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MartyT

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  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. 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
  7. 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.]
  8. 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."
  9. 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?
  10. 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
  11. 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.
  12. 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.
  13. 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
  14. 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!
  15. 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.
  16. 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
  17. What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful man. Thank you so much, Kelly, for helping us to know your Josh just a little better . . .
  18. 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
  19. Maylissa, my dear ~ I am so proud of you
  20. Oh my dear Shelley, that is not wierd at all. There is nothing to replace being hugged by your mother or your dad, and I too would give anything to feel once again the warm and tender embrace of either of my parents. Let's take a page from Shell's book: put your arms around yourself and give yourself a great big hug, and know that it comes from your mother and your dad. Then give yourself another one, from all the members of your GH family here.
  21. Dear Rayon, The feelings you describe are neither “right” or “wrong,” because you simply cannot control what you are feeling – you can only control what you do with what you are feeling. As you come to learn more about what is normal in grief, both through your own experience and through your contact with other mourners here in these forums, you will find that you are not alone in your reactions and you are not “wrong” or “bad” for feeling as you do ~ as I’m sure many of our other members will tell you. That’s one of the benefits of participating in these forums. In the meantime, you may find some of these earlier posts helpful: How Do You Handle Guilt? Heartbroken Suddenly All Alone
  22. Chrissy, dear ~ You said, “I thought that I wouldn’t feel this emptiness and loneliness once [the baby] came, but the last few days I have been longing for Jason so badly . . . The baby brings me so much joy and I am so happy to have a piece of him here with me but He can’t fill the void that was made when Jason died.” When Jason died, you still had ahead of you the enormous and frightening task of delivering your baby without Jason by your side, as well as the overwhelming responsibility of bringing home and caring for a brand new infant all by yourself. You had to muster all the strength and courage you had within you to accomplish these enormous tasks, which I suspect left very little room for you to ponder and experience the full force of your grief. As horrible as you must have felt right after Jason died, you also may have deluded yourself into thinking that you’d feel better once the baby was born, when you’d have baby Jason upon whom to focus your attention. Now that the baby is here and you’re home all alone with him, you’re gradually discovering the enormous responsibilities of being a single mom, the reality of which can be overwhelming. At the same time that you’re adjusting to being a brand new mother, in addition to your housework, there is grief work waiting to be done. The enormous reality of your loss, the reality of Jason’s physical absence in your life, your aloneness in parenting this child, is now only just beginning to push itself into your conscious awareness. The first task in grief work it to acknowledge the reality of your loss, and that is what you’re doing now, whenever you have those moments when you’re acutely aware of Jason’s absence and you find yourself longing for him. It’s at those times that you need to acknowledge your feelings, give in to them, and find some way to express them – whether that’s by coming here to vent, or by crying your eyes out in the shower, or by raging at the heavens. Do whatever works for you. Nevertheless, because you’re all alone adjusting to your role as a brand new mom, I know there is precious little energy left over for you to do your grief work, and that’s okay. This is Mother Nature’s way of cushioning you against the full force of your loss, and I want to encourage you to give yourself permission to take your grief in smaller doses, letting it in just a little bit at a time, as you have time enough and energy enough to give it the attention it demands. This is a normal and healthy thing to do, Chrissy, and in your particular circumstances, I think it is a matter of survival for both you and your baby.
  23. Dearest One, We’re all so very sorry to learn of the death of your beloved mother; please accept our heartfelt sympathy. We already knew your mama was a very special lady, but by sharing these wonderful stories about her, you’ve helped us see her through her daughter’s eyes, and we are so very grateful to you for that. In her willingness to share so openly and honestly in this forum how it felt to be saying goodbye to everything and everyone she’s ever loved, your mother gave all of us the priceless gift of seeing grief and loss from the unique perspective of the person who is dying. For one who lived her life so selflessly in the service of her immediate and extended family, I simply cannot imagine how difficult it must have been for your mother to say goodbye to all of you, much less for all of you to see her go. I'm sure you already know that the bond you have with your mama will be with you always, just as long as you keep her memory and the love you share with her alive in your heart. You will always be your mama’s daughter, and she will always be your beloved mama. Death may have ended her life, but it certainly does not end the relationship you have with her. Although she is no longer physically present, it doesn't mean that you cannot continue to love her in her absence. I hope the precious memories you have of your dear mama will one day bring you comfort, and that you’ll come to find, in the lovely words of Hugh Robert Orr: They are not dead who live in lives they leave behind. In those whom they have blessed, they live a life again, and shall live through the years eternal life, and shall grow each day more beautiful, as time declares their good, forgets the rest, and proves their immortality. Our thoughts and prayers are with you and your family at this sad and difficult time. Wishing you peace and healing, Marty T
  24. Hi Maylissa, At the top of the main page, on the right, you'll see several links: Admin CP · My Controls · View New Posts · My Assistant · 0 New Messages Clicking on the View New Posts link enables you to see a list of all the posts that have appeared since your last visit to the site. As you read each post, using your "back" feature, you can keep returning to the "View New Posts" list until you've read all the posts on the list. Once done, go to the top of the page and click "Mark all forums as read and return to index." This simply removes the list of new posts on the "View New Posts" page. Alternatively, when you click on the "Mark all posts as read" feature on the main page, the same thing happens. All the new posts on the "View New Posts" page will be removed from the list. No harm is done -- all the posts still appear in each of the forums and nothing is "lost." Also, note that on the main page, when there is a new post in a forum, there's a blue button on the left next to that forum that is highlighted. Once you click on the "Mark all posts as read" feature, the blue button reverts to its original state. I hope this makes sense -- if not, let me know . . .
