Category Archives: Grief

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Eights Years Later

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A close friend asked me this weekend if Valentine’s Day was any easier eight years after losing my husband. Without much thought, I answered “No.” After some thought, I think I will amend or at least explain my answer.

Valentine’s Day (although very commercial) is the day we celebrate love. In my ideal world, it’s the day of hand-written notes and super gooey expressions of love. It’s an excuse to go all out to tell someone that they’re special and loved. Now, Terry was not a super romantic. He tried, and he had his moments, but it was work for him. He was under the (mistaken) impression that one box of cheap candy from Wal-greens was enough for the whole family on Valentine’s Day. He did find ways to make it a day of special remembrances. I still have the last Valentine’s card he gave me. It’s silly and I cherish it.

The first few years after Terry died, I HATED February 14. It was a reminder of everything I had lost, the life that was stolen from me. Terry made me laugh and cry. He made me angry and helped me to calm down. He loved me deeply and completely. He was my confidante and my co-conspirator. He was always there, always ready. We shared our biggest dreams, our deepest fears, our greatest hopes. How do I “get over” losing that one person that was such a huge part of my world? I never will.

This year, eight years later, I don’t say that “I Hate” February 14. The day is not as crippling to me as it has been in the past. But, I still mourn what I’ve lost. I confess that I look around at the roses being delivered to the office and I am envious. I miss being special and having a special someone to shower with love and silly gifts and cards. I would like to have one of those special Valentine’s Day dinners with someone other than one of my kids. I wonder as I look at couples if they really understand how wonderful it is to be a couple. Do they just take it all for granted?

So, my answer is remains “No.” I close my eyes and try to return to those days when I was cherished. I try to remember feeling safe and loved and special. I give thanks for the love I did know. And, on those dark days that still overtake me on occasion, I ask “Why?” No, it’s not any easier after eight years.

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Valentine’s Day

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Some have known great love in life. This day is bittersweet. A time of cherished memories.

Some enjoy great love now. This day is a day to celebrate that blessing.

Some look forward to a great love. This is a day for joy and anticipation.

Let us all take the opportunity to show love to those God places into our paths on this day.

“If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I understood all of God’s secret plans and possessed all knowledge, and if I had such faith that I could move mountains, but didn’t love others, I would be nothing. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it; but if I didn’t love others, I would have gained nothing.

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge will become useless. But love will last forever!

Now our knowledge is partial and incomplete, and even the gift of prophecy reveals only part of the whole picture! But when the time of perfection comes, these partial things will become useless.

When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.”
(1 Corinthians 13:1-13 NLT)

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Honestly

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Can I be honest? There are times when I want to go to sleep and never wake up. Ever. Before you start sending me Suicide Hotline numbers, let me be clear: I’m not thinking about hurting myself. It’s not that I want to die. I just don’t want to live. Not in this reality. I don’t feel this way every day. But on those days when I am over-whelmed with waves of frustration, sadness, desperation and/or (honestly) hopelessness, disappearing from this life sounds really good.

I have a great life from most viewpoints. I have a good job and a nice home. My kids are growing into successful, productive members of society. There are no needs and few wants in my life that are not met. I have friends and encouragers all around me. I was married to my best friend for 18 years. So what’s the deal, right? Right. I ask myself this all the time.

I try not to think too far ahead in my life. My son is working and on his own, building his own life. My daughter just graduated from College and is getting ready to move into her “adult” life. Gracie tells everyone that I am “kicking her out” in June of this year. And I did tell her that realistically, she should have a job and be on her by the summer. But, I’m not kicking her out. I think she needs to grow up. I think we need some space between us. Since her dad’s death, we’ve spent a LOT of time together. Out of necessity and out of habit. I’ve seen Gracie decline invitations because she didn’t want to leave me by myself. It’s time for her to have her own life and for me to have mine. This is when I start to hyperventilate. I hate coming home to an empty house. I’ve shared a home with someone for 28 years. I don’t want to live alone. But, its best for both of us.

With the new changes coming so soon, I’ve considered selling my house and downsizing. An apartment would eliminate some of the responsibilities that cause me so much grief. Someone else would be responsible for leaky pipes, and bad water heaters, and critters in the attic. But, this is the only home my kids have known. It’s the house that Terry and I sought out and bought together. I’m not sure that I ready to leave it. (sigh)

I’m not Rip Van Winkle and I’m definitely not Sleeping Beauty. I can’t sleep for 100 years and avoid the reality of my life. Friends will come and go. I can’t stop the changes that are coming. So, I’ll take a deep breath and face life as it comes. This too shall pass.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

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Memories and Icy Days

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Sometimes I get caught up in memories from the past. Today is one if those days. It’s a cold-day in Houston. Because we don’t drive in ice but once every 5 or 6 years, this wet winter blast closed schools and some offices. These kind of days bring so many memories and wishes and sighs.

