The Coming of Spring ~ Cherry Blossoms in Washington, DC

Last year, I spent the weekend in Virginia experiencing cherry blossoms. This has been something I’ve wanted to do for so long, and finally, the timing worked for me to go. I know I can experience this anywhere you will find cherry trees, but there’s nothing like the blooms in Spring as you walk along the Potomac. The day we went was perfect weather, with a high of 80 degrees. For most of the rest of the trip, it rained, but this day was perfect. This Cherry Blossom Festival draws a large crowd, and although public transit would have been excellent, it was not what we chose to do. There were so many people and lots of cameras. Families were taking photos with their children, friends were taking selfies, and it was the best day. Lots of smiles and a load of steps walked. I enjoyed this day with my childhood friend and her granddaughter, who had never seen the cherry blossoms. We walked along the Potomac and crossed to the Tidal Basin area across from the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial.

My Word for 2024

In the quiet of the day today, I began thinking about the year's end and my word for 2024. This year has not been precisely what I thought it would be, with my word for this year being "Inspire." My primary reason for choosing this word was that after launching my Grief Recovery in-person groups, I wanted to inspire others to process loss through the Grief Recovery Method. I was able to host three groups in 2023 and help so many folks with their losses. It was a great blessing. Seeing some of the folks who've gone through my groups and the transformation I see in them has been amazing. That is inspiring for me. Yet, in the meanwhile, some other things transpired in my personal life that left me feeling a bit defeated. I'm never sure what the results of my word for the year will be, but I always intend to be the encourager. 

In July of this year, after a kidney biopsy, I was given a diagnosis of Fibrillary Glomerulonephritis https://rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/fibrillary-glomerulonephritis/

It's a long story, but this was after months of tests, which finally resulted in a biopsy in June and a diagnosis in July after confirmation from the Mayo Clinic. With this in mind and a little research, I've stumbled across my word for 2024. Since July, I've been working with my doctor and a few other clinicians to get to a place of stability with my health. For me, this is a good thing. This disease is progressive with no cure, so stability is good. I've had a lot of emotions I've carried for the last year, much of it just in the previous six months. Recently, I didn't realize how much I was carrying until I had a massage, which left me in tears and exhausted from some of what I was holding. Some of what I was holding is the weight of this disease. Some of what I'm holding is cumulative grief that feels heavier during the holidays. Some of what I carry is just life, which doesn't always feel good. Part of my training in Grief Recovery is to be present. Sit with what makes my heart sad and, in time, give it a voice. I'm still processing all of it. 

So, with that, my word for 2024 is stable-not likely to fall or give way, as a structure, support, foundation, etc.; firm; steady. Able or likely to continue or last; firmly established; enduring or permanent. I'm praying for my health to continue to be stable. I also hope to continue to lend my expertise and training to other grievers to help them process their losses in the new year. If it's time to process your loss, please reach out so we can chat. I have groups starting in January.

 https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/grms/dawn-kincade

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

A Zookeeper of Introverts

Today would have been your 33rd trip around the sun. I’m not going to lie; I’m sad you aren’t here. I’m sorry that you are missing all the things. Part of the process of the completion of our relationship with Grief Recovery is talking through our hopes, dreams, and expectations, and I’m grateful to have processed those things. Still, those feelings can surface on days like today, and I must face the grief of you not being here. I’ve learned a lot over the last two years, and I often feel like a broken record when sharing about Grief Recovery. I share because I know of loss, and everyone is walking out their losses individually. I can listen and be a heart with ears. I’m also grateful to have processed such a painful loss as Evan’s death. Pain does not equal love. Carrying painful feelings is not how love carries on. Sweet memories and funny stories, along with the love of family and friends, being truthful about what hurts, and not running away from painful feelings by doing things that help me not feel them. (overeating, drinking, shopping, and isolation) I’ve done that too long, which is part of the problem. So, at this moment, I am heartbroken, and I miss you. There is a hollow place in our family because you are not here. I can’t pretend it’s not there; part of that reality’s truth is to say it. Happy Birthday to you! You’re missed every day, especially at this time of year.

