In Memory of Dad

As many of you may know, we lost our dad October 11.  Dad suffered from Lewy Body Dementia.  His passing was a blessing for him, liberating him from what could be at times a tortured mind.  I thank everyone who has sent prayers, thoughts and messages regarding my dad’s transition.
and Parkinsonism.


Today as I ponder the last week, I'm taken back to six months prior to his passing that my brother suggested we prepare everything for dad’s funeral.  We knew his health was declining as he was steadily losing weight; we did not expect him to pass so soon, but rather during the winter months into 2020.  In preparing for dad’s funeral, I began to create a video memorial to play at the visitation.  This project was a labor of love during this time as I went through countless photos from our childhood, photos of my brother’s albums, and scans of photos on a project I’d worked on a few years earlier.  It involved picking the right photo, the right music, and timing of it all as I pieced it together.

Over the decades dating back to my adolescence years, I remembered dad as “keeping me down”. Ironic since these are the words he used when living at the Carmel Home about the nuns and staff: “They’re keeping me down. I cannot do anything.”  My memory stems from the negative experiences I saved to my brain’s mental hard drive over the years.  Being fussed at for being me (laughing too loud, crying too much), being criticized about how I looked, or for my choices, not living my life the way dad thought I should or would. As a result, I remember needing to please him, working for his approval and/or his love.  I would talk about all the cool things I’m doing or what’s going on, and dad would just sit and listen without much expression.  I have a photo of my showing him my engagement ring and I remember him not being yet again, overly impressed.  He may have said congratulations then threw in some snarky remark in the name of teasing like, “Good luck” to my fiancé.  Dad would take snipes at me when he could, which struck a young gal so eager to please her father in the heart.  Our brain tends to focus on the negative memories, and its amazing imagination will fill in the gaps that help build the story we tell ourselves and others about any negative experience we had.  I realized I focused mostly on the negative experiences of being yelled at, the lack of words or show of support, the criticisms and the many arguments we had while I was a teenager. I perceived him disappointed in me and I focused on how my father had been “keeping me down.”
  

Over the past several months, I experienced a healing with support from therapy, reading books about compassion and resiliency, and while working on the video.  In perusing the hundreds of photos, I came to know and remember my dad in a different light.  Dad was a hard working man that took on many responsibilities outside of his full time swing shift job.  He put food on our table by growing it and raising the beef and pork.  He put a roof over our head, literally building the house from the ground up.  Dad put me through college by raising and working in a tobacco field many summers.  The photos showed many memories of smiles, and even in my baby pictures, you can see him gleaming with love for me.  He was creative, industrious, and even had a softer side to him I’d never known.  I found poems and letters he’d written for and to mom.  I remember crying as I read them because they were words I never heard him speak to me when growing up, but clearly he felt deep in his heart.  I realized that dad parented the way he himself was parented.  I also realized that I became so preoccupied with the negative that I lost sight of the positives in my relationship with my dad.

My healing was liberating once I began to see my dad in a different light that my brain naturally tended to keep in the dark.  I didn’t feel the need to seek his approval, to hear him say, I love you, or make decisions with the thought, “what will daddy think?”  My healing liberated the intense karma between my dad and me and I’ve never felt lighter and at peace around this relationship.  I’m grateful I had the chance to let him know how much I appreciated his hard work and that he was indeed a good father.  I came to feel unconditional love for him and know unconditional love from him in the best way he knew how to give it.

Take a relationship you are struggling with and flip it into the light.  What has been good about it?  What did it teach you? How are you taking away the positives into your own life? Shine Light on it. The not-so-great experiences will fade as you experience the paradigm shift to see it in the Light.  Then give thanks for the blessings and this person and all you've learned.  Find ways to focus on the positive through journaling the good times, looking at photos, or having conversations with mutual friends or family.  Be open and know that no matter the circumstances around the relationship experiences, it serves purpose for your healing, his/her healing, and your spiritual and personal growth and healing.  Jesus recognized the good in all people and never held a grudge against anyone, including his persecutors.  Forgiveness came without fanfare – it just crept slowly in and consumed me gently.  Allow it to do the same for you.

For a peak at the memorial video, please click here.   

What Would Buddha Do When a Loved One Dies?

