THANKSGIVING WITH A SIDE OF GOOD GRIEF

ONE OF THE MANY FACES OF GRIEF . . . IT’S NOT ALL DARK & SCARY & SAD

Photo courtesy of Mysty Bissonnette. Used with permission.

Going to be sharing this blog post a little differently. Our FIRST Thanksgiving without Matt. We’ve decided to forego the Mac & Cheese! We are experiencing a lot of “rememberings” this week. Matthew had taken to preparing this Holiday meal for his extended family . . . and he was so good at it. Jason, Beth and entourage are celebrating in New York (we share). Brother and his family are not making the trip north. Our table will be set smaller yet our hearts have grown so much since last year. We’ll be trying to define our thanks and our giving in this post—Nikki and I will be co-authoring. Our giving—vulnerability and an honest discussion about grief. We hope you join in and share and allow this to be an open dialogue regarding a silent subject, a very taboo topic. Talk—let’s really talk. Let’s unearth why it is so difficult to talk about death and its’ aftermath—GRIEF. Let’s talk about what happens on a grief journey. Let’s talk about why being around the bereaved is sometimes too difficult for the non-bereaved. Let’s talk about the different views surrounding grief. Let’s talk about what is reality and what is myth. Let’s try and put different faces on grief and see if our shared experiences tweak our perspectives. Does continued grief feel like a life that is being lived in the past or do you see it as living a life in Love?  Does grief have an end or is it the one element that plugs up the hole in a broken heart? Is grief defined by sorrow, sadness and despair or does it encompass many facets and faces that also include joy and sadness, bittersweet memories and the ability to make new ones? Can grief be incorporated into a new way of living moving forward? Is grief the friend, the enemy or the teacher? When do the “How are you(s)” transition into the “How are you doing(s)” or is it the other way around?

Nikki, will you have a conversation with me about Grief? Let’s talk about the grief from death we’ve experienced in our lifetimes. Let’s talk about the initial shock of grief after Matthew’s death, the dark side. How has it changed in 10 months time? How does this level of grief compare to other grief experiences lived through?

Nikki— Grief shakes you to the core, it moves into every part of your body. When grief first strikes you go numb, you become almost robotic in a sense. You don’t know how you are moving or performing daily tasks but you do it. Although, if I did not have two of the most beautiful tiny humans staring me in the face every day, things could be entirely different. Once the “numbness” wears off and the adrenaline pumping through your numb soul wears off, Grief hits you smack dab in the face. The situation for me felt more raw and more real 6 months after losing Matty than it did on day one (this was my biggest surprise to date). I feel as though there is truly only so much your mind, body & soul can absorb. When it gets real like this you have to look for and hang on to any positive tidbit to keep you going, to keep your family going. It is required to perform daily life!!

I have experienced Grief in life before my beloved Matthew, but none that even came close to shaking me like this. Matthew’s Death was both physically and emotionally painful, a full blow to me as a being. Our family did not speak much of Death as we had not experienced a large amount of it in our small family. I had always had this awful feeling inside of me that because I was so lucky to have family members alive and well, with the exception of the few that I had lost and reading horrific stories of families that had lost so much, that it would all either happen at once or it would be a loss so huge that I could not handle it—then BOOM. You hear the most awful of stories and you cannot help but feel awful for these people and could not imagine it happening to you, and then it does.

Diane—No other death compares to how I felt after Matthew died. A traumatic, unexpected, unanticipated death. A blow to every cell in my body. A physical ache like I’ve never experienced. I felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my body at the end of that first fateful day. That physical pain lasted for a few days. More than tears—wailing, sending a primitive, guttural message throughout the universe announcing my despair. Robotic motions. I must find where his body was taken. We need to say goodbye. Meet with the Funeral Director. How do you plan a Memorial Service? The calls, the emails, the food, the flowers, the sick babies, the grief put on hold. The kind words spoken at the Wake. Crazy things you remember . . . wow, condolences from the heart. I’ll have to remember those words when I need them next. Gone. Forgotten. A memory of kindness from the heart. The love and support spoke to my mood and spirits for a month after the Service.  Sadness but the ability to get through the day followed—my thinking, “I can do this. This is easier than I thought it would be”. Then my brain, my thinking betrayed me. Sleep was sporadic. The only thing I could count on for a routine was tears. Meals went unmade. Laundry—I could not sort colors. The cold, cold January days matched the chill I felt on my inside. Once the adrenaline had completed escaped, left the body, reality set in and I was set in the midst of a new frontier. How would I ever feel happiness again? How was I going to get through this? The Dark Days of grief, the acute phase of grief. In the pit of despair, in the early grief, when weeping and raging come in fits. When nothing provides release. When a piece of your soul feels like it has died. When your soul is nicked by Grief— this is where the scars live. How was I going to help my family when I felt helpless myself? I understood the mantra “one day at a time”, sometimes one breath at a time, sometimes someone please breathe for me!

Death of a child differs drastically from prior deaths I had experienced. The death of older relatives and my parents, parents of friends, a good friend and father of six, and acquaintances.  My Dad died at the young age of 47, my Mom and Step-Dad in their 70’s and all three after extensive illnesses. My Dad’s death was difficult. I had just turned 21 and was starting to find my way in the world, a newly married with my parents’ relationship as my only true guide—still learning about myself, self-confidence, self-worth, trust and independence. It felt like an unnatural time for him to die. He would miss so much of my sibling’s lives and the future lives we would bring forth that would enlarge our family. I saw the face of grief through my Mom’s eyes when her heart was shattered, her greatest Love gone, her life changed drastically with two young teen boys left to raise and very little money to do so. I stumbled. It was all sadness and tears and the belief that time heals all—my first uncovered myth. My Mom’s phone number is still part of my contact list on my cell, eight years later. I miss her friendship, yet for both my Mom & Step-Dad, a life of pain and suffering takes its toll.  I wanted peace for them. My religious upbringing kicked in with their passing. I knew in my heart that they were in a better place. I felt physical and emotional exhaustion that I knew I would recover from. There was a deep, deep sadness that ensued. I talked to them a lot and actually asked my Mom to lift the sadness after her one year anniversary—life was too difficult to live with so much loss of color. My interest in the workings of the afterlife was awakened when I felt as though a blanket of grief had been immediately lifted from my shoulders. All the good memories returned and my days became lighter. Life goes on and so must I.

