Tag Archive for grief

The Grieving Season: Letters of Love

February 16, 2012 Jessi Grief

Valentine’s Day has passed, and I find myself entering my grieving season. This melancholy time of year has come upon me every spring since my infant son, Aiden, passed away in 2004. If you’ve lost someone close to you, chances are you know exactly what I mean. It can’t be helped. You can’t will it away. It just creeps in and sticks around until one day you wake up and just feel different.

Over the last couple days, I’ve felt it taking hold and I know that I won’t completely be myself until the end of April. Over the past eight years I’ve learned that trying to hide it or hide from it does me no good, and those who love me and know me well aren’t fooled by my charade.

But, I also know that my son, my beautiful little angel, doesn’t want me to sit and wallow in despair either. So this year, to honor him and the important life lessons he taught me, I’m taking a different approach to the season.

I bought a book of stamps.

In the past, I’ve made myself completely unavailable to those I love during my grieving time. This year, I refuse to use my loss as an excuse to ignore the wonderful blessings and people in my life. One of the most important lessons my short time with Aiden taught me is that celebrating love should be done daily, because you just never know what tomorrow might bring.

With this lesson in mind, I’m going to use that book of stamps to write letters to those in my life who mean the world to me. I’m going to tell them just how I feel about them; how they inspire me; the ways their lives have touched mine; why the thought of them warms me every day.

I think this will not only bring me comfort by reminding me just how fortunate I am, but it will also help me express feelings and thoughts I’ve been selfishly keeping to myself, like some sort of “warm fuzzy” hoarder. Deep losses are weird that way. They make you want to gather these things and keep them close to your chest as if letting them breathe will give them permission to leave too.

Having this mission to share the love rather than cloak myself in grief is already helping, and I haven’t even picked up my pen yet. For those of you who know all too well how I’m feeling, be looking for a post towards the beginning of May. I’ll write again to share if it truly made a difference. Until then, stay strong and take comfort in those who love you and the blessings in your life.

Photo: flickr.com/photos/stampendous/5534575857

3 comments , ,

The Sun Beyond the Clouds

September 17, 2011 Jessi Grief, Personal Flair

 

I woke up with all sorts of plans this morning. I’d get my cleaning done and then spend the afternoon decorating for Halloween with my family. I was completely jazzed…until I started to feel sick.

Migraine.

Migraines are a family curse that have plagued my mother and siblings our entire lives. We’ve all got different triggers and ways of handling them, but the bottom line is all the same. Indescribable pain. Life put on hold. Now matter how beautiful the day is for everyone else, it’s cloudy, lightning threatening to strike at any time.

As an adult, it’s hard to stop what you’re doing and hide under a blanket until the pain subsides. You push through what you have to do, but that’s about it.

It always used to bother me when people would claim they had migraines when they really had no concept of what a true one was like. Then I realized that was me being selfish and not taking the time to appreciate what others were going through.

There are a lot of situations in life that work a person over emotionally, like a migraine does physically. Excruciating, debilitating misery. Moving around, cleaning the house, making dinner, sharing in the everyday ups and downs of family life — it’s all hard.

The good thing is — migraines pass. Whether they’re physical or emotional. There is light beyond the clouds. It’s just a matter of living until the clouds separate and the sun takes over.

One comment , ,

Melancholy Anniversary – The Grieving Season

February 8, 2011 Jessi Grief

melancholyFor most people, the word “anniversary” is associated with celebrations and remembrances of happy occasions, but that’s not true for all of us. Sure, I look forward to October and celebrating the day Brock and I joined hands and said, “I do,” but that’s not the type of anniversary I’m talking about today.

I’m talking about anniversaries of major, life-changing events; packed with so much painful emotion, that the date haunts you for the rest of your life. These days are usually the anniversaries of profound losses.

I have a couple of these days every single spring. These woeful specters set up residence in my mind and consume my days, nights and dreams. They’re so powerful, that not just the calendar days effect me, but the months surrounding them are sorrowful, too.

