how wrong it was for it to be strapped on to someone? Wouldn't anyone intervene?

People kept getting up and going to work and about their daily tasks. Cars kept driving past me. Cash registers kept ringing up purchases for food and cleaning items and piles of useless things. Deadlines still needed to be met in business. Calls still needed to be returned. Deposits needed to be made. Bills still needed to be paid.

Eventually you become accustomed to the extra weight and bulk of it and learn how to stand and walk with it on. Sometimes it feels a little lighter as you grow to accept it as part of you - when a friend or even a stranger reaches out and puts their hand under it for a while to relieve some of the weight - as you learn how to accept the unacceptable. And you realize and begin to understand how invisible it is to others and forgive them when they accidentally bump into you and knock you off balance unknowingly.

Each time we encounter the loss of a loved one, the loss of a friend or relative, a beloved pet, the pack is opened and new weight is dropped into the pack. We have to struggle with the new burden of grief and will become aware of the weights we already are carrying with us. We'll struggle with our balance, our plans, our needs, our survival again. We'll find that the amount of weight dropped into our pack will vary with the "touchpoints" we had with the person (or pet) we've lost - what our history was with them, how important they were to our daily lives, how often we interacted with them, what their place was in our plans for the future, and, of course, how much unfinished business we had with them.

When we lose a child, I've found the weight to be almost unbearably heavy. It takes a lot more time and strength to even stand up and learn to walk again.

The Grief Pack never comes off. We simply learn how to live with it. It's something we never enjoy wearing, but we wear it because we have loved someone and lost them, and they are worth the weight of mourning and remembrance. We pull ourselves to an upright position, grabbing onto anything we can. We put one foot in front of the other and move forward. And on we go ...

GRIEF: No More Compensation ...

When I gave birth to Michael, I missed my pregnancy. I missed the fullness of my tummy, the movement from within, the connection with my child.

Of course, in compensation, I had the memories of my pregnancy and this awesome baby to hold in my arms and see with my eyes. A little bit of sadness, a tremendous amount of joy!

When Michael started to crawl, he became extremely mobile fast. Gone were the days of holding him for unending periods of time, sitting beside him dangling little toys to amuse him. He was off and crawling everywhere. A little sadness, but memories added to my growing store, and a whole new adventure in front of us to enjoy!

And so it would go ...

Gone the toothless grin, but a beautiful tooth in its place.
Gone the crawling little baby, but in his place a toddler
Gone the diapers, an independent little boy
Gone my little all-day companion, instead a young school boy coming and going
Then my school boy turned into a young man
Then a boyfriend
Then he left home (too early...and not quite the compensation)
Then a husband
Then a father...

Each time, I lost a little of what Mike had been, but he was developing into who he was to be. Each time a little sadness; most of the time more joy and delight in what he was becoming or had accomplished. I still had the memories of what had been, and I still had him ... and within him, incorporated into what he was, and what he was becoming, was still that little baby, that little boy, that young man ... with each loss, I ended up with more .. all that had been plus all that was.

But when you lose a child, that compensation factor ends. You still have the memories, and you cling to them and sort through them over and over, trying desperately not to forget even one, and even more desperately trying to resurrect even more, but they bring to the front of things, even more acutely, the fact that there is no more stages, no more to look forward to with this child, no more man who incorporates all that has been, is and will be.

It abruptly ends with the child's death.

Tremendous sadness, no compensating joy.

GRIEF: The Red Light That Won't Go Off...

Losing a child ... no parent should ever have to bury their child. Only parents who have experienced this loss can truly understand how deep and different it is from other types of losses.

Somehow, when we become parents, a type of warning lights are installed inside us, the parents. We sleep lighter and wake more easily when our baby stirs in the middle of the night. Breastfeeding mothers can have milk let-downs while shopping and hearing another hungry baby. We worry about hunger, comfort, sickness, or pain in our child.

This light goes on RED when our child, for instance, gets an ear infection and is complaining of intense discomfort. We triage the child and we go on high alert. Something is wrong. Something is causing them pain. We aren't sure what it is for sure, but we are worried that our child is in pain and some infection or condition may be developing. We have troubles sleeping soundly because we are listening more intensely. We may feel an anxiousness or aggitation.

