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 Compassionate Friends

Last night I went to my first meeting of The Compassionate Friends (TCF), an international organization dedicated to those who have lost a child of any age, by any cause, at any time. Our youngest son, Daniel, my stepson, died in November 2009, at the age of twenty. His death was a deep, stunning shock. The repercussions of his death have been broad, deep, wide...exceeding practically every strong adjective I could possibly come up with.

For the first several months, we did the best we could just to make it through each day. Many times I've told myself, "Just do what needs to be done and make time pass until you can go to bed." Sleeping is sometimes the only way to make time pass without pain.

I've felt at times that I could suffocate in my own sadness. At other times, we've laughed and told "Daniel stories" and have been able to feel grateful and happy about having had him in our lives. Those laughing times don't happen often, but at least they do happen, and I believe they'll increase as the years pass. But I miss him. We all do.

Daniel's death, like any death, is changing family relationships. This reordering can be hard and is often not welcome. But it happens anyway, sweeping up the grievers in emotional and physical whirlwinds. In the past 17 months, other life changes, such as the death of friends and a pet, and health challenges, have added to the stressful mix.

So, after pushing the tough feelings down for a while, I finally feel ready to take a deeper look into myself. I needed a time not to feel, but now I need to deal with those feelings. So, after hearing high praise from a family member about The Compassionate Friends, I decided to check out the meeting in our area.

A small group of us gathered in the quiet of a Wednesday evening. The organizers, themselves bereaved parents, started us off by telling their own story. From there, the rest of us talked, if we wanted to, about our child's story. In some ways it was hard to witness other families' sorrow, and it was also affirming to hear them express feelings similar to my own. We cried sometimes and smiled in understanding agreement at other times.

What I like most about The Compassionate Friends approach is that no one tells anyone else how to feel, how to act, when to talk, when to be silent. No one interrupts. No one lectures or preaches or drapes others in expectations of what they "should" feel or do. All beliefs and experiences and feelings are honoured.

To gain a better understanding of someone whose child has died, or to help yourself in this situation, look for help with The Compassionate Friends. Explore their website here. In future posts, I'll share other resources that might help with bereavement.

Word Wonder -- comfort

Saturday, January 8, 2011

comfort
noun: 1. A state of mental or physical ease, especially one free from pain, want, or other afflictions.  2. Relief from sorrow, distress, etc.; solace; consolation.    3. One who or that which gives or brings ease or consolation.  4. Help or support... 
verb: 1. To cheer in time of grief or trouble; solace; console.  2. To relieve physical pain.  3. Law  To aid; help.  [from the Old French confort, which comes from the Old French conforter. That, in turn, comes from the Low Latin word confortare, meaning "to strengthen." The two parts of the word "comfort" are com-, which means "with" and fortis, which means "strong."] -- Funk & Wagnall's Canadian College Dictionary

It's likely that none of what you've read so far surprised you about today's Word Wonder. It didn't surprise me, either, at first. But what was new to me was the strong association the word has with the idea of strength. I'd never thought about that before.

The "-fort" part of comfort comes from one branch of the ancient Indo-European root bhergh-, which meant "high; with derivatives referring to hills and hill-forts." [Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition, page 1643] At a time when being higher than your enemy increased your chances of survival, hills were crucial. A bhergh- meant strength (-fort)...thus, hill-forts. A number of languages have words related to this root: burg, which meant a fortified town; borough; belfry; burgomaster; even burglar; plus fort, force, forte, effort, enforce, fortify, fortissimo, pianoforte, and reinforce. They all have to do with height, strength and/or safety.

Fast forward a good many years, and comfort becomes the allies and reserves that arrive to support an army -- strength and fortification to help in battle. Further on in history (or perhaps all along), the term "comfort for the troops" came to mean having women or boys available for sexual gratification.

Somewhere along the way, the strengthening nature of comfort evolved into the softer meaning generally used in English today. We think of the solace, ease, and consolation mentioned in the definition above. We think of warm, cozy comforters and muffins and cups of tea or hot chocolate. Comfort means a friend who will listen and offer support.

