Tag: good grief

Goodbye, my friend

by Karen, posted in friends, good grief, Grace, relationships

A very dear person passed away over the weekend.

I met Karen when I worked with her at Sirona several years ago. We worked together via the telephone, so actually our voices met first! As many of you may know, you can tell a lot about someone by their voice. I liked her right away.

She was a supervisor, but she was every inch one of the gang as well. She was always a calm, reassuring, even loving presence at work. If Karen was on the job, I always felt better knowing that. When I was new in my role, of course I made some mistakes. When Karen was the person in charge and I needed to reach out for help, she was one hundred percent there for me. She somehow made me feel like she had made that exact same mistake dozens of times, just last week in fact. And hey, it was no big deal! Oh, and here’s how to fix it. And by the way, here’s  how to do it better next time. You may have heard that “Nurses eat their young.” Well, Karen never got that memo. Karen nurtured her young.

There is little that is more comforting in nursing than knowing that your supervisor has your back.

I did get to meet her in person as well, in 2013. We were part of the Sirona Seedlings at the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life. I was new to the company and didn’t know a lot of people yet. My daughter came with me, and we walked the track for a while, and we lit votives to honor my parents who had both died from cancer. My mother had the same cancer that Karen endured. Anyway, I was humbled by the grace of this woman who, just a short time after the event, sent out a heartfelt email message to thank each of us for coming, by name, and she included what it was that each of us had done to participate.

I still have this message. I still have my Sirona Seedlings T-shirt. And I still have Karen in my heart.

Farewell, Karen. Like so many, many others, I am better for having known you.

Hello from Heaven

by Karen, posted in Adult children, Angels, family, good grief, relationships
big-nana
Big Nana with her great-granddaughter Ariana in her kitchen in Nantasket

As I recently wrote, my son moved into his new apartment. Apartments, as we all know, usually need furniture. As a mother, I want to (over) help him with this. When I got my first apartment, my mother and my grandmother went to great lengths to make sure I had everything I might need or want, opening their cupboards, closets, drawers, and wallets to help me get things I didn’t even know I would need. I always knew that I would do the same for my own children one day.

The current need for my son’s apartment is for a kitchen table and chairs. I remembered my grandmother’s kitchen table has been stored at my brother’s house for years. I checked to make sure it was still there and usable. My brother determined (after some digging) that it was.
I started thinking of how my grandmother, Big Nana, spent most of her life helping her family. She has been dead since 2004, but she is still helping her family all these years after her death. Because now her kitchen table and chairs, at which we ate so many wonderful, lovingly prepared meals, will now serve my son and his girlfriend.

And here is the biggest gift of all: when my brother was looking for the chairs, he found a photo Nana, as well as some of my mother and father that I have never seen before.

It feels like they are all saying ‘Hello’ to us from heaven tonight, and letting us know that they are still watching over us and taking care of us, even though they are not here physically with us anymore.

What a wonderful start to 2017.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Book Review: Celebrating Death

by Karen, posted in author, books, Brave books, good grief, Life's too short to read bad books, no fear, writing

When I discovered that one of my colleagues wrote a book, I celebrating deathcouldn’t wait to read it.  The book is Celebrating Death: A Guidebook for Dying Well by Esther Shapiro, R.N., Msc.D.

The author comes by her expertise regarding death both personally and professionally, and she generously shares her hard-won insights regarding her experiences from both.

Right from the start, I connected with the stories in this book. When the author describes her NDE (Near Death Experience), I was reminded of my own that occurred when I was four years old, when I almost drowned in the lake. The kids I was playing with kept pushing my head under the water, over and over, until I couldn’t figure out which way was up to get out of the water. And then I stopped trying. I saw a very bright light and felt filled with peace. I was not at all fearful. I was just floating and being…until my dad ran in, fully clothed and still wearing his shoes, and pulled me from the water (full disclosure: I don’t actually remember that part).

The author also shares her experience as a hospice nurse. My own two years as a hospice nurse were bookended by the deaths of first my mother and then my father from cancer, and I share Esther’s dissatisfaction with the allopathic medical model and how cancer patients are treated within it. “But to see the Doctors instilling false hope into both the patient and the family is more than I can handle. And, I am trained and expected to go along with it. It makes me sick inside.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

She also introduces the idea of one’s death experience being on a spectrum from good to bad…to very bad. My own parents’ deaths illustrated this. My mother had the worst death of any that I have ever witnessed, bar none. My father had one of the best.  They both had cancer and died at home with hospice within about two years of their diagnosis, but their outcomes were very different.