What advice or “words of encouragement” have you been given by others about your grieving or death in general that has turned out not to be true, but rather insensitive and hurtful?

Nikki—“Time heals everything” is certainly a tough one for me. You will adjust and you will push forward, but you won’t heal 100%. I do not believe that you will ever come back to be the person you were before such tragedy. But what I do believe is that you can live a “new normal”, you can be strong again & you can live your life to its fullest potential should you choose to do so.

Everyone grieves differently, and NOBODY should ever have to try to fight and/or hide it. We are all individual and when there is a loss so huge you CANNOT begin to imagine what it feels like.  Kind thoughts and encouragement are welcome, assuming you know and judgments are not. 

Diane—“Time heals all”, “He’s in a better place”, “You are so strong” (I’m not strong, I just don’t choose the other choices—there are very few choices—move forward albeit slowly at times, or forget about choosing life/living. “You need to be around other people. You’re not engaging your brain enough.” “Today is a happy day. Only happy thoughts today”. These statements are not helpful to me. They may be coming from well-meaning hearts yet I feel like I need to hold in my sadness, put on a mask when I hear these words of “encouragement”. What I really need is for somebody to affirm my sadness if that is what I am feeling and sometimes a kind heart can gently bring me back from a blue mood by bringing forth a happy memory, saying his name—Matthew, Matty, Matt. Some days nothing helps other than sitting with the sadness. One statement that I do find truth in is: “this (blue mood, paralyzing sorrow) too shall pass”. This could only come from my lips to my heart and could only be believed after living the experience, and I need to remind myself again and again. 

How and where were support and comfort found when first assaulted by Grief?  What is the first step that needs to be taken in dealing with grief? What could begin to fill the void, the emptiness?

Nikki—I turn to my children for support. I turn to the beautiful soul that is my Husband. Matthew would not want me to curl up and throw in the towel. Our children deserve to live the fullest life that I am able to provide them. They are my being. I am thankful that I have their little faces to remind me that not only is giving up not an option but that pushing yourself to make it your best life possible is a must.

Diane—Hope for healing for our broken, hurting hearts. I set my intention for healing early on. It didn’t happen for many months and will continue to happen throughout my lifetime, yet I clung to Hope and I continue to cling. I sought out people and places that would remind me and re-teach me that beauty heals—especially the beauty in nature. I scoured the internet for different support groups and blogs. I searched for stories of others’ grief journeys. I wanted someone to help light the way so that I would not encounter any surprises—grief does not work this way. I wanted to learn as much about death as I could. I wanted to shake the pain. I wanted my old life back. I wanted the numbness and the brain drain to stop. I wanted to hear stories about Matthew that would add to what I already knew of my Son. I wrapped myself up in warm blankets and books. I leaned on my Sister. Nikki and I texted constantly . . . sharing, sharing, sharing. After a few months, I wanted to write, to release some of the pressure sitting in my chest, share the experience in the hopes that more healing would come from despair and sorrow. I sought out grief counseling in the 4^th or 5^th month. I vowed to never stop growing and learning and sharing.

How are you dealing with your journey? What saddens you, angers you, comforts you. How do you feel when you have a public breakdown—how have others responded? How does grief progress for you? What does it look like? What supports you?

Nikki—Grief is a rollercoaster and you certainly experience EVERY EMOTION that your body has to offer. Some days I think “why me?” and I immediately follow that with the thought “take a good look at your life, look what Matthew has left you with: our two beautiful children, an amazing family, a circle of the most caring of people & endless amounts of beautiful (and hysterical) memories”. 

Diane—A grief journey is individual. There are no guidebooks or timetables. We’re all feeling our way, trying to keep one foot in front of the other. Grief comes in many sizes, shapes and colors. A grief felt deeply reflects the amount of love held for the deceased. Grief associated with trauma enters our being with the ferocity of a raging storm—wind, rain, sand, fire—no need to differentiate as angry, turbulent, tumultuous elements create destruction and desolation. We need to find and utilize proper protection to help us weather the storm. Sturdy walls, no windows will offer more safety in a hurricane or tornado, boots for a rain or thunderstorm, warmth and hunkering down for a nor’easter, clothing and shields for sand and fire. We wait for the calm, the peace that graced our lives before the storm to return. The aftermath may require us to rebuild, clear debris, wait for the power to come back on—much like the reflection and growth phase of grief. Reflection comforts me. It tells me I am working on my journey. Clarity that comes from reflection is where the real comfort lies. Ah! Another step forward! I find comfort in my many books, the arms of my husband, my Sister and her words of encouragement, my Aunt, my family, my friends, the phone calls from Jason, the long conversations with Beth, the continued connections with Nikki . . . and oh, those grandchildren. I find great comfort in the blog. I find continuity in support. Signs from Matthew always put a smile on my face and a thank you on my lips. While doing some Thanksgiving meal shopping, I saw another of Matthew’s doppelgangers. The color of the hair, the cut, the back of his body, his clothing, his swagger. I saw his look-alike from the back—no need to feel like the crazy stalker Lady. I kept my gaze on him until we parted ways in the grocery store. Tears flowing, I had left my Big Sunglasses and tissues in the car, of all days! It was a “leaky” shopping mission. Everyone went about their business. I kept my head bowed. The sadness was worth the sighting. An instant of having Matthew back even when I know it’s just make believe—harmless, there is no reality here.

Close to 11 months without Matthew and I feel I am getting emotionally stronger. I have been able to understand more about mourning and grief. The tears happen less often, the physical pain is gone; the raw edges of sorrow are no longer. I stay open because I’ve learned that’s where the lessons happen. I’m gentler with my grief and not so quick to anger at her appearance. I talk to her. I let her take over when she needs to. She advances me forward in baby steps. I let her work me out and over. I gratefully accept her offering of healing.

