Grief websites

Since the death of my step-son a year and a half ago, which was followed by the deaths of a number of friends and community members, I've become even more aware of the need for support during bereavement. As a life coach, I have counselled others about grief and have read and written about it. But our own life experiences have a way of bringing things into sharper focus... sometimes whether we like it or not.

If you or someone you know is grieving the death of a loved one, the following websites might be useful. This is absolutely not a complete list; it simply presents some sites that have been helpful to my family and me. There are so many ways to get the support we need at tough times -- talking, praying, keeping busy, being still, reading, getting active, and so.

I hope this list of supportive websites offers you some measure of comfort and help:

Forum for Grieving Dads -- a very private site for men whose child has died

The Compassionate Friends -- for anyone who has lost a child. I wrote a post about the site in March of this year. Read it here.

The Canadian Mental Health Association -- a general website offering information and support on many topics, including grief

Sameet Kumar, author of Grieving Mindfully - A Compassionate and Spiritual Guide to Coping with Loss (Click here to see the book on Amazon) -- You can follow Sameet Kumar on Twitter if you're so inclined.

The Grief Recovery Institute -- offers support for all sorts of loss and grief, whether through death or divorce or anything else

I encourage you to reach out. Get some help. Get a hug. Trust your own feelings and allow yourself the time and space to grieve and heal.

Thoughts about Death

Since the death of my step-son a year and a half ago, I have roamed and lurched all over the strange planet of grief, loss and change, accommodation and acceptance, fury and pain. It's a complicated and unwelcoming place, to be sure.

Before Daniel's death, I had experienced many deaths -- my first child, my father and grandparents, all my aunts and uncles, friends, in-laws, students, cousins and pets. Since Daniel's death, more deaths have touched my life closely...and painfully. My world is being rocked significantly.

I am being challenged to re-examine my ideas about death. I've never been terribly afraid of dying or of death, but I've also never spent a lot of time thinking about it. I guess in some vague way I've just assumed it would all turn out okay. This non-approach has been part of my magical thinking, which I wrote about a few times in April.

My current exploration starts from a place of absolutely believing I can't know for certain what dying feels like or what happens after we're dead. So it's all speculation. Maybe we'll understand it on "the other side." Maybe we won't. I can't know that, either. Maybe I won't even know it once I "get" there.

I like to think that our time after we leave these bodies will be pleasant, but I don't invest a lot of emotion into that preference, because as I said before, I don't believe it's possible to know for sure while we're on "this side."

Where all this surmising and musing leaves me is with this: it actually doesn't matter too much (to me) what happens after I die, but it matters a great deal what happens before I die. And I can do something about that. I can choose to live my life fully and consciously. I can choose to regularly act on the love I feel for those around me. I can choose to be a better version of myself than I was yesterday or last week or last year. I can choose to be respectful  and kind to those I find hard to love and to those I meet only briefly. I can choose to shoot for my best self and to be grateful when I see traits I admire in others and in myself.

So I don't currently feel too worried about the hereafter. I'm aware that I may feel very differently if I'm conscious when I'm close to my death, but even so, I prefer to deal with the here-now as best I can. In the meantime, I love this sentiment about death which has been ascribed to Mark Twain:

I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.

The Hardest & the Best

Friday, January 14, 2011

Tweny-seven years ago today, I was very large with child...our third child. His dad, older brother, Logan,  and I were so excited about this baby! Having lost our first son, we were perhaps more appreciative of this healthy pregnancy and aware of the unpredictable nature of life than many young parents might be.

Well, Lucas did arrive safe and sound as anything. He was followed a few years later by another brother, Graham. Over the years of raising these boys, partly as a married parent and partly as a single parent, I came up with one of my personal axioms:

Being a parent is the hardest, best, & most satisfying thing in my life.In the course of time, I've also been blessed with step-children, grandchildren, and other Bonus Kids, as I call all the young ones I get to hang out with. Birth Kids and Bonus Kids. Fantastic.

Today, with most of my Kids in their twenties and thirties, it's still true that being a parent, auntie, and grandparent -- as conscious, loving, and dedicated as I can be -- is the hardest, best, and most satisfying aspect of my life.