Once we've made the doctor appointment and are on our way to the appointment, we find the light getting a little more orange. We are almost to a source of help for our child. As we sit in the waiting room and then get escorted to our examination room, it even gets a little lighter. By the time the doctor has seen our child, nodded confirmation to a diagnosis of ear infection, and put the prescription in our hand, we are on YELLOW light. We are still a little anxious; still a little nervous; still on alert. But we are on the way to remedy.

We get the prescription and start administering it to our child. The relief isn't immediate, so we still check on them more frequently. We still sleep with one ear to their direction at night, just in case. The antibiotic starts to work and the symtoms begin to subside. The yellow light is beginning to get a greenish tint.

Finally, our child is back to normal. The infection is gone - the pain is gone. All is well. We hardly notice that our internal light has become completely GREEN. All systems are go - we return to our normal routines. We start sleeping more soundly.

This kind of alert system seems to continue on throughout our children's lives, regardless of their age. The intensity of the lights is synchronized with the seriousness of the situation. If our young adult child is sick, even though they no longer live at home, we go on a light red alert until we hear they are better. If they lose their job, if their spouse leaves them, or they are experiencing serious financial stresses, our signal lights go on - returning to green things return to normal.

When a child develops a life-threatening condition, the parent may bounce back and forth between red and yellow lights as new treatments and medications are sought out.. But life doesn't return to normal.

When a child dies, with or without any warning, the parents alarm system goes off: SERIOUS FLASHING RED LIGHTS! Something is wrong with our child. We want to fix it. We seek all sorts of mental avenues to remedy it - we wish to go back in time, we wish someone will tell us it isn't true, we want to meet someone who knows how to cure this situation. Our bodies and minds know something is wrong and needs to be fixed.

Unfortunately, there are no more remedies or cures or sources of new treatments or miracles to seek.

We are left in limbo, with the RED light still on. Even when we can manage to focus our minds in another direction, there is that flashing red light in our peripheral vision. We will learn how to lesson the intensity, perhaps even lighten the color to yellow again, but it will never again be green.

No parent should ever have to bury their child ....

GRIEF: Grief Journeys - Heading for Dry Land

It's not a journey any of us plan to take or want to take. Most of us will resist going - some of us will beg and cry and scream and pray, asking God and everyone around us to show us how to do anything else, but to take this journey.

There are no magic solutions - no wands - no prescriptions or erasers to change the fact that a loss has occurred. And nothing to help us complete the journey any faster or easier. It's a day-by-day and minute-by-minute and step-by-step effort. It has no time line or mapped out trail, and only we, ourselves, will know when we have found the goal line.

We can delay the journey. We can take paths that lead off from the main trail and wander around a bit. We may even meet others on their own journeys, but the roads we take, though they may intersect and even follow along for a while here and there, are individual.

We can't go over it or around it. We can try to avoid it. We can delay it. We can even deny it for a while. But the only way through grief is to actually walk the journey THROUGH it.

We'll have to go through shock, and denial, bargaining, anger and blaming, and eventually, hopefully, we'll reach the acceptance stage. Some go through each stage quickly and quietly. Others experience a more roller coaster journey - back and forth, up and down, up to the top and then dropping down too quickly, sometimes swirling in a loop to the point of nausea. We might have walked through all the stages and even started to enter the acceptance stage only to find something tips the scales and send us right back to a previous stage. It can rock and roll back and forth, around and around, until we travel through all of it, understand it and process it. Even when we have processed it and reached the acceptance stage, we can find events in our lives that remind us that those scars are there.

I think of grief as a hole in the heart. A piece of what we loved or believed in is gone and will always be missing. It hurts terribly when that hole is first shot out, but the initial wave of shock paralyzes our nerve endings so we don't feel the pain so badly. In fact, some might look down at their chests and say, "I've been shot! I don't believe that I've been shot! Look, I'm bleeding so I must have been shot!"