What are your feelings about grief, what are your views? Is it something private, not shared; shared and supported; do you allow it become public? Has anything about grief surprised you? Has grief been transforming? Are you thankful/grateful for any of the lessons you’ve learned through grief? What has truly touched your soul in walking this journey?

Nikki—Grief teaches you that life is as simple or as complicated as you decide to make it. You spend your whole life trying to achieve perfection. I found it and I know that one day we will reunite and start right back where we left off. I am not sure that I have gone into any adjustment period aside from learning a whole new front of responsibility. The “new normal” will have to suffice & so I pray that his beautiful soul is at peace and that he will help me to keep my heart open and my head strong.

Diane—Grief is not a disease. Grief is not contagious. Grief is not comfortable. Grief is disruptive, messy, unpredictable, confusing, disorderly and exhausting. Grief robs you of the control, the order you once had over your life. Grief is a normal reaction to a profound loss. Grief is a process, phases that she will introduce us to. I feel like I am walking through four phases, not all in order, jumping back and forth, sometimes trying to hurry to get to peace and thrown right back to the Acute phase—grief cannot be rushed. I’ve walked through and sat with Reflection & Growth, got a glimpse of Reorganizing & Rebuilding and have a date with Redefining & Re-establishing. Grief’s timetable becomes your timetable. Her path leaves enough room for you and when needed, she expands to allow someone to join you and hold your hand. Grief teaches us that we have to trust and surrender to reclaim peace and healing.

Grief like the make-up of people takes on their persona. If you are reserved and not one to discuss feelings, I believe your grief will follow suit. Your voice will be quiet yet the emotions will be churning. I’m hoping my words can be your friends on your journey and let you know that you are never alone. If you are silent and not speaking because grief hurts too much and you are delaying your grief, may my words provide some light to illuminate the beginning of your path. My voice of grief speaks loudly. Emotions have always ruled my day. I share in the hopes that my posts to Matthew will touch the soul of someone that is grieving; open the eyes of a non-bereaved that truly wants to help and support a family member or friend. I share what has worked for me with those whose eyes are already open, as they show empathy and compassion to a loved one who is walking the path. I share with kindred souls online and off with whom I am heart-connected, and we hold hands when needed so that we may get to that place of peace. Never alone.

I love this quote/passage. You can replace the word ‘fate’ with the word ‘grief’ and here you’ll find a very apropos analogy.

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up the sky like pulverized bones.”

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

A major transformation came forth when I realized that Accepting, Adjusting, Attachments and Letting Go (Be Brave Speaks the Bird to the Broken Heart post) were intertwined. I am reminded that so many of the processes of grief do not come into your life solo yet are rather interwoven.

I never thought I would be thankful to Grief for ANYTHING! She shakes her head, smiles ever so gently and whispers “Wait, be patient—I have much in store for you”. Grief has recently loaned me a pair of glasses. They seem to have special lenses. They have shown me that the beauty and depth of Love for Matthew was and is—remains entwined in my heart and soul. Forever mine. Forever is a gift from Grief. Forever a part of me. Grief now entwined with Love in my heart and soul. Grief—not the menace I thought she originally was. This is where I discover gratitude in Grief. This is where I meet Grief, my teacher. This is where I find the joy and the ache. This is where I regain the ability to repair my shattered heart and refill my broken vessel. Gratitude also comes in different measures of time. As we continue to celebrate Matty’s Forever 36 birthday, we also now celebrate the day of his death. His age stands still at 36 yet the numbers will grow with the years regarding his death. I give this day a name—Matthew’s Missing You Anniversary. I like the sound of that so much better than Death Anniversary. I, and those who love Matthew will express gratitude by honoring his life, for having been touched deeply by this man, on this day. That we share with each other and our grieving community how he lived and loved—by incorporating his living and loving into our way.

What has truly touched my soul? Let me tell you about my “Soul Angels”—a group of gals from my high school years that have reached out and gently guided me to the start of my journey back to life and living. I don’t know if they realize how important their efforts were/are or how much they mean to me. I thank them with all my heart but sometimes seeing the thanks in words deepens their meaning and worth. Three weeks after Matthew’s death, they contacted me and set up a night out for dinner, love, support, hugs and some Good Grief talk. The oddity is, we never all hung out at the same time in school. Some were my old neighborhood friends, others were friends of friends and some relationships grew as a result of reunion planning. They have experienced grief personally or have held the hand of others they love who are grieving. I’ve read that we travel this lifetime with a soul group whom we are meant to learn our earthly life lessons with. This feels so mystical to me. I can’t come up with a better explanation. Out of the woodwork, when so needed, shining a light that illuminated the starting gate. They appeared. Showing me that I will never walk alone. Our group is expanding. I am part of a community—the Good Grief Gals, how does this sound Ladies?

How would you begin a conversation about Grief? 

Nikki—Everyone is a different being in every way, shape and form. Some people are comfortable talking about Grief and their lost loved one, I am one of them. I believe in talking about them and still believing in them, I want to keep his legacy alive. I also understand that some people like to grieve on their own time and in their own way. As far as starting a conversation about it, this is my first time engaging in a conversation about Grief. I would be more than willing to share my experience and the steps I have taken to try and heal.

Diane—I would begin a conversation by asking a question— “Hey, will you talk with me about Grief?”

What would you want the non-bereaved to know about your grief? How would you help someone understand what grief looks like from your experience?

Nikki— Understanding Grief for the non-bereaved seems close to impossible for me. It is like trying to explain to someone that does not have children what it is like to raise them. You can never truly understand the depths and the sacrifices of it until you are in the position. But what you can do is assure people that life does go on. You will always mark your life as before and after this tragedy. You have the same DNA but are an entirely different person on the inside. Your passion will stay true (at least it has for me) but perspective changes over all.