I've certainly screwed up. I've tried things and failed miserably. I've felt so frustrated with my little lovelies I could have shaken them; I nearly did, actually. But I kept paying attention to how friends with older kids handled situations. I asked questions. I learned to listen to my own opinion and began my own healing work. I lost two children and felt terror at losing others. I watch them suffer and wish I could carry that for them, but I can't. And I shouldn't.

This is life.

If you have a friendly or loving relationship with any child or younger person, you are both so fortunate. You get to enjoy a ride that enables you both to have fun and work hard and grow up. What a great gift!

Word Wonder -- kind

Friday, January 22, 2010

1. Gentle and considerate in behavior; goodhearted; benign. Archaic affectionate; loving. 4. Obsolete Natural; appropriate; lawful.  [from the Old English word gecynde]

1. A class or grouping; type; variety. 2. The distinguishing nature or character of something. 3. Obsolete Nature in general; the ordained and proper order of things. [from the Old English word gecynd]
- Funk & Wagnalls Canadian College Dictionary

The word "kind" and its many relatives came from the Old English words gecynde and gecynd, two virtually identical descendants of the ancient Indo-European root, genə-. The root "genə-" means "to give birth or to beget." Many of the words that derive from this root have to do with procreation and with family and tribal groups: gender, general, generate, generic, genesis, genital, genius, genre, gentle, genuine, genus, germ, germinate, ingenious, innate, kin, king, natal, nation, native, nature, nee, noel, pregnant. Quite a list!
- Dictionary of the English Language

Notice that the dictionary entries above give several archaic and obsolete uses of the word "kind": affectionate, loving, natural, appropriate, lawful, nature in general, and the ordained and proper order of things. These older uses of the word provide a bridge from our modern understanding of "kind" back to the original meanings having to do with procreation, family, and the tribe.

This investigation of the word "kind" took me much deeper than just the academic examination of words and roots. It engendered images in my mind of ancient people living together in their family and tribal groups. Doing my best to go beyond sentiment and the visuals portrayed in Hollywood movies, I probed within myself for the feelings and facts of everyday life back then -- the requirement that families stick together and that tribes grow stronger by having children and staying close to kin who could be relied upon to protect and nurture. The root, genə-, implies that people have always seen the need for not only physical survival but emotional connection, as well.

They would have seen animals caring for their young. They would have witnessed birth, death, and regeneration and would have known they were part of it all. Genə- would have been a basic concept of everyday life. And so their languages, which developed out of everyday life, also shaped everyday life. Today we are the same-- part of birth and death cycles, shaping language and daily activities to meet our needs and the needs of those around us.

Most people value being part of a group, whether it's their family, a club or church, or a larger community or culture. Yet many, many people do not feel they belong anywhere. Whether we face our "own kind," whatever that means to each of us, or we face "others," we can choose to see the connections of genə-, of begetting and being kind and gentle, of the natural order of our connection to one another.

Some Thoughts on Grief - Part 1

January 9, 2010

Together with Cathy Piper, a registered nurse with an interest in palliative care and grief, I offered a grief support group for four weeks in June 2008. As a prelude to the group, we wrote a three-part series in which we briefly discussed the nature of grief. The articles were published in The Manitoulin Expositor in May 2008. (All quotations in the articles are taken from Alan D. Wolfelt’s book, The Journey Through Grief.)

Here is that series of articles, which I will post in the same three parts over the next three days:

What is grief?

Grieving is something we do…in response to a loss, any kind of significant loss. It might be the loss of a job, a relationship, friends, a beloved pet, your home, or the loss of your childhood or your culture. Maybe you feel the loss of your beliefs or your language, or you no longer feel needed and wanted. It is common, though often not recognized, for people to grieve over countless changes and losses. And every person responds to grief in a different way and at a different pace. There is no road map that grief has to follow.

Grief comes from deep within and finds its way out in various forms, from crying and wailing, to seeking silence and seclusion, to talking it out. These healing forms of grieving help you go deep inside and walk through the pain to emerge on the other side. When loss and grief are not acknowledged, people sometimes try to bury their feelings with alcohol and other drugs or they keep so busy they won’t feel; however, these destructive paths can lead to depression, physical illness and suicide.

