MartyT

it would really be nice if a slightly larger avatar size was available. Okay, Maylissa -- as I said, I'm not very good at these computer issues, but here goes. I figured out how to change the avatar size in the Administrative Control Panel, and I increased it to 90 x 90 pixels (the maximum size this board will allow). Then I still had to go into the Avatar Options screen and re-load my own avatar picture, which did have the effect of increasing the size of my own avatar somewhat from what it was before. So before the change will take effect for your own avatar, you need to do the following: Click on your own name (wherever it appears on the site), in order to be taken to your own "Viewing Profile" page. Go to the very bottom of the page, where you'll see Edit my Signature · Avatar Options · Edit my Profile Click on Avatar Options. (You can also get there by clicking on your My Controls option at the top of the page, then on the left side, under "Personal Profile," click on Edit Avatar Settings.) Once on the "Your Avatar Settings" page, scroll down to the "Upload a new image from your computer" option. Using the "Browse" feature, find the picture of Nissa and Sabin on your own computer, double click on it, and when the URL address appears in the rectangular address box, click on the "Update Avatar" button and your bigger photo should appear in all your posts. Right now, when I right-click on your avatar photo, and then left-click on "Properties," it indicates that the size of your avatar photo is 58 x 64 pixels, so doing this should increase the size to some degree. Would you be willing to try this and then let me know if it works for you? Also, another feature one other site has that I really like is the function that actually wraps any quote inside a nice, neat, lined box. I find this much cleaner-looking and makes the quote stand out w/o having to add a different colour to the print. It also makes it totally obvious that it's a quote from someone else. I know the feature you're describing, Maylissa, and I think we had that feature on the earlier rendition of this board. Unfortunately, though, I simply cannot figure out how to activate it now -- and I'm not even sure it's an option in this newer renditon of the Invision Power Board. If it is an option, I certainly am having a peck of trouble locating it in the Admin. Control Panel. I will pass your suggestion on to the computer folks at Hospice of the Valley to see if they have any suggestions. Give me some time to work on it, okay? In the meantime, of course, you could always ask your husband if he has any ideas for us!

Shelley, dear ~ I know it's not the same as being hugged by your dear parents, but how about telling your two nephews and your niece that you really, really need a hug from them? Children can be quite wonderful about letting us hug them, especially when we let them know how much those hugs mean to us. Maybe you could talk with them about how much you're missing those hugs from their Grandma and Grandpa and how much you could use a hug from them -- maybe at bedtime when they're sleepy and quiet and all snuggled in bed?

All right, Sarah, you've reduced me to tears with this one. Thank you so very much for sharing this most precious story of kindness, compassion and love. You've warmed my heart and touched my soul.

Dear Whiteswan, I've read with interest how your boy sometimes sees his Nana, and I thought you (and others reading this) might be interested in the message I received today from Christine Duminiak: Dear Friends, I am currently writing a new book about stories of spiritual experiences of children who have seen the spirits of departed loved ones, angels, Jesus, or other holy beings. I believe a book about stories from children who have had these spiritual experiences would be very effective and comforting in helping others to believe in the afterlife, that our loved ones live on, are still a part of our lives, and still contact us from Heaven. If you have a child's spiritual experience story that you would like to have considered for my latest book, please fill out the form over at: http://www.christineduminiak.com/submit.html Thank you and God bless you, Lovingly, Chris Christine Duminiak Certified Grief Recovery Specialist Founder - Prayer Wave for After-Death Communication Author - God's Gift of Love: After-Death Communications http://www.christineduminiak.com

