Tag Archives: death

grief comparisons

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sadness

Photo credit: Wendy Longo photography / Foter / CC BY-ND

It has been three months since my mom died. Sometimes it feels like years ago. Sometimes it feels like yesterday.

I have not been able to write a blog post since that day. My mind has been foggy, scrambled, gray, and unclear. Some days my heart felt heavy, sad, and lifeless. Other days, I have sensed the warmth of her memory in the flowers and sunshine that she loved so dearly.

During the past months, some friends have asked how I am doing and others have kept an awkward distance, unsure of what to say.

Family members have all processed their grief uniquely, sometimes drawing close to each other, sometimes pulling apart because of tensions, anger, or a desire to process pain alone. Some have cried; others held their emotions in check; still others could not find tears even when they tried. Some went right to work arranging details; others were paralyzed by their loss.

In these three months, numerous other friends have also lost loved ones – children, siblings, parents, friends. Sometimes the deaths arrived as expected, peaceful, a long-awaited transition to a better place. Other deaths came suddenly, violently, shaking family foundations of faith and security.

Some of my friends experienced death much like I did… at the bedside, providing care and comfort, counting the minutes as they turned into hours. Other friends had no opportunity to sit nearby at the end or intentionally chose not to go there. Some appear unaffected by their grief; others are clearly rattled, and others experience a bit of both depending on the day.

I have found myself occasionally comparing my particular experience and my emotional response with others. However, I am learning that we cannot compare our different experiences with death any more than we can compare our different experiences with life. 

There is no right or wrong way to do this. There is no standardized approved amount of time, feelings, involvement, or impact that death brings to a person. Each birth, each person, each death is unique.

And so, for me and for you…

Take all the time you need.

Feel whatever it is you feel.

Do what you can and leave the rest.

Give grace, especially to yourself.

Chose safe people and safe places.

Sleep. Cry. Dance. Work. Laugh. Yell. Remember.

Don’t judge.

Don’t compare.

It is grief and so it will be.

∼∗∼

powerless

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IMGP1826The irony of it.

I chose my word for 2015 – empower – just a few weeks ago.

While we are still in the first month of the year, I found myself in a situation where I had no power at all.

My mother was on hospice care, and I had joined my siblings and my aunt in her end-of-life care giving.

It was a sacred time – simultaneously a sweet privilege and a suffocating responsibility to accompany her on her journey.

We wanted to beg her to stay, while at the same time we pled with God to mercifully take her quickly because she was so very ready to finish living.

We laughed with her sense of humor, we debated the best choices for her care, and we wept as we watched her suffer.

Her lucid moments provided us precious memories; her confused thoughts and agitated actions forced us to struggle for understanding and responses of grace.

Both her body and her mind were failing, but her faith, her gratitude, and her fighting spirit continued strong.

We imperfectly attempted to give her peace, encouragement, and comfort. We told her we would miss her, but that we would be ok when she chose to go.

There was nothing else I could do. I could not control the process. I could not choose the final moment.

I could only remain present, serve, pray, and love.

Those days there was One with great power in charge of the time… and it was not me.

(My amazing mom left us to live eternally with her Heavenly Father on January 19, 2015.)

There are times when power is a gift, and we are accountable for our strength and our influence. There are times when our greatest power is in submitting to another.

It may be that one of the most important elements of empowering others is helping them to discern the difference.

What has been your experience with power or empowering others?

 

how do you want to be remembered?

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Bob Morgan memorialHow do I want to be remembered when I die? Not something I think about very often… or want to.

However, attending a memorial service this past weekend caused me to think about things that I am often too busy to consider.

My father-in-law died a few weeks ago (about one year after his beloved wife, Nancy) and we gathered for a very special time with family and friends to share stories, hugs, tears, and time together. Meals, music, and memories filled the days. We remembered Bob as family, friend, coach, and faithful husband.

Bob’s life did not begin easily. His father deserted the family when Bob was young, and Bob ran the streets unsupervised with his “river rats” pals. There are plenty of stories about their escapades and mischief… and probably some that still remain untold! Bob
credited the Marines and basketball for turning his life around, teaching him the discipline, values, and commitments that characterized his later life.

