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MartyT

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He doesn't seem to realize that there is no end to grief...I don't want to be the one to tell him.  :o  Hearing him talk about shortened focus is reassuring in that I know I'm not crazy, because it sure shortened mine!

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Dear ones,

I read about this book last week on Brandy's The Gift of Second website, bought it on Amazon and am reading it now. It's just wonderful, and I won't hesitate to recommend it to survivors of suicide loss, and to those who care for them:

How Suicide Impacts Those Left Behind, by Brandy Lidbeck

I want to give readers a glimpse into the book,The Gift of Second: Healing from the Impact of Suicide. It is my hope this book will begin the healing process for so many impacted by a loved one’s suicide. You can check out this short 3-minute video trailer to see what the book is all about. The following excerpt is from a chapter titled “Guilt and Shame.”

Many times after a suicide, the survivor believes they failed in some regard, failed as a protecting parent, a lovable child, a supportive spouse, a safe sibling, or a caring and listening friend. We believe that if we had been more approachable or more helpful, or if our loved one knew how much we truly loved them, then they wouldn’t have been forced to choose death. We believe we failed and so we believe we are failures. We go through life shaming ourselves for not measuring up, not showing up, and truthfully, we shame ourselves for not being their Savior. We kick ourselves for not being everything our loved one needed to stay alive, and we blame ourselves for not keeping them alive. We carry the burden of a scarlet letter ‘F’ for Failure. We failed to protect and save our loved one because we were not enough.

I bought into this lie for far too long—decades, in fact. I believed all of the things mentioned above, and after several interviews and conversations with other survivors, I know I am not unique in this regard.  Read on here.

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Another good article from WYG podcasts reminding us why it is difficult when you lose your spouse, partner or significant other. 

FI

Grieving the Death of a Spouse or Significant Other

Death, regardless of the details, is capable of devastating those it leaves behind.  Brother, sister, son, daughter, mother, or father – all losses are significant.  Although commonalities exist amongst people who have experienced a certain type of loss, individual grief is as unique as the person experiencing it and their relationship with the person who died.

While we are hesitant to categorize and careful not to compare, we do acknowledge that there’s merit in recognizing commonalities.  Shared experiences tell us, if nothing else, that we are not the only ones. And if other people have had struggles similar to our own, then maybe our grief isn’t as crazy as it sometimes seems.

Today we want to discuss some of the reasons why grieving the death of a spouse, fiancé, girlfriend, boyfriend, or significant other can be difficult.  We aren’t going to tell you how to grieve these losses because we don’t really believe ‘type’ of loss dictates a certain way of coping. However, we do know that these types of losses can present very specific barriers, stumbling blocks, and secondary losses.

Of note for people who don’t regularly read WYG: we have linked some of these to past posts which go much further in depth on the topic.  Also, we are going to use the term ‘partner’ and ‘significant other’ for the purposes of this article because they apply broadly, that’s our thought process and we’re sticking to it.  Thanks to our readers whose input went into writing this article.

 1. They were your best friend

We recently wrote a post about grieving the death of a best friend.  Afterward many people commented that their partner was their best friend, which made their loss feel two-fold.

2. They were your go-to support person

Who was the first person you’d call when something happened?  It didn’t have to be a big something, like an emergency, it could have been a small something, like someone annoying you at work. For many of you, your significant other was the one person who knew how long to let you vent and how to calm you down.  In fact, there are times when you still pick up the phone to call them after a terrible day, only to be reminded that they are gone.

3. They provided you with unconditional love

Love may not be blind, but it is often very accepting.  Your partner may have been the one person knew how deeply flawed and crazy you were but chose to love you anyway.  The world can feel dark when it seems like there is no one in it who will accept and love you for who you truly are.

4. They were the only person who really truly knew you

Perhaps your partner knew how you took your coffee and how you liked your eggs.  Maybe they knew your weaknesses and fears; where you came from; and what you’ve been through. It can be comforting to be ‘known’, but this kind of ‘knowing’ is not easy to come by and takes a long time to build.

5. They looked out for your needs and your well-being

Although they may have been selfish from time to time (who isn’t?), overall they probably thought of your needs and wanted you to be healthy and happy.  After having someone like this in your life, not having it can feel very scary and isolating.

6.  They were your source for physical intimacy and comfort

I’m not sure much needs to be said on this matter.  As a human, you most likely crave some level of physical comfort.  It may be that you’re open to intimacy with someone new but haven’t found anyone.  Or perhaps you long for intimacy, but can’t imagine that kind of closeness with anyone but your deceased loved one.