I just sent the April Soaring Dove Connection newsletter that discusses the loss of a loved one and how those of us left behind are left wondering if he or she is okay and how to go on without them. If you haven’t had a chance to read it, or if you do not receive it on a regular basis, please click here. I write this blog as a follow up.

I recently acquired a wonderful book called What Would Buddha Do? An interesting take on the popular “What Would Jesus Do,” it takes the teachings of Buddha and breaks down the many areas of life, such as love, insecurity of self, doing the right thing, walking life’s path, to name but a few, expanding the teaching from a modern perspective. Ironically, I just opened this book to the section of love, and came across the question: “What would Buddha do when a loved one dies?” I wanted to share the teaching through this venue as a follow up to the April issue of Soaring Dove's eNewsletter.

“Not through weeping and grief do we obtain peace of mind. We increase misery; we harm our bodies. We become thin and pale, destroying ourselves by our own power.” Sutta Nipata 584

Buddha doesn’t intend that we as humans are not to mourn our loss through tears, for as humans, our feelings do demand expression, regardless of whether that expression brings embarrassment or tears to us or those who watch. Consider how you feel when you or another is expressing his or her grief. Are you uncomfortable because you have not fully grieved a loss? Are you embarrassed to share your feelings lest you feel vulnerable and weak? Are you in touch with your emotions about the loss or have you steeled yourself against them in order to be strong as our society demands and even expects it?

When life ends, we do need to mourn, but once we have faced and expressed our grief, we have to let it go. This is the challenging part for many of us; we want to hold on to our grief, which means that we are holding on to the one whose loss prompts the grief. After awhile, this emotionally-gripping attachment drains us and prevents the direction of our energy of love to someone or something else and/or new in our life. Grief is indeed a process, but when we hang on to it as the theme for our personal (often unconscious) agenda to unproductively hold us hostage to victimization and self-pity, we then misuse our personal power, and begin that process of self-destruction that Buddha speaks of in the above teaching.

Our letting go of our loved one and moving on with living our life does not dishonor his or her memory, for we forever remain attached to him or her in love through our hearts. In doing so, we honor all that their presence contributed in our journey during which time we mutually shared a path. They continue to live through us and our personal expression of power; sometimes this is expressed positively and/or unproductively. Regardless, when we can heal our hearts, we can begin to understand that we are always and forever One with our loved one who once served, and who continues to serve us as a teacher, even when physically absent in our life.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today would’ve been my mom’s 70th birthday. I knew today may be touch and go for me emotionally. I met my dad and we enjoyed lunch at one of her favorite restaurants, per his suggestion. Then we went to the cemetery to pay our respects, honor her and wish her a happy birthday. And shortly, I will be attending my first grief support meeting; why? In part to know I’m not going crazy when I have these grief-filled burps of emotion, and to better understand the process and to connect with others who are also moving through it.

Do you remember the scene in movie The Princess Bride when Westley and Buttercup are moving through the Fire Swamp? During their journey, unexpected spurts of fire would burst up from the ground, out of nowhere. I’m finding that grief is like a journey through the fire swamp with unexpected hits of emotion that come quite suddenly and strongly. It is an edginess that lowers my patience, or increases my irritability and defensiveness over the silliest things. It's a power surge that drains my joy, and a geyser of emotion bubbling up and pouring forth as tears. These blindsides of grief leave me feeling off balance and out of sorts; just not myself.

In these four months following my mother’s passing, we are moving through birthdays (both my dad’s and mom’s), my parent’s anniversary, and two major holidays. These are the “big ones” I’ve heard others who have lost loved ones describe as the most challenging. Is it a blessing to go through these “big ones” so quickly and in such a short amount of time or a curse?

I choose to consider it a blessing – for me personally, it allows me to “lean into it.” “It” meaning the grief, while I have the time and space in which to adjust to the absence of my mom in my life, to heal and purge all the emotion I feel around it. Perhaps then I can move forward, cleansed and more light-hearted. I’m not naïve enough to believe that my grieving will be complete after the first four months but it is my hope that it will not nearly as intense as it has felt the last two months. Time will only tell.

