A Handful of Haikus

Grief

tears do not shatter

the reality awake

only smooth the edge

   ^^     

Soul Jam

we offer sound

for ourselves and other souls

unaware of gifts

><

Deliverance

my hands have delivered

a small gift of sound

with tears

<>

It is Wednesday. 

Best day of the week to sit back and read poetry.

Check out the folks at One Shot

for their weekly Wednesday treat

and if it so tickles you

throw in some verse yourself

~

A Christmas Toast

Over at One Stop Poetry today, there is a suggestion to write something to honour family at Christmas time. I started with a different thought, but this story of love and generousity was a part of my Christmas a few years ago. It took centre stage, so I let it have reign on my page. I share it to honour my husband and the love and respect that he elicited from all those he touched. Enjoy.

Christmas was upon me.
I could not smile or glee.
It had been mere months
since death had claimed thee.

I pushed myself to function.
I strained myself not to cry,
but my heart lie still in tatters
and I too wanted to die.

Your Co-workers refused to listen
when I tried to decline their cheer.
They insisted I join the revelry
and at their party must appear.

I had no choice, but compliance.
Wiped tears and donned false smiles.
Their hugs of joy were too worthy
for a girl far from love by miles.

We ate, drank and were merry.
Shared stories til speeches were nigh,
then sombre I grew, as attention they drew
to myself  ushered forth to their eyes.

Beautiful stories were issued.
Thoughtful memories were shared to enthrall,
then to my surprise a check materialized
in my name, for my family, from them all.

Speechless, I stood in front of them.
Mine eyes blinking back full disbelief.
How could they know how this touched me so
in my heart shattered still by so much grief.

Their pockets were emptied in your name.
Wealth was shared from men, coast to coast.
And here stood I, staring at nary a dry eye
Trembling as they called for a toast.

To Brad, was the shout from the tables.
To Brad, was  the feeling round the room.
My love, it was beauty at its finest
and their hearts were opened all just for you.

I shook as I raised glass in your name
Tears fell, uncheckered from my heart
They saw the special in you, that I also knew
Their gift, to give me a fresh start.

Your heart, I feel its presence
nearly every day.
Your heart, I know it beats
yet strong for me.

but on that blessed eve
your love's magic it did weave
and not alone was I that night
when I did leave.

    {}{}{}

Merry Christmas to all of you at One Stop
and all of you who have touched my heart over the years
You all help to keep me going & for that I am grateful. 
Blessings to you all.

Cold Toes

Cold toes and quiet

rooms filled with the memory

of those gone before.

The Last Night

My vigil full
with heavy heart
beside you sat
to walk the last night.

The last night ravaged
Your little soul.
No power had I,
but to share the sorrow.

The sorrow mounted
with gasping breath.
My tears filled up
Your heaving chest.

Your heaving chest
with aching thrusts.
I smoothed the ruffles
with Reiki's trust.

Trust you offered
with pleading eyes.
I feel I faltered
and cannot stem my cries.

My cries drip from me
in unending stream
For the breath has left you
no more to dream.