The idea of an individual choosing their moment of death is also explored in this book. I believe, as the author does, that we choose our time to go, and it doesn’t matter if there is a 24/7 vigil by the bedside. If the person wants to be alone when they pass, then they will. I further agree with her that children shouldn’t be shielded from death and dying. I practice what I preach; my son went to his first wake when he was about 3 weeks old.
One of the more powerful parts of Celebrating Death is when the author tells a story first from the point of view of the cancer patient, and then from the point of view of the patient’s significant other who, as is so often the case, was also his primary caregiver. I was moved to tears of heartbreak as well as outrage by what happened to them.

So, this sort of became ‘all about me’ here, but this is one of the gifts of this book: it will remind you of, and help you to work through, your own feelings and personal encounters with death. In this way, Celebrating Death can be transformational and healing for you, dear reader.

This belongs on your bookshelf next to your Elisabeth Kubler-Ross volumes. It was an honor and a privilege to read this book.

NOTE: Esther Shapiro’s book Celebrating Death is also available on Kindle.

After you read Esther’s book, read my book, One Brave Thing! On Amazon.com, at your local bookseller, and also on Kindle!

The Song of Karen (or whoever)

by Karen, posted in Adult children, Angels, family, good grief

IMG_1584I went to the Crystal Harp Healing Session at The LoveLight Center with an open mind. I wasn’t sure what the ‘healing’ part was about, but I have heard Cheryl play that instrument before, and that was worth going back for.

There were about 9 of us seated in a circle. Shoes were shed at the door. The sequence was this:
1. She played for the group.
2. She then played an individual melody for each person present.
3. She closed with another song for the group.

It took about half an hour. It was free.

What was it like? Well, you know how when you have a massage or acupuncture session, sometimes there is an emotional release? It was like that for me (full disclosure: so okay, I was crying).
Right before Cheryl said that she was guided to play ‘my’ song first, I was sitting there thinking:

I wonder if my mother is here?

One moment before the music began, I suddenly felt like she was standing right behind me.

Is that you, Ma?

My mother Mary died in February 1996 on Leap Day. She was only about two years older then than I am now.
Then the music started.
Then the tears.
Yep. It was her.
Thanks, Cheryl.

 

Long time no see

by Karen, posted in Angels, family, good grief, Midlife Crisis, no fear

dad (1)I went to see Melissa at Deep Blue Truth in Kennebunk today. I go every year (at least once) near my birthday as a present to myself. I always get messages from one or more of my friends and relatives that have died, and today was no exception.
When they come through, they always talk about something that is personal to me and to them. Something that helps me know that it is really them. Something that no one else would know. They give some kind of a sign.

Today, someone named John came through. Okay, so John is my dad, so that’s a no brainer. Melissa told me that he kept telling her to say ‘matches’, to talk about striking matches.

!

Last night, I was talking to my husband, telling him I needed to get some more matches to light candles, that I was down to my last 2 books.  I joked that I was just coming to the end of my dad’s stockpile of boxes of matchbooks that we found in his house after he died…in 1998.

Pass the kleenex.

Pi(e) Day

by Karen, posted in (it's all about the) food, friends, good grief, Karen's Kitchen, Life in the cube

sheriNational Pie Day was January 23rd this year. I missed it. The “other” pie day is March 14. This Pi Day, the math Pi Day, is the second chance for those people who missed the first one. You know, like me. Like I do every year.

Every year for the past several years in the weeks leading up to January, my friend and colleague Sheri and I have talked for days about how we should make pies for Pie Day, how we should bring them in to work and share them with everyone. How we should get everyone else to make pies and bring them in too. How we could make both savory and sweet pies and have it be a potluck meal. How much fun it would be!

And then we didn’t do it.

So we’d start talking about the March Pi Day, the do-over chance, and why don’t we do it that day instead?

And then we didn’t do it.

Things get in the way. We’re too busy. We’re too tired. We don’t have all the ingredients. Yada yada.

This year I have been thinking about Pie Day alone, because my friend Sheri died last August. I toyed with the idea of making pies myself this year in January.

And then I didn’t do it.

As March 14th approaches, I decided that my heart wasn’t in it and I was going to let the day pass unobserved, just as I usually did. Except then my daughter came home from school and announced, “Mom, we’re going to make pies for Pi Day.”

From the mouths of babes, right?

