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.

The Coming of Fall

As we transition from summer to fall, I find myself reminiscing while looking forward to an upcoming trip to the East to enjoy the beautiful fall foliage. However, there's a lingering sense of unease when I think back to the events that unfolded between September 3rd and October 9th of 2020. It was an incredibly challenging time, and just recalling those days brings back feeling overwhelmed and anxious. In that short period, I experienced the loss of my mom, received a cancer diagnosis, laid my mom to rest, underwent surgery, and embarked on a journey of recovery. Following the surgery, I had to undergo radiation as a precaution, which continued until the end of 2020.

Reflecting on that time fills me with disappointment, frustration, and anger. Nevertheless, I've taken steps towards healing by allowing myself to acknowledge and process these emotions. Through the work of grief recovery, I've learned the importance of sitting with my feelings, allowing myself the necessary time to process them, and then expressing those feelings in a safe space. Unfortunately, there's often a lack of understanding when giving grieving people the space to process their emotions. Many of us are told that we're doing great things for the community, but the truth is that we carry deep and long-lasting hurts. People often buy into myths such as "It just takes time" or "Keep your mind off it," or they try to fill the void with other distractions. At times, we may isolate ourselves because we feel like a burden, or we put on a brave face to help others while neglecting our pain and loss. It's also not uncommon for others to tell us not to feel bad, which only adds to the struggle.

I want to share that I am available to help. I want to be a heart with ears and allow you the space to heal your heart. You are not alone. I have an in-person group that will start in October, and for now, I will only be facilitating in-person groups. I’m available for one-on-one online only. I understand how difficult it can be to cope with such feelings, and I want you to know that you are not alone. It is essential to acknowledge that the adverse effects of grief can accumulate over time, so I want to encourage you to seek help when you feel ready. Remember, asking for support is okay - we all need it sometimes. Follow this link to Through a Glass Dimly for more info on groups and when they begin.

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.

Grief, Coffee, and the missing of Community

The last month I’ve been busy writing stories for work. It is by far one of the things I enjoy most about the work that I do. Yesterday while working on content for my stories I came across some old photos from many years ago. Old photos have a way of bringing to the forefront those things that have been hovering just below the surface, and today, those feelings came rushing back. It’s hard to express with any understanding of how the pandemic has brought with it the pain of loss and grief but multiplied to the 10th power. I was sharing with a friend recently that one of the difficult things about grief is that nothing is ever the same. Now, of course, that can be said about many things really, and that’s not to diminish how others feel. But I can say that one of the things that I needed was routine after Evan died. I needed to have something that got me up every morning as sometimes sleep was fitful, and my heartbroken.

One of my routines is getting up and going to Peet’s every morning for coffee and to see the carousel. Sometimes I can catch a sunrise or chase the moon as it sets. But Peet’s is the place I could go and oftentimes think about Evan. When I went in for my coffee in the afternoons, he’d sometimes sneak up behind me and say, Hey Mom!. It’s a place I could always find Evan or Alex back in the day, and it is, without a doubt, a memory keeper. It has always been a place that lets me know I am home. For me, it is essential not only for coffee but for my emotional and mental health. In the first few weeks of SIP, I remember going in and being teary as I thought about how they stayed open and how for me, it was a lifeline. Peet’s never closed. When sleep was fleeting, and I was up at 5 am, I’d go and wait for them to open. The first few months of this shutdown were hard for so many reasons, but the fact that something stayed the same was comforting. I know it sounds silly as we are in the middle of a global crisis, but as many are learning, much about this SIP has to do with grief and loss. The pandemic made grief that much more intense, and it continues to feel that way.

Peet’s holds memories of past employees who have moved on to other jobs or cities. It’s a place where I’ve made friends, and it’s a place where community happened every day. It’s something I REALLY miss. I miss the community. I wonder about some of the older folks I met who came to Peet’s for connection. I miss seeing them, and in the missing, my heart longs for Evan and for days that are long gone and fading. Just to write that is heartwrenching. Grief is not always gentle. It can come at you like a freight train or like a gentle breeze, but I can tell you that it’s not made this SIP easy or manageable. Thanks, Peet’s, for providing for this grieving, heartbroken momma.

You are essential to me!

What will you capture next.....Capture 2017

Mother's Day Note 2016 

Back in May of 2016 my sons, Evan and Alex, took me out for a Mother's Day adventure to a beautiful place in the Piedmont Hills. We walked to the top of this hill and we could see all of the bay area from this place. They had thought through the day and made it all about the things that I love, taking photos, beautiful spaces, food and them. Later that day both of my sons wrote me lovely notes and challenged me that they looked forward to what I would "capture next". 

So I wanted to start my own journey of capturing what I see on a daily and weekly basis so that as I look back over 2017 with the hope of seeing what the world and creation was saying to me. My desire is to share my heart as I view life and the living of life that comes with seeing my world differently then last year. To put my thoughts and feelings in an open place that others will feel a connection to so that they will join me. Being expectant as I will be this year to see what God has for me and hoping that in some small way this will help with my broken heart. 

Fast forward to today,  January 11, 2017...our family has lost our son and brother, Evan....and life as we've known it will forever be changed. I will ALWAYS be the mother of two sons....the ensuing birthdays, Mother's Days, and all other holidays will look and feel different. I am grateful for my son, Alex, who is working and processing this journey along with his parents. Love my sons and I'm thankful for the 25 years, 11 months, and 4 days I had with Evan and for Alex who has been so attentive toward our care as we venture down this road we did not want or desire for our family. Look around...begin to see the world that surrounds you and capture it. 

Be expectant...Be intentional....#Capture2017

These photos taken since January 1, 2017.