To dream, to dream
that's what's left twould seem
So I light a candle
and hold vigil bereaved.

~~~

One Shot Wednesday

my rock

-rock-

My dear

your birthday nears

thoughts drift to you

remembered.

-Grief-

once held

in stagnant arms

enfolded life in limbo

waiting

-life-

slowly rises

with drifting skies

to patch a path

renewal

-tomorrow-

silver linings

bright coloured mittens

a few favourite things

hope

~

"Let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing"

quote from "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran

Wednesday shall break in a scant few minutes. I must hasten to bed, but offer up a cinquain poem of hope.

Something I cling to, crave and try to hold in my heart

with memories

Happy OneShot Wednesday.

So what whirlwinds have befallen my world? My children start school in less than a week. I know some of you dear folk have children already started for the week, are home-schooling, or just plain have empty nests so don't even note the turning of the calendar. I have been dreading this day for years now. My children will be starting school the day after Labour Day. I know that I am being a perfectly normal irrational parent by worrying my damn fool head off. Like I said, I have been worrying about this for years. I have preferred to live in the present moment. The here and now, which always had my children and I at leisure to pick and choose our days. The thought of school starting makes me freak about the permanence of it. Once they begin, they are on the steady road to the teen years and beyond. You all tell me how damn fast kids grow. I hear you and BELIEVE you. While I have wished for so many todays to pass, I rue every minute that I have not been the idyllic parent. I have pushed myself to be the best Mom and too many times the best Dad as well. I know I cannot and should not try to be everything, I cannot help trying to provide what I think their father would have wanted and been. I also hear him telling me to relax, when I allow myself to slow down for a minute. When I feel him offering me kindnesses though, I melt. Forever I want him back by my side to watch our children grow. I know he is there and sees, but it is not the same. I know that I do not need to compensate, but I can't help it. I know how to push myself best and push, push, push I do. There have been breakdowns aplenty to show the futility of it, but sometimes I cannot resist. 

So right now, while all I want to do is stop the clock, perhaps run away, I hear him say to stop. I cannot. It will be fine. I know this, but he tells me anyway. I need to hear it, despite the tears that threaten. It is change. It is hard. It happens what comes what may. Change is necessary and holds good. It does. I am still holding tight to my abstinent need to resist up to the bitter end though. Starting school is the start of a new life for us all. Me, I want to stubbornly stick to my pre-school ways and say "I don't wanna!", but the teacher says that I have to 

and the teacher is life...

The End of Your Song

Tears stream,
nay in yesterday's dream,
but drizzle fair
given memory's care.
 I walked this path before...

I need no help
to see your face,
yet wordsmith's gift
took me back to that place.
  This path took me right to your door...

Bedside horrors.
Unbelieving strife.
It wasn't supposed to be like this!
This shouldn't be my life!
   The door thrown open once more...

Words lost between ethers.
Throat dry in the chaos.
My pleading eyes
leave no room for lies
    Propped open to dramas of undone life ...

They turn away their shoulders
intent not to stare at my loss
lest it find ways to their doors.
I mute and dumb, crumble as shock kicks in
     Undone by the end of your song...

August

I fill my days with running
   I try...
The images are cunning
   I cry...
They come to me 'tween heartbeats
   and pry...
Reminding me of anniversaries
   thoughts fly...

The harvest fills
my hands and days.
I stock my shelves
with jams and pray
that frozen images
will away,
   just for today...
   I pray...

I fill my days with running

   I try...

The images are cunning

   I cry...

They come to me 'tween heartbeats

   and pry...

Reminding me of anniversaries

   thoughts fly...

Your hands so cold
are but a dream.
Their sturdy tasks
so far it seems.
While once
you stood beside my bed,
now memory
lies close instead.

I fill my days with running

   I try...

The images are cunning

   I cry...

They come to me 'tween heartbeats

   and pry...

Reminding me of anniversaries

   thoughts fly...

   August

The waning days of life

 unfold.

Inside my head

my stories told.

best left to lie

til pillows hold

yesterday's gifts

that still feel bold.

   August

I fill my days with running

   I try...

The images are cunning

   I cry...

They come to me 'tween heartbeats

   and pry...

Reminding me of anniversaries

   thoughts fly...

  August

just for today...

  memories

I pray...

  August

-------

Busy days keep me running, but I cannot forget some things. My friends at OneShot are one of them. 

Cutting Grass

   Rain patters outside my window. I hustled, but the grass got trimmed, although not edged. I get so many odd looks when I toodle around on my riding mower. Don't know if people think I am brave to ride such a thing or crazy to have one without the acreage to go with it. The kids think it is great though and it saves me a little time, which is a precious thing. To be fair it was a gift to my late husband, from his co-workers. They knew he had mobility issues in his last days and our old mower was giving up the ghost on us. They did a pass the hat at work and showed up one evening with it in the back of a trailer. He was shocked, embarrassed and pleased as punch all at the same time. He thought that they were coming by to take our older mower and have its deck re-welded. That eventually did get done as well, but the riding mower was a heart-felt gift that gives me great joy.