Cardinals

by Karen, posted in Adult children, Angels, family, good grief, Life in the cube, restaurants

cardinalI recently spent a few minutes (okay, hours) trolling the Facebook news feed and something caught my eye. Someone (sorry, I have no idea who or what or when exactly) posted that every time you see a red cardinal, that is a sign that a loved one that has died is saying hello to you, or something to that effect.

That’s nice, I thought.

Then a funny thing happened. I started noticing red cardinals.

  1. My friend Christine at work has a tapestry hung up in  her cube that depicts multiple red cardinals.
  2. I went to the movies to see The Nut Job (skip this one-see The Secret Life of Walter Mitty instead) and the bad guy’s side kick was a red cardinal. A squat, mean, nasty caricature of a cardinal, but still a cardinal.
  3. Today, I went to brunch at The Good Table in Cape Elizabeth and there in the foyer was a fake tree with cardinals all over the branches.

So, maybe this is just that phenomenon that happens to you when you are pregnant and you suddenly start seeing pregnant women everywhere you go.

On the other hand, this is the time of year that my mother and father died (mom 2/29/96 and dad 3/15/98) and so I am already thinking about them.

Maybe they are thinking about me, too.

Pennies from heaven

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, relationships, tweens

Ever heard that our loved ones that have died sometimes come back to visit and when they do, they often leave clues for us that they are/have been here?

There’s even a poem written about it!

Well, this week I’ve found pennies on the floor in my house unexpectedly on three separate occasions. It reminded me of another time that I found a penny, years ago, about 13 to be more exact. My husband and I had recently decided to have a second child and I was wondering if I was pregnant. I was running out to pick up a pizza, preoccupied with this thought (about the baby, not the pizza). I pulled up to our favorite (at the time) pizza place, B&F Pizza.

As I got out of the car, I noticed a penny on the ground. I bent down to pick it up and for just a moment I thought: I wonder if this is a sign? Then I looked at the date on that penny: 1937, the year my father was born. Was this Dad telling me that I our next baby was on the way?

Shortly thereafter I did discover that I was pregnant.

Do you think it was a sign?

Chaos Theory

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, Midlife Crisis, no fear, relationships

When everything around you is falling apart, it can feel like the world is going to end (or maybe you wish that it would). Maybe you’re doing your level best to keep things harmonious in your life, but then somehow you lose your focus for a split second.

You make a bad decision and suddenly all hell breaks loose.

It can feel like vertigo: your surroundings are spinning and you are unable to feel stable despite exercising your strongest proprioceptive abilities. People are saying things that you’d never thought they’d say. Worse, people are saying things that you never thought they’d say to you.

To quote the brilliant, insightful Talking Heads from their song Once In A Lifetime:

“You may ask yourself, what is that beautiful house?/You may ask yourself, where does that highway lead to?/You may ask yourself, am I right, or am I wrong?/You may say to yourself, my god, what have I done?”

So, to paraphrase the illustrious Heads, how did I get here?  Why did I do/say/think that? It can all be so confusing when you are in the midst of it. Everything can happen so fast that your head literally spins.  What do I do/say/think now? Maybe your body takes over and your breathing changes to rapid gasps. You’re sitting  down but don’t remember doing so. And are you rocking?  Is this really happening?

Then, amidst the chaos you suddenly become aware of the calm. The calm inside you. And in that space you become aware of a thought forming. That still small voice says:

You have no control over how this will all turn out.

You might think this would be a scary thought to have at a time like this, but for some reason, it is not. Instead, you find that it’s a comfort.

Shanti: “The Peace which passeth understanding.”  ~T.S. Eliot from The Waste Land

The ides of March~Grieving my dead relatives part 5

by Karen, posted in family, good grief
John

I always liked the sound of “The Ides of March” from when I’d first come upon the phrase in my reading of Shakespeare.

In 1998, it took on a new meaning: the day that my father died. He was on hospice so his death was no surprise. My mother’s (who had died 2 years and 2 weeks earlier) birthday was March 13. He hadn’t been eating or drinking much for several days before her birthday, but on that day, he perked up. He was laughing and joking, almost his old self. He sat up in his hospital bed (that was in the middle of the living room) and asked for a fried clam dinner with french fries and cole slaw and dinner rolls and God only knows what else.

So, my brother ran out to get his requested meal, which (as you probably guessed by now) turned out to be not only his last supper, but also his last lucid day. We didn’t think it was any coincidence that it was my mother’s birthday that he chose to perk up, or that 2 days later he followed her and died.

I like to have a fried clam dinner on or around March 15th in honor of my dad, like I buy primrose around February 29th in honor of my mother. The only problem now is…where to get it!