Tag Archives: grief

Christmas Isn’t Merry And Bright For Everyone

Posted on by
16

We think of Christmas as a happy time. It certainly is for most of us, at least in memory. For most people it’s about tradition and sharing gifts and meals with family and friends. For others, though, it’s a bittersweet time of memories of days gone by. It may be a time of longing for people mourning those who have died and it can be downright lonely for someone who doesn’t have people to break bread with during the holidays.

I know many who are struggling for a number of reasons this year and some are near their breaking point.

They’re struggling with the blatant commercialism of the season and with tight budgets caused by inflation They’re struggling with the ever growing sense that enough is never enough because Instagram and Facebook show us all the things we need to do better. They’re struggling because they’re unemployed or because their child is being treated for an unspeakable disease. 

They’re struggling with loss. Whether your loved one left this world this year or twenty years ago, there are some losses you simply don’t move past. Not completely anyway. Grief is something I have written about here before. It’s not a fun topic or anything people really want to discuss but it’s an ever present force in the lives of many that we need to normalize acknowledging. 

After all, if we are lucky to live long enough, the people around us will die. And what is grief? It’s what you feel when someone you care about dies or goes away. You don’t mourn the people you don’t like. Grief is harsh. It makes you wish you could fall apart but you feel obligated to be strong. It makes you feel like you’re supposed to go on and live for the one you lost but you feel guilty for moving on without them. You feel guilty for being happy even when you know deep down that it’s ok.

I know several people who have lost spouses, parents, children, pets and other loved ones just this year. Some will try to smile through the pain while some will just want to hide from it all. Whatever gets them through the season ought to be ok with you too.

Life is hard on a good day and even more so when you feel forced to participate in everyone else’s joy. So respect the people in your lives. If they want to come for Christmas dinner, give ‘em a hug and send them home with a plate of leftovers. If they don’t want to, there’s always next year. Maybe save them a piece of pie anyway.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t come with an instruction book so we all just have to muddle through and hope for the best.

If you are struggling right now, for whatever reason, I wish there was something more useful to say than I’m sorry. That’s all I’ve got. That and a reminder that it will hopefully not always be so hard. It is true what they say. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time, one holiday at a time. Keep going and know that Christmas is just a day. Whether it’s money, or insecurities or loss of people keeping you down, the fate of the holiday doesn’t rest on your shoulders if you choose to limit your participation this year.

I hope you find some light and goodness as we shift into winter and a season of quiet rest before the world’s rejuvenation this spring.

The View From Here Has Changed

Posted on by
8

The view from here is drastically different.

Many longtime followers will recall that I frequently photograph the big elm tree in my front yard. Sadly, it had fallen ill in recent years and was slowly dying.

This mighty elm that I grew up with, that provided shelter and shade to me and countless critters here on the ridge, was felled last month while I was in my blogging hiatus.

He was in bad shape and I had been in denial for some time. Still, he put up a good fight as he harbored a secret- a long ago forgotten piece of metal, embedded deep inside his trunk. That metal bit back at the logger’s saw.

I was proud of him right up until the end.

And so, my favorite tree is now a log and a pile of limbs in my front yard. Soon, I will begin working on a replacement that will give my view new perspective and will someday carry on the tradition of providing shelter to all who gather beneath its branches.

Perhaps it’s silly to mourn a tree in this way. If that’s the case, I don’t really care. That tree was a good friend, an object of beauty and an important part of my ecosystem. I have missed it every day and wonder if I’ll ever get used to the new view.

It is said that one who plants trees knowing they will never sit in their shade has begun to understand the meaning of life. Here’s hoping I live long enough to sit in the shade of whatever I plant here. Still, I like knowing that it will outlive me and will grow tall and beautiful for future generations of critters to enjoy.

Remembering Dawn

Posted on by
8

Life is full of unexpected moments. The way a soft breeze rustles through the trees is one of my favorites. Encountering a flower you don’t recall planting is another.

