Tag: grief

Thankful for Allowing Myself Space to Grieve

Day 3,904

Today was the re-charge and rejuvenate day I’ve needed for a while. Becky and I got in an invigorating hike this morning, enjoying one of our favorite hikes…

Yeah, and that’s where I stopped typing and just sat there staring at my screen for a while. My mind racing across many emotions and memories. Kind of like the act of pausing today really allowed all the emotion to leak in through the cracks. While moving constantly for the past few months there wasn’t time to really let the emotions saturate, today was a sense of release, of slowing down… in so many ways a sense of finality of a season of life.

Gavin sent a poignant message about his emotions about his track career officially being over today. That had started to sink in for me a bit last night, in the silence of relaxation today it really sunk in. The emotions of a tectonic life shift are being given the space to breathe, and I’m not sure how I feel about all of it.

As I paused to breathe, to write my blog, I was reminded that it was nine years ago yesterday that Dad suffered his brain aneurysm. In taking a moment to reflect I also came across a video Gavin and Dominic recorded from nine years ago today wishing him well and hoping he feels better soon while also recounting their favorite memories of him. On that screen are my two sons who were eleven and eight years old who are no longer children, but men – talking about Dad, who was to be no longer less than a week after the video was created by Becky. In less than 45 seconds I felt the grief of losing both Dad and the childhood of my sons. Of course both Dominic and Gavin are a live and well, it’s just that their childhood seasons are now both complete.

When Dominic graduated I struggled, but Gavin was still at home, still a kid, and helped to soften the blow of the change. Now with Gavin graduating I am feeling very different, the loss – or better, a change – in my life as I’ve known it for the past twenty years. Through all the busy-ness of the past few months I’ve been able to keep the strong front, to say that it’ll be fine, to keep the smile. Today, with the release of stress, the relaxing of my shoulders, I can feel it so much more intensely. Almost as if it my heart knew I wasn’t quite ready to actually deal with this. Now, with a little space, I am.

I know it is not loss per se, it is a shifting of the season. I am looking forward to the next season – for myself, for Becky and I, and for the boys – we all have so much to look forward to! As I’ve learned, each change leads to the next adventures, each day seems to be better than the previous. It may be very uncomfortable as it all unfurls, but it will all work out as it always has.

All that said, today I’m grateful for allowing myself the grace to grieve the loss of this past season. It is okay that this shift hurts, it is okay that this shift is very uncomfortable, it is okay that I don’t want it to change, and it is okay that I have tears streaming down my face as I type. Change is difficult. The deeper the emotion felt the more that it has meant to us, the deeper the love we feel for all those involved.

Thanks!!!

Thankful for Being Humbled By and Learning From Loss

Day 2,128

Our LuLu is definitely showing her age more and more quickly each day. She’s got some serious elbow issues that are causing a great deal of pain. The vet has her on a few doses of pain pills to help until we figure out if there’s any viable way to help her get healthy-ish.

LuLu has quickly brought the specter of loss into my life again. In many ways I know Death awaits us all, but when it gets close enough to sense it feels like a whole different level of awareness.

This evening I couldn’t help but chuckle at a somber realization that here I am, my book about grief just about to be published, and I’m humbled the impending sense of loss. We haven’t even gotten the worst of news, yet the feeling of loss is already catching like wildfire… and it feels wildly humbling. There is zero control I have in this part of the future, I have a similar feeling to being in Iceland alongside the mountains – I am so powerless and insignificant compared to the power of death and of nature.

While this feels (& sounds) very dark in many levels, there’s also an appreciation for the sensation buried down deep past the emotions. If I allow myself to look into the abyss of loss and don’t struggle in futility to gain control the sense of being completely humbled can feel oddly comforting and centering. I can only control how I respond, how i react, and how I process the moment. Truly letting go and accepting the lack of control, the tremendous powerlessness allows me to more clearly focus on choosing my response, how I frame the loss, and how I find purpose in the loss. It still hurts like hell, but there is a faint glimmer to be found when I look deeply enough for it.

We feel the fullest loss for those who we’ve loved most. The more the hurt, the more the love there’s been. As someone put it when Dad was dying, “don’t be sad for what you’ve lost, rejoice and be grateful for what you’ve had.”

As I laid next to LuLu on the deck, snuggled with her, and rubbed her belly I was on used on all we’ve been blessed to enjoy together. She’s brought me so many smiles, so much joy, and more love than I’d dreamt possible from a furry companion. LuLu has created so many awesome memories I will cherish forever and continue to talk with family about for as long as I’m blessed to walk the earth. I’m so fortunate for all the love she’s given in our years and years together.

I’m thinking back to what I learned from losing Dad I’m also reminded to more deeply appreciate each moment I get with her. She’s not gone yet, and who knows, she could still be with us for a very long time. One of the beauties of loss (& yes, I just said that) is the reminder it provides us to appreciate each moment we have. The specter of loss may be looming, but it doesn’t have to create shade.

As the old saying goes, “the nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.

Tonight I’m choosing to embrace the specter of loss. I will use it to create flowers in the garden of now until my tears water the flowers of tomorrow.

Thanks!!!

Day 1,993 – Thankful for Family Helping Each Other Through Grief

Our boxer, Skywalker, passed away suddenly today after doing her favorite thing, going for a walk with Becky and LuLu (Skywalker’s sister). The loss of one of our family was very much unexpected and rough for everyone in our home. It still feels very surreal and seems to hit each of us at different times.

The boys and I were up at Mom’s when we got the call from Becky. We quickly realized that the right place for us to be at that moment was home with Becky and LuLu. Huge thanks and appreciation to Mom for understanding our need to cut our trip very short. Our ride home was brutal, each of us dealing with the sudden loss. The two hour drive seemed to last three times that long.

Once home we spent time together in the living room snuggling with LuLu and looking through old pictures and videos of Skywalker. From there we all just crashed on the couches and fired up a movie while snuggling with LuLu. Pretty soon I’ll be off to bed.

Tomorrow we’ll start our first day without Sky around sharing her positive energy with us right away in the morning. At least we will continue helping each other through the loss as a family. As difficult as it is to suffer loss, I am so thankful for our ability to help each other through it as a family.

Thanks!!!