Going Back to Go Forward

October has been a whirlwind of emotions, filled with celebrations and a breathtaking trip to experience the fall colors. In addition, I found myself diving back into facilitating Grief Recovery, both with an in-person group and through several one-on-one sessions via Zoom. Each time I begin these groups, I feel my heart opening up to the reality that I still have work to do surrounding grief and loss. It’s a universal experience; we’re all grievers in our own right, even if we haven't fully acknowledged it.

As I help others navigate their grief journeys, I realize I must examine myself more deeply. Reflecting on this, I am acutely aware that life moves on relentlessly. I'm pushed forward, yet I can't help but look back and address those unfinished emotional pieces. We all experience a shared journey, and it’s perfectly okay to embrace that healing is a continual process that takes time.

During my recent visit to New York, I had the chance to return to my old neighborhood, which I had not seen in over 50 years. Having moved away in 1971, I was struck by how much had changed; in many ways, I barely recognized it. This return also confronted me with a part of myself that I had neglected or tried to silence, reminding me of the importance of embracing every aspect of who we are as we navigate our lives.

So I enter into November having all the feels as it is particularly poignant for me, as I acknowledge that this week marks the eighth anniversary of Evan’s accident and his incredible act of giving his organs to save several lives. I’m so proud of Evan for his sacrifice. That thought resonates profoundly in my heart, especially as I contemplate my own possible need for a kidney in the near future. I’m grateful to be able to process my feelings with tools I’ve acquired through my training in the Grief Recovery Method and as I help others. Every time I’m allowed to help others, I, too, am helping myself.

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.

Hello November!!

I saw a post recently that said, what will you do with the remaining 61 days left in the year. I always find these questions interesting because they come from a place of thinking you have total control over your life and future. Some days I feel like I can grab myself by the shoulders and say, “You can do this!”. But as I step into the first day of November and I look ahead to the remainder of the year, I must do so by looking back.

On this day 3 years ago, I was editing a photo session of a dear friend and wondering what the week ahead would look like. I had captured a photo while I was waiting for them to arrive at the photo session cause I wanted to share in the “Thankfulness” of November. When I posted, it was meant for encouragement for others, but also it gave me pause as I was encouraging a friend who was facing a tough time. The verse I used was, “Be thankful in all things.” When this friend said, she was trying, I encouraged her that this verse was directional. Christ sees us. That he comes near when we can’t. The strange thing about this dialogue is that less than 48 hours later, I would come to understand this truth authentically and tangibly.

So when I think about the next 61 days, I ask myself what will you do “today?” Maybe I’ll think about tomorrow, but I genuinely hold things loosely. I’m living in a state of change that I did not plan for, nor did I agree to and that is said with living this grief life for my short 3 years. Motivational speeches should look different for those who are grieving or mourning. Instead of asking about the next 61 days, how bout we just make it through the next thing...So live your best day today! Hello November!