My dear Chrissy, You said, In some ways I wish I didnt go in the room to see him dead. It is the last view I got of him, and it sticks in my mind. I cried alot yesterday and I feel as though when I do I am not being a good mother and I need to be strong. In one of your earlier posts, you told us that even though Jason had been battling cancer for the last two years, his death was sudden and unexpected, and you were not at all prepared for it: “I also wouldnt let myself think my husband was going to die (we were not really expecting it . . ." In the four months since Jason died, your focus has been on caring for your baby, and you've had very little opportunity to enter into the heart of your grief, to face the enormity and reality of Jason’s death, to immerse yourself in the pain, and to really feel and express your deepest feelings of loss. Because you are a brand new mom (and a single parent too), it is completely understandable that your top priority is caring for baby Jason, which leaves precious little time and energy for the sort of turning inward and focusing on the self that the work of grief requires. The problem is that, no matter how busy or distracted from this work you may be, and no matter how justified the distraction, your grief doesn’t “go” anywhere – it just lies there, waiting to be addressed. And if you don’t give it the attention it demands, sooner or later out it comes – whether it’s at a “convenient” time or not, and whether you want it to or not. When you find yourself being “haunted by the bad things,” thinking about the circumstances of Jason’s death, and reduced to tears as you replay those awful scenes in your mind, I suggest that you think of it as grief’s way of demanding your attention. Most certainly it is not evidence that you are being a bad mother, nor is it an indication that you are weak when you “need to be strong!” In his insightful book, Understanding Your Grief, Alan Wolfelt refers to this process as “Re-thinking and Re-telling the Story.” He writes, Often when someone dies, you find yourself thinking about the circumstances of the death and the time immediately surrounding the death over and over again. You may feel like you can’t “shake” your memories of certain moments. You may replay them repeatedly in your mind. You may also feel the need – almost a compulsion – to tell other people about these prominent memories over and over again. You may find yourself wanting to talk about them all the time. I call this process “telling the story.” Telling the story isn’t a sign that you’re going crazy; in fact, it’s a sign that you’re doing your work of mourning. Whether you’re conscious of this fact or not, you tell yourself the story and you tell others the story in an effort to integrate it into your life. What has happened to you – the death of someone you love – is so hard to fathom that your mind compels you to revisit it again and again until you’ve truly acknowledged it and embraced its presence. Telling the story helps bring your head and your heart together. Allow yourself this necessary rumination. Blocking it out won’t help you heal. Don’t be angry with yourself if you can’t seem to stop wanting to repeat your story, whether in your own mind or aloud to others. Yes, it hurts to constantly think and talk about the person you loved so much. But remember – usually grief wounds get worse before they get better. Be compassionate with yourself. Try to surround yourself with people who allow and encourage you to repeat whatever you need to repeat. Support groups are helpful to many people because there is a mutual understanding of the need to “tell the story.” Grace happens! – Alan D. Wolfelt, in Understanding Your Grief: Ten Essential Touchstones for Finding Hope and Healing Your Heart, pp. 72-73. Certainly in this forum and on this site, you are surrounded by caring, compassionate people who understand your need to “tell the story,” Chrissy, and we are always ready and willing to listen to whatever you need to share. The next time you're "haunted by the bad things," try writing about those scenes and memories here. Think of this as a place to "put" them, as a way of getting them out of your head and onto your computer screen. Above all, give yourself permission to remember and to feel all the bad stuff. Once you get all that ugly stuff out and cleared away, you will have lots of room left for the good stuff, I promise.

Serl, dear, We're so very sorry to learn of the sudden, unexpected death of your dear mother-in-law. Of course we understand and deeply appreciate your need to share this sad news with those you know and trust here. Please know that we are with you in spirit, as we hold you in gentle thought and prayer tonight.

At last, we get to see our baby! How wonderful is that?! Thank you for sharing your little angel with all of us, Chrissy -- he's adorable!

Dear Shelley, I can’t imagine how awful this must have been for all of you! Even though you and the children were not emotionally attached to this raccoon, it’s still traumatic to see a beautiful and innocent animal accidentally and suddenly injured in such a frightening and unexpected way – and of course, you’re all left to wonder if the raccoon later died. And even though the children went on to school, it’s likely that once they return home this afternoon, the memory of this incident and any lingering questions they have about it will come up again. I want to suggest to you that, awful as it was, this incident can be turned into a positive, if you choose to think of it as a “teachable moment” in these children’s lives. You have here a valuable opportunity to teach these children a powerful lesson about life and death and loss. Like all the rest of us, children need to learn that death and loss are natural parts of living. We know that nothing in life lasts forever. Every living thing goes through a natural process with a beginning and an ending, with living in between. Accidents do happen, veterinarians and animal control people can’t perform miracles, and some problems can’t be fixed. How this incident is handled – how your niece’s and nephews’ feelings and questions are handled and what these children observe in the actions of the adults around them – can prepare them to face and deal effectively with life’s many losses and disappointments in the future. Parents (and caring, concerned aunts like you!) who explain such things to their children are modeling how to talk openly about painful feelings and events in life that hurt and are hard. Explanations can be offered that are age-appropriate and at the child’s level of understanding. Children under five, for example, need comfort and support rather than detailed explanations. Otherwise, children need information that is simple, accurate, plain, and direct. Here are some suggestions that may help you deal with this: Death can be explained to children the same way we explain other important milestones: Offer the facts in a simple, honest, straightforward, non-threatening, caring way. Be honest, and keep it simple. Children know when adults are shading the truth. First find out what the children already know or think they know about death. Validate their feelings and encourage them to share their thoughts, fears and observations about what happened earlier today. Explain that in the circle of life all living things will die someday, and that death causes changes in a living thing. Although you may not know for sure whether the raccoon survived the accident, you can still explain what dead means: “We don’t know if the raccoon later died, but if so, it means his heart stopped beating and he doesn’t breathe in and out anymore. He doesn’t need to eat or go to the bathroom. He cannot see, hear or move, and he cannot feel pain. Being dead is not the same as sleeping. All your body parts work when you are sleeping. When an animal dies, his body has stopped working. The part of the raccoon that was alive is gone. All that’s left is his body – like an egg shell without the egg.” (If the children ask what happens to the raccoon’s body, you might explain that in cases such as this, the animal’s body is usually discarded and placed in a landfill, then later covered with soil as part of the landfill’s routine operations.) Explain how we might feel when someone we love dies: sad, mad, or confused – and we may cry sometimes. Although grief hurts, it’s a fact of life, it’s a part of being human, and it happens whenever we lose someone we love. Grief also helps us to become more sensitive to others who are hurting, because we know how it feels to lose a loved one. And it teaches us to cherish those we love, to let them know how much we love them.

