I was in a store a couple of weeks ago a that carried inspirational messages plaques, and I wrote this one down because I kind of liked it.
Sorrow looks back,
Worry looks around,
Faith looks up
After some reflection I have decided that I don't much like it.
I am totally fine with the faith looks up part although I think that faith is also forward looking, but the sorrow and worry part are just too pessimistic for me.
As I have progressed down my personal grief journey, I have encountered a lot of bumps in the road. Most significantly, I had to go through the scare of having cancer twice. But when I look back to the days when I was lucky enough to be the stay-at-home mom of three precious children, I feel joy. When I look back at my childhood adventures with my father, I can find no sorrow either. These memories are what sustained me and still do. I know that I am very blessed to have a wonderful family. Although Warren and my Dad died, they are still very much a part of who we are as a family.
However, I have learned to look around. If you are aware of what is happening in your life and the lives of those you love, sure, there will be worries. The trick is to share your worries and that's where the faith part has become increasingly important to me.
The great part is that this inspirational message may be just the thing for someone who is stuck in their own grief journey. Sometimes we get stuck in recriminations and what-ifs to the point where sadness becomes bitterness. That's the time when you have to just move forward, and look-up.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
What Would I Do Differently?
In the months following Warren's death, I searched through my memory of the week preceeding, to try to determine what I could have done to prevent his death. I have spent many years blaming myself for what happened. I often told Mark that when a women gives birth to three children but loses one that is only a 66% sucess rate and therefore I was a failure as a mother. As I have gained some perspective with time, I realize that this self-judgement may have been harsh, but to tell the truth, I still feel like a failure sometimes.
So here are some things I would do differently.
1. I would be sure to hug and kiss my children more and never in a distracted way.
2. I would tell my children I love them each and every time they went out the door, when they got up and when they went to bed, when I talked to them on the telephone, and at random times in-between.
3. I would make sure to act on love as a verb.
4. I would worry less about their safety and more about doing things as a family.
5. I would listen and then ask questions to be sure I had their concerns as my own.
None of these things would have saved Warren's life but I would feel better today had I resolved to do these things yesterday. I did start to act on many of these things with my daughters and believe it or not, that is when I started to feel like a good mother again.
So here are some things I would do differently.
1. I would be sure to hug and kiss my children more and never in a distracted way.
2. I would tell my children I love them each and every time they went out the door, when they got up and when they went to bed, when I talked to them on the telephone, and at random times in-between.
3. I would make sure to act on love as a verb.
4. I would worry less about their safety and more about doing things as a family.
5. I would listen and then ask questions to be sure I had their concerns as my own.
None of these things would have saved Warren's life but I would feel better today had I resolved to do these things yesterday. I did start to act on many of these things with my daughters and believe it or not, that is when I started to feel like a good mother again.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Stuff and Things
I keep a poem posted on the wall next to my computer that I received at a candlelight memorial service for anyone who had lost a loved one. It reads like this:
"We Remember Them"
In the rising of the sun and its going down,
We remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
We remember them.
In the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring,
We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer,
We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn,
We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends,
We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
We remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too shall live,
For they are now a part of us.
We remember them.
This came from Gates of Prayer, a Reform Judaism Prayerbook.
This really captures the essence of how I remember Warren and my father.
In my memories, they will not die and become forgotten.
This year marks the third year that Warren's family and friends have participated in a walk to benefit the children currently experiencing grief. We named it Warren's Walk, Stepping out to Benefit Grieving Children. The walk is on October 1 this year.
For more information on the Candlelight Memorial Service, Warren's Walk and other events that Journey of Hope offers throughout the year, please go to their website. If you have questions or comments, you can respond to this blog or contact me directly at kricester@gmail.com.
"We Remember Them"
In the rising of the sun and its going down,
We remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
We remember them.
In the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring,
We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer,
We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn,
We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends,
We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
We remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too shall live,
For they are now a part of us.
We remember them.
This came from Gates of Prayer, a Reform Judaism Prayerbook.
This really captures the essence of how I remember Warren and my father.
