enna

It is natural that after the first year life will be different because you awaken from the sheer horror of what has happened. The second year you slowly begin to accept what has happened. We are protected from the full in-pack of our loss because our hearts could not take the reality. We learn to take life in doses now. I like your last sentence “So what do I have waiting for me around this corner of my life?” What I have learned is that we try to stay in the moment. It will do no good to look into the future nor is it healthy to keep focused in the past. You will know what is best for you by continuing to be aware of what your heart is telling you. We can only appreciate each day and you will do that. If flying is what you are meant to do then I believe you will fly. If you try to look too far into the future you will become despondent. The reality is, George, that you will always miss Rose Anne. She will always be with you. Whatever you do she will be with you. “Grief bursts” will come when you are not expecting them to. Allow them and don’t try to “stuff” them. This different life will have surprises and some will even be good ones. Remember, life is precious and it is good to take in the beauty of our world. Here is a video I have found to be very soothing: “A Good Day” by Brother David Steindl-Rast

I am reposting this for I have received emails and messages to do so. I was led to believe that it was hard for some to read and that is why I deleted it. My intention is only to share what I find myself doing on this journey that can change many times in a day. This month my gathering of people here at the house took a new form. I decided to have some pages from a few of my coloring books out along with color pencils and markers. Besides continuing our talks about “getting our stuff together” for end-of-life I added another half hour to our visit and used the time to color as a form of meditation. Two of the six regulars said that they have talked to family members about their wishes for end-of-life. This made me happy. I had to add the table leaf to my dining room table to make room for us to spread out. Two of our regulars brought a variety of cookies. We use paper plates so there is little cleanup. I will not drink my coffee, tea or milk from a paper cup! I dunk cookies in milk and found out I am not the only one! Our weather here in AZ where I am has been perfect for walking. Next month I’ll have some links for anyone who wants to learn about walking meditation. I am afraid if our group gets too big we’ll have to use one of our activity rooms at the clubhouse! The downfall there is that if we have snacks or anything other than water we have to get it from the restaurant staff and pay for it! I can fit twelve people in my home but after that, it is too crowded. I can fit eight people at the dining room table and set up a card table with chairs nearby if I would need to. That would be wonderful in my eyes. When Jim and I had our home built here we purposely downsized from what we had in IL. It has paid off for me since I am now alone. I share this because I know how important it is to keep in touch with other people. It could be so easy to isolate myself. Jim has been gone for almost five years now. I am in my seventies and retired so it is not easy for me to branch out and be social. I am an introvert and love the solitude but I also need to keep in touch with other people. My health is not the best so even though I’d like to volunteer more I find it difficult to do so. This monthly gathering that I started is not really a passion but a way to connect with others. I have found that we do continue on after we have lost a spouse or significant other so why not choose to do so with some purpose? I have learned from others here and think it is important to share our journeys.

I removed my post above. Thank you for your kind words Marita. It was not my intention to make anyone feel bad or upset by talking about what I am doing with my life right now. My life is continually changing and because I am further out in my grief journey I have not been sensitive to others who are newer. I am sorry if I offended anyone. I know many people struggle and perhaps found my post offensive or boastful. I am sorry.

I removed this post.

