The theme of this month's newsletter is Hope. A favorite quote of mine about hope comes from Darcie Sims: "Hope isn't a place or thing. Hope isn't the absence of pain or sadness or sorrow. Hope is possibility. Hope is the memory of love given and received." May this newsletter help you find hope as you continue along your healing journey.
Things that were once so simple become mountains of impossibilities. Something as easy as rinsing dishes change in our eyes to a rushing flood of torrent rains. Laundry is the Swiss Alps. Cooking is a brunt pan on the stove because we forgot we were cooking. Driving is not advised. The mind wonders and you can't remember how you got from point 'A' to point 'Z' and you freak. Normal thought does not exist. Conversations sound as though you have been evaded by Aliens. You know the look on your face is confusion when someone who is talking to you, stops suddenly and raises an eyebrow. Your mind wonders from the mundane task at hand and you walk away, forgetting what you were doing.
One of the beautiful things about living this life without is how we have the freedom to help others without. What a sad world it would be if we kept all knowledge to ourselves---all nuggets of wisdom, all beads of hope, all glimpses of truth. The beauty is that in our despair we seek and do find life-giving morsels along the way to share with others.
Writing through pain has been my respite. When my son Daniel first died I looked forward to dates with my journal each evening. In the pages of my journal, I penned my pain and sorrow.
Like Alice Walker said, "Writing saved me."
Decades ago, when I was a young mother with two little daughters, the Air Force sent my husband to Vietnam. A flight surgeon, he was commander of a base hospital in the central highlands. He was gone for a year, and during that year I grieved for him immensely. My anticipatory grief became worse as the months passed. Each day, I wondered if this would be the day men in uniform would appear at the door to tell me my husband was killed in action.
A perfect stranger stole my daughter's life from her in a way that was the antithesis of how she lived in 2001. No one should have to bury a child but many of us do. Along with my loss, it seemed that future dreams and the security of old age became faded dreams. My life transformed from multi-dimensional introspection to a flat line existence. My belief systems shattered and truth challenged me every day to find its meaning in my decisions. I eventually had to learn from my life of pain just to survive.
Any griever will tell you that although we live in a highly advanced society, grief literacy in our country remains rooted in the dark ages. And Nationwide's insensitive Super Bowl ad, still fresh in our cross hairs, serves as a shameful reminder of grief illiteracy on a national scale.
Thank you for reading this edition of our newsletter. It is our goal to make it a regular publication and to use it to keep you in touch with topics dealing with grief and loss. When it comes to dealing with grief, it can be a challenge to find the resources we need to educate ourselves and our loved ones on what is happening and how to best keep going forward. We will try to keep future issues as informative and interesting as we can. We encourage all of our readers to contact us with thoughts, comments, suggestions or contributions. We would love to hear from you!
We here at The Grief Toolbox understand that needs change as we go from the raw encompassing pain of the first year to the stark reality of the second year, and then to the growth and reinventing ourselves of the middle years to the acceptance and blessing that now coexists with the pain and love that will always be a part of our life. We cannot make your pain go away, nor can we provide answers for you. What we can do is help you to find the tools that you need to work through your grief journey.