The Pain of the Holidays

In early grief, it is difficult to find any meaning in pain. After my daughter Jeannine's death in 2003, the pain I experienced in early grief was raw and something that I feared. If I had a choice, I would have avoided it at all costs.  However, as I have learned we need to work through pain in order to be able to find greater meaning in our lives.

During the holidays our grief and pain tends to become more intensified.  The stress of holiday shopping and get togethers are stressful enough. The stress of grief makes these holiday events more stressful. Early on, I just wanted to fast forward to January, and skip the holidays all together.

In the ninth year of my journey as a parent who has experienced the death of a child, the holidays still present unique challenges for me. Thanksgiving and Christmas will be forever associated with the period of Jeannine's illness where I knew in my head and my heart that she was going to die. My expectation is that the pain of my early grief will continue to resurface during the holidays and will continue to until I cross over.

So what is different for me now? I have made a conscious choice to deal with my pain differently. During Thanksgiving dinner at my sister- in law's this year, I was missing the physical presence of my daughter. After dinner I decided to take a walk to clear my head.  I went  to my  deceased mother's former apartment which was less than a mile away. As I got closer to her apartment, I consciously introduced into my thoughts some positive memories of the relationship that Jeannine and my mother had. I immediately began to feel a sense of peace again. Shortly thereafter, the sky was lined three wide with a hundred or more crows flying west to east above me. I have recently begun to embrace Native American teachings about the power of animal medicine and the lessons that they teach.  From reading both Jaime Sams , Medicine Cards  and Ted Andrews, Animal Speaks, I have discovered that crow medicine is about among other things, sacred law as opposed to human law and that unexpected help with problems and obstacles is at hand to bring relief.

After Jeannine died, I realized that conventional wisdom or law was not going to help me adjust to my new reality.  I needed to look at relationships as occurring beyond the physical realm and be attuned to what the universe and all it has to offer was trying to teach me. Once I was able to do this, I began to find a new level of fulfillment in my life, and look at pain differently. 

In the ninth year of my journey after Jeannine's death,  I have discovered that allowing myself to be totally debilitated by pain is not going to improve the quality of the life that I am now destined to lead. I need to continue to evolve as a result of my experience with it.

I am wishing you all peace this holiday season.

A Redefined vs. A Better Self

I have often mentioned to others that I have become a redefined person since my daughter Jeannine died , over eight years ago. I don't say I am a better person, because I am reminded about the comment that a bereaved father made to me recently. The comment was: "Why did my daughter have to die for me to become a better person?" I didn't have an answer for that one, and I doubt that I ever will.

It is easy for me  to discuss with others how Jeannine's death has redefined me, because I am no longer the same person that I was when she was alive. I have discovered that relationships with our loved ones are ongoing and that if you are open to it, our deceased children continue to guide us towards a more enlightened path. As a result I have discovered a heightened sense of spirituality, awareness that all things are somehow connected and increased benevolence and love towards others who have experienced unthinkable loss.

I have also become aware that we can learn from everything around us. The Native Americans teach us that there is spirit in everything, the earth, wind , rain and animals.  A great book that discusses the role of animal medicine in our spiritual journeys is "Medicine Cards" by Jamie Sams.In the last several months of my journey, I have tried to be aware of the animals that regularly cross my path. Whenever I see a particular animal with regularity, I consult the  Sams book ,read the teachings associated with that animal, and try to relate them to what is transpiring in my life in the present. More often than not the teaching corresponds to my present reality, and gives me another tool on my lifelong grief journey.

If we commit to walking in awareness in our grief journeys, we can embrace new lessons from places and entities that we never thought possible before we experienced the death of our loved ones. Now granted, there are days where the pain of the physical absence of my daughter Jeannine outweighs any spiritual or practical lessons learned. However,most days now, I take comfort knowing that Jeannine is my guide on my personal journey of redefinition and enlightenment.

Why Ask Questions

I recently had the honor of being the opening keynote speaker for this years national gathering of the Bereaved Parents of  the USA.   I spoke about the evolution of my grief and observations and lessons learned that have helped me adjust to the reality of life without the physical presence of my daughter Jeannine.

