Pulling Together

I began writing Cry Laugh Heal in December 2010 to start an online discussion about grief and resilience, in particular to talk about the many ways we process it and how we can arrive at the realization that we can find strength and a different kind of future through our pain.

 

My husband died in 2003 and I found that grief was not a topic most people wanted to talk about.  What a surprise right?  Of course, it was a subject I could go on and on about but in general it really makes people feel very uncomfortable and they would much rather talk about anything else. 

 

I decided that by going online I could help myself and hopefully others as we tried to figure out what loss feels like and how we can somehow go on with other lives without that loved one being with us.

 

It is a difficult path but when you reach out to others it can make a difference in your outlook on what to do next.  Psychologists often cite isolation as one of the many dangers of grieving.  I am not totally self-reliant and, as far as I know, no one else is either.  It's a wondrous thing that we need each other.  Truly it is.  Loneliness is not a sign of weakness.  We as humans are hard wired to connect with each other and loneliness is a signal that we need to bring people into our lives.

 

Being vulnerable can be scary but I have found through an honest discussion of my grief feelings that it has given me a sense of renewal; a feeling that I can go forward as I continue to process and extend my hand to others because we are all in this blessed life together.

 

Yesterday, a wonderful friend sent me a link to a post from another widow who through her writing was extending her hand to others and letting them know that she can still can be taken back to those feelings and memories many, many years after her husband's death.

 

I am sharing below the touching post today from Carol Joynt (www.caroljoynt.com) and thank her for opening up and sharing her vulnerability:

 

01/27/2014

This Is A Rough Week

 

I write this for lots of reasons but in particular for a woman I met last night who just lost her father.

We sat next to each other at dinner. We talked about death and grief for  quite a while. And that's what this is about. Death and grief and healing and moving on.  She's worried about her mother, now left without her soul mate after 34 years of marriage. 

 

That's why it's  a rough week for me. At this time 17 years ago, my husband of 20 years was spiraling toward his death, which came on the morning of  February 1. I held his hand as he died.

 

Yes, 17 is a lot of time. But, then again, it isn't. No matter how many years pass, these few weeks of winter, with their tell-tale signs, bring back the three weeks he was on life support at the Washington Hospital Center. I shuttled back and forth between home and the waiting room, usually in a daze, when I wasn't sleeping on the waiting room floor, or crying, or begging God and doctors. Outside was ice and cold and an overall bleak landscape. As now. So it comes back in memories stirred by January.

 

The loss of a loved one is awful in duplicate, triplicate and  a compound of that. I wouldn't wish my loss on anyone. But you do move on. The pain does become less sharp. I mean, what's the option? 

She asked me what I miss. I miss being loved, having the best friend, the reliable other, the person who had my back,  who believed in me when I didn't, who made me laugh when I couldn't, who was a handyman and a bon vivant and was happy just staying home, the three of us. I thrived on his view of the world and his sense of humor. The fact he loved me as much as he did was the cliché: wind beneath my wings. These aren't small values. 

 

Every day since is uphill. But you do it. Me and every other woman and man who has  lost their soul mate.

 

So, if I'm not all smiley this week, or if I seem inappropriately morose, it's not you. It's me. A brief pause in the past. And then, forward.

 

When In Doubt

If you have ever have doubts about talking to someone you hardly know about a recent loss in their life, please think twice about ignoring the subject.

 

You may think you are doing the person a favor by not mentioning their loss or the name of the loved one that died, but it doesn't really work that way.

 

Acknowledging is important and helpful to you, and more importantly, to the person experiencing the loss.  It's extending sympathy or compassion and even though it may be hard to do, it's something that needs to be done.  So take a deep breath, remind yourself that you an adult and proceed.  Think about the person who is suffering rather than your discomfort.  If the death has happened to someone you know well, perhaps you can give them a hug, say you are sorry that they are going through a painful time and listen to what they want to say.