But still, all-told, this book can't be beat so far. I can't recommend it enough! And Marty, if it isn't already on your list of resources, it definitely should be! Animals and the Afterlife Maylissa, dear ~ Thank you so much for alerting me to Kim Sheridan's book and Web site. (Whenever one of our GH family members recommends a book, trust me, I pay attention ) I've just ordered a copy of Animals and the Afterlife so I can read it myself. I've also added a link to Kim's site to the list of resources on the Memorializing page of my Grief Healing Web site, and have added her book to the list of recommended resources in two of the lessons in my online e-mail courses on pet loss.

Did you know that there are sites online that offer to turn those T-shirts and other treasured articles of clothing into quilts or Teddy bears? This is not for everyone, but I just want to be sure you know it's an option. See, for example, Memorial Quilts Conforta Quilts Campus Quilt Company Treasured Teddy Bears: Made from A Loved One's Old Furs or Sentimental Clothing Carrie Bears: Made from a Loved One's Clothing

Dear Stoo, So many of our members have struggled with this very same challenge of going through our loved one's possessions. You may find this thread helpful: Christmas And if you use our site's search feature, you can type in the word "sorting" to see what other posts come up for you. This will reassure you that you are not alone in this struggle. Lori is right: There is no time limit for accomplishing this task of sorting, and always, if in doubt, keep and store those items about which you're not yet certain, and save the task for another day and time. You may not be in the best frame of mind to make such difficult choices right now, and that is normal and to be expected.

Although it appeared in Bereavement Magazine several years ago, this article by Doug Manning still speaks to all of us, especially as we head into the holiday season: Thoughts for the Lonely NightsLonely to the Bone Grief, by its very nature, is lonely. Lonely, by its very nature, produces grieving. People in grief feel a loneliness that goes to the bone. Friends are wonderful, and you could not make it without them, but they cannot make the lonely go away. A mate can hold you in the night and cry as you cry, but the lonely does not go away. Family can be devastated along with you, but it is still lonely. The loneliness may be difficult for you to understand. "Why am I so lonely? I share how I feel, I don't hide my pain, I talk about my loss, and still the loneliness goes to my very soul." And you may get angry about the loneliness. "My mate, of all people, should understand how I feel, and should touch all the right spots and all the right places. If he/she can't, do we really have anything going on in our lives together?" The struggle can dominate your time and energy. You may spend your time either thinking about how lonely you are or trying to find a way to make it go away. Worst of all, you may end up deciding you are weak and are just holding gigantic pity parties for yourself -- that you should stop feeling sorry for yourself and get on with living. The telling and the fussing do no good -- it is still lonely. You are lonely because you are faced with the impossible task of explaining feelings and the only tools you have to do that are with words. There is no way that can be done. How can anyone explain a feeling? Can love be described in words? Can fear? Can anyone describe how it felt the first time they held their newborn? Neither can you describe how you feel right now. You want to. You need to. And you will try with all your might, but words are not adequate for the task. Even when we try to explain our feelings, we often get blocked by the lack of words to use. A mother told me her son had died as a result of a gun going off during a party. She said she had a terrible struggle with the word "accident." To her, an accident was the result of some act of nature or a car wreck. Every time she would say she did not call it an accident, everyone would immediately ask her if she thought it was murder. This became increasingly troubling to her and blocked her progress in grieving. She visited with one of her son's friends who had been present at the party. When she told him she had a hard time with the word accident, he sighed and said, "Me, too." She began to heal that day. Someone else had the same struggle and could not explain how he felt. Discovering that no one can really understand how you feel and that the loneliness will not go away does not sound like good news or words of comfort, but it really is. Understanding this saves you from the frustration and anger of constantly trying to explain and expecting someone, somewhere, to understand. Unfulfilled expectations can become a source of more pain and more grief. If you can accept the limitations of language, then you can focus your energy on dealing with your loneliness instead of desperately seeking a cure. This news can also help couples accept that their mates cannot fully understand or know how they feel. Then, they can concentrate on finding other ways to give and receive support. If someone listens as you unload your pain and simply accepts your feelings without trying to change the way you feel, they can give wonderful support even though they do not actually know or understand everything that is whirling inside of you. Knowing the limitations of being understood allows you to spend your effort trying to understand yourself, exploring your feelings and learning that you are normal. The focus can then be on finding outlets for your feelings that you are comfortable with and that fit your needs. -- by Doug Manning, in Bereavement Magazine, September/October 2001, Bereavement Publications, Inc., P.O. Box 61,Montrose, CO 81402,(888) 60-4HOPE (4673), grief@bereavementmag.com. Reprinted with permission of the publisher.