I suspect that few people who have just had a hole shot through their chests feel much of anything except the pain and can think of little else but what has just happened to them. During the process of the other stages of grief, the body's natural rhythms and functions become greatly disturbed. Sleep, hunger, energy levels, moods, bodily eliminations, concentration, memory are all out of whack. You are more apt to incur or be aware of more aches and pains during this time and have less tolerance, your immunities are down and you are more susceptible to illness and infection, and you are more apt to have accidents and injury during this time of your life.

Some of the changes in our body and minds are emotional, some chemical. We need to make allowances for ourselves; we are entitled to feeling more depressed, more tired, less hungry, more restless, to lose track of time, to misplace things during the Grief Journey. It will pass. We will become stronger and healthier and things will get back on track in time.

We can do some simple things though to help ourselves on the journey. We can keep our activities curtailed, even extra driving of vehicles. We can cancel unnecessary appointments, pass on volunteer projects. We can lay down and close our eyes and rest when we can not sleep. We need to restrict fires and candles during the first few months to prevent the possibility of forgetting to extinquish them. We can take vitamin supplements and sip on water throughout the day when we have no appetite. We can take short walks around the block when we are feeling restless.

We can see a doctor if we begin to feel too depressed or too overwhelmed.

Part of the journey is telling our stories over and over again until we, ourselves, begin to absorb the reality of them. Unfortunately our family and friends will start to distance themselves from a never-ending pit of depression. They will hear the story once and know it; they will listen a time or two again to be helpful to you. But they will tire of hearing the same story over and over again.

We need lots of time to heal, but unless another person has been on the same type of journey before themselves, they may or may not have the level of endurance for listening to our vocal examinations of our feelings, our retelling of events over and over again.

We can, however, find ways to retell our stories and examine our feelings through councilors and journaling. Professionals will also offer you guidance on your journey. And you can retell your story a hundred times in the same way or a different way each time in a journal. Also, consider finding grief support groups for your type of loss. As I mentioned before, those who have been on a similar journey may have a better tolerance and understanding of your need to retell your story.

We will hate to be alone, but we won't have the energy to go out, or the internal drive to call someone. We are tired, exhausted and sad and want to cry, but sometimes it feels like the tears are stuck in our chests, making it difficult to breathe normally or deeply. Grief is a heavy pack to carry. Some of us climb into bed early or don't even get out of bed, trying to compensate for sleep that doesn't come easily during the night. Also while we are sleeping, we don't seem to feel what is going on for that period of time. Unfortunately, just like going on a drinking binge or doing drugs to cover up the pain, you wake up .. and there it still is, waiting to be dealt with.

Another nasty, but necessary plague during grief is that normal activities of daily living need to be accomplished - taking care of our children, bathing and dressing, preparing and eating meals, laundry, dishes, feeding and caring for our pets, paying bills, and returning to work. Grief takes out so much from your physical and mental system that just getting out of bed in the morning feels like ten times the work it did before. Try to keep things as simple as possible; accept help with the housework if offered. Take baby steps in resuming your life and pat yourself on the back frequently for those things you accomplish.

It is still hard for me to sit and record receipts and do paperwork. Money is tight and spending is scary. But it has to be done and I need, now more than ever, to be on top of my finances. I've set it up as a little game - I do 30-40 minutes of paperwork and then I will do something else away from the desk, such as vacuum one room of the house or load the dishwasher.

I keep a spiral notebook handy to keep grocery lists in, make lists of chores that need to be done, calls to make (with the numbers listed right there as well as the questions or topics I want to discuss), bills to be paid, thank you notes to be written, future dreams or goals, worries or concerns (write them down and carry them in the notebook so you don't have to carry them around in your head), things I might like to try or places to explore when I'm ready, unfinished projects I might like to resurrect when I have the time.

If you find yourself alone too much and feel the need for more social interaction, again a divorce recovery group or a grief support group may be a good thing to investigate. It will give you an outing, new people to meet in small doses who have similar situations, and a place to take off your mask and be yourself. You may learn some new tips for coping with life from others, too, or learn about resources that are available in your area that might be of help to you during this time.

Eventually you may want to try some new things, but be careful not to commit yourself to anything to wild or different or to make any drastic changes in your life - at least not at first. Don't change your job right now. Don't sell your house if you can avoid it. Don't start a serious dating relationship.