 

If the loss has happened to a work colleague that can be tricky.  But it is still just as important to acknowledge what has happened to this person.  If you can't seem to find the right words to say, then you can always give them a card with a short note.

 

To understand the bereaved person's point of view, here is a short letter that someone who did not want to be named wrote to The Washington Post's advice columnist Carolyn Hax:

 

"When I returned to work after my dad's funeral, everybody avoided me like crazy.  I guess they thought I would burst into tears if they even said hello.  Who knows, maybe I would have.  I felt so sad, so alone and isolated.  His obituary had been e-mailed to everyone , so all details were known.

 

After lunch on my first day back, I slipped off to an empty conference room to collect my thoughts, and a man I only know marginally saw me go in.  He came to me and started this conversation: 'I was so sorry to hear about your dad.  I didn't know he was a music teacher!  Tell me about him!' I was so happy to have someone to talk to about him.  We talked for about 20 minutes about my dad.  Yes, I cried a little.  But at that moment, that was what I needed so much.

 

After a funeral, everyone goes back to their lives, what they were doing before -- and the family who has lost their loved one is completely lost and directionless.  This man, who hardly knew me, reached out for just a moment and cared.   I still run in to him periodically at work and can't tell you how much his gesture, at that moment on that day, helped me to cope."

Psychologists often cite isolation as one of the main dangers while grieving.  Reaching out can make a difference.

 

Downton Abbey

Today I join millions of Downton Abbey fans who can't wait to watch a new episode tonight.

 

I am arriving at the Downton Abbey party very late, for I watched my very first episode last Sunday at the home of some good friends who have watched the popular series from the beginning.  This was very helpful to me because they were able to tell me exactly what was happening, who the characters were in relation to each other and the intricate backstory of different storylines.

 

I'm not sure why I didn't embrace this amazing award-winning series earlier.  I think I already had a number of television programs I was already following and couldn't imagine adding another series to my busy schedule so I never tuned into Downton Abbey despite all the media attention and conversational buzz.

 

That said, I am totally taken with how the series is handling the sudden tragedy of Matthew Crawley's death and where the characters find themselves this season six months later.  The etiquette of grief in 1922 was prescribed and deliberate especially in Great Britain.  There were rules and everyone followed them.  In a way, the rules were a comforting guide, for you knew what was expected of you and didn't need to think twice about what you should do or say.  It was already settled.

 

Michelle Dockery as Lady Mary Crawley

To give you an idea of what was acceptable for a young widow in 1922 with regards to mourning, here is a passage I found in Emily Post's Book of Etiquette, which at the time was the official reference book on social manners:

"The young widow should wear deep crepe for a year and then lighter mourning for six months and second mourning for six months longer.  There is nothing more utterly captivating than a sweet young face under a widow's veil, and it is not to be wondered at that her loneliness and need of sympathy, combined with all that is appealing to sympathy in a man, results in the healing of her heart.  She should, however, never remain in mourning for her first husband after she has decided she can be consoled by a second.  There is no reason why a woman (or a man) should not find such consolation, but she should keep the intruding attraction away from her thoughts until the year of respect is up, after which she is free to put on colors and make happier plans."

And so at Downton Abbey this season, we find Lady Mary Crawley, the young widow of Matthew Crawley, coming out of six months of official mourning and surprised to find herself the focus of attention from an old friend visiting at the Abbey, Lord Anthony Gillingham.  He asks her to go horseback riding and she is a bit unsure of whether to accept or not.  Is it the right time to go on such a venture?  What would others think?  Lady Mary does accept and they do go horseback riding on the grounds of the Abbey but it is all very proper and constrained. 

 

We also find Matthew's mother, Isobel Crawley, still processing the sudden death of her son.  Isobel Crawley, who has already lost her husband, feels her life is over because she is of a certain age and with no husband or son, finds it difficult to move forward with any real purpose in her life.

