I decided several days ago to write a post about loss and bereavement. My reasons are purely selfish ones. I miss my Mom desperately and knew writing about it would be a catharsis. So, thank you for your indulgence here.
Mama’s birthday was on the 12th; she would have been 79, and I can’t imagine it. She was 67 when she died and except for a heart that hid its sickness from us, she was healthy and vibrant right up to the end. She died in her sleep. When I die, I want to die like she did, peaceful and dreaming.
I suppose it was her birthday that set me off. And when I miss Mama, then I start missing Daddy too, and tears are never far from the surface. I’m not an emotional basket case, just emotionally tender. There’s a difference.
Before my parents died I thought that mourning was something that eventually ended. It doesn’t. It goes on in perpetuity, though it changes over time. Even after a decade I still have bad days, but the pain that left me raw in the beginning is different now. That’s what coping is, I guess, what “getting over it” is although, truthfully, I don’t think we ever really “get over” the loss of a loved one. We train ourselves to deal with the loss, to cope, because we’ll go crazy if we don’t. But the loss is always present, no matter how well we adapt and adjust.
Maybe it is different for other people. I don’t know.
I can go a long time without tears, a long time during which thoughts of my parents bring smiles and laughter and, often, deep comfort. But sometimes, like this past week, the ache becomes stronger, more persistent. I know it will ease, but until it does I’ll be feeling pretty undone.
If my parents could, they’d give me a hug and a smooch, then tell me to knock it off, get over my silly self, and go do something constructive, which is why I decided to write about it. After all, what’s more constructive than writing?
Ironically, I came across this competition just today, sponsored by an organization in the UK called Dying Matters, whose goals are:
“. . . to support changing knowledge, attitudes and behaviours towards death, dying and bereavement, and through this to make ‘living and dying well’ the norm."
Here’s the info on the contest:
FINAL CHAPTERS WRITING ABOUT THE END OF LIFE COMPETITION
http://www.dyingmatters.org/finalchapters
---
NO ENTRY FEE
Open to all. Limit 2,500 words of prose or 40 lines of
poetry. Must be in English. Dying Matters Coalition is
running a new creative writing competition about dying,
death and bereavement. Anyone touched by dying, whether
directly or as a relative, friend, colleague or caregiver,
can enter. 1st: £200; 2nd: £100; 3rd: £50; plus highly
commended certificates. All entries will also be considered
for publication online or in print form. Deadline March
31, 2012.
How have you coped with the loss of loved ones in your life? Is your experience with bereavement similar to mine or different? Writing helps me sort through my feelings; what method do you use?
Thanks for sticking around. I’ll see you next for Book Blurb Friday.
Lisa
I'm sorry for your pain, Lisa. You're right, you don't 'get over' it - you adjust and adapt to it.
ReplyDeleteOften I can laugh about my parents and sister, remembering something they used to say or do, but sometimes the laughter threatens to turn to tears. It should be so - emotion isn't controlled by a tap.
Lisa--I'm so sorry for your loss. It does go on--you just have to figure out how to deal with it and continue to live your life with a big abyss in the middle of your heart.
ReplyDeleteHave you also thought of writing a parenthood piece for CS for the Soul? Perhaps you could connect your parents/your loss to YOU as a parent? Just a thought...
Lisa, a year after I thought I had successfully mourned and gotten over my dad's death, I heard a commercial, someone playing a song on a guitar, as he used to and I ran from the room crying, leaving my guests flabbergasted. I say, embrace emotion, no matter how high the waves, and allow them to subside.
ReplyDeleteWhat a poignant post, Lisa. I think your perspective on grieving is extremely healthy and realistic. The fact that you're still missing your parents and emotionally tender (love that phrase) about their loss is a tribute to what wonderful and important people they were to you, the difference they made in your life.
ReplyDeleteHi Lisa, I know how you feel and well my mom has been gone for over 40 years and I still have moments. My mom's birthday is this month too! I think since your mom was with you longer, it must be harder--more of her to miss. For me, the few things I remember I cling onto like a life saver in the middle of the ocean. Sending love waves your way. And I received your letter from my challenge - thank you. I absolutely loved it.
ReplyDeleteMy condolences, Lisa.