I think back over the weather days thru the years. They were meant to keep us safe. But, we knew that they were really fun days. When we were first married, we were iced in at my parents house. My dad built a big wooden sled and pulled it behind his pickup truck. Daddy’s favorite thing was to pop the rope and dump us off the sled into the snow drifts. I can still hear Terry laughing. And there was the year I was pregnant with our son and we had ice in Houston. We lived in a 2nd story apartment. The steps were icy and I couldn’t see my feet, so Terry had to help me make it safely down. I don’t know what we did that day, I just remember the giggles while he herded me on the ice.

Today the streets are now clear and as my daughter and I drove past West Oaks Mall, visions of the past came flying out to greet me. Memories of chilly mornings sharing a Cinnabon with Terry while we waited for the stores to open. We knew the stores well and our hunt for Beanie Babies and Snow villages and other fun collectables was about to begin. We weren’t looking for much and it really wasn’t about shopping as much as it was being together and having fun. None of those stores survive in that mall today. But in my memories they linger still.

On this ice day, I will make new memories with my daughter. I will remember playing with the little dogs, giggling while scraping ice off the windshield, hunting for THE Tex-Mex restaurant and girls night at the movies. I will store these memories away until they are stirred to the surface sometime in the future.

I know I must live in the present. But reality is often softened by those sweet memories of yesterday.

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Fear

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When I was a child, I would watch my mother test the iron with her finger. Maybe you know the move: 1) lick your finger 2) lightly and quickly touch the ironing plate to see if its hot. One day, I decided to “test the iron.” I licked my finger and stuck it to the bottom of the iron. Unfortunately for me, I hadn’t picked up on the “light and quick” touch. And the iron was HOT. I ended up with a big blister on my index finger and a fear being burned by the iron.

There are lots of things in life we avoid because of the pain they have caused us in the past. Whether it’s a burned finger, an embarrassing moment or a broken heart, painful memories stick with us and may cause us to use caution in the future. In many cases it’s good to avoid something. I certainly avoid burning myself. I learned that lesson well. But there are other things that I probably shouldn’t avoid. I learned to ride a bicycle when I was six. I fell a few times before I learned how to balance and pedal all at the same time. It was tempting to stop trying to ride my bike after my first fall. But, instead of avoiding the bicycle, I decided to avoid the falling part. However, when I tried out a skateboard and ended up with road rash from sliding across the pavement, I decided to avoid skateboards completely. My life didn’t need skateboards to be complete.

One of the my biggest fears has to do with love. Specifically in loving others. Like most of us, I’ve put my trust in the wrong person at one time or another. I’ve allowed my emotions to rule over my good sense and fallen head-over-heels “in love” with a jerk or two in my lifetime. I’ve shared too much with a “friend” and then discovered that we were really just acquaintances. I’ve pinned all my hopes on another person’s word only to see everything come crashing down around me. As a result, it’s harder for me to trust. Harder for me to love.

After my husband died, I promised myself that I would never allow anyone to get close enough to cause that kind of pain in my life ever again. We had fought for our marriage and learned the value of trust and love. Love didn’t protect me from the pain of his death. In fact, it was that very love that caused the deepest pain. When he died, a large piece of me died too. And I was determined to avoid caring about or trusting anyone else. And life was really lonely and sad.

Although I could justify my avoidance in my own mind, I knew it was not right. I kept reading the scriptures like Romans 5:8, “But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.” And John 15:13 “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” Over time, I realized that I had to stop avoiding trust and love. It didn’t matter if I got hurt along the way, my example is Christ and He died because he loved me.

I may never have another chance at the kind of love/relationship I shared with Terry. Honestly, that makes me a bit sad. But, I will be forever thankful that I loved and was loved enough to break my heart so completely. Not everyone gets that chance. I will continue to look for ways to show trust and love to others around me and to honor the love the God has given to me.

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Grief Support Groups

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I’m a big believer in DIY activities. I try to figure out a solution to any problem on my own. I search the internet for books to read or videos to watch, anything to help me out so I don’t have to ask for help. This usually works. So when grief became an unwanted house guest, I decided I would read all the books on the steps of grief. I figured I would get through all this “stuff” in six months tops. And then I would get on with my life.