7. Your living space feels empty

You miss their mess, their snoring, their talking, their singing, and their TV blaring.  Your bed is half-empty when you go to bed at night, and again when you wake up in the morning.  Your home is incredibly lonely and way too quiet.

8. Logistics and secondary losses

After the death of a partner, there are endless logistical considerations like household chores, the loss of primary or secondary income, childcare, paying bills, paperwork, estates,dealing with their belongings, the loss of identity, and so on.  You can check out our post on secondary loss here.  Regardless of what you’re dealing with, trying to balance life after the death of a partner can come with a lot of responsibility and pressure.

9.  You feel pressure to do right by them

If you were your partner’s next-of-kin, the responsibility fell (falls) on you to make decisions on their behalf. Perhaps you knew what they wanted in terms of end-of-life care, funeral arrangements, estates, and belongings, but if not, you are left to guess. Hopefully, you have the support of your extended family, but in some instances, it can feel like you’re fighting against everyone to do what’s right.  Sadly, guilt and regret over decisions made at the end of a person’s life can have an ongoing and negative impact on their grief.

10.  You’re single again

A return to single status is hard for a hundred reasons.  To name a few, #’s 11, 12, 13 & 14.

11. You sometimes feel like a third wheel

Many people exist in their social circle as one-half of a couple.  That is to say, they spend a lot of time with other couples.  Many people say they felt like a third wheel after the death of their partner, which can be awkward and alienating.

12. Pressure to start dating

People often push you to move on well before you’re ready

13.  Dating

How long have you been out of the dating pool?  Long enough to fear jumping back in?  Some people love dating…many do not. Although you may feel ready for a new relationship, you may simultaneously dread the thought of dating (we don’t blame you).

14. Your next relationship might not “get it”

We receive a lot of email from people who are dating while grieving and who are dating someone who is grieving.  Our anecdotal impression – it takes a special person to (1) understand death does not end a relationship, (2) allow the deceased’s memory into their life, and (3) understand that you can love a person in the present while continuing to cherish a significant other who has died.

death of a spouse

15.  They were your co-parent

Parenting is hard; being a single parent is harder; being a single parent to grieving children is one of the hardest.  When your co-parent has died, all responsibility falls on you to keep your children safe, clothed and loved.  Parenting is difficult after a death for a hundred reasons, including #’s 16, 17,& 18.

16.  You have to watch your kids miss out

Every time a milestone happens – father/daughter dances; mother/daughter sleepovers; proms; weddings; drivers licenses – you have to live with the knowledge that your child’s excitement is shadowed by a bit of grief over the absence of one of their parents.

17.  You are the keeper of your loved one’s memory and family history

You may feel as though it’s your responsibility to keep your significant other’s memory alive in this world, especially for the sake of your children.  You are the link between your children and their deceased parent and so it is your job to help them stay connected.  This may feel like a lot of pressure, but it’s also a wonderful way to continue your bond with your loved one.

18.  You mourn all the things your significant other will miss out

Even though your loved one is gone from this world, you may grieve for what they have missed out on.  Special moments, having children, having grandbabies, retirement – these are things your significant other would have loved to experience.

19.  You mourn all the things you will miss out on now that your significant other is gone

After someone dies, it is normal to grieve the past as well as your hopes and dreams for the future.  Since your loved one has died, you must mourn for all the things that you had dreamed of sharing with them.

20. Death is a threat to your identity

Are you a husband?  A wife?  A widow? A widower?  For so long your identity, in some way, reflected your relationship with your significant other.  In having to live on your own, without your partner, your identity may need to shift and change.

21.  You live with unresolved guilt and regret

It is common for people to feel guilt and regret about things that happened in their relationship with the deceased, even if these thing occurred years before the person died.  Perhaps you wish you had treated your partner better, perhaps they never forgave you for something, maybe you regret something you said, maybe you regret not saying enough, or maybe you feel guilty for the fact that you survived and they died.  The battlefield of love is fertile ground for the coulda’s, woulda’s, and shoulda’s that we typically see in grief.

22.  Your relationship with their family and friends is changing

Sometimes, despite the best of intentions, people grow distant and they lose touch. There are a lot of caveats as to why this happens, but for the purposes of this post it’s most important to acknowledge that in losing a significant other, sometimes your overall support system is cut in half.