 

I found it very touching that the crusty Dowager Countess of Grantham, played by the incredible actress Maggie Smith, invites Isobel to a dinner at the Abbey in effort to get her to come out of her isolation and socialize.  The Dowager is compassionate and sympathetic and offering support in reaching out to Isobel and it is so painful, yet authentic, when Isobel replies to the invitation with the same thought that haunts those in mourning even today: "Every time I smile.  Every time I laugh.  I feel I am forgetting him."

 

Remarkable isn't it that human beings have not changed that much at all in our core emotions and reactions to the shock of losing a loved one: grief, solitude, resolution, frustration guilt and then a bouncing all over the place of the same emotions.

In Downton Abbey I find remarkable storytelling and honest and authentic dialogue about dealing with life's moments of deepest sorrow whether you are surrounded by servants, glamorous clothes and leisurely comfort or work by the sweat of your brow downstairs as a maid or a hall boy.

Let's see what happens tonight!

 

 

 

A Generous Heart

I saw this letter yesterday and it reminded me that a new school year will be starting soon.  With the beginning of a new school year, perhaps teachers and student will be dealing with conflicting emotions about losses or illnesses that happened over the summer.

 

When a friend or an acquaintance is grieving from the loss of a loved one, it is natural to want to reach out and make them feel better.  One of the greatest gifts we can give is listening.  Even if you don't know what to say, we can always listen; listen as the person talks to you about their story of loss.  This is not a small thing.  Everyone needs to acknowledge what has happened to them in their own words.

But what should we do if we don't know the person very well?

 

They might be someone we work with or someone we see every day or maybe only once in a while.  In this instance, the letter I read concerned a teacher.  Teachers are in professional situations and they may not want or feel comfortable talking to the parents of the children they teach about their loss.

But still you want to show compassion. 

The following letter about acknowledging a teacher's recent loss was sent to Carolyn Hax, a writer and advice columnist for The Washington Post.  Below is the insightful guidance Carolyn Hax gave recently to a mother who wanted to help her daughter's teacher and ease her pain just a bit.

Photo Courtesy of New York Times

Dear Carolyn:

     My daughter is in the third grade, and her teacher lost her mother last week.  I'd like to know what we, as parents, should be doing right now for the teacher.  Sure, send a card and flowers.  But, we're not close friends or family, so I don't know what her day-to-day needs are.  I asked the school if I should come volunteer  a couple of days next week, but they don't even know if she 'll be back by then.  Do you have any suggestions?

                                                              Anonymous

Dear Anonymous:

My main suggestion is not to overdo it.  When people are grieving, they often use work as their place to be normal, to escape being The Person Who's Grieving.  Even expressing condolences can affect people's composure when they'd rather stay on even professional keel.*

You have a generous heart, and the offer to volunteer in the classroom is a good one that you can re-make when the teacher is back, ideally through the school and not through the teacher herself.  Having your daughter make/write the card would also be swell -- just keep your involvement to the kind that the teacher can respond/react to in private.

*Since things are never easy. . .  some people are terribly offended when no one says anything about their recent loss.  That's why it's so important to acknowledge the loss in some way if you haven't been asked not to.  Just, again, err on the side of discretion in professional situations.

Keeping Love In Your Heart

The best and most beautiful things in the world

 

 cannot be seen or even touched --

 

they must be felt with the heart.

 

                                    ~ Helen Keller

 

 

 

The human heart is an amazing organ isn't it?  We fall in love, break up, and then perhaps fall in love over and over again, testing the resiliance of our courageous yet vulnerable hearts.

 

Somehow, throughout our lives, we ride this emotional rollercoaster and our hearts manage to survive the ride and keep on beating. When a relationship doesn't work out, we are sad but eventually we pick ourselves up and carry on until we meet the next person who catches our fancy.   

 

We must keep love in our hearts for love teaches us everything about the richness of life.
 