Diane—I would want the non-bereaved to know that grief is a natural part of life. Grief from death is the last part. When you see it in someone, please look beyond the tears and the sadness and what may seem like immobility in life, in moving forward and recognize that you are witnessing a great love—a love that has lost its direction, its safety, its comfort, half of its heart and shared memories. Watch closely and you will see a shattered and broken heart that is mending, on its own timetable, in its own way. You will feel sympathy and may experience empathy if you’ve had your own battle with grief. Continue to watch and you will see compassion bloom in the bereaved as grief softens and healing takes hold. Compassion is a beautiful thing to behold. It opens the heart. It results in action that makes our world a kinder place. Lend an ear, grab hold of a hand. Stay with the uncomfortable-ness that you both may be feeling. You will feel a soul-connectedness and your life will be changed forever.  You are helping to heal the life of another—a true gift of yourself, wanting nothing in return yet gaining immeasurable rewards.

So ends our first conversation about Grief. You’ve become a very big part of how we grieve the death of our beautiful Matthew. We’ve shared our stories which have helped us immensely in our grieving process. We are getting closer to the FIRST anniversary of his death—his going home. We are still navigating unchartered waters, unsure where this grief journey will take us. We appreciate and give thanks to each and every one of you—our family, friends and readers. We want to help break through the uncomfortable-ness on both sides of grief—for the bereaved and the non-bereaved. We want to be better able to support those who will be heading into grief and we hope you will join us. We need your words. We are giving you ours. Blessings to you all on this special day.

Diane & Nikki

Loving Matthew Forever & Always—MLA13*

*Matthew Laurent Allard 13 is his favorite number

JOIN US ON FACEBOOK CLICK THE LINK:  VOICE OF GRIEF

TO VIEW ARCHIVE BLOG POSTS CLICK ON THE HOME BUTTON AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE.

‘BE BRAVE’ SPEAKS THE BIRD TO THE BROKEN HEART

'BRAVE BIRD' ORIGINAL ART BY JENNIFER ALBIN

SOUL WHISPER ARTS

Used with permission

October was the month I took on a new CarlyMarie project. “Project Heal—Capture Your Grief, a month of mindful healing, reflection and storytelling.” One subject a day does not seem too overwhelming and rather doable until I was actively involved and it proved to be too much. I have to admit, I was unable to complete every day’s reflection. Too much emotion surfaced for having lost you less than a year ago. Emotions I thought I had dealt with coming back at me from different angles. Layers upon layers this grief thing is comprised of, not just steps and stages. I did learn quite a bit taking this side path on my journey. Met a grieving Mom and we instantly heart-connected over the loss of our children. An emotional bond developed and I was comforted by her spirit, so strong and brave and generous. Brenda Lee lost her 12 year old boy 4 years ago. His name is Coleton Nelson. She has been involved in this project for quite a few years and still struggles. When I shared with Brenda that this project was more difficult than I had imagined, this is what she wrote to me: 

“For now I will do this journal for you and for me and for all the other mothers who are suffering. They may not be their words or we may have many differences in our journey but we do have one thing in common the pain of losing our child”. 

We truly do not have to walk alone. I felt I could stay connected to the project and the immersion no longer held importance. Thank you Brenda Lee. *

The daily subjects required reflection and a photo that related to the topic of the day. I discovered that I could have stayed on one subject for many days and written many pages in hopes of unloading my heart, untangling my emotions and bringing a little more clarity to my grief. Instead, I found myself paralyzed, immobilized by thought most days. I read the entries of others, participated when I could and remained silent with my own incomplete ruminations when I could not. It is a great project, organizes topics and gives the bereaved a starting point for sorting out what they are feeling and maybe did not even know that they were feeling. Needs to be paced slower for the newly bereaved. I can pick it up again when my heart has rested a bit. 

What I am left to grapple with—what I still need to learn so much about—after this month of reflection is how intertwined, how woven together Accepting, Adjusting, Attachments and Letting Go are. It seems you cannot work on one aspect of this grief process without touching all others. A friend asked me if Acceptance was the major roadblock attendant with grief. My immediate answer was “No—seeing, touching and kissing your lifeless body on the hospital gurney the day of the accident was real.” There was no getting around the fact that you were dead. I had to accept reality. There was no more physical you. You were now Love and Memories and Spirit, and you can’t touch any of those in our physical world. Once I Accepted, I began Adjusting and that is a very difficult stage. How do I replace the physical? How do I connect with Spirit? How do I continue to Love and visit my Memories that are overshadowed by the pain and trauma of your death? The pain and trauma say “Forevermore” and I fought Forevermore with Hope that there had to be another way. And there was/is and the trauma has left but so much more remains. It’s a lot like schooling—your advanced degrees do not come to you when you are finishing up your first year of elementary school. Your brain absorbs history differently in grade 5 than it does in grade 12. The heart has only so much capacity and you learn about grief slowly, and you build upon what you learn. My realization is that healing can accompany grief—healing, not having been healed. Healing has many layers like Adjustment. How do I heal a hole in my heart? What do I fill it with? Will it ever beat full of life again? I don’t have the answer to these questions yet as I do not think the heart can be fully healed. Healed is something that can be attributed to a cut, a scrape or a broken bone. My heart is healing. As my heart heals, it grows. As it grows, I change. I carry Hope with me that I will continue to heal, grow and change until my last breath is taken. I’m trying to stitch the hole, fill the cavity. It is cavernous. There is a missing piece, a piece that will always be with you—and I would not want that piece any other place. Can one manufacture a piece of the heart?