Ivor Brown, author of A Word in Your Ear & Just Another Word, believes "This is one of the admirable words which have turened soft and it needs to be re-stiffened to its proper shape and value." Although it is, as he continues, "...by origin, the giver of strength and valour," I don't agree with him that comfort has lost its power.

Upon reflection, I've come to think that the comfort we derive from soft blankets and rich carbohydrates and solace in times of grief is closely similar to the strength ensured by high places in times of war. No matter how comfort comes to us, it usually does, indeed, make us stronger. Whether we fight enemies on a battlefield or struggle with the onslaught of life's problems, comfort is welcome. It helps us move from feeling overwhelmed by sadness or depression or loneliness to feeling stronger and better equipped to move forward.

I hope that, whatever the circumstances, you will offer and accept comfort, thus helping strength to return.

Helpful Resources

Thursday, June 17, 2010

I will periodically tell you about valuable resources for relationships, personal growth, and healing. One such resource is New Harbinger Publications, the house that published the book I co-wrote with one of my brothers, Bill Klatte. Our book is entitled It's So Hard to Love You -- Staying Sane When Your Loved One is Manipulative, Needy, Dishonest, or Addicted and offers help to anyone dealing with troubled, troubling, or troublesome loved ones.

New Harbinger was a perfect fit for us because they specialize in books that offer help with communication, personal growth, healing, physical and mental wellness, relationships, and so on.

Their solid publishing reputation is demonstrated in this tiny sampling of their titles:

• Relationship Saboteurs -- Overcoming the Ten Behaviors that Undermine Love, by Randi Gunther Ph.D.
• Fearless Job Hunting -- Powerful Psychological Strategies for Getting the Job You Want, by Bill J. Knaus Ed.D., Sam Klarreich Ph.D., Russell Grieger Ph.D., Nancy Knaus Ph.D.
• 10 Simple Solutions to Panic, by Randi E. McCabe Ph.D., Martin M. Antony Ph.D.
• Visualize Confidence, by Kirwan Rockefeller Ph.D.
• ACT with Love, by Russ Harris MD
• Messages, by Matthew McKay Ph.D., Martha Davis Ph.D., Patrick Fanning
• A Woman's Addiction Workbook, by Lisa Najavits
• Caring for Your Grieving Child, Martha Wakenshaw
• The Anger Workbook for Teens, by Raychelle Cassada Lohmann MS, LPC 

I encourage you to check out New Harbinger's extensive catalogue. You may very well find something helpful for yourself or someone else.

Choose not to Compare

Friday, May 14, 2010

In my morning mental meanderings today, something brought to mind a thing that often happens when someone is going through a difficult time. At least one person will say something like, "Well, think of all the people living in war-torn countries or so-and-so who just lost his whole family, or...," etc. etc. You've probably heard it. Maybe you've said it yourself.

People who say such things intend to help. They think that by getting your mind off your troubles, you'll feel better. They think that if you're reminded of how much worse life can be, your troubles won't seem so bad. Unfortunately, I don't think that's how it works. Statements like these may distract the afflicted person for the moment, but that's not necessarily a helpful part of healing or of dealing with what's going on. In addition, these statements encourage everyone to ignore difficult feelings like sadness, grief, anger and so on. As I've written before, ignoring hard feelings doesn't make them go away; it just makes them go underground. Later, they may very well emerge as headaches, depression, colds, back troubles, cancer, rage, self-pity, and many other peace-blocking symptoms.

So this morning, it occurred to me that one benefit might be found in the statement, "It could be worse. Look at so-and-so's problems." That benefit could be to recognize that in this physical life on this earth, troubles are not uncommon. They happen every day, and they happen to regular people, people just like you and me. So since we're all equally human, there's no reason to expect total lifelong freedom from difficult times. I suppose there might be people who never face calamity and loss, but I don't know too many, if any.