In Sympathy

Yesterday I wrote a sympathy card to a man who once lived across the street from our family when I was growing up.

Sadly, his wife died last week after suffering for about a year.  He could no longer take care of his wife by himself but she lived nearby and I understand that he visited her almost every day.  I haven't seen either one of them in years but they still are significant to me.

I babysat for their three children and so did one of my sisters.  We would always wave to them if they were in their yard and sometimes we would walk across the street for short conversations.  My mother and his wife talked a lot because our families had children who were the same ages and they would all be outside playing at the same times.

As I sat down to express my sympathy, I realized that even though I lost my spouse a number of years ago and I have a pretty good idea how much pain this man is feeling, it is still difficult to write a sympathy card.

But as difficult as it is, I still remember how comforting those sympathy cards and letters were to me after my husband died and I would never let my awkwardness stop me from helping another person in the throes of grief and vulnerability.

Writing heartfelt condolences is a tricky area and you're never quite sure if you are saying the right thing that will bring comfort to a person newly bereaved.

I think the most honest and touching thing anyone can write to the grieving person is about how you knew the person that died; what they meant to you, how you met them and a special memory you may have of them.  Maybe they said something to you that always has stayed with you and helped inspire you.

In the end, everyone always wants to hear lots of stories about the person they loved and lost.

Writing Through Your Emotions

To me, processing or working through difficult emotions such as grief, anger, frustration and confusion, is in a sense, breaking down the walls of why I feel a certain way.  Once I think I have figured out a pretty good reason why I think this is happening, I try to either get rid of as much of the feeling as I can or I try to readjust or "rebuild" my way of looking at the situation.

 

During the "figuring out" stage (which can be hours or months), my mind is usually a jumble of thoughts and emotions.  I may be feeling powerless in a situation that keeps repeating itself or getting worse.  Sometimes I grab a pad of paper and start writing down what's in my head -- even if it doesn't make any sense.

Writing can be an effective way of sorting through a problem or trying to find a new way to deal with life after the loss of a loved one.  Just seeing the partial thoughts or beginnings of ideas on paper has helped me get through whatever is going on.   In the beginning, you may only be able to think of a phrase or a few unrelated words but the act of writing it on paper feels positive.  It's also a safe and confidential way of dealing with your emotions because it's only on a piece of paper that you can later rip up.

 

Psychological studies have found that writing about stressful, traumatic or emotional events, like caring for a dying person or grieving their loss, helps people recover faster, both psychologically and physically.

 

Jotting down thoughts, almost in stream of consciousness style, helps me move forward because it's a lot like doodling.

 

In the beginning, your pen is just moving around and doesn't seem to be following any pattern.  Then, after awhile when you're just fooling around, a design or complete thoughts start to form.  In this case, if you allow your mind to wander and you keep trying to work through the conflicting emotions eventually things start to click and a kind of healing may start.

 

Of course it's hard to put your sorrow or your loneliness into words.  But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try.  Perhaps you can pretend you are talking to a friend or even talking to the person you lost as you search for the words that make sense.  Describe what you are feeling.  Write it down and think about what it really means to you in relation to your changed life; your life without your loved one.

 

Writing may help you feel more connected and supported and less like you are outside of yourself.

 

Writing is a resource that's available to you any time you need it.

 

 

Finding Support

 

Re-reading my first Cry, Laugh Heal post from 2010 for Monday's edition brought all the crazy grieving feelings back to me: exhaustion, numbness, raw emotions, the scary future and sometimes even laughter!

But it also reminded how great my support group was during that time and how it gave me hope and helped me feel that life really would get better even though my husband died.  As I met with my small group twice a month, some sessions were upsetting and some were comforting but eventually I felt less alone and stronger about myself and my murky future.

There's a very good reason why they are called support groups: they are set-up to give that extra boost of support needed to help you handle a life crisis and the people in the group have been in your situation.