   Thunder rumbles. Good thing I got done fast! The first time I tried to use the riding lawn mower was a sight to see. Hmm. I was almost in tears. While I have had some lessons in standard vehicles, that was not enough for me to wrap my head around making this piece of equipment go on that day. I put the key in the ignition and turned it, with no response. I read all the stickered instructions plastered all over the place at my feet and tried again. This time I pushed the clutch peddle in and turned the key. I got a rumble, but still could not get it to fire. I tried again, and again. I re-read the instructions and looked at all the levers and handles. I felt small and powerless, as I struggled with making this machine come to life. I wanted so badly to take control of my life and accomplish something all by myself. I got angry. I got teary. I got nothing more than a puff of smoke and noise. Just when I wanted to burst into tears and kick the object that was reeking havoc on my life and brittle self-esteem a voice said,

   "Hello Kathy."

   I looked up. Normally I don't go by Kathy (always been a Katherine), so I knew it was not someone I knew well. My elderly  neighbour was ambling across the road. He had been watching me attempting to get the mower going and saw that I was loosing the battle. He is a kindly man in his eighties that had lost his wife a few years back. Now he lived alone, but still gets around. I noticed he was out trimming his bushes, as I cut my grass this morning. Hugs to you Larry! Anyway, that day Larry made a little small talk.

   "It looks like you are having a little trouble there," he said.

    I hung my head and admitted my incompetence. The man is so sweet and I think his kindness that day came from a compassion born of our kinship. He knew grief and could see it all over me. My problem was the mower, but the bigger problem was learning how to live again without the appendage that was my spouse.  Brad had always cut the grass previously with our riding mower. I was well-versed in a push mower, but had nothing to fall back on to help me in this new task at hand. There was no one I could turn to in my house to ask for help or to hand the task over  to. You see, my tears were not over the fact that I could not get the mower to work. My tears were another manifestation of loss and grief. I was alone. I wanted to be able to function, but at every turn realized that a piece of my life, a piece of me was gone. The mower was a reminder and at that moment in time, I could not go it alone. I needed help, but did not know how to ask or even who to ask. Truly, I did not want to have to  ask for help. I felt like I required help every step of the way and it just seemed to beat me down. On that day, a guardian angel appeared in the form of my 85 year-old neighbor and he gave me the help I needed graciously. 

    Now I feel the windows are not full of rain, but clouded by tears with this memory. I have had so many beautiful people step into my life at moments of need. Sometimes they step in for a moment, like Larry did. Other times they have held my hand for days, weeks and months. Still others will walk with me for the years that I call a lifetime. I do not know why I thought of this today, other than that I had to cut the grass. Most days I am pretty stable and happy with life. I managed to winterize the mower myself this past winter. I cut the grass whenever it needs without a bat of an eye. I know that I will be hit by moments of grief on occasion and that will continue for a long time to come. Always I will have that experience of loss there. The sorrow that goes with it lessens over time. This I have been told and know from my own experiences. Today, I remember as I watch the rain. Hopefully I will let it go this afternoon, as I breathe and lay my head on the yoga mat. Namaste. 

Check

   I carry around a mental list with me everywhere I go. Do you? At points I need to write it down as well. Sometimes the act of writing words on a page changes the dynamics of it. I remember names better when I see them written and better again when I write them myself. Same thing with a list. Good thing if I make one, better if I write it down. It stays in my memory and gains significance. I can weed out what isn't so important or place it further down the list and pop more pressing issues farther up on the list. After my hubby died, I had to have a list, as my brain was mush. I was constantly barraged by grief images, so other things did not stand a chance to get recognized or dealt with unless they were written down and looked at. At that point my lists involved many appointments with lawyers, financial consultants, social workers/grief counsellors, as well as the myriad items necessary for the bathroom renovation that I took on (compliments of my father-in-law) immediately following Brad's death. While you may wonder at the timing of such a project, it was a necessary and helpful item to jam into my thoughts. It gave me other focus, aside from always being rocked by grief. The bathroom was terribly ugly, so really and truly needed a face lift. And the bathroom held a fresh and heart-wrenching vision that I could not live with. It had to go. Hence a project and lists of everything from;

• toilet
• paint
• bathtub
• flooring
• wall tiles
• vanity
• etc, etc, etc