But it didn’t work. I couldn’t “fix” my life or my kids lives. The world was caving in around me. I didn’t know how to move forward. I don’t care how many times I decided which “step” I was on in my grief, but it didn’t matter. Grief came in waves and knocked me down time and time again. I couldn’t help myself and I certainly couldn’t help my son or my daughter. A cousin that works with Houston Hospice suggested grief support. She gave me information on the Houston Hospice Wings program for my kids and for me. I signed us all up to begin just shy of the 3 month anniversary of my husband’s death. My son was relieved that he would be able to talk with others. My daughter was less enthused. I bribed her into going. And honestly, making the first step into support groups was HARD. It meant admitting that I needed help. It meant facing my grief and acknowledging the new normal in our lives. I was nervous and my stomach churned as we walked thru those doors for the first time. I didn’t know what to expect and wasn’t sure that I could begin to open up about my loss. And I cried. A LOT.

And I never regretted my decision to get involved in a support group. For the first time in months, I was surrounded by people who weren’t uncomfortable with tears. They didn’t try to make things better or give me canned answers about my sorrow. They listened and understood. They allowed the tears to fall and sometimes cried with me. We talked about going to the grocery store and seeing Valentine’s candy on the shelves and crying. I discovered I wasn’t the only one that kept a bottle of cologne so I wouldn’t forget. Nightmares and sleepless nights weren’t rare in this room and I was comforted to realize I wasn’t losing my mind. We discussed our grief, our anger, our loneliness, our fear of laughter and of forgetting. In this group, I could talk about the past and how I didn’t know if I wanted a future and they understood. We talked about the practical things like filling out papers, filing for SSN for our kids, the hardships of moving forward in a single world as a single parent of grieving children. We shared our feelings about cremation and burial, about spreading ashes as well as wording on headstones. We asked how long grief would last and what to expect. There were questions on wedding rings and dating and in-laws. There wasn’t a topic that was out-of-bounds.

I realized that grief support groups aren’t there for all the answers. They don’t exist to “fix” things. Grief support groups do just that: they support. It’s a chance to talk to others walking a similar path. They allow the grieving person a safe harbor to just grieve without feeling like a trespasser in the land of fun. I think the best advice I received during the 6 weeks of the Wings program was this: On those days when it seems that it takes every ounce of energy to breathe, then JUST breathe. I needed permission to let my guard down, to stop trying so hard to prove that I was okay. I needed a support group that would allow me to talk, but would also allow me to be silent.

There are a lot of ways to find support in the Houston area. The area hospice programs offer various support groups. Several churches in the area provide Griefshare groups. I will be facilitating a GriefShare group beginning January 26 at 5:00pm. We will be meeting at Westland Baptist Church in Katy, Texas. If you are interested in what Griefshare is all about, go to the website at Griefshare.org. There are lots of resources on the site. If you are in the west Houston/Katy area, you are welcome to join us on Sundays. Don’t be isolated in your grief. There are people who need to hear your story.

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Latest and Greatest

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I’m a gadgets person. I love gadgets. I want the newest most up-to-date gadgets that are available. I don’t care if it’s a phone, a tablet, a reader or can opener, I NEED one. That would probably explain why I own an IPhone, an IPad, a Microsoft Surface tablet and 2 Nooks (black and white and color). For a few months, I also had a Kindle Fire that I won in a raffle. But, I managed to control myself and give it to someone who would actually use it and enjoy it. For Christmas, I was given an apple TV. I love the technology that is available and I want to be part of it. It’s exciting and new and different.

But still, I resist change in other areas of my life. I avoid it. Despise it even. Why can’t I view changes in my life in a positive light? What will make me look forward to the “new technology” that is available to me, personally? I have no problem with the thought that newer is better when it applies to things that will make my life easier or faster. But, when the suggestion is made that I can be improved, it hurts. Am I not good enough? What’s wrong with me? My emotions get involved and it’s often downhill from there. But, there are things that I need to change within myself. There are areas of improvement. If only it was as easy as running the latest update to my program to update my phone.

Improvement means change. Change means giving up something: a habit, a memory, a relationship. So, change means loss. And regardless of what that loss is, there is mourning. It doesn’t matter if you are giving up sucking your thumb or an hours sleep to run before work or walking away from a toxic relationship, there is loss and mourning involved. It takes time to make the adjustment. It takes a concentrated effort. Just as it takes time to learn and use the newest features of my latest smart phone, it takes time to see the benefits of any life-change.

New gadgets come wrapped in plastic, all shiny and new. They come with instructions. Life changes aren’t always pretty. They rarely come with an instruction book. But, they can be exciting. What exciting changes are coming in 2014? Hang around and find out!