I now find myself at the crossroads of Attachments and Letting Go hoping they will help me with Adjusting. Once again, the people that have come into my life for a reason will be accompanying me on the next leg of my Grief Journey. Jennifer is one of “the People”. The Mourning Dove has once again made his appearance. The dove has a story to tell. I feel we are just a few chapters in. I feel so very connected to you when I am gifted with the presence of the bird. Auntie and I visited Jennifer Albin’s NY studio and I found a piece that immediately spoke to my heart. It was one of her first pieces and Jennifer was going to paint over it. It was a perfect piece, waiting silently in the salvage pile to be discovered and given its’ rightful place. It is homage to your life. It’s a Prince of a Bird and now sits in a Sacred Space in our home. The art conveys a message, I believe your message and says—“Be Brave . . . because you’ll carry your grief for a lifetime. It does not mean you are stuck, that you cry all day, that you can only feel like you are alive when your daily existence is reliving the past in memories.  NO, to the contrary. You're learning how to live with a hole in your heart. You're finding joy and trying to fill the hole. You’re recreating yourself. You’re discovering new interests. You're making new memories with my children. You're keeping me alive in the hearts and minds of family and friends. You 'got' my legacy of Love and you're speaking my language of Hugs. You allow the resonance of my heartbeat and its message to be heard. You’re spreading my Love. You're enduring. Be Brave Mom.”

The message speaks loudly, clearly, My next step is to identify my attachments to you, Matthew: the early morning phone calls after your men were dispatched, the funny text messages, the man giggles with Jason & how you'd feed off of each other when telling stories, the way the Brothers could read each others’ minds leaving the rest of us trying to figure out the missing piece of the conversation, the random egg sandwich breakfasts you'd stop by for, your checking in on Dad & I after a snow storm to make sure we were plowed out. . .you knew Dad had his own guy and yet every storm you'd make the trip.  . . I miss the caring, the hugs—those great big full of love hugs, I miss recipe sharing, cooking together & enjoying your culinary delights, I miss watching you parent & love your nuggets & being an uncle to Jason's. I miss the fact that you loved the last house you ever looked at & it was in our neighborhood, the neighborhood you grew up in. The neighborhood that will never get to help raise your family. I miss the irreverent pats on the butt. I miss the future of being so close to the greatest show on earth. I miss you and everything about you.  So there you have it—Acceptance but what do I do with  these Attachments?

Jennifer tells a story about “rubbing it in”. As a counselor, Jennifer would ask her clients to rub their hearts when they heard something positive about themselves or experienced someone being kind. “The symbolic act of rubbing the love into their hearts helped them internalize what they were hearing, seeing and feeling.” And another “Aha” moment was born. What if I borrowed this beautiful symbolic act of Jennifer’s and added a bit of a spin. I need. . .the family needs some physical action that will help us in our healing process. What if I take these attachments I have to you that are so strong; what if Nikki tells Addy tales of every memory of you, every good quality, every character trait, every enchanting aspect of your personality, your entertaining sense of humor that make up their Daddy’s spirit and Addy teaches Bear as he grows; what if Nikki, Jason, Beth & Dad . . . all of your friends and family identified their attachments and we “rub them in"—into our hearts. We “rub in” the love, “rub it in” so deeply that it pushes out the sadness. “Rub it in” so that it polishes our hearts, makes them glow, keeps them warm and vibrant. “Rub it in” until the warmth spreads out to others. Keep “rubbing it in” until the love and the warmth melts the bitterness, dissolves the anger, deconstructs the grief and the rhythms of our heartbeats synchronize and kindness and respect and gratefulness and love, the legacy you left us, begins to speak the universal language of the heart—compassion and empathy.  Oh, the “rubbing it in” will deeply ingrain your memory, your hugs, the gift of you into our hearts and the hearts of every life you've touched. Your heartbeat contribution, heard loudly by your family and friends—now shared with everyone. “Rubbing it in” until our hearts respond. “Rubbing it in” for healing. “Rubbing it in” to symbolize that the best of you, Matthew—your spirit is everlasting.

The journey continues. New lessons learned. New lessons to be learned. New lessons shared. Never alone. Always discovering. Moving forward. Loving you—you are entwined in the fabric of my being.

My prayer, already (partially answered and thank you) at your 10 month anniversary:

My heart stands still
Enveloped by grief, sadness & confusion
If Love is my compass,
If Love is our connection
Guide me towards healing and understanding that
Letting go is directed solely at pain and sorrow
And not the memory of
Nor my relationship with you

Love you forever and always,

Mom

Click the links below to access:


JOIN US ON FACEBOOK CLICK THE LINK:  VOICE OF GRIEF

TO VIEW ARCHIVE BLOG POSTS CLICK ON THE HOME BUTTON AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE.


*BRENDA LEE'S MEMORIAL FACEBOOK PAGE FOR COLETON NELSON AT:
REST IN PARADISE COLETON NELSON

JENNIFER ALBIN'S FACEBOOK PAGE AT:
SOUL WHISPER ARTS/FACEBOOK

GALLERY & BLOG AT:
SOULWHISPERARTS.COM

Jennifer can also be contacted at:

SOULWHISPERARTS@YAHOO.COM

WHEN ‘NO WORDS’ SPEAK LOUDLY TO THE HEART

WALK IN THE WOODS & MEET OUR MAGICK TREE

NO WORDS, No words, no words . . . the phrase that kept running through my mind at your 9 month anniversary. You and I—we went from conception to birth in 9 months. 9 glorious months of anticipation, falling in love with you before I was even able to hold you, waiting, waiting, waiting. 9 months from death—there is no celebration; there is still a lot of waiting. Waiting for the ache to hurt a little less, the tears to slow down, the finality to be something other than what it is. I took a cue from my heart and went silent. Another lesson from Patience. When the teaching moment presents itself, the words will flow. . . and so they do!

Your friends organized a golf tournament to honor you yesterday, a shared tournament for you and Hayden. Two men leaving this planet before their time—according to the left behind anyway. The weather was glorious as I’m sure you know. Bright, deep blue sky without a cloud. The air crisp and clean. The colors on the trees shouting their brilliance and announcing that another season is upon us. Your favorite season. The pumpkins are ready for carving, the corn stalks are standing tall, guarding our entryways. Heard some wonderful stories about you. Never tire of those stories! We laughed, we cried, we are ever so grateful to Matty, Kristen & Jim and all the volunteers that came out to help. Your kids are great. Bear, growing up, already a year old and Addy—what a conversationalist. Proud, Matthew is what you’d be, most certainly are.