In my memories, they will not die and become forgotten.
This year marks the third year that Warren's family and friends have participated in a walk to benefit the children currently experiencing grief. We named it Warren's Walk, Stepping out to Benefit Grieving Children. The walk is on October 1 this year.
For more information on the Candlelight Memorial Service, Warren's Walk and other events that Journey of Hope offers throughout the year, please go to their website. If you have questions or comments, you can respond to this blog or contact me directly at kricester@gmail.com.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
What Do The Kids Want?
In my last post, I shared some of the ways that we differ in our grieving process. Men do things to try to make everyone feel better. Women talk and talk to try to feel better but what do children want after the death of a sibling or parent? I am convinced that children want just two things, to feel loved and to feel normal.
This is where support groups are so important. As parents talk with each other, sharing stories and coping mechanisms, they are better able to give their surviving children the love that is so deeply needed. Before every holiday or milestone event, we were able to discuss with other parents their experiences, the pitfalls they encountered and what they suggested to help us deal with the issues. This is help you simply cannot get from a book. It is hard earned experience and honest sharing.
Children receive the same support from other children. More than once, someone will relate to me a nugget of wisdom that one child shares with another in grief support groups. If you think that parents can give child all the skills needed for coping with a death, then you must think that grieving parents are perfect. So kids share their experiences and work through the process together. The other great gift from a support group is the feeling of normalcy.
Until Warren died, I really didn' t know how often children experience the death of a significant person in their lives. But if you were to take a classroom of 20 first graders, by the time they reach high school, at least three children will experience the death of a parent, brother or sister. Many years ago, this was a normal part of life as so many children died of disease, but somehow I think we believe, we have wiped out childhood death along with smallpox. The kids who do experience this feel alone because no one wants to talk about it. For several months after Warren died, other parents who had lost a child would talk to us quietly about their experience, but the children remained silent.
In the support groups, everyone talks openly about their loved one's death. Normalcy does begin with the sense that you are not the only one in the room who is experiencing grief. Normalcy is when your parents stop being zombies and start to actively love you again in familiar
ways.
We were very lucky that concerned friends told us about Journey of Hope Grief Support Center almost immediately
after Warren died. He died in June. We started to attend the support groups before school started in August. It was still a rocky year at times but I shudder to think how miserable we could have made each other without the support.
For more information about Journey of Hope Grief Support or other topics, go to www.johgriefsupport.org. If you have a comment or suggestion, please feel free to post to this blog or e-mail me at kricester@gmail.com
Journey of Hope also has a Facebook page and you can follow their events and activities there.
This is where support groups are so important. As parents talk with each other, sharing stories and coping mechanisms, they are better able to give their surviving children the love that is so deeply needed. Before every holiday or milestone event, we were able to discuss with other parents their experiences, the pitfalls they encountered and what they suggested to help us deal with the issues. This is help you simply cannot get from a book. It is hard earned experience and honest sharing.
Children receive the same support from other children. More than once, someone will relate to me a nugget of wisdom that one child shares with another in grief support groups. If you think that parents can give child all the skills needed for coping with a death, then you must think that grieving parents are perfect. So kids share their experiences and work through the process together. The other great gift from a support group is the feeling of normalcy.
Until Warren died, I really didn' t know how often children experience the death of a significant person in their lives. But if you were to take a classroom of 20 first graders, by the time they reach high school, at least three children will experience the death of a parent, brother or sister. Many years ago, this was a normal part of life as so many children died of disease, but somehow I think we believe, we have wiped out childhood death along with smallpox. The kids who do experience this feel alone because no one wants to talk about it. For several months after Warren died, other parents who had lost a child would talk to us quietly about their experience, but the children remained silent.
In the support groups, everyone talks openly about their loved one's death. Normalcy does begin with the sense that you are not the only one in the room who is experiencing grief. Normalcy is when your parents stop being zombies and start to actively love you again in familiar
ways.
We were very lucky that concerned friends told us about Journey of Hope Grief Support Center almost immediately
after Warren died. He died in June. We started to attend the support groups before school started in August. It was still a rocky year at times but I shudder to think how miserable we could have made each other without the support.