With the support and love of family, friends and, sometimes, trained helpers, it is very possible to move through grief rather than try to go around it by not feeling it. “Acknowledging reality brings pain. As I open myself to feel the total sense of loss, I discover I cannot do this grief work alone. I will need the love and support of those who understand the depths of this journey. Most of all I will need to be around people who are truly compassionate.”

Healing in grief is heart-based, not head-based. The depth of your very soul is exposed, and you enter into new realms to find healing. “The reality of this death/loss demands my attention. As I move from head understanding to heart understanding, I know with burning certainty that life is forever changed. I arrive at this new place unprepared for the journey ahead. How will I set forth?”

“The head, the heart and the soul must all come to embrace the reality of the death/loss. It is the soul that gives life to the head and the heart. I may know the reality of the death/loss in my head, but I must also let it sift down into my heart and soul.”

Silence and solitude, friends and family, all combined, are necessary for your journey through the pain of grief. “As I experience my grief, I am pulled to be both alone and together with others. I realize I need both. The beauty of it is that I have discovered I can embrace both needs. What an important revelation!”

Pushing Through

My mother is a painter, but I didn't inherit her gift. My grandfather was a carpenter, but I didn't get that gift, either. What I do is meander, float and dig around inside myself in search of the exact phrase, the perfect rhythm with which I can articulate ideas and emotions. I use words to express myself.

For the past month, I haven't been able to do much meandering or digging. I've been too stunned and exhausted by the death of our youngest son. Most of my expression has come in the form of tears and weakly returned hugs and an inability to sleep. I've flipped around all over the place -- by turns a zombie or a simmering volcano or a puddle of mush. Several times I sat at the computer, willing myself to write something, anything, but for the most part, it was beyond me to do so.

Then this morning I read an article in the January 2010 issue of Writer's Digest magazine. Titled Inspiration vs. Perspiration, the article discusses the balance required if one intends to write for a living. Author Mary E. DeMuth's words made a great deal of sense to me and, more importantly, urged me to sit the heck down and write something, anything, even if it was schlock. Ms. DeMuth writes, "Understanding the dynamics of each [inspiration and perspiration] and how they relate to our finished written work can help us capitalize on our most inspired times and push through our most difficult moments."

Well, mourning has certainly brought many difficult moments. But I realized as I read that if I am to honour my love of words and my livelihood, I do have to push through. I can focus for short times, so it's important to do that when I can. I can help myself, and maybe somebody else, by getting things "down on paper," as I so often tell my students and clients. And I trust that by doing so, I'll have more inspired moments...and be better able to push through future difficulties. Thank you, Mary DeMuth.

(Check out my Word Wonder post about willingness. I'm pretty sure that writing it helped me grab onto what Ms. DeMuth had to say in her article.)

Reaching Out to Grief

A week and a half ago, our youngest son, Daniel, died. He was twenty years old. In the fog of grief and exhaustion, I've sometimes wondered what I would say in my first post since that day. It felt strange to have my mind jump to such ordinary things, but even in the middle of the worst moments, I have known life really does go on, whether we like it or not...so here I am. I'm a writer, and I value healing and relationships, so it helps me to be here. I hope it helps somebody else, too.

I have learned a powerful lesson in the last ten days. I've learned that any expression of caring and support is of value when someone has died. I used to think that I might cause more grief by calling and stirring things up, or that I'd be one person too many during an exhausting time. As a result, I often hung back when a friend's loved one died. I suspect some of that hanging back was connected to unresolved grief of my own and to a general discomfort with death. But a large part of it came from my belief that my small offering was too small to bother with or would be badly timed.

Well, I'm here to tell you that's not how it works.

My husband and I began to heal early on, a bit at a time, as we were lovingly touched by the hundreds of people who called, emailed, came by, hugged us, sent cards, cried with us, posted a message on Daniel's Facebook tribute page, prepared and brought food, tidied up, sent flowers, sang and drummed, prayed, smiled, and reminisced with us. One friend and neighbour came by and fixed the porch light -- what a helpful, caring act! Every good thought, each small act, has helped us avoid despair and overwhelm -- and will continue to do so.

So, please, trust your instincts when someone suffers a loss. Believe that you do matter. Your offering of support and caring helps. My husband described it this way: the sadness, grief and numbness of Daniel's death emptied our reservoirs, but each act of kindness and support refills our reservoirs one drop at a time.