Dad and I were talking this morning, reliving the special moments of yesterday. He shared what he believed the game of golf teaches and it turns out to be a metaphor for Grief. He played with the young ‘uns as he calls Jason and his buddies. Swinging that club, hitting that ball, trying to get distance just to keep up; he was pretty tired this morning! “The game of golf teaches you to play within yourself.” He was explaining that you have to know your limits. Play to your natural abilities. Keep your mental edge. He didn’t quite listen to the messenger yesterday!

In my grief journey, as far as I think I’ve come, I feel like I’ve finally put my glasses on and I can see that path is a lot longer than I thought it was. It’s not a road race, a sprint or a marathon. It’s a slow, calm walk in the woods. The pace allows me to become an observer—this is when I learn. Sometimes I have to take cover when the weather becomes inclement and other times I can walk until the sun stops shining. At my own pace—within myself. How many times have I read, heard, told myself this same thing . . . at my own pace, yet it really had not sunk it. I believe it has. No words at 9 months. The journey waits for me when I decide I need to take a break. 


Love you forever and always. . .

Mom


JOIN US ON FACEBOOK CLICK THE LINK:  VOICE OF GRIEF

SIGNS AND SYNCHRONICITIES . . . SYNCHRONICITIES AND SIGNS

DO I GIVE VOICE, REJOICE . . . IS IT A PASSWORD?

Reminiscent of the chicken or the egg conundrum—which came first? Matthew, you sometimes leave me speechless and in awe with the signs and synchronicities you send my way. Speechless and always grateful. There are two camps regarding signs—believers and non-believers. I am certainly a believer and have to admit, I arrived at Camp Believer after many questions, doubts, shaking of the head, and voluminous reading. Can death be the end of a relationship? In my heart I knew there had to be more, wanted more, pined for more; yet how do you approach the topic of signs and synchronicities without sounding a little crazy?

Loss shakes us to the core. Loss begs for the searching of answers to life’s major questions. Who am I? Why am I here? Is there a God? Is He/She a good God? Where do we go when we die? What is this life for? Why is there such sorrow, loss, devastation, unfairness? Death is a teacher. She forces us to pull out all the stops, think outside the box, learn all we can about ourselves and this journey called grief. A journey that I would rather not have embarked upon but find myself with a one way ticket. I know you’d want the ticket to be a round trip. So do I, so do all of us that love you. We are slowly making our way.

Loss is archeology for the soul. We know we have to dig and sometimes deeply, clean up what we unearth and inspect it for any connection to the past that may help us in our search for answers. A search that will lead us from the past to our future. A future where we try to reclaim the joy that seems so elusive and always holds the ache of the loss. A search that allows you to look at all of your questions with a little bit of perspective if you’ve delved into the past. The questions have answers with as many facets as a diamond. Facets, angles and cuts  that display a variety of brilliant colors — reflections from the light within. A descriptive of our souls.

Loss creates longing and adds to the list of questions in our search. What is the afterlife? Where is it? Does the soul know it is about to embark on its journey home? This last question holds a lot of intrigue for me. In revisiting the weeks right before your death, I believe your soul knew that your time on earth was ending. We had a 45 minute phone conversation, so many minutes that you did not have time to spare but did. You reviewed your entire life—the joys and the heartaches, the successes and failures, the dreams and the reality. You made sure that I knew you had no regrets. You expressed gratefulness, your love for family, and the lessons that came your way. You couldn’t see the tears and  I tried to muffle the sounds that accompanied them. That phone conversation touched me so deeply and then the amount of comfort it provided when I tried and continue to try to assimilate your passing. My broken heart is shattered, reminiscent of laminated glass that breaks into shards held together as a whole but in a redefined wholeness. Shattered but with the intent of reducing the risk of injury. This is what your signs mean to me. They provide such a sense of comfort. They blanket my heart with joy, temporarily, but joy nonetheless. They keep me connected to you in a way that memories just cannot.

Another soul gift—the gift you’ve given Nikki—the night before Christmas Eve when the two of you were dining at the Copper Door, exhausted and relishing the quiet time. Quiet time away from the kids and in the next moment, you are enjoying your glasses of wine and looking at pictures of the nuggets. Laughing between yourselves that the minute you are away from them, you miss them—immediately. Nikki says you were your usual loving self. The next moment belonged to Nikki—her gift. You stared directly into her eyes, a deep intense stare. A soul to soul stare. You professed your love to her, admitted that you were obsessed with her and let her know how lucky you felt to be in love. She tells me your stare was jolting. Almost intimidating. You were intent on getting your point across. Her memory is that of a “lucky lady . . . whoever says that? My husband, that’s who”. You made her feel special and adored. You left her the best part of you—Addy and Bear. She loves the children with every single ounce of love her heart can hold. Broken and shattered but the broken-ness held together because of your special gift; the verbal expression of your love—a little over a week before you died.

This next re-telling takes my breath away. Synchronicity, not coincidence—stages that develop before the picture comes into focus. After posting the Goodbye . . . Hello . . .  Hallelujah blog, I had a conversation with Brad. He relayed a story that took place at the office the morning of the accident, the morning you died. You went into Brad’s office and asked him to check out a you tube video of Bon Jovi singing Hallelujah. He did and in so doing came upon the Canadian Tenors singing their cover of Hallelujah. You had just been to a Canadian Tenor concert in Florida but had never mentioned the song. This version brought Brad to tears, tears that unsettled him at the time, as it was not his customary reaction to a song, even though it is a very moving rendition. You walked by his office, saw that he was crying, said “B” (your nickname for Brad) and he showed you the video. In typical Matty fashion, you put your arms around him and gave him one of your big ‘ol bear hugs and a kiss on the cheek. He is so honored to have this memory as his last of you. Brad says “my last memory of Matty is so filled with love and I was probably the last person who he ever hugged. To this day I can’t talk about him without tears flowing.” Another soul to soul connection? Perhaps another soul to soul goodbye? Brad’s comfort and peace in your passing. My heart skipped a beat when I heard that you had listened to the song Hallelujah the day you died. Why did you choose to listen to the song? Was it a calling from your soul? Did your soul have the same thoughts as mine. . . hallelujah, the password to heaven? 