Every February, an ache sets in. Suddenly, like clockwork, I feel as though part of me is broken or missing. A deep heartache emerges and transforms me until the end of April.

I still function, though most of the time, I don’t want to. I have no choice. Regardless of my heartache, I’m still a wife and mother. My family still needs me, just as I need them.

Time passes slower when this anniversary season comes upon me. Days lumber by, accentuating my pain. The clock and calendar seem to mock me as they lazily stroll along.

This season has been my reoccurring living nightmare since 2004 when my angel came and went.

Every year, I give myself a pep-talk in January. I tell myself that I will rise above the ache and celebrate the gift he was, and still is, in my life. And just when I think this year will be the one, the hollowness sets in. The questions run like a never-ending ticker tape in my head. My soul dims and I’m there again.

Reliving the anguish.

Grieving as though the wound was fresh.

Retreating into the safety of silence.

My melancholy anniversary is upon me once again. Random teardrops fall without warning. Emotions rise and fall. My heart breaks all over again.

Just.

Breathe.

Photo: flickr.com/photos/maveric2003/393605629

23 comments , , ,

Living With a Grieving Heart

September 20, 2010 Jessi Grief, Motivation

“Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it.” ~William Somerset Maugham, English playwright, novelist and short story author

Oh, Billy, if it were only that simple.

An unfortunate part of life, is death. Not just our own, but of those who touch our lives. It’s grim, but it’s real. And sooner or later, we all have to work through it.

This year has been trying for me.

This spring, I lost my snarly, surly chihuahua, Yoda. He’d been a naughty, yet faithful, protective friend and companion for nearly 14 years. While the loss of a pet can never be equated with the loss of person, it’s still a deep, painful time. Yoda was a part of my family, and I still expect to see him every day. I miss the way he cuddled in under the covers and how his cranky, not-so-fully-toothed growl could strike fear into the heart of any six-foot-tall, burly manly-man. He was a real gem.

In the last six weeks, I’ve lost three friends. Unexpected circumstances. Alzheimer’s. Cancer. So unfair. So tragic. The sympathy cards and services are behind me, but the sorrow is still here. And there will be empty pieces in my heart forever.

Still, I learned over six years ago, when my son, Aiden, passed away, that letting grief grip me and bring my life to a halt, either physically or emotionally, won’t bring them back, make things “better” or honor their memory in any way. In fact, it would diminish the powerful impact they had on my life, and smudge the beautiful memory of who they were and the positive, wonderful marks they made on the world.

I can’t give you a step-by-step guide on how to overcome your grief, because it’s a very personal, intimate thing. What I can say is, there is another day. There are reasons all around you to keep moving forward. Your life is meant to be led, and those you’ve loved and lost wouldn’t want to be the reason or excuse that you gave up on the things, people and causes that are important to you.

Moving in a forward direction isn’t insulting their memory or demonstrating a lack of emotion. It’s a celebration of the gifts they gave you. I know for a fact, Aiden, Chad, Sharon, Judy and even my crank-meister, little Yoda, wouldn’t want me to spend the rest of my life curled up in a ball, feeling nothing but pain and neglecting the family and friends who are still with me, need me and love me. They wouldn’t want me to put an end to my dreams, goals and aspirations. They’d want me to keep living, loving and making a difference.

Will I ever be over the losses of these fabulous characters? No.

Will I have days where tears are shed and I try to make sense of the senseless. Absolutely.

Will I tarnish their beloved memories by giving up. Never.

If you’re struggling with loss, I wholeheartedly sympathize. I have a strong idea of your pain and inner conflict.

There is another day.

As long as I can I will look at this world for both of us. As long as I can I will laugh with the birds, I will sing with the flowers, I will pray to the stars, for both of us. ~Sascha, as posted on motivateus.com

Photo: flickr.com/photos/tkksummers/4382779679
6 comments , , , , ,