Dear Ones, The following story came to me in an e-mail this afternoon from a dear friend, Sandy Goodman. I've just obtained permission from the author to post it on our site. I share it with you here, Laurie and Deborah, in hopes that it will bring you comfort on this Halloween night: Halloween ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I have always loved Halloween. As a kid it was about scoring as much of the best candy as possible. In my teenagers years it was a night I could rationalize getting into some trouble. And as an adult Halloween has always been a lot of fun. When you combine costumes and parties how can you go wrong? Halloween now has a new meaning for me. My mom died last year on October 28th and her funeral was on Halloween. A few hours after she died we set the 31st as the date for the funeral. At the time I thought, "Well this really sucks. From now on Halloween won't be fun because the day will always remind me of my mom's funeral." When Halloween came, it was a spectacular East Coast autumn day - clear, sunny, crisp and wherever you looked there were signs of the changing seasons. As I was taking in the pumpkins, corn stalks and colorful foliage I remembered something that I had learned from my native American studies . According to their earth based philosophy, the time between Halloween (10/31) and All Souls Day (11/1) is the time of year when the "veil between the two worlds is the thinnest." It is the time when the spirit world is closest and most connected to our physical world here earth. This perspective shifted how I felt about my mom being buried on Halloween. Instead of it being a bummer, it was now a gift. Suddenly it was "really cool" that my mom was being buried on Halloween. Fast forward one year to the present. This past weekend I participated in a sweat lodge ceremony, a native American prayer tradition, with my former teacher, Ellen. The ceremony is conducted inside a sweat lodge, which looks like an igloo but feels like a sauna. During the ceremony Ellen reminded us that the end of October through the beginning of November is a powerful time to connect with the souls and spirits of people who have passed on. The loss of my mom was my first si gnificant experience with death. The grieving process has been interesting. I have gone from feeling completely overwhelmed, to relieved, to sad, to liberated. It's now been a year and I am still in it, in fact more deeply than during the first part of this year. I have learned that grief has a mind of its own, so I no longer try to control it. Even if it means that I end up bursting into tears during the middle of a super fun date just because Brian Wilson from the Beach Boys sings the song "Barbara Ann." Yes, my mom was named Barbara Ann and when he played that song the other weekend at the phenomenal Bridge School Benefit Concert I cried like a baby. Another thing I have noticed is how we, the American culture, don't really talk much about people who have died. I think that's weird. Maybe it's because remembering and talking about the people we love who are no longer with us can bring up intense sadness. I guess sometimes it seems easier to not think about those whom we have lost. If you are going through any type of grief, I encourage you to take advantage of this special time of year and connect with the people in your life who have passed on. The sad feelings can't go away until they have been felt. -- Michelle Schubnel President - Coach & Grow R.I.C.H. michelle@coachandgrowrich.com

Dear Andy, I think your story illustrates the importance of choosing carefully the language that we use when speaking about grief. First, it is pointless to compare one person’s loss with another’s, or to argue whether one person's grief is “deeper” than someone else's. Better to say that the grief associated with divorce is different from the grief experienced when a spouse dies, but it is still a death – the death of a relationship – and it still engenders grief. As I say in my book: Regardless of its source, the worst kind of grief is the grief you’re experiencing now. Don’t compare your grief with anyone else’s, and know that, at this moment, your loss is the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Acknowledge that your loss is worthy of grief. Where there is loss, there is grief. Pain is pain. Accept that you must endure the very real feelings of sorrow. -- In Finding Your Way through Grief: A Guide for the First Year, p. 9 If “recovery” from your loss is what you seek, you’re quite right that you “will not ever recover,” because most of us understand “recovery” as returning to some state of normalcy, of going back to life the way it was before the loss occurred. When your divorce happened, the life you knew was lost, and you are forever changed. Better to say that eventually, with lots of hard work, understanding, and support, you become reconciled to your loss. Many in the field of transition and loss consider the term reconciliation to be more accurate than other words such as recovery, resolution, re-establishment, or re-organization. It's important to understand that when we travel on this journey of transition and loss, we never arrive at some final destination or end point. Perhaps the most commonly asked question in grief is "When is grieving finished?" While the agonizing pain of loss diminishes in intensity over time, it's never gone completely. Whether through death or divorce, depending upon your relationship with and attachment to the one you have lost, it can be absolutely normal to feel the aftershock of loss for the rest of your life. Grieving is not a reaction to a single event, like an illness that can be cured and from which you will recover. It's more like a deep wound that eventually heals and closes, but whose terrible scar remains and still can hurt at times. For some, it's like an amputation, in that part of one's very self is lost when a relationship or a loved one dies. You wouldn't think of asking an amputee, "How long did it take for you to get over losing your left leg?" You never "get over" the loss of a loved one -- over time and with effort, you simply learn to live with it, eventually adjusting to the physical absence of your beloved. It may help you to read this article by Judy Tatelbaum: How Long Does Grief Last? Everyone who has ever grieved wonders: How long will this grief persist? How long must I feel sorrow and pain? We don’t like feeling uncomfortable. We detest that complex mix of feelings that grief engenders. We may feel like victims of our feelings, wishing they would just disappear. As a culture, we want everything to be quick and easy. We don’t savor feelings any more than we savor the wide range of our varied life experiences. Like all else that we hurry through in life, we may be obsessed with getting through our pain as quickly as possible. How long does grief take? The real answer is that grief takes as long as it takes – a week, a month, a year or more, depending on whom we have lost and how this death affects us. Grief is a process we must move through, not over or around. Even when we can temporarily deny our pain, it still exists. It will eventually erupt in some way, maybe at an inappropriate moment or during another upset or illness. It is always better to admit our strong feelings, to feel them, and to move through them in order to move beyond them. What does getting over it mean? It means not being forever in pain over our loss. It means we don’t forget or stop loving the person we lost. We do not always have to grieve; we can remember without pain. Too often we hear the awful message that we never stop grieving, never get over our loss. When we have no tools for overcoming sorrow, and when the world tries to shut us up, grief does go on longer. The belief that we will never recover from a loss can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, if we let it. When we believe we can recover, we do. It is important to trust that grief is not forever. I believed I would grieve forever when my brother died. I kept sorrow alive for fourteen years by believing it was endless. I didn’t know how to stop my grief. Grief that persists for years can keep us living in the past; keep us from loving the people who are still alive. I was stunted in my grief, afraid to trust, afraid to commit, afraid to have children I might lose. It wasn’t until a good therapist helped me express fully how much this loss hurt me that I was able to stop grieving. No matter how much we may hurt today, we must remember that grief is temporary. Mourning does not have to last forever. We can finish crying and express all our many feelings around this loss. We can find in ourselves the courage to recover and heal. We can begin to live fully and love again. – © 2005 by Judy Tatelbaum, MSW, in Journeys: A Newsletter to Help in Bereavement, www.hospicefoundation.org . [Judy is an experienced psychotherapist, lecturer and educator who has dedicated her life to freeing people from emotional suffering. She is a frequent speaker to lay and professional audiences, and is the author of two outstanding books, The Courage to Grieve: Creative Living, Recovery and Growth through Grief, and You Don’t Have to Suffer: A Handbook for Moving Beyond Life’s Crises.]