WOW! CLIMBING THROUGH THE CRAYON BOX, SEARCHING FOR SAUDADE. February 21, 2017 {source} My wife is dead. An unknown heart problem in her 40s. The shock of her sudden death has sent me digging through crayons trying to identify my emotions. Blue Denim holds my cold, clenched fists of anger. Royal Purple radiates the bruise that oozes under my skin. I like green, so I draw each green crayon across the paper, but none calm me like being in Yosemite. Shamrock is too bright. Granny Smith Apple too warm. Forest Green comes close — grainy and gray like grief. The colors of sorrow are the primaries. They’re also a thousand shades. They take me to the edge of what should have been if she had been allowed to live. I color the hard sky Steel Blue because I no longer believe the True Blue crayon. I color the earth Rojo Oscuro and Maroon because it’s stained with the blood of my dead. In the left corner, I swirl three dark colors — Timberwolf Gray, Silver, and Black — but my darkness is different. It’s Pewter. Charcoal. Midnight Slate and they don’t make those crayons. When a person dies, life is reduced to colors without form, the tohu va vohu (תֹ֙הוּ֙ וָבֹ֔הוּ) of Genesis, the chaos before there was light, but I feel no assurance that light will return. I color outside the lines because grief has erased the boundaries of polite. Destroyed my belief in cause and effect. People say, “Work hard. Follow the rules, and happiness will come.” That curtain in Oz has been yanked down. Compassionate people die. Hateful, greedy, pompous people don’t. At least, not often enough. Crayons do not speak of ethics, only emotions. They don’t say she wasn’t supposed to die. They don’t say the doctor missed something. They don’t say the paramedics messed up and didn’t restart her heart soon enough, which is what they are trained to do. Isn’t it? People say, “She’s dead. You have to move on.” They’re right, in time. But her death was wrong and I am not going to accept it. I will never be okay with it, and I will carry this anger the rest of my life. But somehow I will learn to live with it. Color me Cantankerous Cardinal. I am a bucket of emotions, swept along in a flood that surges from one feeling to the next, and I can’t control them. I am Vicious Violet. I am Raging Red. I am the Buffaloed Blues. What is the color of loneliness? What is today’s shade of despair? I have been broken by something I cannot see or name. This is deeper than melancholy. It’s the Portuguese saudade, of desperately longing to reach out and touch her hand once more. Hug her warm body close. See love for me shining in her eyes. But she is never coming back, and I fear that if I look in too deep, I will find that only emptiness is left. What crayon is going to color that? I try every crayon in my box of 96. My paper is a rat’s nest of colored streaks and swirls. While the crayons have helped identify what I’m feeling, they aren’t helping me dream of what comes next. I create my own colors and find hope in the wonder of Impossibly Peach. The iridescent sheen of Indigo Bunting. The passion of Totally Mad Magenta. The delightful shiver of Elusive Moonbeams. ~ Mark Liebenow  

“Dear master, I think it would be better for each of us to watch ourselves. To look after oneself means to look after both of us… The Buddha said: “The child spoke correctly.”- Thích Nhất Hạnh

THIS IS MEDITATIONLet what comes, come.Let what goes, go. Don't try to push away what comes. It's already here and it will pass. Don't try to cling to what goes. The leaving is natural. Bless the leaving too. Let what stays, stay. Let what dies, die. Let what lives, live. Be the wide open space for all of it. Every thought, every feeling. Be the awareness. Be the ocean. Allow the waves. This is meditation, your True Self. - Jeff Foster

Let Go and Let Be BY PARKER J. PALMER (@PRJPALMER), COLUMNIST When I was in my twenties, I wanted desperately to become a writer. But for several miserable years, I labored under the misconception that this meant putting words on paper that would (1) get published and (2) be praised by the critics as great or better than great. I’m sure you know what came of that! I wrote very little, and nothing worth reading. My inflated notion of what it meant to be a writer left me frozen in fear of failure. Then I read some words that changed my life: I don’t remember who wrote those words, but they triggered an “Aha!” moment that still makes me laugh. Suddenly it all came clear: “To become a writer, I don’t need to write world-class stuff. I simply need to WRITE! Hoo-ha! There’s an amazing idea! OK, here we go!” And so it has been ever since. I blush to confess it, but I’ve had to relearn that lesson in recent years as I’ve begun aspiring to be a poet. It’s taken me a while to realize that this does not mean I need to be as good as Mary Oliver or William Stafford. A poet, I suppose, is distinguished by the fact that he or she writes poetry! So here’s another one of my poems. In dark times, I often find solace at the ocean. But somehow, the Atlantic in winter brings me more peace than balmy breezes and a blazing sun on a tropical beach. This poem comes from an experience of seeking consolation on “the February shore.”