 

The philosophy of most support groups is this: we have been there, we know how you feel, and you can lean on us until you feel stronger.  Whether it's grief, alcoholism, drug abuse or any other condition where people reach out for help, those who have experienced it are part of the group and lend a helping hand by giving back to those trying to figure out how to deal with their crisis and the more experienced people pass along how life can be lived in a different way.

 

For me, that was the secret weapon of my support group.  The leaders of my group had lost spouses, raised children, and rebuilt their lives.  I had no idea how they had done it but I was there hanging on to every word, reading every bit of material and drawing all of the strength that I could from them because I told myself that if they could do it then so could I.

 

We were bound by our common loss and our discussions, which usually lasted for about two hours, were supportive and healing.  People in my group were newly widowed and had the opportunity to talk about all the issues surrounding their spouse's death, things that they didn't feel comfortable discussing with even their family or friends.  The getting it out, the expression of emotion truly was a huge help.

 

I remember at my first meeting I was nervous because I didn't know what to expect.  We went around the table and introduced ourselves and I thought I would be fine until it came to telling why we were there.  I started to cry and couldn't stop.  But it was okay.  Everyone was quiet and waited for me.  I finally got through my story and when I was finished there was such understanding.  It was so reassuring to me!!!!

 

I could only belong to my support group for two years and while this support group worked me, joining a support group may not be for everyone.  Many people prefer the privacy of one-on-one talks and that is wonderful too.  I tried one-on-one chats for a few months until I was ready to join my support group.  A wonderful and compassionate woman from the support group would regularly call me on the phone and we would talk for about an hour.  I can't tell you how helpful it was to have that support!  Having someone listen and then having her tell me what she did after her husband died was such a gift.  To this day, I treasure those conversations.

 

You are not alone and you don't need to bear your loss all by yourself.  I found my support group at the local hospital but you could also ask your family doctor or a trusted friend.

 

Please don't be afraid to take the first step.  There are lots of helping hands waiting for you!

Sympathy Cards

I recently needed to send a sympathy card to a good friend and found myself in the confusing state of not knowing what to say.  Really, I didn't.  It was a struggle to get my thoughts on paper.

I opened the card and started to write and stopped.  Maybe I was overthinking what to say, but everything I came up with sounded so trite.  Of course, I was sorry and very sad about the person's death but the words that I thought would be appropriate just didn't seem to send the message I wanted.  "Sorry" just didn't seem to cut it.  Not when I knew how much the other person was hurting and how difficult it was going to be to adjust to this loss.

If I could have, I would have drawn a picture of the person's broken heart with my arms around it.  There truly are circumstances when words don't seem deep enough, warm enough or comforting enough to use. 

I decided to refer to a book I use at work for business correspondence called, "Great Letters for Every Occasion."   It's written by Rosalie Maggio and I use it because I like her down-to-earth approach to correspondence.  This time I turned to her chapter on Sympathy and Condolence letters and found some helpful guidance on what to say and what not to say.

In trying to offer support to a bereaved person, I think both parties are at a strong disadvantage.  The person offering comfort is afraid they are going to upset the bereaved person and the bereaved person is shocked and emotionally exhausted.  It's a tricky area.  Even so, I can't imagine that people say some of the things that Maggio cites as comments you should AVOID saying.  Here's a few:

-- Keep busy, you'll forget.
-- Be thankful you have another child.
-- Be happy for what you had.
-- You'll get over it.
-- She is out of her misery at least.
-- I heard you're not taking it well.

Maggio also says that you shouldn't rely on well-meaning but hurtful cliches, false cheerfulness and optimistic platitudes.  If you're not sure what any of those things are to avoid, Maggio is specific:

--In a Reader's Digest article, "An Etiquette for Grief," Crystal Gromer says, "In the context of grief, cliches are simply bad manners. . . . 'At least he didn't suffer,' people say. 'At least he's not a vegetable.'  Any time you hear 'at least' come out of your mouth, stop.