I struggled with, and wrote about how I needed to say goodbye to the physical you, hello to your beautiful spirit and accomplished this with the language of Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen’s song Hallelujah. Hallelujah, why did I choose this song? Why did it touch my soul? Why are we coming full circle? Are you gathering your circle and bringing us together, each holding a piece of the puzzle until we come together with our stories and memories to discover the big picture? Are you teaching us to keep your love alive? Are you providing validation that love never dies—that our energy simply transforms? Matthew you are as dynamic in death as you were in life!

Loss—the instrument that allows us to touch nothing-ness. Nothing-ness, the emptiness, the loss of color to our days, the numbness associated with grief seeps into our present, lives in our past and we try so hard to ban its entry into our future. What is nothing-ness? Is it another example of a duality life presents to us? Are we meant to discover complete-ness with a tweak in perspective? What if nothing-ness is the emptiness that holds the key, the arc of the covenant to hope that our grief will soften; that we will accept it as a heartmate and truly find a new direction on our journey? Is grief after all the discovery that joy CAN live with the ache? What if touching nothing-ness turns on the light of happiness and allows us to return to the land of the living—transformed? Transformed, as how can one ever be the same after loss? What will that transformation look like? Still too early to tell, after all. This is a new direction. I’m now taking a different path. I'm searching for a way back to life after the nothing-ness gave me a glimpse of complete-ness. Will that transformation turn words of how to live into experiences of life? If life is all about LOVE will I learn to live LOVE as an action not just as an emotion, a feeling? Will one of my favorite Psalms take on a new meaning . . . LOVE is kind, LOVE is patient . . .  How can I do this? What if I look at nothing-ness not through the context of the past, or the emptiness of the future. What if I tweak my perspective and remove the overwhelmingly desolate feelings the THOUGHT of nothing-ness brings forth by acknowledging the here-and-now moment. Nothing-ness cannot exist in the moment. There simply is not enough room for it. How do I capture the moment? The breath. I close my  eyes, I clear my mind; there is nothing but the breath. I breathe in, I breathe out. There is nothing but the breath. My attention to breath slows time. It creates a focus. How fortunate am I to fill my nose with the scent of the earth on a warm summer day; the cleanliness of fresh air after a rain storm; the crispness and coolness of a winter morning air that makes my nostrils want to meet half way and touch. When I open my eyes, the world is brighter, colors are more vibrant. I am free to observe, to partake in the moment. Joy fills this moment. What if I gain clarity when experiencing a here-and-now moment of joy? What if grief says to the heart “this is you’re here-and-now. I will step aside. Enjoy.” And I will carry that joy for another moment and another and another. Haven’t I just carried my joy from the past through the present and into the future by choosing to link moments of here-and-now joy? Could this be one treasure box unlocked and opened with this new found key? Joy begins with a moment. Hallelujah!!

Signs provide such a sense of comfort. They soften the rough edges of loss for me. They relieve me from the paralysis of numbness. They move me forward. Signs, so many sent to all of us. Addy’s DaddyAngel, words that flow from the pen, Matty II blooming on your wedding anniversary, the helium balloon, an ‘M’ found in NY, the song, the number 13, guidance from others at the exact moment needed. Synchronicities are like the trailer to a really good movie. In these special moments I feel that you are alive, just not in the reality that I can see and feel. The most striking synchronicities were the stages that developed in your Father’s Day communication about the Mourning Dove, The bird, the poem, the art. The art, created 25 years ago with the song of the Mourning Dove placed front and center–‘Coo'. Next, the linking of what I consider a very special gift—the gift of words, when I need them most, that help to make sense of this journey through grief. The link, another drawing created in your childhood, of an Amanuensis.  A modern day scribe equipped with a computer and fancy printer. Finally, the Hallelujah; your soul rejoicing your going home and mine rejoicing a connection with your spirit. You love so intensely that you take care that we are not broken completely. I have to remember to focus on these memories when the tears begin to flow and I am waiting for another sign, more synchronous moments.

So many questions. My prayer to you sweet boy is that you find and share your wisdom. Help me to live this life without regret. Show me how to live LOVE and not just feel LOVE. Lessen my sadness by sending signs . . . lots of signs. Help me to keep my heart open. Help me to realize a connection until we meet again. Help me to breathe into the here-and-now. Help me, help me, help me.

Love you forever and always,

Mom

POSTSCRIPT TO SIGNS & SYNCHRONICITIES POST—another revelation! I'm having a 'living in the past' moment this morning and I am drawn to reread the Easter Day blog 'We Had a Good Day' & in that post I mention that the song Hallelujah by Kelley Mooney (she changed Leonard Cohen's lyrics) brought me to a point of reflection about love, sacrifice, faith & renewal and the topic for the Easter post. Hallelujah again! The song HALLELUJAH was first sent to me in April but I must have been too absorbed in grief and missed the sign and never remembered having listened to the song when I finally decided to write about saying goodbye to the physical Matthew months down the road. It wasn't until August that I wrote the Goodbye Hello Hallelujah blog. . . and making this discovery today!  The added steps Matthew takes until the sign is acknowledged . . . AMAZING! Synchronicity at its best!

JOIN US ON FACEBOOK CLICK THE LINK:  VOICE OF GRIEF

If you are a believer in signs and enjoy the comfort they bring, you'll find chronicles of signs from Matthew, with more of a description than what has been presented in this post,. on the VOICE OF GRIEF Facebook Page.