At Bob’s memorial, we looked at picture boards and video presentations and listened to some of his favorite songs and people share about his life. Over 80+ years, Bob left a lasting legacy.

PERSONALLY – Bob invested his life with passion into those things he loved and enjoyed. Bob served bravely and proudly in the Marines. After his tour of duty, Bob dedicated his life to his love of basketball. He played in college, and then coached for many years, winning the 1971 Wisconsin State Championship for high school boys’ basketball… and many years later, he came out of retirement to coach a win-less, small-town, girls’ team to their only winning season. Bob loved the “lake”: fishing, pontoon rides, and the spectacular seasonal views from his front porch. He also loved all kinds of music and enthusiastically sang and played with family and friends through the years. He was famous for his Louis Armstrong karaoke version of “What a Wonderful World”, and we sang it at his service.

What are you passionate about?
Are you investing your time, abilities, energy and resources there?

RELATIONSHIPS – Even without early strong role models, Bob left a legacy of strong family bonds and loyalty. Bob adored his wife Nancy; it was obvious to all who knew them. His family laughed together, cried together, disagreed, and forgave each other… always staying close and enjoying time together. Bob also developed long-term friends from all walks of life. He was friendly and witty, and had a special place in his heart for the underdog. The Morgan campfire always warmly welcomed family and loved-like-family friends.

How are your relationships? Are they committed, loving, loyal, deep?

FINANCIALLY – Bob was a high school teacher and coach… not highly paid professions. Yet, Bob and Nancy were excellent stewards of their resources. In life, they were thoughtful gift-givers and traveled frequently to visit family. They opened their home and hearts to many, some for short visits, others for long-term care. They wintered in South Padre, TX for many years, enjoying warm weather and dear friends. When they died, they left an inheritance to their children. They were generous in life and in death.

Are you a good steward of what you have earned/received?
Are you generous to others?

FAITH – Bob and Nancy both demonstrated a personal faith and encouraged it in others. They faithfully attended church through the years, although the particular denomination was not important. Personally, I am grateful for how they encouraged our missionary family and prayed for us, even when they knew that our faith choices meant our family would never live near to them. Both Bob and Nancy understood God’s gift of
forgiveness and were at peace when they died.

Where are you on your faith journey?
Would you be at peace with God if you were to die today?

Bob and Nancy have helped me reflect on my own “wonderful world” and the legacy I want to leave behind… How about you? How do you want to be remembered?

rainy day – muddy heart

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photo

This rainy morning is my heart today – gray, foggy, cold, muddy, and deplete of any desire to do productive work. I want to return to bed, wrap myself in the comfort of soft blankets, drink coffee… and forget about the real world.

Do you ever have days like this?

Intellectually I battle my mood… We need the rain. It is good for the plants. We’ve had such a drought – I should feel grateful. The rain will end soon, and sunshine will cheer me up again. I can DO this. Just get up and get moving.

My reasoning doesn’t really help much. I am simply out of sorts today.

There are legitimate reasons for my mood. The rain really is p.o.u.r.i.n.g. down, the mountain dirt road is truly very m.u.d.d.y. and not conducive to driving.

My husband’s father is dying in another city, and our conversations center around hospice decisions, flight options, keeping family informed, and the schedule implications for my “other” life and future international trips. The emotions in my heart and the thoughts in mind are as gray, and foggy and muddy as the world outside my window.

Understandably so.

Some days are not full of sunshine. Some days are gray and sad and not my favorites. Some days are not productive… or are they? Sometimes doing less means time for quiet reflection, soul-level conversations, nourishing prayer, healing grief, needed rest… 

I am normally an active, optimistic, sunshine-loving, type-A person, but I am learning to accept my rainy days and foggy thoughts too. They are a part of my life, inevitable and unavoidable… even purposeful. Cleansing and new growth come from the rain… for the earth and for me.

How do you handle the gray days in your life?

____

*Update: My father-in-law died on Saturday, Sept. 14. My husband flew to be with him in his last hours. We appreciate your prayers for the family.

flashbacks and memories

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She would have been on the porch waiting and watching anxiously for our arrival. She would have walked slowly over the gravel rocks to the parking area to bear hug each one as they exited from the car doors. With a sweet, gentle smile, she would have commented on how each child had grown, how good they looked, and expressed how happy she was that we were here… but, she wasn’t there this time.

photoThe house seems quiet without her, but her presence is everywhere: her handiwork on the walls, her pictures on the fridge, her jackets still hanging and occasionally borrowed for a walk down the lane.