For more information about Journey of Hope Grief Support or other topics, go to www.johgriefsupport.org. If you have a comment or suggestion, please feel free to post to this blog or e-mail me at kricester@gmail.com
Journey of Hope also has a Facebook page and you can follow their events and activities there.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Sex and the Grieving Parent
With apologies to our daughters, this isn't really about sex.
Men and women experience grief differently. I am certain that in a large measure, this accounts for the staggeringly high divorce rate among parents who lose a child to death.
It seems to me and this is NOT scientific; that when men are going through the loss of a child, they want to fix the problem, for everyone who is hurting. For many men, if a hammer would fix it, then they would be on their way back to normalcy much sooner. But women, it seems, want to talk and talk and talk. My husband Mark and I went through this.
I'd tell him that I was extra sad because of some triggering event so he would unload the dishwasher and take out the trash. Then, if my mood hadn't improved yet, he'd mow the lawn and clean the pool. On days, when I was feeling extra bad, he would even fill my car's gas tank and make sure it was washed. Sure all this was nice, but I really wanted to talk about my feelings.
It took some time before I realized that he was listening and responding to how I felt. He wanted to do something to make me feel better. He just didn't want to talk about my feelings again, some more.
I suspect that many women take this difference in handling a situation for lack of compassion. Many men probably think, "OMG, I am trying so hard, why won't my wife see that?"
But you see, Mark and I had been married for a long time when Warren died, 23 years. So our relationship was what it was, solid, lasting. Not everyone has this base to build upon. Still it was difficult because we each grieved in our own way. Mark threw himself into his work. He became the best provider that he could be. I tried to become a supermom. Normally, these aren't compatible, we easily could have both "burnt-out" but we made it work because we wanted to for our daughters.
As far as the sex thing goes, yes, you still have sex after you have children and even when one dies. It is a normal, loving thing. Intimacy helps love grow stronger. I was lucky enough to be married to a man who understood that and hey, he even talked to me about it.
Men and women experience grief differently. I am certain that in a large measure, this accounts for the staggeringly high divorce rate among parents who lose a child to death.
It seems to me and this is NOT scientific; that when men are going through the loss of a child, they want to fix the problem, for everyone who is hurting. For many men, if a hammer would fix it, then they would be on their way back to normalcy much sooner. But women, it seems, want to talk and talk and talk. My husband Mark and I went through this.
I'd tell him that I was extra sad because of some triggering event so he would unload the dishwasher and take out the trash. Then, if my mood hadn't improved yet, he'd mow the lawn and clean the pool. On days, when I was feeling extra bad, he would even fill my car's gas tank and make sure it was washed. Sure all this was nice, but I really wanted to talk about my feelings.
It took some time before I realized that he was listening and responding to how I felt. He wanted to do something to make me feel better. He just didn't want to talk about my feelings again, some more.
I suspect that many women take this difference in handling a situation for lack of compassion. Many men probably think, "OMG, I am trying so hard, why won't my wife see that?"
But you see, Mark and I had been married for a long time when Warren died, 23 years. So our relationship was what it was, solid, lasting. Not everyone has this base to build upon. Still it was difficult because we each grieved in our own way. Mark threw himself into his work. He became the best provider that he could be. I tried to become a supermom. Normally, these aren't compatible, we easily could have both "burnt-out" but we made it work because we wanted to for our daughters.
As far as the sex thing goes, yes, you still have sex after you have children and even when one dies. It is a normal, loving thing. Intimacy helps love grow stronger. I was lucky enough to be married to a man who understood that and hey, he even talked to me about it.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
What you lose is the Future.
There is a big difference in losing an adult that you love and losing your child. When my dad died, it seemed a natural but sad part of life. I would have to rely on a lifetime of memories. It was sad but not unexpected.
When Warren died, it did not seem natural. Even though losing a child often happens, it cannot be natural. I believe that it is because when your parent or spouse dies, you lose someone you love. Someone you made memories with. But you have the memories. You made this person a part of the cloth of your life. He or she has already been woven in and the fabric is sturdy, whole, robust, can survive almost any environmental challenge.