Giving my feelings a voice.

November's cool, crisp air brings a melancholy of watching the warmth of summer cool into fall. October is always packed with birthdays and days of Indian summer. Alex and I share a birthday month, and it's always endearing for us to have that thing we share. Some of my favorite people share a birthday month with me, and I love that my birthday comes at the beginning of the month so that my party-happy Enneagram Seven can have an entire month of fun. But all the fun must make way for other feelings, even the hard ones.

Over the last year or so, I've done a lot of grief work. Grief work is hard. It brings with it truth and reality. For me, that fact could not be more accurate than November. Although I've done significant work with grief and have had the privilege of helping others, which in turn has helped me, November is a melancholy month for me. Completing losses means delivering those communications that in your relationship you wish had been different, better, or more, and your hopes, dreams, and expectations for your relationship. The truth in those communications is where pain lives. Last year, I worked on completing those communications with Evan, and in turn, I felt that the poetry slam would not be happening and that it had extinguished its lifespan. Writing that now feels different than it did at the time. For me, it felt like a betrayal to Evan. As if we were leaving him behind, I may need to write a P.S. to him about it as I write this. Because it may have been that what I was leaving behind was the pain. Some of that became evident the year before, but almost everyone was trying to help me process my loss and came to rally around me and our family.

So that brings us to today. November 2023. Seven years after Evan's death. It is a lifetime, yet a moment, and I'm sitting with my feelings about this and unsure how to articulate my heart. I've felt a lot these last seven years, and still, as this month approaches, the melancholy moves in, and I sit with it. No one feels like I do about Evan, which is okay. Everyone experienced him differently, and they are experiencing that loss at 100%. Milestones happen daily with us as a family and with his friends. I feel those losses and have learned to process them independently and through a lens of gratitude that I get to share those milestones with others who loved Evan, too. Time does not heal. Time and correct actions heal. Nothing can replace my losses. Keeping busy doesn't heal my loss. These are myths that I've been taught throughout a lifetime, and they haven't helped. Part of the process of understanding is sitting with those feelings and giving those feelings and ponderings a voice, and in doing that, I honor Evan's memory and the short life he lived. I love and miss you, son.

Bereaved Mother's Day

Today marks my seventh year acknowledging Bereaved Mother's Day, the first Sunday in May. Much has changed since I first wrote a blog about bereaved motherhood. How that feels as I look at this day and all the many people I know and who I've met over the seven years who have lost a child, either through miscarriage or premature childhood death or adult children that have passed away, I know for a certainty that this was not a club that I joined voluntarily nor is it one others would join on their own. Although time has passed, I feel, on some level, that I've turned a corner. My enormous feelings are still just as acute and just as honest as they were on that first Mother's Day without Evan. There has been much that I have tried to regain through counseling and the completion of my relationship with Evan through the Grief Recovery Method; as Mother's Day approaches, the missing him is not different; that feels the same, and no amount of counseling or processing or logic will change that. My fond memories and my love will last a lifetime.

To all the moms I've met along this path, thank you for being a voice of encouragement to me. Thank you for seeing me and sharing your love for your child with me. I'm grateful for your friendship and your acquaintance. In general, grieving parents are misunderstood. To a world that wishes for us to be OK, we are OK. We have someone we love very much, our child, die, and until you can feel that pain, it's challenging to understand. We don't need pity, and we don't need fixing. We need to share our story and to be listened to. You may have moved on about our child, but we haven't, and not speaking about them tells us a lot. I'm grateful for the training I've gone through with The Grief Recovery Method. It has given me the new tools I need to help others experiencing loss and allowed me to be available for them to share their story and complete their losses. I'm thinking of you on this Bereaved Mother's Day.