Take this yellow day lily for example. I vaguely remember planting something there but was surprised and delighted to find this bright, showy flower reaching toward the sky last night.

These are the good things that come to us when they’re least expected. Then there are the tragedies, the astonishing shocks that change a life forever.

A good friend from work lost his wife unexpectedly this week. She was a vibrant human being, colorful, kind and fun to be around. She made people smile and made them feel good.

Her name was Dawn, an appropriate name for her personality. Dawn, that moment of daybreak when light first appears and the world awakens, is a perfect name for someone like her.

I rarely saw Dawn but every interaction was pleasant and it’s hard to imagine the world without her in it. I hate to think about how hard this must be for my friend.

Like most humans, I seek logic and understanding in situations where there is no logic to be found. Humans aren’t meant to live forever but it’s hard to believe dying so unexpectedly and reasonably young is the way it should be.

In times of trouble, I often look to nature for calm and for guidance. The day lily pictured above couldn’t have bloomed at a better time. It reminded me of Dawn – vibrant and colorful but not here forever.

We all should be so lucky to have such beauty – whether it be a person or a flower- in our lives.

Grief

Posted on by
8

It’s a funny thing about grief. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Sometimes it shows itself in unusual ways and in ways that are tempting to ignore.

It doesn’t always look like the sadness or depression you might expect. Sometimes it manifests itself through anger or listlessness.

It can be brought on by a song on the radio or a funny story. You can be having a great day and suddenly can’t breathe because the horror of your loss is so all consuming.

No matter what it looks like, it won’t go away on its own. You can’t just decide that you’re done grieving. There really are no rules. How you’re feeling can change without warning, can worsen at the drop of a hat and can ruin a good day like ants at a picnic.

When we talk about losing a person, we think about just that. The loss of that individual and what they meant to your life. You’ll miss their laugh, their brutal honesty, their pumpkin pie. You’ll miss the routine of having them in your life and the way they stopped by just to say hi or because they were lonely. You’ll miss having that contemporary, the person who has known you all your life and with whom you have a shared history.

But no one talks about the other sense of loss. When someone is part of a unit, say a group of friends or part of your family, you will experience a completely different kind of loss when they die. You will suddenly recall every lost member of that group and each tragedy as vividly as if it just happened yesterday.

For example, when my Aunt Mary Ann died this summer, her passing summoned memories of the deaths of my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousin. All these people left empty seats at our table and each of their deaths represented a shift in the family dynamic. When my grandparents died, we lost our core, those people who bonded everyone together. When Mary Ann lost her husband and daughter, we got closer. When Mary Ann died my dad lost his contemporary, the only person left in this world who knew him from birth and who shared the stories of his formative years.

We grieve and change each time someone dies and we often look backward, embracing the bitter with the sweet. I suppose we do this because it seems easier than looking ahead to that ever shrinking table that awaits us at the next holiday.

Depressing, I know. And yet, it’s a part of our journey. All of us will lose someone important and all of us will have to navigate the trials of coping with our troubles. Time stands still for no one and every day we can wake up and get out of bed seems like a good opportunity to work through those problems and to find healthy ways to cope and to move forward as our loved ones would want us to do.

When Mary Ann lost her husband and later her daughter, you could see her struggling but she did her best to live well and to keep going. She spent time with friends, turned to her Bible, cooked and baked and devoted hours to her family. It was hard but she showed us that it’s possible to forge a new path forward.

We each have to find our own path when we experience loss. It could be spending time with family and embracing the new dynamic. The peace we need to move forward could be found on walks in the woods, in quiet meditation or in reminiscing about the good times. Maybe it’s found in journaling or in talking to someone.

I’m not a professional or an expert but I do have vast experience in this area. If you’re going through something difficult, I hope you will remember this. There can be brighter days ahead. There is nothing wrong with admitting that life has been hard. There’s nothing wrong with seeking counseling or guidance of some kind from a professional.

It doesn’t make you weak to need help and it doesn’t make you crazy. It makes you human.