The Wisdom in Journaling

  I have always been a firm believer in the benefits of journaling.  I journaled almost daily when my daughter Jeannine was first diagnosed in May of 2002 with a rare and incurable form of cancer. This continued for almost two years after her death on 3/1/03 ,at the age of 18.  My early journals were raw, filled with pain,anger and disbelief over the hand of cards that was dealt to me and Jeannine's mother and two brothers.I review those early journals periodically, and sometimes compare where I was then to where I am now. I have discovered today that my past contains lessons that are useful to me today. Plus as parents who have experienced the death of a child, it is not unusual to revisit our emotional pain from time to time.   In the past, I allowed my pain to disempower me, to immobilize me for long periods of time. Today I try to embrace it and learn from it.

Today I don't have a set schedule for private journaling.When I journal now, it is because I am inspired to do so or because of  an experience whose lesson I want to document while it is fresh in my mind.

With that being said, I want to share some  random insights from my journal entry dated 1/8/12. I titled my entry "Random Stuff."  Obviously, I had no plan as to what I was going to write ; the following  is some of what I was inspired to write in that moment.  I will also (if appropriate) reflect on the meanings that they have for me in this moment:

1. Jack Johnson(Singer/Songwriter)- "And if they tell you that love fades over time, tell them that there is no such thing as time." I remember putting this quote on my Facebook page some time ago and also recall now using this in a previous article as well. So why did this thought recycle itself? Well, one of the lessons that I have recently discovered is that truths we have learned previously and assimilate into our experience may resurface as the basis for even more lessons that can help us in our life long experiences as parents who have experienced the death of a child. I haven't yet figured out those lessons, but when the time is right, I will.   Plus, I love this quote because it so reinforces my belief that our relationships with our loved ones are ongoing and permanent  after they cross over. 

2. There is spirit in everything and in everything there is spirit.  Many  parents that I know have been graced with signs from their children(as have I).  Let the signs that you experience not only validate that our children are with us in a different from of energy, but allow you to see yourself as a truly spiritual being. If we can commit to this way of life, it allows us to see life and death differently.  We can change our perspective on life and death, if we choose to do so.


3. Life isn't always fair, there are challenges. I have tried to look at my journey after Jeannine's death today as a series of challenges that will allow me to continue the process of redefining who I am . When I am able to do this, I no longer assess what happens to me in life as being fair or unfair. I believe that when we get stuck in  the fair vs.unfair debate of life for any period of time, we become disempowered to thrive as a result of our struggle.

4. Socrates- " The unexamined life is not worth living."  This is another quote that recycled itself during my journaling session. In this moment, I believe that Socrates is a reminder to all of us that our learning on life's journey, no matter what that journey is,continues until we cross over to a new existence. I have been empowered by the truths that have been revealed to me on my journey , and excited by what this life has yet to teach me.

The Lessons in Transitions

My daughter Jeannine died on March 1,2003 at the age of 18 due to cancer. One of the things that I struggled with during my early grief was anger and guilt over the fact that I was too wrapped up with work and finishing graduate school to see what was happening to her sooner.  Of course given the fact that the type of cancer she had was incurable did nothing to lessen my regret or guilt. I was her father and one of my jobs was to protect her from harm. That was the one task that God gave me as a parent and in my mind, I had failed it miserably. Today, I revisit that place periodically, but choose not to stay there long because of a conscious decision to change my perspective on life and death.  Plus, I can't change my initial response to her illness, I can only hope to learn from it.

Let's now fast forward to January 29,2012. I was driving back from our Compassionate Friends chapter meeting in Little Falls, New York when I got a text from Patty. who is an interfaith minister, a dear friend, and  mentor for and witness to the spiritual path that I have embraced during the last 15 or so months of my life.  When I called Patty, she told me that she felt Jeannine’s presence during her walk on the beach and that Jeannine felt strongly that I needed to pay more attention to our two cats, Bootsy and Angel, but more so Bootsy at this time. I further discovered that paying attention meant being aware of the behaviors that could signal their transition from life to death.

Bootsy and Angel are my daughter Jeannine's cats.  They have both provided a source of comfort and companionship for me since Jeannine's death. I will be saddened when they cross over not only because of that but because of their connection to Jeannine.