I’ve been told that the first year after the loss of the loved one is the hardest. With each 3rd of the month that passes, I give thanks for one more month behind the loss, counting how many are left in that “first year.” However, I don’t think I’ll ever get over wanting to hold my mom’s hand, exchange mother-daughter hugs and kisses, pick up the phone to talk about our respective days, share confidences, and just gab for the sake of gabbing. And I guess in a way, I don’t want to get over wanting those things with my mom, for I wonder that if I do, am I shifting into having taken it all for granted? I don’t know the answer, and intuitively, I don’t think so. But I do know I feel her constantly around me; she’s visited a couple of times in my dreams, and converses with me often. So, I will adjust to just being with her in this different way, and know that whatever I need moving forward as a motherless child, I can find with the love and support of my friends and family who are mothers of their own children.

Namaste.

Anatomy of Losing A Loved One

Many of you who have been following my blog know my mom recently passed from this life on Thursday, September 3rd. A dear friend suddenly lost her dad this week, and I now know, better understand the experience she and her siblings will go through upon losing a parent. Each experience of loss is different for each of us, and depends on the kind of relationship we had with the loved one. And each of us will handle differently what transpires following the loved one’s death; but I’m sharing my personal experience of dealing with the loss in the days and weeks that have followed so that you who have not been through such a loss (blessedly!) can better understand in some small way what we who have experienced it go through. It doesn’t even begin to touch upon “living the experience” but I’m hopeful you can better appreciate why friends going through such a loss might withdraw, become non-responsive and check-out, become brooding and moody, not seem themselves and out of sorts for any given amount of time.

Upon my mom’s transition, my dad, brother and I were with her when she drew her last breaths. I have never seen someone transition, never having been present when another human being left this Earthly realm. It wasn’t what I expected; it has replayed in my mind many times, and now and again, continues to do so. It’s one of those moments etched in your memory that you will forever recall. The sound of the final gasps of breath. The gurgling of each breath. The body’s strain to take them. My mother’s face as she did so. It brings tears to my eyes to think of it, even at this writing, but I am grateful I was there to be with her, support her as she left this world into the next glorious Realm.

The week and plus days that followed was like being in a time warp, but it felt like we were on Novocain. We were all numb, and immediately after mom’s passing, there were final arrangements to attend to, which provided us with some distraction. But we also had time on our hands before we moved into the visitation and funeral service phase. In the time leading up to these events, we found distraction in the company of family members, loved ones, and DVD’s. We found comfort in the endless supply of food that people brought over. But the visitation and funeral service: I dreaded these two days for I knew it would be intense. The resentful human part of me didn’t want to do any of it. We are physically and emotionally drained from the loss. And we are not only managing our own emotions over this loss, but we are called upon during these times to support others expressions of loss, those who are also saddened. I didn’t want to hear words of encouragement and comfort that really didn’t feel helpful or comforting. We must also manage others’ discomfort with death, and their loss of their friend in mom. But in support of my father, and in honor of my mother, I resolved to open my heart and mind to the experience, releasing all human angst over to the Universe, and moved into being in every moment of the experience. I found the strength and energy from God Within to move through each moment with ease and grace.

Many people came to pay their respects to the family, and we were touched to learn just how well so many people thought of mom. I personally was touched and amazed at all who came to the visitation; people I hadn’t seen since grade school – teachers, family of childhood friends, classmates, and so many others. The days were long, but filled with the support and love of family, locally and from out of town. Sunday evening after the visitation, our house was filled with approximately 50 family members, young and old, to enjoy food and company. It made for a long tiring day but it offered relief in the form of laughter. It also helped us sleep through the night on the eve of the funeral.

The funeral service had been planned by mom prior to the deterioration of her health. One of the blessings our family enjoyed in all of this was mom getting all her ducks in a row around her affairs. This in and of itself was one of many greatest gifts she gave us before her earthly departure. Funeral arrangements and all the details had been previously made; finalizing them after her death was a formality and effortless. The funeral service she planned, down to the music and who would speak was beautiful, and we’ve received so many compliments. It was a relief to have that closure; but with one door closed, another door opens into the next phase of the loss.