ReplyDeleteI lost my mother just last summer. Her birthday and the holidays were the hardest times, and I suppose they will always remind me she's gone.
But there are also happy moments, so many little things that bring her to mind. I'll always remember those too.
Oh, Lisa, I'm sorry that you are feeling sad this week. I can only imagine, because my parents are still here, but I dread the time.
ReplyDeleteBesides the unexpected recent death, we have had two others over the past few years ... but one was from cancer and the other from old age, and both were home deaths. They were expected and we had a chance to say goodbye. I think that the unexpected deaths, like your Mom, are so hard to process.
So sorry about your loss.
Hugs,
Kathy M.
Grief is hard to navigate. There are no rules, no pattern to follow. No one can tell you how to accomplish the perfect way to grieve. My oldest child died a little over 2 years ago. We were estranged and he chose a life style that was less than honorable. I still struggle with my feelings.
ReplyDeleteHi Lisa,
ReplyDeleteWhat a sweet and moving post.
My dad's birthday was Monday. He would've been 96. He's been gone for almost 28 years, and I still miss him. Earlier this month was the seventh anniverisary of the day we lost our daughter and son-in-law in a motorcycle accident. Two years before that we lost our son to an accidental drug overdose.
Dealing with grief isn't easy, especially the loss of a child, or in my case both of my children and my son-in-law so close together. The loss and sorrow never totally go away, but time really does help ease the pain. Prayer, trusting that everything happens for a reason, raising my daughter's two beautiful children, and writing have helped me cope.
Hugs and prayers coming your way.
Donna
This was a sweet and tender post Lisa. I always feel that any age is too young to be an orphan. We always yearn for our parents. My Dad has Alzheimers so we are in the process of the long goodbye.
ReplyDeleteIt has been so difficult, and everyday has been a struggle. My mothers birthday is coming up on Saturday, and I have been super emotional all week. Everything is still so raw, and it's just hard. No other words really describe it. Just hard.
ReplyDeleteLisa, I think you caught grief very well. It does change, not exactly easier but somewhat. It is like a sore, at first raw and then the healing begins to form a scab. In grief the scab is always there and just under the surface is the pain.
ReplyDeleteWhen you get older, there are a lot of holes in your life, empty spaces left by so many that you have lost. I choose to see those holes as cutwork in the fine piece of linen that is our lives, a lacy thing to treasure.
I'm so sorry, Lisa, and am sending hugs your way. Your mom was so young when she passed and I'm sure that makes it even harder. I hope sharing your memories helped you cope because it was a beautiful post and a reminder we all need. Who knows how long we have those we love with us? It helps me to remember to cherish even the mundane and ordinary things. And by the way, I'm like you. Writing is therapeutic for me. So go ahead and cry, write, laugh... do whatever you need to to get through.
ReplyDeleteJabblog - You're right. We have to feel what we feel without apology.
ReplyDeleteSioux - I actually have published a couple pieces about my parents. Writing about them does help.
Linda - Yes, songs are a huge trigger for me, too, especially around the holidays.
Sarah - Thanks. I've said it before---you always make me feel not so crazy!
Lynn - I can't imagine growing up without my Mom, or how tough it must be for you wondering how things might have been. I'm glad you received the letter. :)
Eric - I'm sorry for your loss, so recent, it must still be a fresh ache. Remembering the good things really does help.
Kathy - You've had a recent loss, I know--I'm sorry. As you said, an unexpected death is hard to accept. The "no way this is happening" phrase plays over and over.
Kathy - I'm sorry for the loss of your oldest child and for the circumstances which continue to cause you pain.
Donna - You've had to handle more loss than most people. Your strength, courage, and faith is inspiring.
Laraine - So sorry about your dad. Alzheimer's is such a thief. Papa has Alzheimer's, but the progression has been blessedly slow.
Ashley - Oh, sweetie, you're way too young to have lost your mom, and it has only been a couple months. It is hard. Miserably so.
Claudia - What a lovely way to view it. Thank you.
Deb - Thanks. I'm seeing that any age is too young to be without our moms. Thank goodness for writing or I'd go nuts!
