At A Bend in the River

Morrie and I took a ten day River boat cruise from Kiev to Odessa in Ukraine in May, because we hadn’t seen that part of the world and it sounded interesting.  Interesting is quite an understatement.  We went naïve about Ukraine and I came back a changed person.

Ukraine has been disrupted by four waves of Evil in the last century and is facing another by Putin and the Russians again today.  The Jewish communities have been especially devastated, but all Ukrainians have suffered along side each other

In the 1920’s it was the Tsars Pogroms

In the 1930’s it was Stalin

In the 1940’s it was Nazi Germany

Then till 1989 it was the USSR

They have had two uprisings against corruption, 2004 & 2014

They are still fighting for their freedom.

How does one comprehend such horror, terror and grief?   The submersion in that history was life changing.   

I am impressed and moved by how Ukrainians are coming back again.  The thread I kept hearing that unites and motivates them is literacy.  They have a long history of making sure all citizens can read and write, going back thousands of years.  Each wave of Evil tried to stamp that out, because an informed citizenry is hard to fool/rule.  The Nazi’s came the closest, reducing literacy by 70%.  They failed also.  Literacy in the Ukraine is near 100%. 

It seems like a small victory, but captures for me the determination and heroic fight up from the ashes and triumph over four waves of Evil. 

It makes all the screeching and screaming here seem ludicrous.  The protests remind of a scene from the movie Frankenstein, all that is missing are the pitchforks.  The outstanding thing about the Monster is that he was innocent of harming anyone until he was attacked.

At a bend in that river, my perspective changed.

At This Time...

For Las Vegas, for Puerto Rico, for Florida, for Texas, for America

There is no such thing as enough

There is nothing to say that is enough

There is no place that is safe enough

All we can do is offer our hand in the dark

They will be unaffected, keep offering

They will push us away, keep offering

When my daughter died I wondered why people weren’t helping me.  It took almost a year to realize that everyone had been helping.  It just didn’t feel like it to me.  The pain and impact is that great, and the devastation is irrevocable. 

The help is like salve on a wound, not instant healing, but every dab, or pat on the arm, adds up over time to the healing.  The scars are always there and the change is permanent.

On Being Bereaved in a "Chirpy" Culture

“Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ seems to be our national hymn.  It will be interesting to see how that comes back after the hurricanes this summer and the massacre in Los Vegas.  But I am confident it will, as I believe the investment in the stats quo is that powerful.

In the face of that powerful edict, how does one stay true to oneself and the equally powerful need to heal/grieve?  It ain’t easy, as the saying goes.  But it is possible.  Basically we find pockets of those that are more real and authentic.  It is easier now than when Sharon died due to the Internet and social media that has happened in the 40 years since her death.  There are many sites and local groups that I had no access to.

Even so;

But grief is a walk alone. Others can be there.

But you will walk alone down your own path, at your own pace, with your sheared-off pain, your raw wounds, your denial, anger and bitter loss.

You’ll come to your own peace, hopefully…but it will be on your own, in your own time

Cathy Lamb

I would add that the walk alone sets us apart from others that I hope they never have to understand—yet the longing to belong is great and adds to the loneliness of "the walk alone".

A New Direction, maybe You Tube?

The Grieving Channel:  To understand, perfect and expand the grieving process.

In the years of my journey as a therapist and bereaved parent I have noticed several important recurring themes.  The first and most important one is the unending pressure to not grieve.  It is truly amazing at how little time people are given to recover from one of the biggest upheavals in adult life, the death of a child.  But that pressure isn’t limited to bereaved parents, it is also true for widows/widowers and down the line to everything else that might demand a tear or two be shed.  It is truly astonishing.

The second recurring theme in working with people for over thirty years is that after all is said and done, the root problem is most often some unprocessed loss.  I love all the “Oh by the way, my dad died when I was 3, do you think that matters?  It was so long ago it probably isn’t important” 

That is the third recurring theme, the complete discounting and dismissal of the wounds we carry for most of our lives.

The fourth theme is constant comment about “shouldn’t you be over it by now?  Time to get on with life.  You are a   downer to be around (yes, the death of a loved one is a real downer)

This constant preaching about when to be done is both external and internal We learn that to be sad is a” pity party” or “oh you are just feeling sorry for yourself”, “man up”, anything to stop the process, Grieving changes people too much. 

I have come to think/feel that what we need is a safe place for people to grieve, scream and howl and sob as long as is needed.

That brings me to another recurring theme; those that insist on grieving actually do heal.

Grief: The Healing Choice

I will never forget April 13, 1978: it was the day I walked into my house and discovered that my fifteen-year-old daughter, Sharon, had died of a drug overdose. Yes, I know that is a difficult sentence to read. And even though I have done so numerous times, it’s also difficult to write. Almost 35 years later, I still can’t look at that particular arrangement of letters and numbers without being mentally transported back to that horrific day.

If you’re a parent, you’ve probably considered what it might be like to lose a child.  (Chances are you quickly pushed the thought away, as it’s too dreadful to contemplate for long. I understand.)  Almost certainly, you suspect that the death of a child is the worst thing that could happen to a parent. How could anyone get over such a loss and resume living a normal life?

