Several weeks ago, I received my new laptop, which led me to go through files in my current system, deciding what I want to transfer and what needs to be deleted.
It is as daunting as going through a file cabinet. A task that needs to be done, but can be so overwhelming.
Whether the files are digital or paper, it’s difficult to go through these items. It can be very triggering. Finding documentation of injuries, illnesses, deaths, financial problems, old photos, cards and letters, and more, can bring about moments of grief. I believe that’s why it’s easier to clean out someone else’s “junk” than our own. The emotional attachment to items can make de-cluttering anything a daunting task.
As I went through the files, I came across a poem written by my half-brother, Jeff. I made a copy of it, and have read it to several people in the past few weeks of finding it again.
Love, Loss, and Learning the Benefits of Witnessed Grief
It is no surprise that around the holidays, feelings of grief can kick into high gear. With the pressure of creating the “perfect” holiday, stuffing our feelings seems to be easier than dealing with them. Thankfully, the term, “Blue Christmas,” is being acknowledged, and several places of worship offer services and assistance because, well, it’s “a thing.”
Additionally, it’s no surprise that the longer we push uncomfortable feelings down, the more difficult they are to deal with, as they have a tendency to keep trying to be acknowledged.
There are so many story ideas I have written down during my journey of healing. My last post shared where I’ve been, which was recovering from a fractured femur and the surgery needed to repair it. I am so far behind in writing.
I also noticed that a lot of my grief writing has been sad. Because, well, that’s grief. I have been trying to make some meaning out of the grief.
One of the goals I am working towards now is incorporating what I have learned on my healing journey, recovering from grief and trauma, be it physical, emotional or spiritual. I have been attending workshops in an effort to combine all of my talents as well as my knowledge. I’m passionate towards helping others navigate the deep, dark waters of grief.
That said, one of the numerous things I have learned in my coursework is that grief and joy can happen simultaneously.
That is what I would like to share with you today.
It had been months – over six months, to be precise – that I had been able to visit my sacred space – the labyrinth that I shared with Sarah, just about a week before she passed away.
For the past six or seven months, I have been recovering from a serious lower back/hip injury. I truly believe it was a manifestation of the grief and trauma surrounding her death, and other major significant losses.
Love, Loss and Living and Grieving on the first Angel Day
One year ago, today, the unthinkable happened. My precious granddaughter, Sarah, passed away after a brave battle with myocarditis. Not only did her death send a ripple of shock and grief through our family, that ripple reached beyond what anyone could imagine. She touched the hearts and lives of so many people in our community, and the world at large.
One of the benefits of a warmer-than-normal fall in the Midwest is the opportunity to get out for a walk without bundling up from head-to-toe. It’s especially helpful for me, as walking is one of my go-to, self-care modalities as I process grief.
One of the pitfalls is, though, while the warmth and sunshine are appreciated, the storms that are trying to settle us into winter weather have definitely created havoc.
While many people look forward to their first cup of coffee in the morning, I truly savor my second cuppa Joe. It’s like a reward for getting up, showering, exercising and adulting. Anything to motivate me to get the day rolling.
My second cup is great because I love to sit outside and journal. Now, this all works great when the weather is nice. However, I start to panic in the fall, knowing that outside journaling is going to come to a cold and snowy end.
The three-year adoption anniversary of my little buddy, Remington, has come and gone. Unfortunately, in complete compliance with the surreal of crap that is the year 2020, our three-year-old pup passed away over the summer.
Sometimes, I just sit back and scratch my head. The question “Why?” pelts me at all hours – day or night.
I was completely shocked and devastated when Remi died. He got me out on walks on my darkest days. He made me laugh on my darkest days. He brought me pure joy on my darkest days.
How was I going to manage the grief and trauma I was already working through, when I now had to add the grief and trauma of losing him, too?