These items needed to be written down, as sometimes there were even little items like grout, toilet paper holder, tile edging, nails, etc. I was familiar with living in the midst of renovations and did not mind the chaos. My brain held more chaos, so it fit that outside of my brain also matched that. The point of the renovation though was to create a new fresh space that held beauty. Once it was finally done, it was a beautiful thing. I loved it. It was the first thing that I tackled all by myself, as far as decision making went and I certainly questioned why I was doing it when faced with picking out exactly which toilet and bathtub would be the best fit for my tastes and my budget. There had not been I or Me for a long time and those words felt poisonous in my lungs. I got through it though.

    Today, I still have my lists. Often, I can function with mental lists and can rhyme off half a dozen items that will need attention at some point in the future (ie. roof, floors, master bedroom). I still tuck renovation projects into the list, as you may remember from last month's endeavours. Other life items take precedence in my mental rotary file though (ie. book birthday party, wrap presents, schedule swimming lessons, pay bills). Last week, a couple of items got crossed off my list. Birthday party for my eldest was booked and invitations were handed out today. Swim lessons were debated and booked, but with complications that will hopefully sort themselves out. A big item that has been on my list for probably the better part of a year was finally addressed today as well. Why I have had such a hard time with it and fought the effort mentally I know and do not know. It is begun though. Yes, today I registered my children for school. I will still continue to debate exactly what the best course of action for both my girls with all of this is, but I took a major step. Life moves forward whether we like it or not. In September, my girls will enter the next phase of their lives. The school bell rings and I must stand outside and watch them go. Check something off the list...

What You Can do to Help

    Last night I was chatting with a friend of mine on Facebook. She knows that we battled cancer in our household and asked if she could ask me a question. "Question away", I said. Well she had a friend who had been recently diagnosed with cancer and was in the beginning throes of the chaos that a cancer diagnosis brings. I am a member of Wellspring and often spout the benefits that I have reaped from this wonderful place. If you have never heard of it, it is a cancer support centre that offers emotional support to those in need. It offers many programs to its members and is free to anyone who has cancer, is a caregiver or friend of someone dealing with cancer. They have been a lifeline to me in my journey the last few years. She was asking me about what exactly they offer and what I knew about children's programs for families dealing with cancer. Ultimately what she wanted to know was "how can I help?". She, like so many others, is afraid of saying something wrong. The unfortunate part of that is that often people just back up and leave you alone, for fear of making you upset. That, in my opinion, is exactly the wrong thing to do. Imagine yourself being faced with a life changing/challenging/threatening disease and having surgery/chemotherapy/radiation thrown at you in a short period of time. Once diagnosis has been made, speed is of the essence and there is no time to sit back and analyse what this means to you and how you feel about it. Seemingly the rest of your life is asked to be put on hold, so that you can tackle the disease. This can become your life. Everything else takes a back seat. It is different and scary and makes you feel alone. This is not a time when you want people to abandon you. You may not be able to fix the problem that is rearing its ugly head, but you can still do something.  I wanted to share the chat I had last night, but unfortunately  lost it. Then I remembered that many moons ago I pondered what was beneficial for me when I was going through the crisis of cancer. I thought I would share those thoughts with you here. Make of them what you will and take whatever you need to;

What You Can do to Help

• 
  
  Listen
• 
  
  Offer hugs, compassion, empathy
• 
  
  Food
• 
  
  it is the last thing one worries about when dealing with a crisis, but important
• 
  
  Shovel snow
• 
  
  Cut grass
• 
  
  Don't be afraid to ask questions, even if they seem odd or dumb
• it is my life however chaotic and your interest is better than pretending nothing is going on and nothing is wrong (EVERYTHING is WRONG!)
• Help with babysitting if appropriate or visit with the sick person so the caregiver can get a break
• Keep calling and keep offering
• some days I am stronger than others and some days I might need more than I've got
• Offer to go to doctor appointments, so the caregiver can get a break
• Offer help with picking up medication, groceries or going to a class together (ex. yoga, meditation), even doing the laundry might help
• Make some days "normal" just by visiting, going for coffee or a drink
• normal is gone, but stability is desperately sought after

I then highlighted in my little book important people to me and why they had been important. I guess it won't hurt to share that either.

My Important People were

• Cris (close girlfriend with children similar age)  - babysitting, playdates (normal), talking about anything, asking questions, Hugs
• Kerry (out-of-town sister)  - daily phone calls and love, listening, visits during crisis with meal making
• Mom (out-of-town) - empathy, love, offering personal insights from her experience (my Father also died from cancer when she had two girls under 5 years of age), regular visits, presence during crisis, meals, laundry, "normal" phone calls
