Grief Changes Eerything

From the moment of “knowing”

           

            To the end of my life

                        Her death has turned me

                                    Upside downand inside out making me over

The changes are unseen

            As is the pain of her death

                        As the changes in my mind

                                    As the changes in relationships

                       

As is the earthworm turns the soil

            As it always has done

                        As it aerates the soil

                                    So grief changes everything

 

Weariness

I am so weary of death and dying’

            Weary if ISIS growing the club of bereavement

                        Weary of trying to convince people that the healing is in the grieving.

                                    Weary of the long, unnecessary suffering.

Weary of being embarrassed that I am who I AM

            WEARY

                        WEARY

                                    Weary           

Life

goes on

&

so

do I.

As though

Sharon

never

existed.

Except,

I

know

she

does.

Alone

Alone

The saddest most alone feeling in the world

Is to be with people I love and that love me

And to feel that forever distance and difference

The longing to go back and be able to belong

Is a physical need that can never be satisfied

Such a mystery of how to be and yet, never be the same

I remember when I didn’t understand others grief

And thought they should just “get over it”

Then Sharon died and I was alone in a different universe

I still am.

Alone is different from loneliness, I am not lonely,

Alone is a place where no one can go with me to comfort or help

Because no one else can see the rips and tears in my soul

No one else can see the hole in my gut

No one else can feel the wrenching, devastating pain of the death of a child

I never know when or why this place will descend on me and consume all joy,

peace or fulfillment.  If I don’t fight the need I get through and come out the other side a little wiser and life goes on.    

When I

am

all  alone

&

the universe

is

only

my pain & grief.

That is

when

I

know most

deeply

what

it

means

to be

human.

Breavement

Bereavement is a condition that never clears up

No matter how hard I try, it is always there

The pain

The emptiness

The changed me

The scoldings for not being over it

The loneliness

The shame

The guilt

The tears

The longing

The fear

The rejection

                                                                       Her death is

no

guarantee,

no insurance,

that I

will

not

lose again.

There is no

way

to

protect myself

from

further loss.

That is deeply

frightening.

What do

I

do with

that?

Well,

I guess

I

notice

how precious

today is

&

how deeply

Silence

Silence of the grave

Silence surrounds me in my sorrow

Silence because no one wants to hear

Silence because grief is too scary for most

Silence because there are no adequate words

Silence is golden

Silence allows me to redo my point of view

Silence is safe from all the scoldings

Silence is wondering why I keep writing and posting

Silence is a place to die or grow

I didn’t experience “phases of grief;” I just felt overwhelming pain. The phases of grief are: shock and denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance. I wish I could be like those people who put their grief somewhere else and never shed a tear. I grieved loudly and often for at least the first year, upsetting many folks that wanted me to shut up and take some pills. That always seemed like a dishonoring of my daughter and her life. She was that dear to me. Not grieving her death would have been to discount that. The stress of being stoic is immense, and a killer of those who choose not to grieve.

That was choice number one on the long journey back from destroyed to rebuilt: simply to grieve.

Grieving is not something we have to learn; it comes with the package, and it is part of the human condition. Evidently, it is an evolutionary mechanism for humans to be able to deal with the pain of grievous loss. We learn to recognize the symptoms and stages. The really hard part is to learn how to express our grief in ways that are healing. Who wants to be sad in such a chirpy culture as ours? Better not to say anything and suffer in silence. But that brings its own problems.

Poem # 1

 I am astonished

by how

stunned

broken

wounded

I am

by my child’s death

I am astonished

by the

depth

breadth

pervasiveness

of my

pain in her loss

I am astonished

by how

the loss

of love

hurts

I am astonished

by how

living

love

heals

Poem # 14

Expanded consciousness

is simply

dealing

with

the

pain

&

living

my

life.

I am able

to be

reduced

to raw, open

pain

&

come back

whole.

I Wish

I wish I could undo her death

I wish I could go back to the old me

I wish I could stop upsetting people

I wish the pain would stop

I am glad you have your child

I am glad you can continue as you

I am glad you can be PC and never upset anyone

I am glad you don’t have that pain

I wish there were no gap between us

I am glad you don’t understand

I wish there were a safe place for me

I am glad you don’t have that search

I wish

                        I wish

                                                I wish…

After The Screaming

                                        If you

cannot

stand

the

screaming,

get out

of

the

way.

You cannot

resurrect

my

dead child.

I cannot

smile

for

you.