Lessons Learned Along the Way

Life is a series of lessons taught to us, and then using those lessons to move our path forward. I've learned many things over the last almost seven years. These things have been hard lessons and have taken me down painful pathways, yet I've learned a lot about others and how that looks and feels for me. This year has been a year of growth, and with that growth comes hard decisions and the continued loneliness that is grief. I've continued formulating my path, which has always been the way it is. Grief isn't something one does with others; it is more of a parallel journey. With my discoveries through the Grief Recovery Method of how loss impacts not just life but the physical parts of us, I've had to take a long hard look at how I move through grief and loss. In many ways, it has given me space not to hold others hostage to my feelings and allowed me to have some grace for them. Still, it also has given me the understanding that processing our losses is complicated, and many don't have the tools to unpack their grief/loss.

I'm also trying to figure out how one processes the loss of community, not just from the loss of your child but also from the failure of unmet expectations. This time (my son's death and the pandemic) has shown me what I've always felt: we're alone. My attitude has been the downside of loss, and it has allowed flaws in myself to be multiplied, and that has caused great judgment of myself and others. The Grief Recovery Method has helped me see the things I wish had been different, better, or more, and has released me from the feelings that come with undelivered communication.

For this reason, I've been so grateful to have the tools I need to process my hopes, dreams, and expectations, which are the primary source of my pain. I will continue to think through what I wish had been different, better, or more with my relationship with others and reflect on the changes it has brought me.

Grief Recovery is for anyone who has suffered grief or loss of any kind. For more on groups that are starting in April, click on the link https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/grms/dawn-kincade

The Hard Work of Grief

The cold winter winds are starting to warm just a little through the warmth; I still get the chills from February breezes. As the year started, I began a Grief Recovery group. It has been my heart to use my training to help those who have suffered loss to communicate their undelivered emotional communications.

What I've learned is that grief is cumulative and cumulatively negative. As I've observed, all the classes begin with faces filled with vulnerability, despair, and deep sadness. At the onset, we discuss the old tools we use to manage our losses. I help them understand those tools to recognize them in not only their current losses but their past losses too. Then the remaining weeks are spent learning and activating new tools to help them understand and complete their losses. We learn about how time doesn't heal, but time and correct actions heal. We learn about how completion does not mean forgetting. When we take the steps toward completion, we make room for memories filled with joy, hope, and love.

I speak from a place of understanding. This last week it became clear to the participants that they have taken the steps and are moving towards completing their losses. I can see it not just in how they look but also in their lightness, and it's remarkable. I'm privileged to partner with these beautiful souls who have trusted me with their hearts. If you want to join me, I have classes in March and can help one-on-one too. Will you trust me to help you with your broken heart? Let me be for you "a heart with ears." Grief Recovery Dawn Kincade

My Real Highlight Reel...My Word for 2023

The end of the year always brings highlights from the year we're leaving with bright hopes for the year ahead. I always love to see what those highlights look like and when I get ready to do mine, I'm always disappointed by what the algorithm chose for my "highlights." It's always difficult for an app to know what made my day and what got a lot of likes. In my economy, likes don't always equate to making my heart happy.

As I closed out the year, my word for 2022 was the noun version of Resolve-firm determination to do something. Similar words to resolve are braveness~courage~spunk~steadfastness~persistence

I'm looking back fondly because this word was the very essence of my year. I was persistent in understanding grief and all of the things that grief has taught me. I spent the year taking the information I've learned over several years of loss, pursuing what I've gleaned, and getting the training with the grief recovery method that has me moving into the next thing God has for me.

I've decided on my word for 2023 and just ordered my one little word piece.

My Word for 2023 is Inspire - to influence or impel, to give inspiration to, to produce or arouse (a feeling, thought, etc.). Other similar words are educate-enrich-enlighten-transform-nurture. As I move into 2023 with newfound information on grief and loss, I hope to Inspire others to feel their feelings and to process and complete their losses. I’m wondering…what is your word for 2023?? Happy New Year!!