• Carole (yoga teacher and cancer survivor) - asking questions, empathy, sharing personal experiences
• John (friend) - help with painting, listening, offering love
• Jim (husband's co-worker and friend) - regular calls and visits, help with household projects, smiles, love
• Neighbours - friendly smiles, encouragement, help with house maintenance (raking leaves, snow shovelling, coffee/drinks)
• Wellspring - listening, sharing experiences, hugs, safe spot to cry, remind me of loving kindness to self
• Daycare - child minding, help in crisis, listening

This list is not comprehensive, but is what struck me at the time. Some of these people were helpful before and/or after Brad died. I share just to give examples of what might help. I also thought this might be more interesting than my fair of the last week. Be well my friends.

Love

   Grief. What does it mean to me today? It has been a close personal friend of mine over the last two years, but has graced me with its presence at other points in my life as well. Today, it is a badge I can say I have worn with ... not pride. No. I can say I survived with pride. Or I am surviving. The new year brings with it some old familiar twists in my life. Spasms that are not pleasant, but can anticipate, therefore hopefully not be as bad. Last year near this time, I was beginning to anticipate an upcoming stress. I tried to head it off by becoming busy, but only succeeded in flailing and floundering. The stress I knew about piled on "should's" by the yard, but it was an anniversary that I had not anticipated that threatened to wash me away. I tried to face expectations, but just managed to pile them over top of me until I could not breathe. I was trying to take on life and I was not ready. I had been handling all the life I could, and the should I threw at myself pushed me to the edge. I broke, but I reached out a hand and grabbed onto whatever lifeline I could. I was told to be kind. I was offered prayers of peace. I was reminded that this was grief. The wave would recede. I would survive. It was bad, but it was a lesson. Next time, perhaps I could anticipate better. Reach out for help. Not feel alone. There are people there.

   Many have walked through the dark tunnel of grief. It is something we do not talk about. We should. I am constantly surprised by how hard this journey is. Many, many, many moons ago I remember sitting in Wellspring (a wonderful Cancer support centre) after a yoga class. It was my first yoga session after Brad died. A few ladies convinced me to join them for tea after class, as they could see I was upset. They asked me what my story was. I felt sick. It was not my "story"! It was my life! It was raw and more than I could bear. Indeed, it has turned into my story to tell though. It has been a painful story and it is not over yet. I do not have so much pain any more, but I still struggle with who I am and where I am going. This, I am learning, is a common thread though. Sharing my experiences helps me. It not only helps me though. I know my sharing has given others hope and strength where little has been. No one can make all the pain go away. You must walk your path. You must pick up and look at everything along the path of your grief. It is hard work. It takes a long time. Relationships are hard work though and they take time to establish as well. It should not be surprising that grief can cause suffering for so long. We have lost someone that means something to us. One person can fill so many parts of our life. That means that we need to wade through, find all those pieces, accept and mourn every single one of those pieces we have lost. It is a lot of work. It hurts, but for me it has brought great love.

   So why this path today? Is it because I had dinner with my Aunt who is suffering through her own loss? Is it because an anticipated stressor is coming back to the table again? Or is it my little notebook that travelled in my purse last year catching snippets of my life on the fly, that fell across my table this morning and revealed pieces of painful me last year? Or is it just because this is who I am? Grief has touched me. It is a part of me and always will be. I will not always be actively grieving, but my grief will be there forever. I grieve my father, who I could have been, my husband, who we were supposed to be and what we were supposed to have and I grieve the loss of me and who I was. There is a new me that I work on every day. Some days it is not hard. Many days were. Today I reflect.

tonight

   It sometimes makes me wonder why certain people come into our lives. As of late I seem to have found new audiences for my story. As I recount tales from my life they become large as life and I am back there again. A friend this evening asked if I had always been this way or if I felt it was a byproduct of my grief. An interesting question. I try not to cry or get too emotional, but I am a leaky soul. I believe I have always been, but am a little squishier now. Are my tears a byproduct of my grief? I had it suggested by grief counsellors that I probably suffered from post traumatic stress disorder after Brad died. The moments from the last few days of his life are ingrained on my brain. I can feel the raw emotions when I go back and examine those days, those hours. They are more real than the person sitting in front of me. I am more there in the past than with the person listening to my tale. It is not a tale. It is a reality that I survived. It was shocking and surreal and incredibly painful. What I am slowly trying to learn and feel is that that moment is past. I do not exist in that moment any more. I can only exist in today. Now is the only thing I have control over. Remembering crisis points sends me back and reeling though. It was really sad. It was scary. It was surreal. I did not ask or want that to be a part of my reality, but it happened anyway. I do not need to have my chest constrict or heart race, as I fall to the floor hearing of a new grief. I do not need to stand paralyzed watching as my husband screams in blinding pain as his brain is attacked by his cancerous body. Unable to do anything. That was then. It has become a living nightmare that I can replay at will. I don't need to. It happens on occasion, but I try not to. It hurts. Grief counsellors have suggested that at 2 years into my grief, it is still fresh. I wonder when the freshness of it will wear off. I am not hit with the raw edges as often any more and am looking towards today and a little of tomorrow.