The short answer is, you can’t. There is no “getting over” the fact that your beloved child has taken her last breath. But the longer answer is, there is life after a child’s death. Not a life that’s identical to the one you led before—you cross an invisible line and there is no way back—but one that is worthwhile and that contains fulfillment…and sometimes even joy.

There’s a prerequisite, though: to move forward, you must first make the choice to grieve.

That’s right—to a larger extent than many people think, grieving is a choice. Consciously or unconsciously, you can decide to ignore grief when it presents itself: mentally squelching it, postponing it through frenetic activity, and neutralizing it with drugs or alcohol.

But here’s the irony. Not grieving is, in the long run, more painful than the pain you’re seeking to avoid.  It’s widely believed that repressed grief can lead to illnesses like upper respiratory infections, digestive problems and even cardiovascular disease.  This makes sense: the stress and anxiety that come from exerting that much control over your thoughts, emotions, and body are profound. And of course, the potentially dire consequences of self-medication are obvious.

It’s also possible to “shut down” and become stuck in one of the phases of grief.  Even though others may think you seem all right on the surface, the truth is, you have actually “agreed” to stop growing, loving, daring, and moving on in exchange for not feeling any more pain and loss.  Frankly, this is not living. It’s merely existing.

I have healed—and continue to heal daily—after losing Sharon, but only because I have made the choice to grieve. Over the years, I have screamed, cried, vented my rage, and submerged myself in intense waves of grief whenever they washed over me. Over time (and initially to my surprise) I discovered that I was able to enjoy my life once more. I have even found that my appreciation for life, my joy in small delights, and the richness of my relationships have grown.

This may surprise you. It surprised me.  But it’s undeniable: grieving my lost child has opened my eyes to everything lovely and wonderful about our world.  I see, act, and react more authentically. My compassion and gratitude for others has grown, and I stop to smell the roses more often—I call it ‘living from the gut.’ I see this as the “reward” for choosing grief: Once you have descended to the lowest of lows, you are also able to experience new highs, That’s because your soul and psyche are much like a balloon that stretches in all directions.

Be aware, however that grieving is not a linear, predictable process. Its progression and manifestations differ from person to person. You certainly never “finish” grieving. Rather, you must make the choice to grieve over and over again as the years pass.

If you are facing the loss of a child, please, choose to grieve. Yes, there will be darkness, but I promise, you will also come to see the “silver lining” gleaming through.  

Finally, let this truth resonate in your heart: the new life you’re creating would not be possible without the love you felt—and still feel—for your child.  It is her final gift to you.  And accepting it graciously is your final gift to her.

Grief Cannot be Contained

Grief Cannot be Contained

The death of my child was like an 8.0 earthquake on the ocean shelf and the upheaval that followed was the tsunami that destroyed everything I had known, built and counted on.  As the shore cannot contain the ocean waves, neither can the enormity of my grief, or of a spouse’s or of a child’s.

I found myself puzzled, frantic and overwhelmed by my inability to regain control, or get back “to the way things were” I found myself suddenly sobbing and breaking down without my permission and, usually, with little warning, it is hideous. I found myself judging myself as crazy, weird and all manner of negative self-judgments.  All of my inexperience in managing feelings and constant implosions add to the horror of what I face.

Most of all I did not know who or what I am anymore.  Those around me try to help, but cannot because no one can see, touch hear, or smell the destruction.  It is invisible intangible and worst of all, immeasurable.  It is a hole in my soul.

I had very little experience in dealing with such powerful, pervasive, uncontrollable feelings.
 

The most common statements I hear from bereaved folk and asked myself, is, “What’s wrong with me?”  Or “Why can’t I seem to stop crying all the time?”    This is often followed by the statement. “I hate it, I just hate it!  Please make it stop hurting.”

At the end of the day, after all is said and done and all the help has gone home, the black hole of my grief cannot be contained, only expressed.

I wish it were otherwise.

More thoughts on Sandy Hook

Sandy Hook

As A Grief Center

As I listen and read to people’s suggestions as to what to do with Sandy Hook School, all the ideas seem sound and intellectually acceptable.  And, yet…and yet, my gut keeps saying turn Sandy Hook into a Grief Center.

What does that mean exactly?  It means, leave everything as it is and let the parents and their families go there when they need to , choose to, or not.   The gut behind the move is that if this were my child that had been murdered, I would be drawn to the last place my child was alive like a magnet.  Never mind the blood and whatever else, that would be MY child’s blood and the place that child last lay.  It is all I would have left and that would be precious to me.

Most people want to clean it up and, perhaps turn it into a shrine or memorial.  I feel it deserves a more living response then the usual antiseptic nonsense

A place to go and shake my fist at the forces that permitted this, and then scream, cry, get up and go on, as life demands.  The greatest gift to me during the beginning of my journey was the place and permission to keen and wail.  The nice thing about turning the school into a grief center is that no one would need to monitor the parents need to grieve.

I hope these parents get that gift.