23.  Special Days

You not only miss being able to spend special days with your significant other but now these days have become a minefield of reminders and grief triggers.

24.  You miss the thoughtful little things they used to do

Notes, oil changes, special dinners, birthday cakes, surprise lattes, gifts for no reason, compliments, inside jokes, letting you rest – whatever it was, it was unique to you and your loved one. Even if you are left wishing that you had appreciated these little things in the moment, nothing can replace the joy they brought you.

25.  You miss the things that drove you crazy

To be honest, you also miss the things they did that drove you up a wall.

26.  Being on your own is hard

It’s hard to go from having a partner in life, to doing everything on your own.  It’s not that you can’t cope with life on your own, but you got used to the security and comfort of having someone at your side.

27.  You worry about being truly alone

You were supposed to grow old with your partner, and perhaps you worry that you will spend the rest of your life alone or lonely now that they have died.

28. You have to live the rest of your life without them

And without them, this feels like a really really long time

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I don't think I need reminded why it's difficult, I could have wrote the list and probably added some!

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A good article found on On Being with Krista Tippett. . .

Photo by Kevin N. Murphy
Murphy-climbing-rocks.jpg?itok=vGwOhbqM

When the Going Gets Tough...

BY KATRINA KENISON (@KATRINAKENISON),  GUEST CONTRIBUTOR

When the going gets tough may I resist my first impulse to wade in, fix, explain, resolve, and restore. May I sit down instead.

When the going gets tough may I be quiet. May I steep for a while in stillness.

When the going gets tough may I have faith that things are unfolding as they are meant to. May I remember that my life is what it is, not what I ask for. May I find the strength to bear it, the grace to accept it, the faith to embrace it.

When the going gets tough may I practice with what I’m given, rather than wish for something else. When the going gets tough may I assume nothing. May I not take it personally. May I opt for trust over doubt, compassion over suspicion, vulnerability over vengeance.

When the going gets tough may I open my heart before I open my mouth.

When the going gets tough may I be the first to apologize. May I leave it at that. May I bend with all my being toward forgiveness.

When the going gets tough may I look for a door to step through rather than a wall to hide behind.

When the going gets tough may I turn my gaze up to the sky above my head, rather than down to the mess at my feet. May I count my blessings.

When the going gets tough may I pause, reach out a hand, and make the way easier for someone else. When the going gets tough may I remember that I’m not alone. May I be kind.

When the going gets tough may I choose love over fear. Every time.

 

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From our (online!) friends at What's Your Grief:

Grieving an Online Friend: 8 things you should know about cybergrief by Litsa Williams

When you saw the title of this post my guess is you had one of two reactions:

  1. Ah, finally WYG is writing about cybergrief.  What took them so long?!?
    OR
  2. Uhhh, cybergrief . . .???

We have mentioned cybergrief and loss before (you may remember it from this post on disenfranchised grief) and it has been on my list to write about for at least two years, but it keeps falling to the back burner.  Luckily I have been binge-listening to the Reply All podcast for the last week (I know, I am totally behind the eight ball on that but my podcast schedule has been tight and it just now made it to the top of my list). All the talk of online gaming communities and online forum friendships (and engagements) and weird twitter has made me feel incredibly guilty as a grief blog that we didn’t tackle this topic sooner.  If you are feeling as confused as Alex Blumberg during a game of Yes Yes No, fear not.  Clarity is on the way in the form of a list of important truths.

8 Things You Should Know To Understand Cybergrief  Read on here . . .

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A truly powerful piece by Alison Miller, posted yesterday at Soaring Spirits International:

Widow Speak~

POSTED BY ALISON MILLER ON NOVEMBER 01, 2016 · 

There really is no explaining it

In words that either convey or make sense to anyone

WIDOW

The depths of the word change daily and minute by minute

Depending on the day or the minute

In the beginning, it means devastation conflagration incineration annihilation

Each of those feeling remain or don’t

Depending on the day or the minute

It’s going to bed alone and leaving the TV or radio on low so that the hum of voices distracts you as you wake through the night and if you don’t have the distraction your mind hums with memories and the grief that no more memories will ever be made.

Grasping his pillow close and arranging your body sometimes unconsciously to the side you slept when you slept with him so that he could curl his body around you his arm curving under you his other arm draping over you his hand curled around your breast.  Read on here . . . 