The other possibly helpful part of such statements is to remember that there's no quota on loss and pain. I don't know why, exactly (though I have some theories), but I do believe that's the case. I have certainly, definitely felt like I've had my share, but that doesn't seem to be how it works. When I feel like I'm getting more than my share, I remind myself there's no such thing as "shares." And this is not a depressing thought. I refuse to think and live like a victim anymore. I choose instead to be honest about my hard times and how they affect me. I choose instead to accept that other people will make choices that sadden me or cause me pain...and that I can choose how to deal with that. There is nothing about my "me-ness" that exempts me from experiencing the full range of being human.

Are pain and loss excruciating at times? Yes. Do I wish they'd go away? Yes. Do I sometimes feel like I can't take anymore? I sure do. At those times, I rely on a loved one or my spiritual source to get me through. Some days I can only manage to put one foot in front of the other until it's time to go to bed. I sometimes decide to temporarily ignore my rotten feelings and just keep busy...but I make sure that as soon as I can, I unbusy myself and deal with my feelings.

I do not advocate comparing ourselves and our troubles to someone who is "worse off." However, if you hear such words, you can use them to remember that all humans are human and that we always have choices about how to deal with our humanity.

Rethink Popular Sayings

Sunday, April 18, 2010

When someone is going through a tough time, or when talking to our children, we often offer advice in the form of common sayings:  Look on the bright side. God must have needed her more in heaven than we need her here. Every cloud has a silver lining. Life is short. It takes two to tango. Practice makes perfect. Though we mean well when we say them, we often use such sayings without even thinking much about their meaning or impact.

The trouble with this lack of thought is that it renders many such sayings useless or even harmful. They've become such clichés that they do little more than briefly disturb the airwaves -- unless they actually do damage. How can well-intended words harm anybody? By setting up unrealistic expectations, by glossing over a specific situation, or by ignoring the feelings of the person you say them to. Here's a closer look at few of the sayings I've sited above.

Look on the bright side. This saying is meant to help people focus less on the problem and more on hope and improvement. That's great...most of the time. But sometimes, before a person can look for the positive, happier possibilities, she needs to feel the sadness, anger or disappointment. She might first need somebody to listen so she can process the problem, which is an important part of moving forward. By tossing out this cliché, we might be ignoring what's actually going on for her right now, which can actually make it harder to move forward. Instead, ask questions about what happened and how she's feeling. Give her time to process events and feelings and be available, if you can, when she's ready to start looking on the bright side.

God must have needed him in heaven more than we need him here. When someone is grieving, it can be very hard to know what to say; we're afraid we'll make someone feel worse by saying the wrong thing. In some cultures and communities, grief is "supposed to" be expressed only briefly, if at all. Many of us don't like how we feel when somebody is unbearably sad, so we trot out clichés by way of comforting both of us. But the idea that God needs somebody in heaven can feel pretty irrelevant when your friend is in shock, horror and disbelief about his loved one's death. Offer your friend your caring presence, comfort and simple foods when he's grieving. If you're not sure what to say, silence is an excellent substitute.

Life is short. Intended to aid appreciation and endorse our choices, this saying is actually pretty negative. How about replacing it with something like this: Life is rich, so I choose to enjoy and appreciate it.

Practice makes perfect. A few years ago, I rewrote this saying to read "practice makes better" because the original form sets up unrealistic expectations. Of course, the intention behind "practice makes better" is to encourage effort and determination, which are admirable. However, it also gives the impression that if you try hard enough and are good enough and work, work, work, you can someday be perfect. For many, that's a scary prospect. We can be very good, we can become experts, but perfection can feel too huge to many, so they give up before they even start. Thinking of practice making us better keeps improvement within our grasp.

So, slow down and pay attention to yourself and others. Think about what you say before you say it, and you'll be of genuine help.

Grief Websites

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

This is a list of four websites related to grief recovery that my family and I have found useful in the past four months. I hope they're helpful to you, too. Keep in mind that mourning and a sense of loss are related to a death, of course, but they can also result from any major change or transition.

Center for Loss & Life Transition -- a site "dedicated to 'companioning' grieving people as they mourn transitions and losses that transform their lives. We help both mourners, by walking with them in their unique life journeys, and both professional caregivers and lay people, by serving as an educational resource and professional forum."