My dear Maylissa, As I read your (as always) carefully thought-out post, it seems to me that you already know the answer to your questions, and you just need someone outside yourself -- someone who's more objective and not emotionally involved in your situation -- to validate what your perfectly sound intuition and common sense are telling you already. First, as the excellent care giver that you are, I’m sure you know that your primary responsibility is to take good care of yourself -- especially given the fragile condition you're in right now. Otherwise you have nothing left to give to others. As you yourself have observed, you've barely emerged from the shock and numbness to begin your current grief journey, much less completed the hard work that you must still do in mourning the loss of Nissa. Where will you find the energy to take care of this other aging kitty, for whom you are not even the one responsible? Second, just because your neighbor's son has asked this (huge!) favor of you does not mean that you are obligated to do it for him. He asked out of his own self-interest, because he knows you're an excellent care giver, you know as much about caring for geriatric cats as the local veterinarian, and he knows you'd take better care of his cat than anyone else he could find. I suggest you take that as a compliment and accept it as such, but still feel okay about saying "no." Unfortunately, in situations like this, people don't make it very easy for us to say "no." Perhaps when this young man asked the favor he could have added, "I know you may not be ready to take on this responsibility because you're in the freshest throes of mourning for Nissa, and please feel free to say 'no.'" Such a statement might have helped you to feel accepted and understood, and it may have made it easier for you to decline, but even in the absence of such courtesy, you can still respond with something like this: Thank you for asking, and I really appreciate your confidence in me, but so soon after Nissa's dying, I'm just not comfortable taking on that responsibility right now. You are under no obligation to apologize, to offer any further explanation, or to say anything further unless you want to, Maylissa. And if you're not comfortable delivering this simple message yourself, perhaps you can ask your husband to deliver it to your neighbors for you. I find it telling that on the evening of the day you met with your grief counselor, you finally allowed yourself to experience the pain of losing Nissa. As I'm sure you already know, much as we humans want to avoid it at all costs, it is in moving toward the pain -- pain in all its dimensions: physical, emotional, cognitive, social, and spiritual -- that healing occurs. The experience you describe (the sobbing and crying so hard you feared that your nose and head would explode) is a signal that your grief is demanding your attention. It is a reminder that you need to give yourself ample time and space (free from external demands) to do the work of mourning: to slow down, to turn inward, to surrender to your helplessness; to sit with, contemplate, experience, and work through your pain. I also think the part of you that is tempted to take on the responsibility of caring for the neighbor's cat is the part of you that is drawn to the role with which you are most experienced, most familiar and most comfortable: that of care giver to geriatric kitties. This is partly because, now that you're without Sabin and Nissa (who helped define who you were), you're left with the profound question that all mourners one day must face: Who will I now be, without my loved one to help me know who I was? You also wonder if Nissa is sending furry friends to you "for my personal growth, but in what way, exactly, I'm not sure yet." This wondering, this not knowing, this hunch that it has something to do with your own personal growth, this search for meaning, is another indication that you've begun the real work of mourning. Give yourself time to struggle with these big, important questions, Maylissa. You have the rest of your life to find the answers. You are right where you need to be in your grief process, and you are wise to avoid taking on any additional and unnecessary responsibilities. As Alan Wolfelt says, "The grief journey requires contemplation and turning inward. In other words, it requires depression, anxiety, and loss of control. It requires going into the wilderness. Quietness and emptiness invite the heart to observe signs of sacredness, to regain purpose, to rediscover love, to renew life! Searching for meaning, reasons to get one's feet out of bed, and understanding the pain of loss are [part of the process] . . . Experience has taught me that it is the mysterious, spiritual dimension of grief that harbors the capacity to go on living until we, too, die."