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7 hours ago, MartyT said:

A truly powerful piece by Alison Miller, posted yesterday at Soaring Spirits International:

Widow Speak~

POSTED BY ALISON MILLER ON NOVEMBER 01, 2016 · 

There really is no explaining it

In words that either convey or make sense to anyone

WIDOW

The depths of the word change daily and minute by minute

Depending on the day or the minute

In the beginning, it means devastation conflagration incineration annihilation

Each of those feeling remain or don’t

Depending on the day or the minute

It’s going to bed alone and leaving the TV or radio on low so that the hum of voices distracts you as you wake through the night and if you don’t have the distraction your mind hums with memories and the grief that no more memories will ever be made.

Grasping his pillow close and arranging your body sometimes unconsciously to the side you slept when you slept with him so that he could curl his body around you his arm curving under you his other arm draping over you his hand curled around your breast.  Read on here . . . 

 

What an informative article by Alison Miller. I dislike the word, WIDOW. An article worth reading through. Thanks for this one, Marty. :wub:

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I wish everyone would read the article on cybergrief.  It is so true!  People don't validate cyber-feelings like they do in-person feelings...maybe because they haven't experienced it themselves so they judge it as trivial and laugh it off.  I've seen people like this, but they couldn't be more wrong.  Any time we try to negate or invalidate another's experience we are wrong!  Just because one person hasn't experienced it doesn't mean it doesn't exist!

I thought of Finch when I read this.  His feelings are real!  George and I met by writing letters, we clicked like no others!  We could feel each other's hearts!  My kids' dad poked fun at our relationship and said "he wouldn't take care of you if you got cancer."  He couldn't have been more wrong!  George would have done anything for me!  George adored me and loved me more in our short time together than Paul Sr. had in the 23 years we were married!  It's not about length of time, it's about quality of relationship.  Cyber or writing is just an avenue by which two people can connect.  Whether you connect in person or through cyberspace or through writing, those are just avenues by which we communicate and connect, the connection is there regardless of the avenue by which you display it.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Boxes of Grief ~ An article from Widowers Grief

Posted: 23 Nov 2016 04:56 AM PST

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My friends didn’t know what to say. They’d never lost anyone close. My wife died young, and no one taught my generation about grief’s landscape. No one knew to tell me that life was over as I had known it, or that I would be thrown into a land cratered by death for more than a year.
 
Yet everyone had a Box of Imagined Grief, with odds and ends tossed in for what they thought sorrow was like. Whenever I came over, they dug around in their box, took something pithy out, and handed it to me to comfort my grief. Then they expected the dinner party to go on as planned. As you might guess, this wasn’t what I needed.
 
When grief punches us in the gut, it hands us two boxes – Before and After. We stuff everything into theBefore Death Box because we can’t comprehend a future that doesn’t have our loved one in it. The After Death Box remains empty for a long time.
 
When I was finally able to face the emotional tsunami of sorting Evelyn’s possessions, and remembering the talented, compassionate person she was, I created a Box of Memories and filled it with the photographs, letters, and trinkets that marked the important days of our life together. These things I shared with others.
 
I collected a Box of the Lasts — where we ate our last meal, the last movie we saw, Ev’s last birthday, and that moment when I last saw her smile at me — without us knowing that any of these would be her lasts. I hold on to this box with both hands, and these things I share.
 
I drove around town and assembled a Box of Death — the place where she collapsed, the route the ambulance sped to the hospital, the ICU room where Ev lay connected to wires and tubes until the doctors said it was over. The bag of clothes the paramedics had to cut off. Our cold, silent house where I stared out the window the first week. The memorial service. The scattering of ashes. The months of anger and despair. Time does not exist here, and I go to these places alone. These I keep to myself.
 
I do not want to forget the blunt force trauma of death because, as wrenching as it was, it happened, and I cannot undo it. I also do not want to forget the goodness of life with Evelyn, because that was also true. I do not want every memory to become warm and fuzzy or covered in black shrouds because our relationship deserves honesty. My memories are what they were.
 
Our last moments were like a thousand other ordinary moments that come and go every day without us noticing, moments that have the power to bring joy to someone’s eyes or to take it away. I want to live this moment as fully as I can, and then I want to live the next because some of these moments could be transforming and some of them will be the last.
 