Valentine's Day was the 21st anniversary of my grandson's death. We only had him for a few short months, but the impact of that loss still remains. While time has softened the memories of that pain, it occasionally returns with surprising clarity - sometimes when I least expect it. Thankfully, most of my memories are now sweet ones.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry that this has been a painful time for you and hope that writing helps with your grief. {{hugs}}
It's been nearly 23 years since my Dad died and I still miss him so much, but one thing starts to change though. I can now think of him and not remember how he died but how he lived and that brings a smile to my face every time.
ReplyDeleteBlessings, Joanne
I tried to answer this yesterday, Lisa, and just couldn't find the words. My mother died in 07 and my dad in 09.
ReplyDeleteTheir wedding anniversary is coming up. It would have been their 66th. It's also my youngest brother's birthday. He'll be 44, so instead of missing Mom and Dad (which I do, every day) I'm trying to think about the day Mom had Rob, and horrified her nurses by saying, "It's my anniversary today."
"Oh, that's nice, Mrs. Davies. Which one?"
"Our twenty-second!" Mom was so proud of herself, LOL.
There was also a young woman in Mom's room (they put the ones requiring extra nursing together in a big, sunny room) and she was having triplets.
So if I think of those four 44-year-olds, and of how brave my mother and that younger mother were, I can smile. I might still cry, but I'll be smiling, too.
K
Hi Lisa, you expressed your feelings beautifully and you expressed mine quite well too! I'm learning every day that you don't get over grief -- you get through each moment with their love. Our moms and dads are giving us hugs and kisses and helping us to laugh through the tears.
ReplyDeleteWhat a touching and beautiful tribute. And how true about grief only changing rather than truly going away! Hope it helps you to know that the writing that helps you helps others as well. Sharing the grief does help.
ReplyDeleteA very poignant post, Lisa. I know your feelings well. It's an ache that never fully goes away.
ReplyDeletePat
Critter Alley
I'm sorry, Lisa, I know this is a challenge. Have been dealing with the same type of thing of late. My Mom passed away in March of 2010, and my younger sister died the following November.
ReplyDeleteStill coming to grips with some of it. Mom had Alzheimer's, and had not been doing well for a while, but it was still difficult to lose her. I had a piece rejected this past spring and all I could think of was how I wanted to talk to my Mom about it. And I cried a bunch...
Losing Wendy (my sister) was harder still in many ways. She wasn't in the greatest health so it wasn't a complete shock, but still hard to process, especially as time moves on. Much has to do with the fact that now a lot of my history is gone, and Dad and I are the only ones who remember certain things. My two younger sisters do not, so it's been rather surreal just in general.
Anyhow, didn't mean to dump and digress, just wanted you to know I can relate a bit. Will keep you in my thoughts and prayers.
Lisa, I'm sorry I'm a bit late to this. (I haven't been stopping by as often as I used to, because of the blog problem I told you about.)I don't remember if you know that my oldest sister, Jo Ann, was 16 years older than me. She was a big sister, a friend, and a mom, all in one. She was only 46 when she died in 1984. A brain tumor. I was devastated and couldn't even talk about her, for YEARS, without crying. So, I...like many other friends of yours, understand your sorrow. Sending you virtual hugs...
ReplyDeleteI missed this post till I saw today's post...and though I know how much you miss your parents, I also believe the best parts of our parents live on in us...and the best parts of you will live on in your children.
ReplyDeleteWe carry on, carrying loved ones with us always and forever.
Beautiful, tender post, Lisa. My parents both died in 2003 (ages 83 & 85) 2 months apart. Unfortunately, I had no close emotional attachment to either of them, so, and this seems really heartless and cold, I only had a very brief time of mourning right after each of them died. My dad had a personality disorder and he was an alcoholic and a rage-oholic and wasn't close to any of us 4 kids. My mother was overwhelmed with a bad marriage and so retreated into reading, needlework, bridge and friends. She never was emotionally close to any of us kids, either, though she took good care of us in the area of physical needs. When I was a kid, I thought that was the way all moms were---that they just read all the time. Because of that, I've never had any close, best-friend kind of friendship, other than with my husband. I'm just kind of a loner. Close friendships are just beyond my ability and interest...too hard for me.
ReplyDelete