The Compassionate Friends -- a site for anyone who has lost a child at any age, by any cause

Grief Recovery -- "the action program for moving beyond loss"

Webhealing.com -- an interactive site on crisis, grief and healing.

Word Wonder -- lethargy

Monday, February 15, 2010

1. a state of sluggish inaction, indifference, or dullness; apathy.

[The word "lethargy" comes, via French and Latin, from the Greek word lethargos, meaning forgetful, which in turn comes from the Greek lethe, meaning oblivion.] - Funk & Wagnall's Canadian College Dictionary

It seems that in Greek mythology, the River Lethe flowed through Hades. Those who went to Hades drank the water of the river in order to forget the past -- to find oblivion. Ancient Greek physicians likened this state of oblivion to that of the deep slumber they saw in some patients, so they called the disease lethargia. The ancient Romans compared the oblivion in the myth to the oblivion of death and came up with lethalis, an adjective that today means "lethal" -- deadly or fatal. - Thereby Hangs a Tale, Charles Earle Funk.

Today the word lethargy is generally used in the way it's defined at the beginning of this post -- a state of indifference or sluggishness. Most people experience short-term lethargy every once in a while. A great night's sleep, a brisk walk, a weekend of "just" lying around or a night out with friends can often take care of it.

A longer period of lethargy can accompany depression, mourning, or illness and is a normal part of these conditions. Loss, fear, and sickness rob us of physical, mental, spiritual, and emotional energy, making it difficult to think or to perform even simple tasks. Lethargy can drain our interest in life and in the people around us.

Here are some helpful (and maybe not surprising) ways to deal with lethargy:

• Deal yourself a break. Be as kind and patient with yourself as you would be with a good friend.
• Get enough sleep. This might include naps, even if you don't usually "do" naps.
• Eat more fresh, raw foods and fewer processed foods.
• Get outside for fresh air.
• Add a walk or other exercise to your fresh air experience. Even small amounts of exercise are helpful; you can increase it bit by bit.

Allow yourself this down time. Read more. Listen to music or talking books. Visit with comfortable friends. Do easy tasks like sorting magazines or cleaning one cupboard.

Talk with a counsellor if you feel this will help. Whether your situation is temporary or long-term, counselling support can be very helpful.

One of the hardest things about dealing with the lethargy of depression and mourning is that it feels like it will never end, even if helpful books and people have assured you it will. Pay attention to your levels of energy and let them guide you as much as possible. If you feel like visiting with friends, do so. If you need a few hours on the couch, go for it. Enjoy laughter and positive energy when they come and respect the tears that can follow. Gently but firmly encourage yourself to reach a little further when you can, but don't give in to blame; feeling lethargic is not the same as being lazy or selfish.

Life may be a roller coaster at times, but if lethargy is part of your ride at the moment, accept it as best you can and be on the lookout for happier moments.

Some Thoughts on Grief - Part 3

January 11, 2010

This is the final article in a series I've posted over the last three days. I wrote the series on grief with Cathy Piper, a registered nurse with a particular interest in palliative care and bereavement. Published in The Manitoulin Expositor in May 2008, the articles briefly discuss the grieving process. All quotations are taken from The Journey Through Grief, by Alan D. Wolfelt.


Moving on From Grief
In this last part of our brief series on grief, we’ll talk about moving on from grief. Keep in mind that the grief we are talking about can involve any sort of loss – a loved one, a job, a childhood, a home, and so on.

It’s not unusual to sometimes feel guilty during the grieving and healing process. Some people feel guilty when they discover advantages in the changes that have occurred, such as more time to spend with other family and friends, a preference for the new home after all, more money, or less responsibility. Some feel guilty the first time they laugh or the first day they don’t think of their departed loved one. Such feelings of guilt come from the changes life brings and are a natural part of responding to those changes. But they are not wrong or bad, and they do not mean you don’t or didn’t care. Let the feelings of guilt go by acknowledging them and reminding yourself that life really does go on and that it is a good thing to be able to enjoy it.