Shelley, I'm confused! In an earlier post, you told us that your parrot had died last June: Devastating News About My Dear Dog. And in a post three days before that, you said that Shamrock was your brother's parrot: The Healing Continues Is the Shamrock who died two weeks ago a different Shamrock?

Well yippee and hoo-rah I like your husband's method even better Obviously he knows more about this fandangled computer stuff than we do Next time, let's just ask your husband And I'm soooooo glad you've added the picture of your darling Sabin and Nissa, Maylissa! They're both just beautiful

Derek, dear ~ You might consider including your grandmother in an online prayer circle, such as the one sponsored by Self-Healing Expressions, at Prayer Wall for Those in Need. Please know that we are holding you and your precious grandmother in gentle thought and prayer.

Hi Maylissa, I'm sorry it took so long for me to respond; I've been at a bereavement conference all day and just now picked up your message. Here is how I insert hyperlinks to previous posts: I use both Internet Explorer and AOL to access this site. Once the site is open on both browsers, using either Explorer or AOL, I find the "old" post that I want to link to, and copy the URL address from the address bar in that browser to my clipboard. Then, using the other browser, I begin typing my message in the "Reply" window (the white box that appears after you click on the "Add Reply" button at the top of the page). Then, after I've given the "old" post a title and typed it into my new message, I highlight the title with my mouse. Next, I go to the little globe-like icon at the top of the white box (next to the B, I, U, S, A, etc.) and click on it. Then a pop-up window appears that says, "Explorer User Prompt." Next, I place my mouse over the place that shows "http://" in blue, right-click on it, and then paste the contents of my clipboard there (that is, the URL I've cut and pasted from the other browser's address bar) and click on "OK." That should create the hyperlink in the text of your post. To check to see if it worked, scroll down and click on the "Preview Post" button and you can test the link in your text there. I'm sorry if this sounds more complicated than it really is, Maylissa -- give it a try and if it doesn't work for you, let me know.

Dearest Kay, You are in my thoughts and prayers, too. You are such a dear and special part of our GH family, and it hurts my heart to know that you are struggling so. We're all pulling for you, and I just know that has to count for something! Keep your precious chin up and know that we are with you! I've found some resources that I hope might offer you some alternatives, in case you haven't considered some of them: Final Details: A Checklist Final Details: Claiming Benefits Final Details: Necessary Papers Final Details: Steps to Take Finances: Looking Ahead Low Income Help

Hi Kelly, If it makes you feel any better, I'm just as nutty as you are. I do the same thing whenever I leave my home, and for the same reason -- I always think to myself that if anything happens to me while I'm gone, I don't want someone to come in and find my house in a mess. I do think it stems from your own experience of going through Josh's things, as I have had to do with both my parents' belongings after they died. Now I am very conscious of what I want my children to find amongst my belongings and in my file cabinets, should anything happen to me. Instead of thinking of this as nutty or wierd, pat yourself on the back for taking responsibility for what you choose to leave behind and for what messes you're not willing to leave for someone else to clean up after you. That, it seems to me, is being very mature and considerate of others -- at least that's how I choose to see it in myself!