One of the things that I addressed during my speech was the need to ask "what if, "could of ",should of, and "why" questions throughout my early grief ,which was for me about, two and one-half years. I say "for me" because everyone's grief journey is individualized. And since our journeys are life long, the time it takes to navigate early, middle and later grief is irrelevant. What is relevant is that we consistently do our grief work with the help and support of others who understand our pain. 

Asking questions is an expected part of our journeys as bereaved parents .  The rules I lived by changed after Jeannine died , so questioning what happened was required to try to make sense out of what happened to me and my family.

Here are some of the  should of and would of and why questions I consistently asked . What if I convinced Jeannine to do one more clinical trial? Should I have done more to protect her from her disease? If I wasn’t so oblivious to the condition of her foot, could I have gotten her evaluated sooner? And more so, why did she have to die and why was my family forced to bear this terrible pain and suffering. I asked and I asked and I asked, but no answer I came up with or rationalized seemed to satisfy me or change the reality of my situation.I was like a cat chasing its tail.  The only satisfactory resolution to my questions   would have been to have God himself come down from heaven and inform me and my family that  he was going to reverse his decision, give Jeannine back to us  and return things to the way they were. Because I knew this wasn't possible  I eventually stopped asking those questions. And when I stopped asking the questions, I got the answers that I needed. As a result, I was able to find joy and meaning again without the physical presence of Jeannine.

 

The Significance of Pain

I think if we all had a choice, we would want to live our lives without emotional pain. Considering that we do not live in a Utopian society, the avoidance of pain is impossible. Pain and loss is and always will be a part of our existence.  Many bereaved individuals that I know have been able to thrive in the midst of catastrophic loss because of their ability to use their pain to learn how to become better people and help others.

As I have mentioned in previous posts and articles, our grief journeys are circular. We can experience the pain of loss at anytime depending on what is happening to us in the present. I still periodically experience the pain of my daughter Jeannine's physical absence in my life. I do not shy away from it, but rather try to ask: "What is my pain trying to teach me about my journey?"  A few months ago, I came across a speech Jeannine did when she was a middle school student. Finding it, brought up fresh feelings of emotional pain. However, as I read her speech, I found that it contained a  simple, valuable lesson that I will use to emphasize the importance of adequate support for the bereaved and the need for them to share their stories in communities that support ongoing connection to their loved ones.

In early grief, we are usually too consumed by the emotional pain resulting from the physical absence of our loved ones, to view our pain as a teacher of life lessons. The emphasis(at least for me) was to survive it and to blindly keep looking for a ray of hope. But now I have tried to see my pain as an ally, something that will eventually help me to see new paths or learn new lessons on my journey. Some days I am better at it then other days, but such is the imperfect nature of our journeys.  But perfection is not something to strive for in the midst of unbearable loss; resilience is, however.

I encourage all of you to look at pain from a different perspective. Once you experience and eventually detach from the pain, additional truths about your journey or other directions to explore, may come to light.

Past into Present and Future

Since my daughter Jeannine's death over eight years ago, I learned that the only thing that I could control was the present moment. Being able to control the present made it easier to allow the universe to take care of my future.  However, I have recently begun to discover the role of the past in enhancing my quality of life in the present and..... future.

During a trip to Long Island last year, my dear friend Patty, introduced me to the power of animal medicine. The lessons that animals can teach us is beautifully described in the book, Medicine Cards: The Discovery of Power Through The Ways of Animals, by Jamie Sams, a book which I ordered soon after my trip ended. I never had considered our animal kingdom friends as sources of inspiration, teaching and wisdom while Jeannine was alive. However, since Jeannine's death, I have learned to embrace a lot of non-ordinary phenomenon to provide clarity and direction in a world without her physical presence . I had to embrace different methods and ways to adjust to my new circumstances, because, frankly, my old ways of thinking about and relating to the world no longer applied. So when my friend presented the medicine card book to me, I believed that this would be another unique way  to learn lessons about myself, the world and my grief journey. When I got home, I recorded every animal that crossed my path in my journal, consulted the Sams book, and wrote the messages that I believed they were trying to convey to me. The messages were always relevant to what was going on with me in the present moment.