 Prior to my conversation with Patty, Bootsy, who is 14, had a check up because he has been losing weight. Our vet did blood work and found no abnormalities. He did note that Bootsy lost two pounds since his last visit (roughly five years ago). He suggested that Bootsy take steroids to stimulate appetite, but me and my wife Cheri felt that the side effects outweighed the benefits. We decided to supplement his dry food diet with canned food, and for now it seems to be working.

On the following Monday the 30th, I instant messaged another friend of mine who I will refer to as  “Mary”,  and during the course of our conversation she told me that her golden retriever of nine-and-one-half years was going to be euthanized on Tuesday due to a brain tumor and other health concerns that were not responding to medication. During the course of our conversation, I began to reflect on our family's journey with our golden retriever Ginger, who we euthanized many years ago due to cancer and a variety of neurological problems. One of the things that eventually hit me was the fact that I was the last person to be present with both Ginger and Jeannine when they took their final breaths, which brought up a lot of painful memories. When I shared this revelation with Patty, she told me rather than being the last person to witness their deaths, that I was the first person to help Ginger and Jeannine transition to a new life. Having this shared with me gave me a new perspective on my pain.

In a subsequent conversation with “Mary" to see how she was holding up following the death of her beloved pet, I also talked with her about how angry and guilty I felt during my early grief,because of my perceived oblivion to Jeannine's cancer symptoms prior to diagnosis.  “Mary” had also told me about the amount of attention  and love that she and her family gave her beloved pet during the process of transitioning. Then at that moment, I realized that the message Jeannine relayed through Patty had additional significance. By paying more attention to the shifts in Bootsy's energy and other behaviors signaling his transition to the other side, I would get the opportunity to do what I did not do with Jeannine.  I could not go back in time and redo how I handled the shifts in Jeannine's energy and behavior, but I could do it now in the present, with her pet whom she loved dearly. I would also have a second chance to learn from my past. 

In addition, this experience reinforced for me the need to continue to challenge and modify beliefs that no longer apply to me in my journey as a parent who has experienced the death of a child.

" We are not human beings going through a temporary spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings going through a temporary human experience."- Teilhard De Chardin

The Broken Places

I was watching a promotional ad on television recently for the show "Intervention" and saw a quote from Ernest Hemingway, which read: "The world breaks everyone, and afterward many are strong at the broken places." Hemingway was one of the great American writers of his time, who died in 1961 as a result of suicide. As an aside, Neil Peart of Rush wrote the lyrics to a hauntingly beautiful song called "Losing It" which in part alluded to the rise and fall of Ernest Hemingway.

The first part of this quote: "The world breaks everyone", may seem on the surface to be both morbid and fatalistic. The reality is that if we live long enough, we will become broken by events in the world that are tragic and painful beyond belief. I believe that loss breaks everyone to one degree or another.  When my daughter Jeannine died in 2003, at the age of 18, many parts of me were broken. My faith, my trust in a greater good, my values, my hopes for the future, were all shattered beyond recognition. During my early grief, I never fathomed that the broken parts of me could ever be fixed.  I could not visualize experiencing joy again.

I am in the ninth year of my journey as a parent who has experienced the death of a child and I have been able to find joy and meaning again. In essence, I became stronger at the places that were broken after Jeannine's death. I did it by reading about other parents who became stronger at their broken places after their children died, and finding out how they did it. I also availed myself of the support of other parents who understood my pain and together we discovered how to fix the broken places.

Fixing the broken places of our grief does not mean that our world returns to the way it was before our children died, or that the pain of our loss ever truly goes away. What I believe we learn to do is fix the broken places of our grief in a way that allows us to find significance in a world that is different without our children.  Understanding that our relationships with our children continue after they cross over, and that they communicate signs of their presence has helped fix the broken places of my grief.

There is no time frame for fixing the broken places of our grief. It will take as long as it takes. As long as you are willing to work through your pain of loss, you will eventually learn new ways of dealing with it. Please remember, that hope for the promise of a redefined world after the death of our children, can come from the most unlikely of sources. Just be open to it happening and embrace it when it does.

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.