Dear Andy, The topic of your posts is an important one, and it gives me an opportunity to say a few more words about Complicated Grief. First, however, I want to acknowledge that, as you are well aware, the death of a relationship is just as painful as any other loss, and it’s one that we’ve addressed previously in this forum. See, for example, a thread that appeared in October, 2003, under the topic, "Two Months and I Am Still Weeping." Although the topic was introduced by a man whose divorce had happened just two months prior to his post, you may be interested in what I said to Matt at that time, including the books and online resources I suggested to him, as I think you may find them helpful as well. Just click on this link: Two Months And I Am Still Weeping You are correct in your observation that there is an effort afoot to place “complicated grief” in the next issue of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychiatric Disorders (DSM-V), which is the most widely used psychiatric reference in the world. Mental health professionals and researchers are currently working to agree upon specific criteria for identifying and assessing complicated grief – in order to get payment for treatment and funding for research, to identify those at risk, and to distinguish depression from complicated grief. The concern among many experts and practitioners in the field of grief and bereavement is to what extent this effort to label complicated mourning as a psychiatric disorder “pathologizes” normal grief. Some believe that grief should not be a diagnostic category at all, because that in itself makes it a problem. Experience demonstrates that the distinction between uncomplicated grief and complicated grief is not clear, since most signs and symptoms occur along a continuum from less severe to very severe. Even in papers published in the professional literature, the terms that are used to describe it keep changing (e.g., complicated mourning, abnormal grief, pathologic grief, neurotic grief and traumatic grief) – and everyone agrees that a lot more research in these areas is needed. The condition is not limited to the loss of a person through death, either. People can experience complicated grief following any significant loss: a home, a career, loss through infertility, or loss of a cherished companion animal, for example. Last October I heard one grief therapist suggest that a better term for complicated grief might be compound grief (as in “compound fracture”). “Temperatures of 99 and 106 are both fevers,” she said, “and the objective is the same: to get the fever down. If we let it run its course, the body will heal itself. The struggle toward rebirth is a necessary part of the process, in order for us to grow. Literally fighting for one’s life is not pathology, not disease – it is health.” She made the point that we human beings are designed to heal naturally – physically, emotionally and spiritually – and grief is a natural process. When it is interfered with, she said, it can become complicated. So just what is complicated grief? It is the usual and expected grief reactions taken to the extreme – when normal grief reactions become so severe and last so long as to significantly impair one’s functioning in the world: socially, occupationally, and in activities of daily living. It is grief that becomes chronic or prolonged, is delayed or inhibited in some way, or is distorted by other underlying issues or pre-existing conditions. Danger signals include suicidal thoughts and / or plans to act upon such thoughts; self-destructive behaviors; severe mental disorganization; deep feelings of guilt, regrets and low self-esteem; continued irritability or violent outbursts of rage; radical, sudden, shocking changes in lifestyle; and physical symptoms that imitate those of the deceased. Contributing factors include the nature of the loss or death (sudden, violent, multiple, etc.), the relationship between the bereaved and the deceased, the personality and life experiences of the bereaved, and other social issues Any of our members (and anyone reading the posts in these forums) quickly observes that severe symptoms that persist for many months and even years do not necessarily indicate complicated or pathological grief. Since there is no simple formula for determining when grief becomes complicated (that is, how severe is too severe; how long is too long; and how dysfunctional is too dysfunctional), when in doubt it is always wise to seek an assessment by a qualified mental health practitioner who is familiar with complications of grief and psychiatric disorders. And in a sense, all grief is complicated, because any significant loss turns our entire life upside down, and we are faced with learning to live in a world forever changed. In the words of clinical psychologist and certified grief specialist J. Shep Jeffreys, I offer yet another impression of ‘normal’ grief and complicated grief. I approach all grief reactions as a complication in the life of the individual who seeks help with this human phenomenon. We travel life’s roadway and suddenly, around the bend, the bridge is out. A death, a life-threatening diagnosis, accident, layoff notice, or other traumatic change has painfully altered the course of our journey and requires a new way of looking at life. The process of grieving represents a disruption, a need for altering our direction, our plans, and how we identify ourselves in the post-loss / changed world. Normal grief presents many complications and deserves the help of a care provider who is an exquisite witness. People who are grieving deserve care at whatever level their situation requires whether we call it complicated or not. At all times, individual differences must be taken into consideration when determining how we as care providers will serve them. – J. Shep Jeffreys, Ed.D., C.T., in Helping Grieving People: When Tears Are Not Enough, Brunner-Routledge, © 2005, p. 293.

Dear One, I, too, am so very sorry to learn of the death of your precious Marco. To lose any cherished animal companion is heartbreaking, but to lose one in such a sudden, unexpected and violent manner is terrifying, and I cannot imagine what this experience has done to you and your perception of the world around you. There is precious little I can add to the wisdom that's been shared with you already, but I'd like to offer some resources that may bring you some comfort. Just follow the links I've listed below: Rainbow Bridge (Flash Animation) Do Pets Go to Heaven? Comfort for Grieving Animal Lovers Dogs Have Souls, Too Dog Heaven Gone to Dog Star Heaven's Playground Light A Candle Pet Loss Quilt (These and many other wonderful sites are listed on the Pet Loss Links pages of my Grief Healing Web site.) Finally, my dear, there is not one of us who can take away your sorrow and your pain at losing your beloved Marco -- but we want you to know that you don't have to bear your sorrow and pain all by yourself. We are here for you, all of us, and we will not let you walk this way alone. Wishing you peace and healing, Marty T

What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful man. Thank you so much, Kelly, for helping us to know your Josh just a little better . . .