   I have run out of words.
   Tonight they have all been said

rambling

Oh my, it is Wednesday and I have not written anything since Sunday! Corrie is putting me to shame ;) Just teasing Corrie! I am enjoying the process of blogging, whether I have many readers or not. I was daring and introduced my blog to my Mother, which she cautioned me about. I have let "friends" on facebook peruse my inner workings and have not fallen prey to all the ills in the world, although I am sure there is still time for that. I write about experiences from my day and thoughts from my head. It is therapeutic and I like it. I have surprised myself for sticking with it fairly faithfully as well. I started this blog in the spring in a halting manner, but have been fairly regular this fall. Pat on the back from me!

So what is new in my world? My poor kitty is sick and the vet is not quite sure what is wrong with her. She appears to be steadily draining my bank account, but I am okay with that to a certain extent. It is hard to deny health for a member of the family. This has caused me some stress this week, but I countered that with sonic drumming tonight and my weekly dinner with Nancy, David and Ella last night. I get to see my sister tomorrow for a quick visit. She is coming into town for a somber affair, but a good one. My Aunt renovated the courtyard at the high school in Dorchester with some of the funds from Meagan's trust fund. For those of you who are not in the know, my cousin Meagan died in a skiing accident about a year and a half ago. We have all been shaken up by it, but my Aunt (her Mother) put her energy into redoing the courtyard in Meagan's memory. The official dedication is tomorrow evening. My Mother and Step-Father will be in town as well, so it will be a bittersweet gathering. A beautiful legacy for a life lost too soon. Sigh...

And I also did some writing today. I kind of have this notion that one day a book will pour forth from me. When I can I sit down and write some of it down. I am not sure if I will ever see the end of it or if it will ever go to print, but it is a cathartic affair none the less. And now it is bed time, as we were up early this morning that got cancelled due to weather. Tomorrow may need some extra reserves in the emotional department though. Anon, goodnight

Wednesday - Yoga for the soul

I went to do the last of my gardening for Michelle today. I really did not do too terribly much out in the garden, to be fair, but its immediate need was winding to a close. The frost in the air has signalled the end of active gardening for the season. The outside world tasks change to leaf raking, putting away of hoses and garden ornaments, planting spring bulbs and pulling up summer ones. My season of gardening is done.

It is a heavy feel. I made a difference for Michelle and offered what I could. She appreciated the help. It was a precious gift. So where do I go from here? I have been watching Murray and feeling for him in his waning days with the love of his life. Now she is gone. Now he is alone and must accept that so that he can move on to the next stage of his life. It is nowhere near as easy to do as the writing of it may suggest. While I was visiting with Murray I kept on saying "This is hard work." It is the hardest work one could ever imagine having to do. It is physically, emotionally, socially, and psychologically exhausting. Anyone who has ever touched loss in an intimate way would probably have more to add to this, but for those who haven't it is a start. I have to stop though. This is Murray's journey. Murray must make this trek on his own. I am giving him emotions through my experience and that does not do him justice or ultimately myself. I was reminded this afternoon that I still need to take care of me. At two years into the loss of my beloved husband and partner, I was told I am still fresh in my grief. I still have far to go. How can that be?

Life is quite the journey with many lessons to learn. My lesson today was that I do matter. I mattered to Michelle for a brief while, so that she could savour her garden one last time. I mattered to Murray, so that I could give him more time with Michelle and sharing of stories both good and bad. I matter to Randolph, who seems to think that I am a worthy person and is happy to see that I am beginning to believe it. I matter to my children, who run with smiles and screaming "Mommy!" with joy when I come to pick them up from daycare. I know that I could add many more to the list and it is a good thing. The last person I will add today though is a woman who used to attend yoga with me over a year ago. She was recovering from cancer treatments and was doing well, but had other health concerns at the time. She started into my class again today. After class she walked over to me and asked when we had seen each other last. I was reminded again of how I touch people as she shared that she had gone through another bout of cancer completely unrelated to the first. She more or less pushed and diagnosed some of it herself. She knew something was wrong with her and praised yoga and its ability to get oneself in touch with one's body as helping her to do this. Whether she believed in the benefits of yoga before, she overwhelming believes know. And she walked over to me and had to share her story with me. I know her, but only through once a week yoga from over a year ago. It touched me that she felt the need to share with me. I must mean something to her too. Not the world, but just a little piece of it. It makes me smile. It is good.