When you are ready, you might want to start a new exercise program - perhaps just start incorporating some extra walking into your day, again in baby steps. Go around the block during your lunch break. Go a little further each day. Check out exercise programs in your area (don't sign contracts yet until you know you are financially, physically and mentally ready to make such a commitment). Go to the library once or twice a month and browse through the books. Sit in on a new Bible study class or check out a new craft class. Invite a friend or two over to play a game of cards, a board game, or to watch a video with you.

The people you will meet, the friendships from the past that you activate, the new activities you try ... no, none of them are replacements for what you have lost. There is no replacement for someone we have loved and lost to death or divorce. In our society almost everything is fixable or replaceable. If our favorite doll's arm breaks, we can usually find a replacement arm at a garage sale or we can buy an entirely new doll who looks exactly the same. When a button falls off our favorite shirt, we can sew it back on. When we drop and break a favorite coffee cup, we can search and buy another cup to replace it ... maybe not exactly the same, but it will serve the same purpose and fill the empty spot on the shelf just fine.

But relationships are ended are not fixable, nor replaceable. Trying new things, meeting new people, going to new places will help you join the mainstream of life again, but you will find they don't fill in that "hole." As you journey through grief, the hole may shrink a little and not be so obviously gaping and painful, but it is still there. I think of it as scabbing over, like an exterior body wound. Bumps and friction can loosen the scab and sometimes remove it completely and the healing has to start again. Underneath the scab, I envision scar tissue developing. It's not got the same feeling to me; it's tighter and heavier than the normal tissue that was in its place before my trauma. It doesn't have the same flexibility or pliancy - I can feel it resist when I encounter other emotional struggles. And, for me, the bigger the loss, the bigger the hole, the longer the healing, the bigger the scar.

It doesn't heal overnight, or in a month, or even in a year's time for everyone. Each individual has to tread the grief path at their own pace. I believe I read that it can actually take 2-3 years to really recover from a divorce or death. We see people who are "look" and "sound" recovered much earlier than that, and, perhaps, some of them have successfully finished their grief journey much sooner than others. But many continue to work on issues quietly behind closed doors, at the end of their work days, on the weekends, when they find themselves alone or a situation comes up that brings their hurt and loss to the front of their minds. One of my councelor's suggested that the little fragments from the gun shot of divorce or death are so deeply embedded around the wound in us that it may take many years for all of them to work their way to the surface and be removed.

You won't heal unless you take steps to start making it happen.

You won't meet people unless you go out into the world again.

You aren't going to find your future soul-mate if you are sitting at home, isolated and lonely and sad.

You won't feel happy and healthy again unless you start vesting yourself in some good habits and in life itself.

Take time on your journey to realize that you don't always want to feel this way or life this way. Make some notes on how you can start, in small ways, to heal and improve yourself during this journey. Consider starting with medical or counseling help. Seek out recovery groups. Check out self-improvement books or tapes. Set a bedtime and a rising time and follow them, even if you are not sleeping soundly (eventually you will, and if not, do seek some professional assistance). Start eating more nutritious meals and snacks, even if they are small, and try eating at more routine times in your day. Cut back on refined sugars and other carbs which can give you a bit of a boost initially, but are usually followed by a decline of energy that can cause more tiredness and depression. Sip on water throughout your day. Get outdoors every day, rain or shine, for at least 15 minutes, if possible, or at least open your curtains and let natural light into your home. Get some physical exercise every day. Start reading a new book before bed. Look up a new word in the dictionary once a week. Put some music on while you do your household chores.
Staying in immobile grief does nothing to bring our loved ones back to us. But it does waste away the precious days we have left on this earth and prevents us from experiencing any new and different joys that may lie in our futures.
Healing won't bring our loved ones back to us either. At least, however, it allows us to function more fully and participate in life and better handle the loss we have experienced.

None of us wanted, most of us didn't even anticipate, having to take this grief journey.

I still cry. A lot. Sometimes in the shower, sometimes as I lay alone in my bed before sleep overtakes me.

Sometimes my eyes will well up while I'm at work staring into the computer monitor.