Dear Shelley, I know from all you’ve shared with us in other posts that relinquishing your beloved Chelsea has been one of the most difficult aspects of your grief journey, and I can’t imagine how much you must miss her being right there with you now. Hugging a stuffed animal when you need a hug is fine, but it can't compare to hugging Chelsea, can it? Even though you know Chelsea is alive and well and living with your brother, you still are left with the presence of her absence in your own daily life, and it certainly doesn’t make you miss her any less. I want to address your concern that if anything happens to Chelsea, “if I am not there she will know that I did not love her enough to be there with her.” Have you ever watched a program on the National Geographic channel called The Dog Whisperer, featuring Cesar Millan? Cesar is today one of the most sought-after experts in dog behavior. I’ve watched his television program often enough to be convinced that he has a very special gift: his unique ability to understand and work with dog behavior, based on what he calls “dog psychology.” In his best-selling book, Cesar’s Way, Cesar Millan makes the point that “animals are beautifully simple. To them, life is also very simple . . . The most important thing to know about animals is that they all live in the present. All the time. It’s not that they don’t have memories – they do. It’s just that they don’t obsess over the past, or the future . . . That’s perhaps the most wonderful revelation I have had from a life of working with dogs . . . Although humans are animals, too, we are the only species that dwells on the past and worries about the future . . .” When circumstances are such that an animal must be relinquished to a suitable new home, Cesar says, “This may be heartbreaking for you, but the good news is, dogs do move on much faster than humans. The dog will feel disoriented at first when he moves to a new pack, but in nature, wolves do change packs when the need arises. If a pack gets too big for the resources in the environment, wolves will split off and find or form new groups. If you find the right home for him, your dog will adjust after a day or two. It’s his instinct to adjust and try to fit in. He’ll recognize you if he sees you or smells you again, but he won’t spend his time pining for you. Remember, dogs live in the moment.” I share this with you, Shelley, in hopes of reassuring you that Chelsea is probably much happier living with your brother than you may think, and it’s highly unlikely that she is spending her days being mad at you for abandoning her, or thinking that you don’t love her enough to be there with her. One of the most wonderful things about dogs is their willingness to forgive their humans; they love us unconditionally, and they don’t hold grudges against us – that’s partly why we love them so much. And as Cesar Millan says, they don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future – they live fully in the present. I have a feeling that all of this is much harder on you, Shelley, than it is on Chelsea. If in your heart of hearts you considered Chelsea as your "fur child" you would not be alone. As an animal lover myself, I can assure you that I love my dog Beringer just as much as I love my (human) children and grandchildren -- and that does not mean that I cannot distinguish between my love for humans and my love for animals. It's just that our animal companions love us in a way that's DIFFERENT from how our fellow human beings love us -- the love we feel from our pets is unconditional, complete, unwavering, loyal to a fault, completely without judgment -- is it any wonder that we miss them so much when they are no longer with us -- regardless of the reason? And in some ways, having to relinquish our pets to someone else can be even more painful than knowing they have died -- because we know that they are still here in this physical world, but they are not present with us. So it's hard to know how to continue loving them in their absence, especially when we know their unconditional love is now being given to someone other than ourselves. All of this can leave us feeling angry, guilty, sad, lonely, jealous -- as well as pleased, proud and grateful that we were able to find someone else willing to provide our beloved pets with a happy, loving home -- an entire mish-mash of conflicting feelings! And you are NOT crazy or silly to be having any of these feelings. These are NORMAL reactions. Grief is a NATURAL response to losing someone we loved very much, and we grieve in proportion to the attachment we have to those we have lost. In that sense, grief is the price we pay for loving. You may be thinking, "I shouldn't feel this way because I know my dog isn’t dead" -- but feelings aren't always rational, and they are neither right or wrong -- they just ARE, and it's very important to acknowledge and express them so they can be dealt with, worked through and released. Yes, your Chelsea is still alive, but she is no longer with you, you still miss her terribly, a part of you may still feel guilty for having to give her up in the first place, and you still need to let yourself grieve your loss of her. I cannot say whether visiting Chelsea once a month will help -- you know yourself and Chelsea better than I do -- but I can alert you to some things you may want to consider. Since she now lives with your brother, I’m going to assume that he is providing a loving home for her. Does visiting Chelsea in her new home make it more difficult for you to adjust to her loss -- or harder for Chelsea to adapt to her life without you? Might your brother mistakenly get the impression that you are "checking up" on him and don't trust him enough to take proper care of Chelsea? Do you see this as a temporary or a permanent arrangement? In other words, did you relinquish Chelsea with the idea that she now belongs to your brother? When you see the two of them together, do you get the feeling that they’ve bonded with each other, and that Chelsea now looks to your brother (rather than to you) as her primary person, the leader of her pack? If so, does that stir up any negative feelings (of sadness, guilt, jealousy, etc.) in you? If you see this arrangement as permanent, Shelley, it may help both you and Chelsea to find a way to say “goodbye” to her. Keep in mind that saying a proper and thorough goodbye to Chelsea doesn't necessarily require that you are together with her physically, and it doesn't mean that you won't ever visit her again. This goodbye is more for YOU than it is for Chelsea. Perhaps you can say goodbye to (and ask forgiveness from) her spirit, by creating some sort of special goodbye ritual -- use your imagination and do whatever feels right for you. Light a candle, write a poem, plant a rose bush in her honor, create a little place of remembrance complete with photographs where you can go to think about and remember (and talk to) your lost dog in your new home -- whatever you do is totally up to you. What's important is that you find a way to meet your own need to say goodbye, so that this precious dog is freed to move on with her new “master,” and you are freed from all those negative and painful feelings. Keep in mind, too, that although you must find a way to let Chelsea go, you need not let go of the relationship you have had with her -- for that will stay with you as long as you keep your memories of her alive in your heart and in your mind. Remember, talk about and cherish all those special moments -- that is her legacy of love to you. Relinquishing her to someone else does not mean that you must erase all memories of her in your own life, or that you can never visit her again in your brother’s home. Why would you want to do that when she meant so much to you? This is more of a symbolic relinquishment, acknowledging the sad reality that Chelsea no longer belongs to you, that now she has become your brother’s dog. Whatever you decide to do is strictly up to you, Shelley. What really matters here is for you to find some peace, and as you continue on your journey, I hope you’ll let us know what you're thinking and how you’re doing with all of this. Wishing you peace and healing, Marty T