Another aspect of the grieving process is the unpredictable nature of memories. During the early phases of grieving, memories can come pouring in and threaten to overwhelm you. They can pop up at the worst times and refuse to leave, even when you have things you just have to do, like sleep or go to work or make supper. Memories often bring on floods of tears, feelings of anger, and a renewed sense of loss. As with guilt and all other aspects of grief that we have discussed, such remembering ups and downs are normal. In fact, they are helpful and necessary because they help us place the person, relationship, or previous state of health in the past, where it actually does reside.

Though thinking of this reality can be hard, it is natural and necessary because learning to move on from relationships or abilities or circumstances that have changed is the nature of life. Nothing can be gained by refusing to move forward, except that you may very well add burdens to your life that keep you stuck and make you unwell.

Instead, use your feelings and memories to honour and remember the people and circumstances that have gone. Enjoy and be grateful for their presence in your life for the time they were there. Discover and appreciate the lessons you’ve learned and the challenges and fun you’ve experienced because of them. Use those lessons and pleasures to enhance your life today. By appreciating and accepting the past, you will be able to live a more satisfying today and look forward to many promising tomorrows.

“Memories are my treasures…they carry my story, my song, my light. As I long for peace, I carry my memory torch with me, a vital link in the chain of humanity.”

Some Thoughts on Grief - Part 2

January 10, 2010

Here is the second part of the series I wrote about grief with Cathy Piper, a registered nurse with an interest in palliative care and grief. Published in The Manitoulin Expositor in May 2008, the articles briefly discuss the grieving process. All quotations are taken from The Journey Through Grief, by Alan D. Wolfelt.

Feeling the Grief in Its Many Forms

Yesterday we wrote about the nature of grief, that it is a natural human response to any sort of loss – of a loved one, a job or home, good health, and so on. By acknowledging loss and its natural feelings of pain and anger, you can move through grief and come out on the other side. Feeling these feelings is not a sign of weakness. In fact, by allowing yourself to actually feel what you feel, you will become stronger and will be able to live with your loss in a balanced way. By asking for help and by honouring your needs for both solitude and company, you can keep going.

As the feelings of grief come and go, you might feel like you’re lost in a terrible and empty wasteland. “Grief creates a natural disorientation…a kind of emotional and spiritual wilderness. In loss comes a period of emptiness, aloneness…new life has not yet emerged.”

It is so important and helpful to allow your sadness and confusion to run their course – with help and support. Trusted friends and family, clergy and counsellors, books and other information can all help you along the way. The fact that death and other losses are a common part of life does not mean you have to “get over it” in a certain period of time, as is so often what people believe. The healthy course of grieving allows you to work your loss into the fabric of your life; it does not have to rip it apart beyond repair.

Many people try to protect themselves from the sadness, anger and emptiness of grief by not talking or even thinking about it. Certainly there are times when you do just have to get on with the business of living, but just as certainly, there are times when it’s important to deal with what is inside you – including difficult feelings. In fact, trying to avoid the pain at all costs actually increases the pain, by prolonging it longer than necessary and causing it to “go underground.” When difficult feelings get pushed down, they almost inevitably show up again in the forms of depression, sleeplessness, illness, anger, drug and alcohol abuse, discontent, and so on.

The natural and necessary feelings of anger, fear, confusion, sadness, guilt and emptiness that follow a loss can be very draining. However, they are also signals that something needs to be done to move forward – talk to someone, have a good cry, sit in silence, write in a journal, go for a walk or hard workout, hug a loved one. These small acts, over time, bring acceptance and healing. Pain, confusion and anger diminish. You find yourself smiling more, enjoying favourite pastimes again instead of just going through the motions. Eventually, you can feel excitement again and even look toward the future without dismay. Despair lessens to sadness, then melancholy and, finally, acceptance and peace.

“I don’t have to go in search of the pain of grief…it finds me. It’s when I deny or insulate myself from the pain of the loss that I shut down. Ironically, it is in being open to the pain that I move through it to renewed living.”

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.