The week following the funeral, we are all still slightly numb mixed with a bit of shock and awe. But we had more to do - thank you notes to those who sent flowers, contributions, etc. My brother and his wife, dad and I sat down and took care of the business. It wasn’t quite a week since mom passed but it seemed that so much taken place in such a short period of time. It seemed surreal. The one week mark hit on Thursday, and slowly, the numb feeling began to fade and the reality of mom’s absence made itself known, along the pain that accompanies the loss. I managed to distract myself much as possible through the weekend, but my façade of being “okay,” along with my intention to “move on” began cracking under the pressure of grief bubbling to the surface. One week and a day after mom’s passing, my brother and his wife returns home to Frankfort and their lives, leaving Dad and I at the house where we’d been in service of mom for two months, and for Dad, even longer. One week after burying my mom, ten days after my mom died, all emotional hell broke loose for me; I crashed and burned for two days, physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

It’s just been six weeks since mom crossed over. Two weeks after her death, I left town and headed to South Dakota and Colorado for a getaway. Several Interstates experienced my tears as I sobbed like a baby whenever I thought of my mom, saw something that reminded me of her, or I felt my mom’s presence around me. The emotion purged up uncontrollably steamrolling through me, at times. I cried even more upon my arrival to Colorado, and in the nurturing and loving arms of my spiritual family and support group. The trip was good, for it allowed me the space to process mentally, spiritually and emotionally the loss, and my life without my mom in it. Upon my return, I finally crashed physically, as all the energies of the grief manifested through a head cold, forcing me to stop, sit still, rest my body and sleep; it was the most I’d sat still since I came home in July to care for mom.

Life goes on. Each Thursday, I feel a heaviness come over my heart, for mom was Thursday’s child (born and died on Thursday). I watch a DVD and see someone losing a loved one, and in hypersensitivity, I break down in more expression of grief, thus missing several minutes of the movie. I’m feeling more myself, but then I’m touched by another’s personal loss, such as my dear friend. My heart aches with an understanding of what she’s experiencing, and her sense of responsibility she’ll feel to forge ahead as a pillar of strength for the family and the community, when you really just want to curl up in a corner and cry like a baby. And lately, I experience “what if” moments, when I wonder, what if I’d been home more often to spend more quality time with her, what if she’d met my Beloved, and what if she’d gotten to do more of the things she’d wanted to do. It’s part of the process; and I gently think the thoughts, and then gently let them go. This is the key to moving through the grief and keeping one’s sanity within it.

As for supporting those of us experiencing such a loss, just listen to us share our feelings, and acknowledge them. Don’t tell us what we need to do to get through the grief; even if you’ve been through it personally, remember we each handle our grief uniquely. Tell us you are available for us to call and talk to you, and that you’re happy to listen and share your own experiences if we want to hear them. Hold us when we are crying, tearing up, and even when we are being unreasonable and irrationally out of sorts for the situation at hand. Just a simple hand on the shoulder or back to reassure us we’re not alone in this is helpful. Be patient with us, understanding and just asking “what can I do for you?” Tell us it is okay to be sad and to cry; don’t tell us “you’ve got to move on.” When its appropriate, help us get out, keep busy with a project; there’s an appropriate time for us to wallow in the emotion, but help us move out of it by bringing over supper, a DVD and popcorn, or an art project. And ask us questions about the loved one, especially if you didn’t know him or her well. We love to talk about our loved ones we’ve lost, for it helps us stay connected to them in a different and new way; don’t think it’s too painful to bring the loved one up to us, and yes, we may even cry when we do talk about them, but that’s okay. You just need to be okay with it if we do. Know that we are in pain as we watch other family members left behind go through this loss too. Watching my dad move about this house, alone and without my mom for the first time in 45 years is heartbreaking. He relied on mom for a great deal, and he misses her presence, her company a lot. We all do. So know we are feeling empathy pain of another’s grief, which leaves us feeling helpless to our loved ones, as well as our own grief.

For me, I’m feeling more like myself, but I still need support. I have a wonderful man who catches me when I collapse under the heartache, but I also need to know what I’m feeling is normal, healthy; so I’ve found a grief support group to connect with so that I’m feeling less alone in this muck. If you are not sure how to support someone in grief, get educated. There’s a wonderful Grief Library at Owensboro’s Glenn Funeral Home’s website, www.glennfuneralhome.com, by a specialist who resides in Colorado. Or go to a grief support group with your friend; he or she will appreciate your support in this way.

I’ve never lost someone so close to me before until the passing of my mom. I’ve lost dogs, grandparents, even an uncle, but this relationship was the greatest loss I’ve experienced. I appreciate the support I’ve received; but I’m not done grieving. Just know we appreciate your love and support continuously, even if we look like we’re doing okay.