I can

only

smile

after

the

screaming.

It seems important to understand that any encounter with a grieving person is unsatisfying. This is so because neither party can give the other what he or she wants. We do not have the power to give back what has been lost, and the grieving person cannot give us the smile and assurance that our help has made everything all right. The greater the loss, the longer this will be true. However, over time our assistance does help. It is analogous to applying salve to a wound. The salve will not magically heal, but over time the salve, plus the healing power of the body, will at some point heal the wound.

The Flatness

A terrible place to be

Still wishing some days that it had been me instead of her

Wondering what value I have

Still my fault some days

Flat is safe

Like a bag of cement on my back

Being cheery for everyone requires flat some days

Makes me to different to ever really fit in

The longing is deep and sad to just belong and be OK

As I write this, the flatness is lifting

Sometimes the grief is this brief

Poem # 24

 It is

strange

&

blasphemous,

to say

I

have benefitted

from

the grief

of

my child’s

death.

It is

also

the

truth.

How is that possible?  Because in all that grieving is the rebuilding of a shattered life and mixed in is greater understanding, deeper feelings about everything, including joy.  I also understand my clients better because I have been there.

Rainbow Child

The birth of a child after the death of a child.

 What a wonderful gift

What a terrifying gift.

How do I be with him?

How can I keep him safe?

Shall I hover?

Shall I hide him?

How do I not overwhelm him with my grief?

How do I not have him compete with a ghost?

It’s hard not to over-do or under-do everything.

I hardly know how to be with myself, let alone him

I don’t really have any answers to my questions.

Except what I have learned from her death.

Be there, be real and let him be a part of my life

So I stumble along and finally am able to let others help

I don’t have to do it alone

Thanks for helping me with my Rainbow Child

April 17

Another year has come and gone

And you are still gone

Buried on this day

Under a tree, by a stream

Beautiful place to sit and wait

As the pain echoes with each beat of my heart

Later I will get up and walk away to rejoin my life

But for now I sit under the tree, by the stream with you

Every year is the same and you are still gone, it’s been so long

No more whys, no more guilt or blame

Just me and my grief for evermore

And you are still gone.

As another year has come and gone

Poem #2

Poem #2

Here I am again

This is April 13, 2015, thirty-seven years since I found my daughter's body.  People are really, really sure I should get over it by now.  Well I certainly have gotten on with my life.  I have had a very rich, deep and productive 36 years, but I am still not over “It”.

Yup, it is still a downer and I am sad on this day and April 17, the day I buried her.

I still wonder what she would be like had she lived, she would be 51 this year.  I wonder if I would have grandchildren or if she would have been a career woman.

The rest of my life will be devoted to creating Grief Centers for bereaved people so more can heal and have the rewarding life I have had.  I know that because I had a safe place to keen and wail is the core of my healing.

                                     Your death has

split me

wide open,

I am gutted

like a  steer

freshly slaughtered.

Your death

has spared me

nothing

in horror,

in terror.

in guilt.

What I didn’t expect,

had no way

of knowing,

was that the

depth I

plummeted to

would

also find

new depths of

living

&

loving

&

laughter

Poem #37

  

Dante’s Inferno,

doesn’t

even

come close

to

the pain

of

my child’s

death.

No Hell

imagined

by man,

or

devised

by God,

could

“punish”

me more.

The restrictions against grieving are numerous and powerful, and start very early in the socialization of children.  I think that those taboos are there because the art of grieving changes a person, from one state of existence to another, like boiling water into steam.  But steam can be condensed back into water; the changing people isirreversible and permanent.  I am awed by the powerful taboos against grieving.  I know about this from my work with people and my own struggles to grieve openly. 

People have often expressed a deep, abiding fear that if they start grieving they will never stop—or worse, just be stuck in a funk. I have never worked with a person that didn’t continue with his or her life as usual while going through this healing process. I have deep respect for those who make that choice. I see how much strength and courage it takes to be that vulnerable and exposed.

What I would like to see happen with my book is the creation of safe places for people to grieve without being interrupted or scolded. The only partially safe place is a cemetery. It would be nice to bring back the notion of the ancient Wailing Wall. The only thing I have ever experienced that even comes close to what I would hope for is the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in DC. Loved ones are permitted to bring little memorials and at least weep quietly. I would wish for every bereaved person a safe place for deep, healing grief and reflection, in the daunting work of rebuilding a life.

I hope my book will helped you make some sense of your journey, and let a little sunshine in through the clouds.