The death of a child is different. What you lose is the future. I think about it often and it comes about in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes I see a young man on an airplane or in a store and he reminds me of what Warren might be or could be today. He should be 25 years old. He should be a college graduate, he might have fallen in love, got married. We missed out on all these events. They can never be reclaimed. These events will never be part of the fabric of our lives. I am frequently reminded about these loses. Last summer, my oldest daughter graduated with her master's degree. It was an awesome event, she graduated with a three-week old baby in her arms. Yet in the midst of this, one of Warren's friends graduated with a bachelor's degree that same day, same university. I was there to witness his family celebrate his milestone and was reminded that this was never to be mine.
Did I enjoy the day anyway? Absolutely. I probably treasure each special moment even more now that I know what it feels like to lose the future. Incidentally, having a grandchild has restored my joy in looking forwardnto the future in ways that are unexpected and wonderful.
When Warren died, it did not seem natural. Even though losing a child often happens, it cannot be natural. I believe that it is because when your parent or spouse dies, you lose someone you love. Someone you made memories with. But you have the memories. You made this person a part of the cloth of your life. He or she has already been woven in and the fabric is sturdy, whole, robust, can survive almost any environmental challenge.
The death of a child is different. What you lose is the future. I think about it often and it comes about in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes I see a young man on an airplane or in a store and he reminds me of what Warren might be or could be today. He should be 25 years old. He should be a college graduate, he might have fallen in love, got married. We missed out on all these events. They can never be reclaimed. These events will never be part of the fabric of our lives. I am frequently reminded about these loses. Last summer, my oldest daughter graduated with her master's degree. It was an awesome event, she graduated with a three-week old baby in her arms. Yet in the midst of this, one of Warren's friends graduated with a bachelor's degree that same day, same university. I was there to witness his family celebrate his milestone and was reminded that this was never to be mine.
Did I enjoy the day anyway? Absolutely. I probably treasure each special moment even more now that I know what it feels like to lose the future. Incidentally, having a grandchild has restored my joy in looking forwardnto the future in ways that are unexpected and wonderful.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Memories and the Other Things We Keep
My basement (really the room above the garage) is full of things from my children's childhood. There are ribbons for competitions, essays they wrote, student of the month awards, clothes and toys. This week Sarah started helping me organize my photographs and there were tens of thousands of photos and I still don't have much that predates Warren's death more than 10 years ago saved on my computer.
Yet there is always some discussion of when and how you should "dispose" of your loved ones' belongings after death. I only bring this up because three of my friends have lost their mother this summer and another is watching her parents lose their battle with old age. Some people think that you need to clean-out and give things away quickly because it is a sign of moving on with the grieving process. Other people I know have left their parents things sit for years. My Uncle's home is still filled with the stuff my Grandmother stored in his spare room, some dating back more than 50 years.
I have to say that when my Dad died, I didn't even pay much attention to his stuff. I think it is mostly gone now because a couple of years after his death, my Mom moved into a newer, smaller home. With Warren, it was different. I felt like I had to be sensitive to his sisters and Mark as I cleaned out his room. So we went along in fits and starts. The room was painted, the bed thrown away. I tried to make the room my office but it didn't suit me as an office. It felt like it should be a bedroom so we put a bed back in there. I kept all his toys and books although, most of then probably should have been thrown away or donated and his clothes went into big storage tubs that to this day, I haven't unpacked.
Although I kept all these things, I never revisit them. They don't bring me comfort and I doubt that looking at one of his pairs of shorts would evoke any meaningful memories at this point.
There is a photograph that I love. It was taken by a friend of mine at a school event. It is just a close up of Warren's face and my Dad's face and they were smiling and having fun. Oh yes, that makes me think of so many happy times that Warren spent with my father. It is definitely a memory worth revisiting often. So keep the memories and get rid of the stuff, but only when you are ready.
If you have any comments, please post them or you can comtact me directly at kricester@gmail.com.
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