  25. The following article appeared in the September / October 2006 issue of In Touch: Hospice of the Valley Bereavement Newsletter. Where Dandelion Seeds Fall This column will present stories of inspiration. Each life is filled with meaning, values, ideas and dreams. When a life ends, perhaps these qualities are set free and scatter, like dandelion seeds in a breeze. They might take root somewhere else and grow into new plants. Sometimes, we don’t even know where a beautiful new idea comes from, but we are inspired to make it grow and thrive. If you have a personal story that shows the power of inspiration in those who survive, please let us know. “Grief Gone Wild” Helps Bereaved Teens On a weekend rafting trip down the Salt River a year ago, Bereavement Department Administrative Assistant Cory Olson tightened her grip on her paddle as the raft pitched into a rapid. The raft bucked and threatened to capsize. “Dig! Dig!” shouted the guide. Cory felt a rush of fear, energy, resolve and focus. Paddles struggled with the river currents and won, as the boat cleared the boulders and holes all around. A flash of inspiration took root in Cory, and she wondered if grief and despair could be turned into hope and triumph through confronting survival in a wilderness experience. She brought the seed of inspiration to Stacia Ortega, head of Hospice of the Valley’s Circle of Life outreach to bereaved teenagers. With the excitement and support of many others, this seed grew into an innovative program called “Grief Gone Wild.” For five days in July 2006, 15 bereaved teens -- plus staff and volunteers from Hospice of the Valley and the City of Phoenix -- journeyed together running the San Juan River in southeastern Utah. They used ceremonies, rituals, play and adventure to help the teens understand and work through their grief. The teens' losses included two fathers killed by gunfire, both parents succumbing to AIDS, a close friend who committed suicide, a friend struck and killed by a car, and siblings and parents lost to disease. Each day began and ended with "Circle Time and Talking Stick," a time to honor departed loved ones. HOV volunteer Walt Carr played the flute every morning to open the circle, as the teens took turns saying their names and the names of those they had lost. The floating memorial was a pivotal moment midway through the journey. Teens and artist/volunteer Manny Wheeler constructed the wood raft, with each teen pouring sand onto it in remembrance of their loved one. A prayer of remembrance was spoken. The raft was released to the flow of the river, carrying memories downstream. The only girl on the trip wrote this about her experience: “This is truly a life changing event. My mother would be so excited, stoked and proud of me all at the same time. I’m doing this trip for her because she was never given such an amazing opportunity. I’m so proud of myself for conquering the fear I had for the untamed outdoors. Just looking around at the canyon and bright beautiful stars brings tears to my eyes. “I think that everyone should take a few days off from their crazy lives and find out what life means to them...go rafting or mountain climbing something that brings you to a place that civilization has not yet destroyed. What a blessing it is to be here, not only to find peace with the loss of my mother and to have a blast, but also to find myself.” Hospice of the Valley provided the funding and grief expertise through staff members Stacia Ortega and Cory Olson and volunteers Walt Carr and Xevi Cargol. The City of Phoenix's Adaptive Recreation Services division, which has coordinated rafting expeditions for the last 15 years, provided the expertise of Ann Wheat and T.J. Penkoff. The trip was made possible through donations from CIGNA HealthCare and the Southwest Section of the PGA of America, which sponsored a Pro-Am benefit golf tournament in April; and the Employees Community Fund of Boeing Mesa. The teens will continue to meet with their counselors throughout the coming year to help strengthen and cultivate the fruits of this exceptional experience. A “Grief Gone Wild” trip is being planned as a yearly event. [Note: See Grief Gone Wild for details about next summer's trip.]
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