Earlier last month, there was a stretch of several days where I saw crows everywhere. They would be on the side of the road  or flying over my car . Another time two of them were walking unceremoniously across my yard, while I was enjoying a morning cup of coffee.   I consulted the Sams book and discovered that one of the teachings of crow medicine involves "balancing the past, present and future in the now."  Sams summed this perspective up very eloquently: "Honor the past as your teacher, honor the present as your creation,and honor the future as your inspiration." I thought I had been attempting to live this mantra since Jeannine died, but crow apparently thought I was missing something , because he just wouldn't go away.

I didn't fully understand what crow was trying to teach me until I had a recent session with a  Holistic Practitioner named Susan, who specializes in,among other things,working with body energy.  Her energy readings indicated that there were family and childhood issues that were evident . They also surfaced in the two previous sessions that I had with her.  I told her that my favorite uncle, who had died when I was 14  was prominent in my thoughts lately. It then occurred to me that I needed to honor his past influence on me, in the present.  When I verbalized this insight,  Susan suggested that I create a sacred space containing inanimate objects representing my ancestors (aunts, uncles ,grandparents, mother,father and of course, Jeannine) and acknowledge the positive influence that they have had on me. I took her advice and began to set aside some time a couple of times a week to acknowledge the qualities that they passed down to me that has helped me in the present, and that would help me in the future. I found that doing this also gave me peace and a sense that my ancestors, in addition to Jeannine ,have had an influence on my grief journey from the beginning.

Once I discovered that crow wanted me to more fully honor the influence of my ancestors,in the present and future, he stopped making his presence known to me. However, I suspect that I will continue to discover the power of animals throughout my grief journey and continue to embrace the lessons that they teach.

Sometimes We All Need a Break

The journey after the death of a loved one is emotionally draining and physically exhausting, particularly in the early stages of grief(which I see as minimally ,two years).  It is also easy to feel some guilt because we will experience moments of joy during early grief. It is almost as if it is sacrilegious to experience  some  happiness without the physical presence of our loved ones . Those moments of joy will present themselves whether we want them to or not. When they do,embrace those moments for however long they last. You may find that those moments of joy give you welcome respite from the pain of loss, and eventually gives you a reason to  live your life again by celebrating the life of your loved ones.

About two weeks after my daughter Jeannine died, I went to see Bela Fleck and the Flecktones at the Turning Stone Casino, with some good friends.  I had seen them perform several times before and they play with a passion and level of musicianship that is simply unparalleled.  For two hours, their energy  joy and playful spirit that they communicated through their music gave me a temporary respite from my pain and put a smile on my face. I would encourage you to expend the effort in early grief to do things that give you some joy. You may find that not only will it give you temporary relief from your pain, but that eventually you may develop a renewed sense of purpose . 

Experience joy without the weight of guilt. We are not equipped to experience the intense pain of loss 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

What I have come to discover during the eight years after my daughter Jeannine's death is that life is this wondrous mix of joy, pain, and challenges.  Our ability to be totally present in those joyful moments and learn from the pain and challenges that life presents, will determine the quality of our life after loss.

The Passage of Time

I  discovered this quote from singer/songwriter Jack Johnson, on one of my facebook friend's profile. It reads like this:

" And if they tell you love fades over time,tell them there is no such thing as time. "


Many expectations in our society have revolved around having a set time period for resolving our grief. In six months to a year it was generally expected that one would "be over" their grief and return to life as we knew it. The reality is that any loss we experience permanently changes our world and that there is no set time period to resolve it. For many of us who have experienced losses that have defied the laws of the universe( such as the death of a child), our world is forever changed and we never get over our loss. We  get through it by learning to live with both joy and sadness, while simultaneously making a decision to find meaning again by celebrating our children's lives. In the process we find meaning through service to others.  There is no set time frame. As individuals, we all take different paths to finding meaning as a result of our struggles with loss. We need to be able to unconditionally support every individual's journey and bear witness to it. Also,we can experience the intense pain of loss at anytime during our journeys, depending what is going on with us in the present moment. One, five, ten or twenty years, it doesn't matter. Our grief journeys are circular rather than linear.
The death of my daughter Jeannine has taught me to re-evaluate not only my values but the traditional expectation that time heals all wounds. Time hasn't and won't heal the wounds for me associated with the physical absence of Jeannine. What the passage of time has helped me do is adjust to her physical absence and develop a different kind of relationship with her.  My earthly journey and spiritual relationship will continue to evolve until the day that I cross over.  And then......... it will continue, for eternity.