20140106-101943.jpg

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A New Year

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A new year. A new start. Well, sort of. It’s still the same life, the same job, the same issues. There’s nothing magic about January 1. But, it’s a starting point to think about changes. And a time to look back.

I saw “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” yesterday. It was a good movie. I left the theater thinking about the past: my kids past. In the movie, Walter’s life was altered by the death of his father. Dreams and adventures were set aside so he could be responsible. Through most of the movie I kept wondering what dreams my son pushed aside after his dad died.

I’ve watched Zac’s struggle with teenage dreams and adult responsibility. I’m very proud of the young man he has become. But I wonder where he would be if he still had his dad’s encouragement and leadership. Yes, I’m having some
‘what if’ and ‘if only’ moments.

I can’t change the past. And worrying about it isn’t an option either. I’ve shed tears over what will never be. I hope and pray that, like Walter Mitty, Zac realizes his dreams and understands how important he is to the people around him.

Happy New Year!

“Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? (Isaiah 43:18/19 MSG)

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Graduation

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Tomorrow night it happens. The moment she’s been working toward since kindergarten. My daughter graduates from Sam Houston State University with a degree in Math Education. I am so very proud of her. And I find it hard to believe that she’s really graduating and will be teaching after the holidays.

It was just yesterday that I brought her home from the hospital. I can still picture the 2-year-old red-head that cried when I dropped her off at the daycare. As a first grader, she reminded her teacher of a smurf with her long red hair and bright blue dress. I remember the excitement when she was selected for the Katy ISD Children’s Honor Choir in elementary school and her first band concert in junior high. Her Dad would ooh and ah over how well she played the marimba during the fall marching season her freshman year. She was all girl and had her daddy wrapped around her little finger. The vision of the young woman who refused to cry at her Daddy’s funeral because she wanted to be strong for me is forever etched in my memories.

Gracie has never shied away from anything. She was a percussionist in the Gold medal drum line, a volley ball player, a basketball player, a state ranked wrestler and a singer. She’s stubborn, determined, bossy, organized, funny, beautiful and a blessing in my life. I am excited about her future and where she will go with her life.

Tomorrow, we will celebrate Gracie and her accomplishments. For the second time, I will stand alone and watch her walk across the stage to accept a diploma and wish that her dad was standing with me. I’ll smile and laugh and probably cry a little. Tomorrow, Gracie Graduates.

gracies_cap

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Darkness

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When I was a child, my parents would take us to Six Flags over Texas in Arlington. At that time, the park was divided into sections that represented the six flags that had flown over Texas: Spain, France, Mexico, Republic of Texas, Confederate and USA. In the Republic of Texas area, one of the rides was the Davy Crockett River Adventure. You would get on a big “boat” and float down the river. On the way, you would see Indians hiding in the trees and shooting at the boat. There were bandits that were trying to stop the boat, too. The first time I was on this ride, I was in kindergarten. While the adults could see that the people attacking the boat were actually mannequins and the shots fired were really fakes, to a five-year old, it was terrifying. At the end of the ride, the boat guide would start yelling “Oh no! We’re going into that cave! We’re doomed!” In front of the boat, a waterfall would part and the cave would open up to allow us to enter. And, then it closed behind us. I don’t remember much about that first ride. Except for the screaming. My Screaming. I panicked and nothing my dad could do would calm me down. I was certain we would never escape from that cave with it’s spooky skeletons. Of course, we did find our way out. I think all the riders on that boat were glad to escape the screaming little girl. It was YEARS before I chose to travel on the Davy Crockett River Adventure again.

The past few weeks of my life have felt like that river ride. Everything has been dark and a bit sad. Small things that would usually be no big deal have set off explosions in me. Memories have come fast a furious, many precious ones and some I’d rather forget. I know that they’re just memories to be visited and then left behind, but I can’t seem to walk away. I’m surrounded and I don’t know how to escape. This weekend, I entered that cave. It has been dark and scary and I know it’s not forever, but I feel the panic rising and the screams trying to escape just the same. I’ve pushed away those that care about me. No matter how many tears I’ve cried, it’s just not enough. The nightmare just continues.

But, I’m beginning to see the light that marks the way out. I know there is escape from the darkness. I see flashes of hope. Breathing is getting easier, the smiles are not as forced. There will be a few more tears before I’m completely out of the cave. I will come out! And I pray that it’s a very long time before I visit this dark place again.

For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime!
Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.
Psalm 30:5 NLT