Sometimes I feel anxious and panicked, sometimes lonely and sad. Sometimes all these things at once. I have to keep repeating, "I am feeling these things because I have experienced some great losses and changes in my life. I have a right to feel these things. It is NORMAL to feel these things. This will pass."

I did not want my father to die. I did not want my father-in-law, my grandparents, my aunt, nor my friend to die. I did not want to get in an automobile accident and get injured. I did not want my husband to leave me for someone else. I did not want a divorce. I did not want my granddaughters to move half-way across the country with their mother. I did not want my granddaughters to lose their daddy. I did not want to lose my business and be unemployed. I did not want to be starting all over in every aspect of my life at my age. I did not want to fall down some stairs and dislocate my shoulder. I did not want my beautiful first-born son to have to endure so much pain and suffering and to die so young.

I did not want any of these things, and it certainly was a little more difficult to handle them in multiples and overlapping the way they did. But this is what life has presented. This is the way it is now. Saying I didn't want them to happen, over and over again, has not made them go away. This is reality. I don't like the way things have turned out, but I have to face reality. And then, in some small way, I need to do some of what needs to be done in an attempt to move forward.

So many changes forced upon us can be scary. Even one change can be scary ... like just coming home from work at night to an empty house or seeing an empty place at the dinner table. There's a multitude of minor and major changes that accompany a loss - sleeping alone at night, not having someone to talk to at the end of the day, cooking for less people, no one to help with the decision making or chores, maybe less money to have to stretch further. And it's difficult to deal with them all at once. The only way to get through the changes and come out on top is to deal with them one by one, starting to facilitate ways to deal with them slowly, continually.

I've read and heard from others on grief journeys that with time and work, things will get better. Never the same, but better. A lot will depend on the type of your loss. A lot will depend on you.

If you are divorced, the feelings for your ex-spouse may fade, even disappear with time. You may lose contact and never see each other again. Or if you have children, you may find yourself having to interact with your ex for years to come. Perhaps you'll develop a different type of friendship or learn how to conduct needed business in a brief, unemotional way. Sometimes the interaction can irritate the healing process and you'll find yourself, unexpectedly, returning to various states of grief or anger for a longer period of time.

A loss that occurs because of death has some other dimensions to it, especially the loss of a child. I'm just starting this journey and am quite unsure of the terrain I'm going to have to travel.

Those just starting the journey may feel that they have just been dropped into the middle of a storming, raging ocean of emotions, despair and disappointments, without so much as even a life preserver. They certainly can't comprehend that there may be land ahead. They can't do anything more than just battle to stay above the crashing waves.

Connecting with others who are on similar journeys can be encouraging. One who is further ahead in the healing process calls back to you, "I see a glimmer of land ahead!" Another one, even further ahead, shouts back, "I've landed on some solid ground!" It gives the rest of us that follow some hope. There are calmer seas ahead. There is land. We still will have some bumpy and frothy waves to deal with. We will still get smacked in the face with a sneaker wave and probably swallow a lot of salty water in the process. But if we keep trying, if we keep moving forward, eventually we'll be able to glance back and see how far we've come. And eventually, we, too, will spot dry land ahead. And someday, we, too, will land on solid ground.

I still love and miss my dad, and I've found that camping trips and Christmas bring a lump to my throat. But I think more of good memories now than dwelling on the painful loss. I've found that the losses and changes that have occurred since he died have tended to pull and strain and stress the scar tissue I have from his loss. And I still miss my grandparents, my aunt and my friend. Sometimes these will well up unexpectedly because so much was happening at once, I didn't get a chance to mourn each one separately and completely. I still miss my granddaughters, but I can write and email them and talk to them on the phone.I don't miss my ex-husband anymore. I have a new job. I still struggle with finances. I am in the beginning of the journey with the loss of my son and finding this journey may be the hardest, most difficult one I've ever experienced. I am also aware that my youngest child is on the edge of the nest, ready to spread her wings and fly off on her own. That will be yet another type of loss, another change to experience.

But I've seen the solid ground, even stepped on it a time or two before getting tossed back into the sea. I know it is more comfortable, more secure, a better place for me to be.

With one foot in front of the other, with one stroke after another, even if I have to stop and rest on the way, I am headed for dry land.