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.

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.

Milestones and a Rebranding

This week marks two years since my last radiation treatment, and most say I’ve been cancer-free. My heart always hesitates to say that, as cancer is tricky. Cancer, for me anyway, always seems to be lurking in the background. I’m thankful for the medical technology that has allowed me to have the treatments I need. I’m also grateful that I live in a country where I have the choices I do medically to decide what I need or want and the freedom I still have to choose. So with those choices, I have fulfilled my desire to help others as they navigate not just grief but losses of any kind, including loss of health.

I rebooted my brand earlier this year after training in Grief Recovery. I decided to do a new logo and take a look at what I want to accomplish on this side of loss. So I had photos done of myself, and I wanted a logo that communicated what I wanted to bring to those suffering loss. You can’t use old keys to open new doors. So I want to give people tools/keys so that they have what they need to complete their loss. Photography will still be a tool I use to express my feelings and to help others capture life. It just will play a supporting role now. I want to thank Kristen McGregor for her graphic artist skills and Lynda Kennedy Photography for her branding photography.

I want to thank my husband, who always sees the vast potential in me that I often overlook. To my son Alex who has also been a cheerleader and support on the days when I felt like I could not see the good, you are my sunshine. To all the health professionals who have cared for me during these last two years but even before that, I’m grateful for your heart and skills. To my family and friends, I’m glad to have you in my corner; although I know, sometimes it can be exhausting, thanks for standing with me. Finally, to Evan, I’m unsure if the stress of your passing had anything to do with my cancer as we are finding more research saying that our bodies keep the score when we are suffering loss/grief. Still, you are one of my best motivators to help others in their suffering. Thanks for that. We miss you every day!

More to come as I start the work on my website and continue facilitating The Grief Recovery Method in my community. I’ve added a link if you want to join in the new year. https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/content/valley-church-1673487900