This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 5th, 2007 at 7:20 pm and is filed under For Widows Only. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Tis the season to be jolly !
Who hasn’t experienced grief ? If there’s anyone out there reading this and who hasn’t experienced grief, please contact all of us.
When is grief most pronounced? For many of us the holidays bring out, upend, fast forward the holidays past.
The holidays that were perfect, the one’s not so perfect, the people who were there, the people who no longer there.
We are surrounded by visions of comfort and joy. Comfort and joy? What’s wrong with me?
Family members estranged, dreams not fulfilled, memories made, memories lost.
Grievers, in particular, are a unique group.
No more mention of the family member lost. No one mentions the dead husband. Why is that? Fearful that perhaps the widow may suddenly remember that she’s lost her life partner? The child taken away much too young, not mentioned, why dwell on the unpleasant?
The friends who were gathered for a couple of months following the death, are the same people who no longer call, visit, and if and when they do the clear expectation is for you to “snap to it.”
Tolerate grief or grief like behavior after one year, forgetaboutit? Many people have a short fuse with the grieving individual if , in the observer’s mind the grief has gone on(in their minds ) too long. But, for those who have experienced the intolerance of others , just wait, their turn will come…and as they say, “what comes around, goes around”
I read somewhere that by the age of 65, 50 % of married women will be widowed and that the average age of widows is 55 years old. So, as we look around we wonder, who will be next? How have they treated us? Were they tolerate, compassionate, inpatient? Can we rise above the intolerance from them, and show compassion, care and concern?
As a grieving person whether it be a few months or years, you can make an impact.
1. Remember, grief is brought to the forefront during this holiday time
2. Send the griever a card, make a call and share a memory of the person they lost. Let them know the lost one is still “alive” in your memory.
3. How about a special ritual ? A place setting at the table? A candle burning (safely)
4. A special sharing at the table?
5. A letter sent to your loved one with all you have to say?
6. A letter sent FROM your loved one about what they wish for you.
7. FINALLY, be a WISE VIEWER of the media? The commercials which depict families that seem all so perfect? The commercials/movies that portray life absent of pain? Be aware and skeptical of media messages that make you feel NOT OKAY…
At an early point in my grief, I called a woman who had been widowed, yet I had never met her. I called, she took me in, fed me a beautiful lunch, and said something I will never forget…”I’ve got your back, girl.” Every time I see her she says that to me. And, I believe her.
I do not want my late husband to die in vain. He was an organ donor, so I know three people are alive now who might not be because of Rob’s wonderful generosity. I do not want my husband to die in vain, by having me slowly die from the loss. Instead, I want to become my best self, I want to live a life that he would be proud of. I want to surround myself with people who feed me and who are fed by me. I want to spread my wings, live as a role model, break with the negative bonds, and attach to the positive ones.
My way of doing that is by doing this work. The work of reaching out to those who mourn, who grieve.
What would your loved one want?
What if you took the time to write a letter, imagine that letter is from your loved one who has passed. That letter is to YOU. That letter communicates what they would want and hope for your life.
I can’t imagine that the letter from my grandmother, mother, father, or late husband would say,
“Beth I want you to suffer. I want you to go about with a long face, know only pain, focus on the loss and essentially be a pain in the ass. “I know that for each of them, they would wish me to have love, share joy, go towards the light, spend time with people who love and are loving. Move beyond the past, treasure the present, and know that the cycle of life and death is normal.
So, tonight I write that letter. Perhaps, I will begin with Grandma Millie, for she certainly would recommend combing my hair, putting on some lipstick, and wearing a stylish dress this Christmas season.
Have an impact on those who grieve, for who knows when you will be in need of the same love and nurturing you are sharing now?
Blessings during what can be the most magical season of the year.
Transform yourself.
Beth
read comments (3)
December 8th, 2007 at 10:16 am
Tis the season to be jolly!
This will be the third year that the holiday blues haven’t ran my life or ruined the holiday. I refuse to let it happen anymore..
tradition.. I just wanted to share one that I have kept doing even when I hated the holiday with a driving passion.
When our daughter was born in 88 we strangely we were given 2 personalized christmas tree ornaments. They have her name and the year. So EVERY year those ornaments are put on the tree. It keeps a part of her alive within me and I think she would want that.
Maybe people would like to share a tradition or two with us??
L
December 8th, 2007 at 6:51 pm
Wow, great idea.
Today I am in the process of decorating the house. My first house decorating in three years. There are things that feel right, things that feel uncomfortable (like the stockings) so I am going at my own pace.
I have a special holiday tradition to honor Rob, and that feels really good.
I am also saving a speciial box for my three daughters of things I know they would like.
Like you, L, I feel like I did after 9/11 when people refused to fly. I am not going to let anything dampen my feelings about this holiday. STuff comes up, I have a good cry, and then well, I REFRAME, and move on.
Yes, let’s share some more, I love that.
Smooch
December 18th, 2007 at 12:25 am
Dear Beth & All,
Surprisingly, this has been the most emotional Holiday Season for me since my dad’s death in Sept. 2004. I cry at the most inconvenient times, like: walking out of the Target store; or, when the “bagger” at the grocery store asks if I’m cooking for my family this year; or, when I’m driving my car and I see a man walking his dog down his street - just like Dad used to do with our dog years ago.
My sister and I haven’t celebrated Christmas together since Dad died. Some will surely judge me/us as cold and would probably encourage our reunion if for no other reason than “in his memory”. I won’t attempt to justify my decision not to do so by relaying my life story here. Suffice to say, I’m “just not going there”. However, I give myself permission to change my mind at any time. For me, that keeps it out of the “have to” file and in the much more positive (and honest) “possibility” file.
I like your suggestion about imagining a letter from your “lost” loved one. Even though my father and I had completely different views about life and the hereafter, I believe he would be gentle, kind, loving and absolutely, hilariously funny in relaying any message to me now. I think I miss that most about him.
As far as what I miss doing with Dad? I miss taking him for drives. He’d comment about how much more traffic there was say things like, “Where do all these people come from?” And, “How do young couples afford these huge, new homes?” Most often, I’d take him out in the country, which was his favorite place to go. How I wish I could have done this with him more often. It was the only time in my life that we ever came close to just “chatting” together. Not that we talked a lot or about anything “deep”. We just enjoyed the experience together and seemed to delight in making one another laugh. For example, if we passed a herd of cattle, I like to exclaim, “Dad! Look at all the bovine!” He seemed to get a kick out of that. If he was stiff and moved slowly getting out of the car, I would ask him if his butt was asleep. He would correct me and say, “It’s my MY ASS.”
I’m smiling and feel wonderful now.
Thanks for listening.
Love, Jane
Dad was a very successful businessman, but his family was very poor when he was a child. He told me one time that they saved the real toilet paper for company. I was surprised and asked him why he never told me that, or much else about his life, before my sister and I came along. He said he didn’t want me to feel sorry for him. “My God”, I told him. “It makes me respect you all the more.” This also reminds me of something else he said to many too many times to count over the last five years or so of his life. He said, “Old age. I don’t recommend it.” Isn’t that sad?
I’ve been teary numerous times while writing this. I feel calm and peaceful now.