 
Those who reach into their Box of Imagined Grief because they don’t know what to say, need only reach into their Box of Hearts and share the compassion they find. This is the only thing that those who grieve need.
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November 30, 2016

An article by Mark Liebenow

Silence of the Holidays

 
Purple%2Bsunset.jpg
Holidays used to be Holy Days when time was set aside for looking at our lives, figuring out what we didn’t like about them, gathering spiritual guidance, and adjusting our habits so that we would head in the direction that we wanted. Instead of facing our trauma, we have morphed the observances into an excuse to indulge in excess. 
 
If we lost someone this year, we don’t want celebration. We want mindfulness.

Besides Christmas, other religions and cultures have observances at this time of year, like the Jewish Hanukkah, the African American Kwanzaa, and the Winter Solstice. They acknowledge miracles, core values, the changing seasons, and celebrating light in the midst of the dark winter months.

 
This is some of what I like about these holidays:
 
Hanukkah – the daily ritual of lighting candles. Winter Solstice – accepting the invitation to walk in nature and listen to its quiet voices and its stillness.
 
Christmas — We decorate the house, the yard, the pets, buy gifts for everyone we like, and some we don’t. Bake a lot of cookies, shop every day. Sing Norwegian sleigh bell songs and some of us sit by the window and watch the snow come down for hours.
 
New Year’s Eve — We stay up too late, drink too much, and eat too many rich foods. We toast each other and resolve to make the coming year the best one ever. On New Year’s Day, we watch football games, movie marathons, or catch up on our favorite shows on Netflix.
 
Before the special days arrive, we’ve already spent a bunch, partied too much, and we’re exhausted. And if we don’t get along with everyone in our family, arguments tend to break out, and we end up not speaking to each other for another year.
 
Is this what we want from our holidays? For many of us, it is. 

In a surface way, the secular versions of the holidays say that JOY still exists. There’s a surge of good will in our community, of people willing to work together, and we desperately need to hear this. We need this boost as this year comes to its weary end. 

We also respond to the LONGING we feel for something deeper than what we find in our daily lives. It’s the longing that people throughout the centuries have felt at this time of year. So we observe ancient rituals and traditions to assure ourselves that HOPE still exists, that the miracle of the candles is real, and that if we work for what we believe, we can make changes and bring in a better future.
 
But if we’re grieving, the holidays are traumatic.

Whether we lost a spouse, friend, parent, sibling, or child, the happy messages constantly remind us that someone we loved is dead. There are triggers everywhere — the holiday sounds, foods, smells, music, decorations, even the crisp feel of the air. When we’re in despair, all the joy being thrown at us like snowballs only drives us deeper into the safe refuge of our battered hearts. We long for the holidays to be over.

For friends who are grieving, the best gift you can give is to not insist that they be happy. 

They can’t set their grief aside just because it’s the holidays. But you can invite them to your party and allow them to sit on the side, enjoy the music and the banter of conversations, and leave when they need to go.

 Even if you aren’t grieving this season, listen to your heart again.
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Sunday marked the first lighting of the advent candles.  We made wreaths with the five candles in them Sunday night, but Sunday morning our pastor preached on the first candle, Hope.  He included a clip from the video, Charlie Brown Christmas.  It was precious.  It talked about what Christmas is all about...not the presents and decorating, etc., but what it's really all about.  I think it had us all in tears, that is such a touching show.  My house is decorated, the tree is up, I can't bake goodies (too tempting for my Diabetes) the presents are wrapped, the cards are mailed.  But it's time to stop and remember the reason for the season.

One of the things I like best about Christmas is what it seems to do to people in our society.  I see food drives, people more willing to care and share.  Neighbors extending a greeting instead of going on about their business.
But all this is so hard when you're newly grieving.  The reminders of Christmases past that will never be the same again.

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  • 4 weeks later...

I love this, they do a beautiful job with it.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Very helpful...also very difficult for my poor eyes to read.

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Oh, Kay, I so agree with you about not being able to read the graphic above about the Two-Track Model of Bereavement. I added the original link above. 

Here is an article that is not new but very real to me. Loneliness is very real in widowhood. 

http://www.opentohope.com/lonely-not-powerful-enough-word-to-describe-widowhood/  

  
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It's true.  The other day I made out my prayer list.  As I looked it over I was struck by how long it was, what huge things I'm facing at once, and that the thing I most emphasized on the list was the need of a friend/lonely.  I mean, I'm looking at big things, home repairs, vehicle repairs, surgery, but the biggest thing I face is loneliness. 

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Yep. I have been pondering that very thing this past few weeks.  I haven't come up with any solutions yet. It is a closet monster. -Shalom

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

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