Conversations frequently turn to her… “Must be weird for you to be here…”, “First time back since…”, “I miss her too…”. Eyes fill with tears.

I missed her especially in the kitchen, where she was often, brewing the morning coffee, making up a quick snack or a full meal, answering the phone, taking notes, finishing crossword puzzles, always with a warm welcome when we came upstairs.She probably would have baked a cake for her firstborn’s special visit… but there was no welcome cake this year.

I missed her at the campfire too. How she laughed at the antics of the dogs and the people. How she loved to listen to the music. She would smile so proudly and compliment each musician in turn. She would sing along with the favorites and listen carefully to new melodies. This year, Papa sat alone at the fire-pit.

Papa is so sad and lost without her. The love of his life is gone and life feels empty and lonely and long.

I understand. I miss her too. Her life was a legacy. I know she’s in a good place with no more illness or hurt, but that doesn’t lessen our pain here. It’s only been a year, but her absence will be felt forever. ♥

Have you lost someone special? Are there special places or times that remind you of them?

make every day count

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Just a few days ago, a man was killed while out riding his bike. It was a beautiful lazy Sunday afternoon in a quiet suburb not too far from the park. He was in good shape, happily married, father to three almost-grown sons. An 18-year-old boy made a foolish choice to drive under drug influence, and in a moment, a good man was gone.

Life is just a breath.

I am shaken by this man’s early home-going… I’m sure he was planning on many more years of work and play. He was taking care of himself. I’m sure his wife did not imagine living the rest of her life alone without him. Such unexpected, painful change! I pray for her, hoping that she has no regrets of their last days, weeks, years together.

And I realize that is it worth repeating… live every day as if it is the last! Don’t put off until tomorrow the good things I can do today, because I may never have tomorrow. Seize the day! Live well. Make every day count!

Say “I love you”. Forgive. Listen well. Rest. Play. Call the family.
Start to exercise. Pray. Smell the flowers. Read. Give a hug. Dance. Sing.
Enjoy a gooey dessert. Say “thank you”.  Cry with a friend.
Light a candle. Help someone. Rock a baby. Laugh out loud.

Have no regrets.

I need to hear this reminder every day.

How about you? How do you make every day count?

life and death

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Nothing like death to make me think about life. It is so easy to run from one thing to another without reflection… until running is no longer an option… until there are no options at all… until life is done and there is suddenly all kinds of quiet, emptiness, solitude, and time to think. Too much time. Not enough time.

My husband’s mom passed away last week. We had just spent a wonderful week as a family with her and all his relatives – something we don’t get to do but every five to ten years. His mom looked good; she was apparently winning the ugly cancer fight; we enjoyed precious time together… and then two days later she was gone. An unexpected aneurysm leak took her life in just a few hours.

“Nanny” was a sweet lady – I felt very loved by her. I am struggling with how life, vacation gatherings, and family communication will change without her. She had a warm, inviting, accepting character that attracted people instantly and bonded them to her life-long. (please see my husband’s tribute to her) She entered eternity with a grace, calm and peace that I hope to have…

I am so grateful for the relationship we had with “Nanny”. Although we lived at great geographical distance all of our married life, we worked hard to stay close. Phone calls, cards and letters (past), Facebook (present), and vacation get-togethers allowed my children to really know and love Nanny. Sometimes it required extra expense or a very long drive, but it was so worth the effort. I do not regret investing during her lifetime, and we have no regrets at her death.

I wonder if I can say that about all of my relationships? Am I investing today, so that if they were gone tomorrow I would have no regrets? Have I made the effort? Have I told them I love them? Have I reconciled our conflicts? Have I given them my time, my energy, my focused attention? Is there anything still undone… anything that I need to say?

Life is so fragile and uncertain. Death comes without warning. I don’t want death to catch me unprepared. I want to be ready.

Are you ready? If death visits you or a loved one tomorrow… what do you need to do today?