Threads of Grief
Today I am grateful for a nice view of Halloween festivities as Darcy and I ate dinner out last evening. I am thankful for the community we live in. I am also grateful for the phone conversation my bookend sister Danita and I shared yesterday morning.
This morning I am appreciating the grieving process. It can be surprising in the ways it unfolds, powerful in the emotions it manifests. It is necessary, difficult, liberating.
There are days that my sister Mary Jo's death comes to visit me more strongly than on others. Yesterday was such a day. Starting with the writing I did for Mary Jo's eulogy, threads have become my reminders, my signs of her continuing presence, her lasting impact on those of us who love her.
On other days, there are only fleeting thoughts. Such is the nature of grieving as well. It hits hard at times and barely surfaces at others. Mary Jo died 137 days ago. A picture of four of her grandchildren in their Halloween costumes yesterday brought me to tears. She wasn't there to share that moment with her grandkids, her husband Clay and her daughter Whitney. How did that feel to the living?
My brother-in-law Roger died four years ago today. My sister Danita marked the anniversary of her birth yesterday and marks the anniversary of her husband's death today. Talk about mixed emotions!
Yesterday morning a couple of threads surfaced and I smiled. One was a tiny one on our bathroom counter. I smiled and thought "There's Mary Jo saying good morning." At work a little later, a couple of much larger threads were laying in the middle of the hallway as I walked by. I smiled again. This time I thought "There's Mary Jo saying have a good day."
Some days Mary Jo's memory and enduring spirit are the messengers. Messengers come in many forms if my heart and mind are open.
I went for a peaceful bike ride the other evening. I was "doing a Roger" and honoring the memory of my brother-in-law who loved biking and hiking before Lewy body dementia took away those joys.
Grieving releases the pain and suffering we carry, and it releases the hope and potential that remains when the heaviness is lifted. The pain and suffering of our world. The pain and suffering of the people I personally know. My own pain and suffering.
Threads of grief end up connecting and strengthening us individually and collectively. Be vulnerable.
Feel the grief when it comes. Share it. Speak about it. Lighten the burdens. Make way for joy to return.
This morning I am appreciating the grieving process. It can be surprising in the ways it unfolds, powerful in the emotions it manifests. It is necessary, difficult, liberating.
There are days that my sister Mary Jo's death comes to visit me more strongly than on others. Yesterday was such a day. Starting with the writing I did for Mary Jo's eulogy, threads have become my reminders, my signs of her continuing presence, her lasting impact on those of us who love her.
On other days, there are only fleeting thoughts. Such is the nature of grieving as well. It hits hard at times and barely surfaces at others. Mary Jo died 137 days ago. A picture of four of her grandchildren in their Halloween costumes yesterday brought me to tears. She wasn't there to share that moment with her grandkids, her husband Clay and her daughter Whitney. How did that feel to the living?
My brother-in-law Roger died four years ago today. My sister Danita marked the anniversary of her birth yesterday and marks the anniversary of her husband's death today. Talk about mixed emotions!
Yesterday morning a couple of threads surfaced and I smiled. One was a tiny one on our bathroom counter. I smiled and thought "There's Mary Jo saying good morning." At work a little later, a couple of much larger threads were laying in the middle of the hallway as I walked by. I smiled again. This time I thought "There's Mary Jo saying have a good day."
Some days Mary Jo's memory and enduring spirit are the messengers. Messengers come in many forms if my heart and mind are open.
I went for a peaceful bike ride the other evening. I was "doing a Roger" and honoring the memory of my brother-in-law who loved biking and hiking before Lewy body dementia took away those joys.
Grieving releases the pain and suffering we carry, and it releases the hope and potential that remains when the heaviness is lifted. The pain and suffering of our world. The pain and suffering of the people I personally know. My own pain and suffering.
Threads of grief end up connecting and strengthening us individually and collectively. Be vulnerable.
Feel the grief when it comes. Share it. Speak about it. Lighten the burdens. Make way for joy to return.
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