Such happy news. I am dancing in my living room, Steve. You and Patty both deserve only happiness. How wonderful that you found it. Hugs to both of you. Anne

It will require great Love and Imagination! 15/2/2017 t

I just finished watching the above webinar: Hope Beyond Substance-Related Loss If you didn't get a chance to watch it look for it to replay on Open to Hope. It gave me a better understanding of loss from drugs or suicide. [Thank you, Anne! Here is the replay link:

Thank you for your uplighting message of hope, fae. As you have come to your five-year mark I will join you in May of this year for my fifth year without my Jim. We have traveled miles through this grief and we are facing the struggles of doing so without our spouses. There is hope and as you say life is so precious. Love to you, Anne

DAILY MEDITATION Words That Feed Us February 12 Photo courtesy of SDGimagery.com When we talk to one another, we often talk about what happened, what we are doing, or what we plan to do. Often we say, "What's up?" and we encourage one another to share the details of our daily lives. But often we want to hear something else. We want to hear, "I've been thinking of you today," or "I missed you," or "I wish you were here," or "I really love you." It is not always easy to say these words, but such words can deepen our bonds with one another. Telling someone "I love you" in whatever way is always delivering good news. Nobody will respond by saying, "Well, I knew that already, you don't have to say it again"! Words of love and affirmation are like bread. We need them each day, over and over. They keep us alive inside.

Wishing you a Happy Birthday. Thank you for all you do and for monitoring this forum. I am very grateful to have a place to come and know there are others here who understand.

My meditation for today. Join me. . .

Wow! This gave me a belly laugh.

DAILY MEDITATION Becoming Kind February 4 Photo courtesy of SDGimagery.com Kindness is a beautiful human attribute. When we say, "She is a kind person" or "He surely was kind to me," we express a very warm feeling. In our competitive and often violent world, kindness is not the most frequent response. But when we encounter it we know that we are blessed. Is it possible to grow in kindness, to become a kind person? Yes, but it requires discipline. To be kind means to treat another person as your "kin," your intimate relative. We say, "We are kin" or "He is next of kin." To be kind is to reach out to someone as being of "kindred" spirit. Here is the great challenge: All people, whatever their color, religion, or sex, belong to humankind and are called to be kind to one another, treating one another as brothers and sisters. There is hardly a day in our lives in which we are not called to this.

Oh Lynne, My heart just goes out to you. I am so very sorry you are going through this. There are no words that I can say to you. I will sit here with you for as long as you wish me to. That is what we do here on this forum. I understand about not being able to eat. I assure you that you will eat eventually. It is important that you engage in self-care. I hope you will try to keep yourself hydrated, see your doctor for the colitis for that may be why nothing stays down, and try a drink that has vitamins in it. I know all this may not even be what you want to do but I assure you you will start feeling better. Later you may want to visit with a good grief counselor who will be able to help you with your grief. It is too soon for you to be feeling any different than what you are feeling right now. We are here for you. Anne

Hi Darrel, I believe that it is quite common for those of us who are grieving a loss to have thoughts of suicide. Here are a few links that may help. You are not alone. Thoughts of suicide in grief Widow fears sharing thoughts of suicide I agree with what others have said about no judgments about how we handle our grief.

It really is about one day at a time. . .

Dearest Ab ~ you are never complaining. You are grieving. Those of us who come here know that we have people who not only listen with open hearts but understand what grief is ~ we come here and find validation. We know that those who are here really do understand. You are doing just fine.

For about three years before Jim's Alzheimer's Disease set in I gave him a tape recorder so he could talk about his life as he remembered it. He started with his parents and got as far as our daughter's birth. It is a treasure I have and I love to listen to him talk about his early life and later life. He had a real sense of humor. I think he erased more than he recorded! I also have our old telephone message machine with his voice telling people that if I don't know you hang up because I don't want to talk to you. Their voices are so special to us ~ no matter how long their death happened. My Jim would have a lot to say about all the telemarketing calls that come to us now!

I have forgotten to hit "Submit Reply" more often than I want to admit! I call it "grief brain" ~ it's better than admitting that I am getting forgetful!