Excerpt from a chat with a special friend

October 7
9:17pm Cristie
HEY

DID YOU find out about your lady friend?

9:17pm Katherine
hello

yes, she died last night

9:17pm Cristie
:(

9:18pm Katherine
I found out when i went to Wellspring for yoga today

9:18pm Cristie
Her husband must be really upset

9:18pm Katherine
one of the volunteers grabbed me as soon as I walked in and took me to the back room to tell me.

I haven't talked to him.

He would be really busy this week.

He won't have time to really crash until later

He is starting on a really shitty path.

9:19pm Cristie
how come

9:20pm Katherine>It is somehow worse than when the person is dying

9:20pm Cristie
as in dealing with her death path?

9:21pm Katherine
Grief, when it comes to the loss of a spouse is difficult as it encompasses so many levels. Death of the person, your hopes and dreams of the future, your identity (you used to be A and B, now you are just A)and so much more

When they are dying it is hard and stressful, but the person is still there

9:22pm Cristie
yes, i can understand that

Are you still as upset as you once were??

or is it a different level now of grief?

9:26pm Katherine
Grief takes a long time to work through. There are so many things to process and accept. The hardest part is making a new life. The first year is acute grief over the loss of the person. After that it turns into loss of self and life as you knew it and figuring out how to put the pieces back together again to a new puzzle. Different pieces to the same puzzle. They don't fit the same way and you have to discard some pieces and find new ones. A lot of work.

9:27pm Cristie
yeesh

Are you still trying to put pieces together?

9:28pm Katherine
oh yeah

9:28pm Cristie
do you still cry everyday?

or miss him as you once did

9:29pm Katherine
ha, I have a long way to go yet until I can say the new path is sturdy under my feet

9:30pm Katherine
Brad will always be a part of my life. He is no longer here in the flesh and I miss him terribly sometimes, but I know he is not coming back. I cannot change that.

Sometimes something little will set me off or I will just get tired and frustrated at having to do everything alone

that is my lot in life right now though

I am meeting new people who are positive influences on my life and becoming happier with who I am or at least not hating me

I am learning how to love myself again

9:33pm Cristie
That is important

9:33pm Katherine
This is all much harder work than I ever thought it would be. A lot longer too.

9:34pm Cristie
I can't imagine how hard.........

9:36pm Katherine
It takes so long to fight your way through the haze of physical grief. Then coming to the realization that there is still so much more to do is staggering.

I don't want to do it all

9:37pm Katherine
I wish I could just go and be normal, but my life is on a completely different path and I am learning that I have to sit down and face it if i am to take that next step and move on



I felt like our conversation had a lot of good questions and valid insights. I do not claim to know it all. I just know my path. Writing it down helps me to look at it myself and perhaps know and understand better. Whether anyone reads this or not is a mute point if catharsis is the goal. Thanks for offering me your time if you read this though.

Bad days help us appreciate the good days

Thanks for the inspiration Corrie. I need this medicine myself today. I am sad, because the lady I was gardening for died last night. She let me into her life and I let them into mine. I have a right to be sad. It is not nice to lose someone. What I have to remind myself of is that this loss is not my loss. No that is not right. I am losing a part of my life, but I do not have to take on the pain of Murray's loss. His life is the loss of spouse to start and it gets much bigger from there. I feel his pain, as I have walked in similar shoes. These are not my shoes today though. They just remind me of my own journey and I remember how painful that time period was. I am not there though. I have so much compassion and empathy, but I have to be able to give space for my own heart to be strong and sure in offering someone else support in grief.I can be sad, but I do not have to relive my worst moments. That is not necessary or helpful at the moment. So here is my words of wisdom to a friend today, that I will listen to again myself.

"We all have our bad days. We all have our issues. They are our issues and are important to us. Allow yourself a bad day and be okay with that. We don't allow ourselves to have down days, whether they are deserved or not. If where you are at right now sucks "It SUCKS!". Don't compare it to anyone else's. Legitimize your own life and your own feelings. You are valid and they are valid. You don't have to have the worst day of anyone ever, you just have to allow that you are not at your best. It is hard to do, but you can feel better for allowing yourself to be. You only have one life to live and it is your life, not anyone else's. Let yourself live it.