--Creating an imaginary worse scenario doesn't make the real and current one better.  It trivializes it.  Lynn Caine (Widow) wrote, "It infuriated me to have people say, 'I know you'll be feeling better soon.'  I wanted people to sympathize with how terrible I felt then and there.

--Lynn Caine says most of the condolence letters she received were more about the writer's awkwardness, discomfort and inadequacies than about her sorrow or their shared loss.  There is a fine line between expressing your sorrow and dramatizing your own reactions, Caine adds.

Instead, Maggio offers suggestions on what is helpful to say:

--My heart goes out to you as you grieve the loss of your (insert the person's relationship to bereaved)

--I send you my deepest sympathy on (insert the person's name)

--It was with a profound sense of loss that I learned of (insert the person's name)'s death.

--We are all grieving with and for you.

--You have our deepest sympathy and our love and friendship always.

Even though it may be one of the hardest notes to write, don't ever under estimate the power of sending sympathy whether it's a card or a letter.  It is always welcome.

Searching For Memories

The whole world is watching as the Japanese rebuild their lives with quiet diligence.

News reports show incredible pictures of houses ripped from the earth, cars piled on top of each other and even the concrete tsunami walls built for protection have been broken up and easily tossed aside.  And then there is the nuclear issue...The enormity of the human and physical devastation in Japan as a result of the March 11 earthquake and tsunami is difficult to comprehend and just seems endless. 

But one man in particular stands out for me.  I recently read an interview with this Japanese man, who asked to be called by his family name, Kikuchi, and his sentiments immediately struck a chord.  Through his shock, he was saying that we, as a larger human family, really do have so much more in common than we realize.

"My daughter is missing.  She is gone.  I was up in the hills above town and couldn't get to her in time," he said in a Reuters interview.  "I am looking for something that can remind me of her.  There must be something here," Kikuchi said as he continued his search through the broken-up wreckage for any little piece of something that might belong to her or remind him of her.

The primal need to connect to someone loved and lost is an emotion that touches everyone.  No one can take away Kikichu's memories of his young daughter, but his desperate search is for something more.  He wants physical proof of her, something that he can hold, perhaps something she once held, to reassure him that she will not be forgotten.

Sometimes you keep a possession that once belonged to a loved one because of what it evokes.  It's not really about what the object is.  It's about how the loved one used the object and how it reminds you of how much you cared about that person and how much you miss them.

When my Nana died, I wanted the small metal oblong telephone directory she kept by her bed.  To this day it reminds me of her because all the names, addresses and telephone numbers were written in her distinctive handwriting and no one else had anything like it.

When it was closed, the cover had a vertical list of the alphabet on it.  Beside the alphabet was a piece of metal that was shaped like an arrow and it was on a track so you could slide it up and down the alphabet.  Once you picked the letter you wanted, then you pressed a bar at the bottom of the cover and, presto, the directory would open.  It's a precious memory for me.  In my mind, I still see my sweet grandmother in her lavender bedroom picking it up and using it.

I also talked to a young mother I know about this need to connect through a loved one's momentos because her mother died when she was a teenager.  She immediately knew the emotion I was trying to explore and proceeded to tell me a story about how she and her father were cleaning out a closet a few months after her mother's death and they found a raincoat that belonged her mother.

They both thought they had gathered all of her mother's clothes so the raincoat was a total surprise.  She said her father just stared at it and didn't say anything but she immediately grabbed it and wanted to smell it to see if her mother's scent was still on the material.  The best thing, she said, was when she put her hand into the pockets of the raincoat and she found some balled up kleenex.  "I put them in my hands and closed my fingers around them as though I was holding my mom's hands because my mom had held these kleenex at one time and I just felt closer to her."

Let's think of Kikuchi in his time of sorrow and hope that he finds something that belonged to his dear daughter; something he can hold close to his heart.