SHE HELD HIS HAND FOREVER

Art Print by Jennifer Albin Artist/Owner of Soul Whisper Arts

Discovered this beautiful print in New Paltz while visiting Auntie. The art had an immediate effect on me. The artist is Jennifer Albin of Soul Whisper Arts. I was drawn to the room at the rear of the store where baskets of her treasures were displayed. Such a perfect name for her creations. The art as a collective whispered to me “browse, there is a special gift for your soul you are about to unearth” and in a time-stalled state I began to flip through the prints. My heart stopped when my fingers fell upon “She held his hand forever” and the dam was broken as rivers of tears fell from my eyes. A very public display of grief. This painting was created for us Matthew. There is so much to see, to take in, to allow the soul to feel, to swell— to spew pent up emotion, to regurgitate the grief that’s been trying to take hold of my entire being. Tears, so many tears lately. I am forced to put aside the grief I feel for everyone that loves you and concentrate on me for a little while—my own grief, my own mourning. I lost a son. I lost a son 8 months ago. I died a little myself that day. I thought I was moving forward and yet these monthly anniversaries, these return–to–your–unearthly–blessed–abode dates bring the pain and agony and longing for you deeper into my heart and soul.

Grief — it’s taken up residence. Unlike the voice that we carry around in our heads, grief is greedy. It doesn’t want just one body part, one organ — it wants your everything. I can feel it in my body. It slithered in and took hold. It feels like a wool sweater washed in hot water, shrunken beyond good use. It is uncomfortable. It does not fit properly. It constricts. It causes tightness. It blisters my insides. It is not my friend. It is not my teacher YET. There is no evicting grief. Grief is with me for all seasons. It’s too soon for me to recognize and understand her purpose but an agenda she surely has. I can never return to who I was as you are carrying a part of me with you, so perhaps she will help me become who I am meant to be. Evolve—transform—reconnect—live—love, love, love. We are not friends. I must learn how to live with her until we learn to work together. She makes me tired, very tired. I look over the edge of the abyss that is the dark night of the soul and like a lemming; I want to let myself walk over. Sink to the bottom. Curl up into a fetal position. Ride out the storm. I’ve been there before. This time I’ve learned that you can’t crawl your way out. Much easier to be lifted out. Lifted by love, by prayers, by time. It is amazing to me that life goes on after such a loss. It’s harder to move when you are broken. I feel like I am living in a parallel universe, able to see what is going on in the present yet unable to participate. I just want my universe to stop for a while. I want to sleep. I want to not care. I want to heal. None of those elements singularly hold the key to healing. I know it is my journey and it’s not just a journey through grief. It’s a journey to the return to life. I seem to need a jumpstart.

I’m visiting the Land of Nothing-ness right now. Visiting not taking up residency! This piece of art depicts where I’m at so beautifully. The featureless face. I’m trying to figure out who I am without you. Your featureless face. I’m sure you have some discovering to do to take up your newness in spirit. I see a faint glimmer of a smile. That is our hope. Hope that we will continue to have a relationship. Hope that love never dies. Hope that we will continue to learn from each other. The signs you send my way are amazing and I am forever grateful. The balloon in Accord was the most comical yet. I loved experiencing your sense of humor from the beyond as it is something I miss so terribly here without the physical you. The art—the very large M’s. Mr. Matt—your Alphabits nickname that stuck within our family. This is a canvas that portrays grief—the tears, the fact that we can’t see each other but can feel each other. The orbs and the butterfly—signs from the afterlife. The connected rings represent love, our family, our purpose for the future—to disseminate the love you showered on all for your shortened time here. I love the complexity of the piece. The multiple layers that you can peel back like an onion. The parts that make up the whole. One of the first layers was comprised of words, text. If you look closely at the bottom right of the print, you can make out the words “life is to love”, the only words visible when I enlarge that portion of the print. In the upper left I can make out “family CREATES beauties”, we are made up of parts and if we incorporate LOVE, we can make ourselves whole, beauties from the inside. The colors are so vibrant. They speak of possibilities, of a lightened mood, a happy spirit. It depicts a leg of my journey, the others waiting for discovery.

I know you will consider this Mama’s Funk—but a funk is not a depression, just an incredible amount of sadness. Thank you for listening. I did get your message via a friend today in the song by Yes, “I’ve seen all good people”.  Your message was “don’t surround yourself with yourself, move on back two squares”. What a fine description of the grieving process and motivation to continue forward—resist self-absorption, isolation; take one step forward, two back. Forward, forward, baby steps forward for progress. “Cause it’s time, it’s time in time with your time . . .” and I will find my reconnection—in time, with your time, our time intertwined. I want to carry on for you, for Jason, Beth, Nikki, Dad and the grands.

Loving you so much— holding your hand forever,

Mom

With special thanks to Jennifer for allowing me to use a photo of her print and share with you her art that touched my soul.

Jennifer Albin Artist/Owner SOUL WHISPER ARTS

I am a mystic, compulsive coffee drinker, mother to three amazing boys,  and wife to one of the most beautiful souls to walk this Earth. I am also the artist/owner behind Soul Whisper Arts. Although, I have gotten my hands messy with various art mediums since childhood, I fell in love with mixed-media art in 2011 and I haven't looked back!  I now paint because it helps me connect with and make sense of my inner world. In addition to that, you should probably know that I am am a super firm believer that Love conquers all, that the heart of Life is in fact awesomely  good, and that Art heals on some really deep levels. My mission at Soul Whisper Arts is to create art that heals. My art serves as a reminder that you are not alone. When you fumble in the dark, there are torch bearers to light the way. When you are weary from peeling back the layers, there are others alongside you on the journey to lean on. In addition to creating art, I strive to foster community and teach women about the wisdom and beauty waiting to be witnessed within, through art classes and workshops. It is with paint brush in hand that I believe we can discover some of the bravest parts of ourselves. 

Please visit her website to view her gallery: SOULWHISPERARTS.COM 

Jennifer can also be contacted at:

SOULWHISPERARTS@YAHOO.COM

FACEBOOK.COM/SOULWHISPERARTS

MEYLAH.COM/SOULWHISPERARTS

JOIN US ON FACEBOOK CLICK THE LINK:  VOICE OF GRIEF

If you are a believer in signs from the afterlife and enjoy the comfort they bring, you'll find chronicles of signs from Matthew on the Voice of Grief Facebook Page.

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

JOIN US ON FACEBOOK CLICK THE LINK:  VOICE OF GRIEF