I think I might have to CC this to my blog. And listen to my words myself..."

Wednesday

I should be in bed. It is after my bedtime and I always lie in bed flip-flopping for a while before falling asleep. I suspect that I am beginning to dread slipping in between the sheets for that unsuspecting enemy to pounce (my brain!). All the things I avoid by doing fun things like vacuuming, laundry, canning and coffee surface when I try to turn off for the night.

"what am I going to do tomorrow?"
"What am I going to be when I grow up?"
"When am I not going to be lonely all the time and be happy with my own company?"

That is a hard one. They are all hard actually, but the last one seems to dictate how the other ones will go. I had a good conversation over my coffee today with a sage man who has entered my life. Ron has been married for almost 40 years and has seen much good and bad in his life. He has had many doubts and battles, victories and stalemates. He is another person who believes in me. I have people in my life that are my champions. They think I am a wonderful person and wonder why I don't too. Why don't I? I am kind and generous to those around me. I seem to even have my kids fooled into thinking that. I view the world as a good place, where the potential to learn surrounds us. I try to think generously of most people. Our faults are a product of our environment and history and do not make us bad people. Everyone has redeeming features. Even me. I am a beautiful person. Yes, I am. This is me testing the waters to see if I believe this. I think there is merit in my praise, but am just not comfortable with loving kindness. This is my stumbling block that I need to work on. When I can offer myself loving kindness, the world will open to me. I know it. Really, the only one that matters out there is me. Once I love me, then I will be comfortable with all the love that the world has to offer. I can accomplish much with that love.

So the problem? I am scared. I am stuck behind a habit of not loving me. It comes with grief, but I suspect there is more there. Time is offering me insights.

Tonight, I need to sleep. That will help me be kind to me tomorrow. The sigh ends the day...

Credo

This is taken from something offered to me at a favourite place of mine; Wellspring. They have been a centre of love and healing for me. I have leaned on them in time of need. They give back with smiles and hugs. They let me know I am not alone and I am worthy. That resonates with me today. Here is the credo:

CREDO
I believe grief is a process that involves a lot of time, energy and determination. I won't get over "it" in a hurry, so don't rush me!

I believe grief is intensely personal. This is my grief. Don't tell me how I should be doing it. Don't tell me what's right or what's wrong. I'm doing it my way, in my time.

I believe grief is affecting me in many ways. I am being affected spiritually, physically, emotionally, socially and mentally. If I'm not acting like my old self, it's because I'm not my old self and some days even I don't understand myself.

I believe I will be affected in some way by this loss for the rest of my life. As I get older, I will have new insights into what this death means to me. My loved one will continue to be part of my life and influence me until the day I die.

I believe I am being changed by this process. I see life differently. Some things that were once important to me aren't. Some things I used to pay little or no attention to, are now important. I think a new "ME" is emerging, so don't be surprised - and don't stand in the way.

Loving Kindness

I suppose that some day my sensitive edge will be worn down a little. I am not always sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Sad movies, sensitive comments and poignant recollections can all bring me to tears or at least the brink of. I think that is just who I am.

Today I was praised for my efforts to help another soul at a time when they have need. I am doing some gardening for a woman who is dying of lymphoma. I reflected on where this woman and her husband are in their life and how it felt when I was there (tears in memory and the back of my throat). Nothing can change where she is, but sometimes kindnesses can make it better. I have been shown kindnesses from extraordinary and surprising people. Giving to Michelle in some ways is giving back to me. While in my weekly yoga class, I was reminded to be kind to myself, as well as others in our world. While a general thought put out there in class, I felt like it could have been directed solely at myself. I have a hard time being kind to myself, but am trying to work on that. First step is recognition that I am harder on myself than I deserve.

I was also touched by an old friend's step out of her comfort bounds (feeling like it had a teensy wee bit to do with me). Life hands everyone challenges. I do not have the hardest or saddest story out there. We all have our stories to tell and crosses to bear. Do I truly know this? For a long time after Brad died, I honestly did not care about other people's miseries and trials. I have been told that is typical of grief and normal. In beating myself up and challenging my confidences, am I just fooling myself that I have that saddest, worst story to tell? Poor me? I want to let it go, but that is the cross I have chosen to bear at present. If others can see my worthiness and strengths, perhaps some day the shackles of my biggest enemy, mine own self, will fall off and be set free. Perhaps I do not need to share these deepest darkest demons, but I know we all have our demons. I believe that speaking them and exposing them takes some of their ultimate power away. At least that is a hope and faith that I carry.