Friday, August 14, 2015

HOW DO WE WEATHER THE STORM?

WITH SILLINESS AND HUMOR AND LOTS OF LOVE

BEDFORD NH 4:30AM EST Monday August 10 2015 Severe Grief Storm warning for Matt’s Mom issued. A line of physical and emotional pangs of longing currently over the heart region slowly moving northward. Excessive damage expected to the eyes and mind for a good portion of the day. Anticipating heavy downpour of tears and wails. There is potential for emergency support. Family and friends are advised to have cell phones on standby. Watches will continue throughout the day and updates will be broadcast . . . and so my day began!

Who knows what the triggers will be or when they will hit. The grief at times is dark and painful to sit with. Dark days are days made for reflection. My favorite moment with you loving Bear soon after his birth was captured in a photo. Birth and Death is what I reflected upon and this was the outcome:


MATTY WITH NEWBORN BABY BEAR


BIRTH AND DEATH

Birth, the newness of life
Expansion of the heart
Awe and wonder for the soul
The final glimpse of Light

Death, the dark shadow of Birth
Crushing hopes and dreams
Breaking hearts for the left behind
Awe and wonder for the soul


Grief storms find me digging into my toolbox. I rely on Shelley Ramsey’s words of healing—Grief with Hope. Hope, a floatation device for turbulent waters. I know the darkness will end as quickly as it overtakes me. I know moments of joy will return to my life. I know your memories will make me smile again. I know I will continue to move forward on my path. I know the signs will come.  For now, for just this moment, for just this day—I have to remember to breathe deep slow breaths. I need to let the tears flow till my eyes are swollen shut. I need to feel every emotion that washes over me. I need to reach out and ask for help when I can’t see my way. I pray, I beg, I plead. My prayers are one-sided conversations. I admire people that are eloquent with their prayers. I conversate. I pray to you, God, Holy Spirit, Mom & Dad, the Memeres & Peperes, every Archangel and Saint I can name, Jesus, Good Spirits. Anyone that I think will listen or hear me. “Please, please, please return my sense of comfort and peace. Give me my normal ache. This hurts so much. I’m begging. I know this request is not filled with grace. I need help and I can’t find a way to help myself today. So please.” It’s definitely a prayer from the heart (or begging but still from the heart) and I was taught that’s all it takes. I give thanks that the love we shared was deep enough to expose this other side, this very primal, animalistic force that seems to be trying to rip my heart from my body and break my spirit. Without love, grief would not exist. I would not trade our love for anything. I will find the courage to take Grief’s beating, and to this end, in coming out from the other side, I will find peace in healing.

Grief is a WE thing, not just a ME thing. I am never alone in my grief. It is shared by all those that love you. I know you are watching over me in these very difficult moments, hours, days. I have family and friends, friends of friends, and people that I’ve never met that read my letters to you. You were a part of two blended families. Your blended families stay connected. Another Dad, Step-Mom, Sisters, Cousins, Aunts, Nieces, Nephews, In-laws and Out-laws share in my letters to you Sweet Matthew. Our families share grandchildren. We were all touched by your life. We each have our own memories and other memories are entwined. Divorce may end a marriage but it does not sever all ties that bind. Grief has not eluded the other half of your family. You, Sarah and Andrew are loved and missed by all. We may walk separate paths but are all on the same grief journey.We are mourning in community and that thought alone is comforting. We help each other through sharing. We share your uplifting signs, the expression of raw emotion, accepting compassion and empathy in return, and people sharing and widening our circle to include others that are faced with loss, death, illness and trajedy. 

WITH NIKKI'S SIGN 1:11
VALIDATION

How do we weather the storm? Initially I hunker down, assessing the situation. Dad provides the first level of support. He holds me and talks to me and tells me he is sorry I am in so much pain. When the tears and the sobs slow, I reach for words, other people’s words that are on the same journey as me. I find comfort, needed strength, a dash more courage in so many blogs and articles available. I call my Sister(s). I then seek a distraction that will occupy my mind, change my environment but allow me the silence I need to reflect and feel. Baking was Monday’s distraction. Banana Corn Nut Bread. It’s what was available in the pantry and I think you would really like it, especially with the mishaps you and I have had with corn bread. It will not defeat us!! The smells coming from the oven evoke memories of happier times. I need to sit with my past before I can make peace with the present and even begin to think about the future. Photos of you warm my heart, old text messages, songs, reliving memories. Phone conversations help. Sunny summer days—soaking in all the goodness of the heat, smells and serenity of the backyard woods. Holding some in reserve for the cold winter days that make Grief seem so much more daunting.

SUN GODDESS, POP EATER & THE ACTRESS

FAVORITE MATTY TEXT EVER
MOM RADAR WAS ON HIGH ALERT

Nikki is my Replacement Matt when I need a dose of humor and levity. She is the final level of support that can poke holes in the darkness of grief, forcing its demise. Thankfully Grief does not usually hold us hostage at the same time on the same day. If it does, we have a good combined cry.  We hold each other up. She has the same sense of humor as you. She’s funny. She has a ton of pictures that are sure to brighten my mood. She starts by sending me pics of Addy and Bear. She engages in silliness and shares. She gets me to laugh which seems to be Grief’s kryptonite. We've added another dimension to our texting, our mainstay form of communication. We have become professional hashtaggers. This would surely bring out the man-giggle that we all loved to hear. Hashtag—it’s still the pound sign in my book. It may be a label or method of organizing elements of social media but for some reason, it just makes me crazy. Reminds me of the drug advertisements where the disclaimers are longer than the original advertisement. Maybe all the anger that grief conjures up is deflected at the hashtag for me! Knowing it’s a hot button issue, Nikki started to parody the hashtag. Makes the two of us laugh at ourselves and works as long as we don’t have any typos. . . and they are extremely corny, so beware . . . and this is but a very small sampling!


CRAZY HAIR DAYS (FAR LEFT ) AFTER A DRIVE FROM NY TO NHWITH TWO KIDS & GAMMY IN THE BACK SEAT& (MIDDLE) NIKKI HOUSEBOUND WITH TWO SICK BABIES!

MISC TAGS 

FAVORITE HASHTAG

AND THE TAG THAT STARTED THIS NONSENSE

I ended my evening with the same pleading prayer and woke up the next morning with the weight of the darkness of loss, the cavernous depth of sorrow replaced with a sigh of relief, a joyful mood. Prayer 1: Darkness 0. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I am learning patience, stillness. I am practicing faith and hope.

How do we weather the storm? We sit still, we console, we fasten our seat belt, we cry, we feel, we reflect, we reminisce, we reach out, we ask for help, we comfort, we love, we support, we circle our wagons a little tighter, we pray and we hope. We hope, we hope, we hope. We find our comfort and rediscover peace. We continue to look for joy while living with the ache.

Love you always & forever.

Mom

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