Carolyn’s blog

I always wondered what was worse, losing someone suddenly or having the time to work through things, knowing the ending would be the same. It seemed like it would be easier in the end if you had the opportunity to say and do things you needed to as you said goodby. Well I don’t believe any loss is easier, they are all just plain hard.

When someone dies suddenly, your last contact, your last words, your last thoughts become so important. My last visit with Lindsey was on Easter Sunday 2010. She and her family came for dinner and Rick was going to do some impromptu burgers on the grill. She quickly corrected his menu idea and ordered steak on the grill with her favorite salad. He of course complied and we had a great dinner and sat outside. I had to leave for work after that and I remember standing at my kitchen door and getting what would become my last hug and the treasured words “I love you”. I left to deliver babies having no idea I would never see or hug her again.

Watching Cancer take over our life and Rick’s body was possibly one of the most painful experiences of my life. From driving his car one day and working full time to hardly being able to catch his breath was like a raging forest fire. Everything was in shades of green with a bright blue sky and all of a sudden it started to burn away and the green turned to shades of brown and eventually to black. The gorgeous blue sky was now in grey hues and it was difficult to see sky any longer. The beautiful forest was gone and all it left behind was ash.

Although the illness was short lived, having that time was both good and bad. When Rick was diagnosed, he looked at me and said “Aren’t I lucky to be able to say the things I want to say and do things I want to do in the time I have”. What an incredibly positive way to think. I asked him what he’d like to do if we had the chance. His next answer was this, “You know, we’ve done a lot of really neat stuff already, I think I’m good.” We did what most people do in retirement, we did it with our girls”. Rick was always trying to find a silver lining. I guess this was his. I know not a day goes by that I don’t remember these words and they comfort me.

We had a lot of hard conversations, as you see, this was the farthest thing from our minds. We were planning retirement this year certainly not a funeral, however in the end those conversations would be treasured because I knew what was most meaningful to him. I asked a lot of questions, he usually gave similar answers “Do what’s easiest on you and the girls”.

We had 52 days to love and lose someone so incredibly special in our lives. Was it any easier to be able to grieve slowly and get acclimated to the inevitable. The answer is a resounding NO. Each and every loss is unique and each and every loss is grieved at 100%. No loss is worse than another in my book. The worst loss is the one you are dealing with right now. It’s the current pain that causes the most discomfort.

I’ve heard many discuss and compare types of losses, parents, grandparents, children, siblings, even pets. Sometimes people even get upset because someone compares a loss to their own. I believe it’s just us trying to find common ground on one of the most difficult parts of life. Maybe they need to talk about their journey and haven’t been able to. Maybe no one understands. Maybe that time with their stillborn has never been brought up since the day they left the hospital. Maybe that pet was the only thing that ever showed them true unconditional love. Maybe, just maybe, they are grieving too and maybe we can help each other.

My loss is my journey and my pain and my mountain to climb. It is not better or worse than yours because a loss is unique to the person and the relationship they had. I believe everyone has their own journey and this is mine. There is no easier way to lose someone you love so dearly. I am so blessed to have had 46 years of good healthy life with Rick, three amazing daughters and wonderful family and friends. While my road may be rocky right now, it is my road to travel and I want to remember the “good stuff”. There is so much good stuff and that is my blessing.

On the walls of the maze are sketches of my life with my family before Lindsey died and before the forest fire. They show happy times, challenging times, vacations, milestones and tell the story of US, Rick and Carolyn. I’ll take in each and every sketch as I navigate the maze, committing to memory the things that matter and as the images start to change so will I as I search for the exit to the maze…

A few weeks after Lindsey died, Rick and I had tickets to a Carrie Underwood concert. They had been a Christmas gift from one of the girls and I remember how excited I was to get them. She was rising to stardom and I loved her music as well as her personality. We planned to get dinner and then see the concert. These tickets of course were sold long before the concert date. Now we had lost our daughter, how could we possibly do something like this? It seemed trivial and unimportant, but what was important was how much that gift had meant to our daughter. We decided to go anyway and managed to get ready and make it there on time, even grabbing a bite to eat.

We entered the Coliseum with the sell out crowd, the excitement was palpable. People were everywhere buying drinks, getting t shirts looking for the closest bathroom. We made our way to our seats and settled in, not much conversation. I glanced around at the thousands of people and remember thinking “I have never felt so lonely”. Here I was in the middle of a crowd this size and felt alone. It was a terrifying feeling that night and one I will never forget. It would be years before I shared that with anyone.

My first trip to a store after Lindsey died, culminated much the same way. I remember I was so anxious that night and when I reached the check out, I saw the face of a teenage boy. He quickly rang up my items and handed me my plastic bag with the words “Have a nice day”. This sent my emotions reeling like nothing I had ever experienced. I bolted from the store, tears streaming down my cheeks, hardly able to catch my breath. I nervously opened my car door and slid in collapsing onto the steering wheel. “Have a nice day…are you kidding me? My child just died, I’ll never have another nice day. “

It was then I realized I didn’t know this young man’s story. I didn’t know if he had a family or food on his table. I didn’t know if he had clothes, been abused, had any traumas in his life. I didn’t even know if he had a place to lay his head that night. I sat up, dried my eyes and realized at that moment that we can be in a crowd or sitting next to someone on a bus and we don’t know anyone else’s story, just like they don’t know ours. That young man didn’t intend to hurt me with his simple greeting, he just wished me a nice day. That was it, simple and kind.

Grief can be lonely. It is a very unique journey and depends on the type of loss, the relationship with the person you lost, the details of the loss itself. All of these play a major role in not only your grief, but in your everyday life going forward. I have a major support system. On a scale of 1 to 10, my support system is probably 100. My family has been blessed with people who come from everywhere to lend support. It has been in every aspect of our life that these people have reached out and touched our hearts.

One of the greatest gifts you can give a grieving person is your time. It can be a call, text, card, gifts, flowers, social media, whatever you can do in the time you have to do it. Maybe it’s a quick shoulder squeeze as someone passes you at work. It may be someone just showing up and sitting beside you, saying very little, but being present. I have had people enter my door, put away groceries, answer the phone, scrub the floor, walk the dog and even wash my clothes, never asking how or what, just pitching in to take the pressure off of me. I can’t begin to understand how someone who doesn’t have this support manages to survive. I am so blessed and I don’t think I could ever thank these people enough. When that text pops up or the phone rings and it’s a “thinking of you” it helps with the loneliness grief brings.

There have been a lot of tragedies this week, people who left home never to return. These people were doing everyday things and were caught in horrendous situations. See you never know minute to minute what’s around the corner. Be kind to each other, open doors, say a kind word, give a compliment, take a minute to have a conversation with a stranger, help others, go the extra mile over and over again. I promise it will pay off in the end. Rick was a people person. He never met a stranger. While an endearing quality, it sometimes made a quick trip turn into something else. I think that’s why the line at the funeral home was so long, because he always took the time to get to know people and to help when he could. He was special like that. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all took a moment each day to reach out to someone?

That young girl who checked your groceries was feeling hopeless and thinking no one cared about her. It caused her to be slower than usual and you were in a bit of a hurry. You stop for a moment and look in her eyes. You don’t know her story, so you say “you look pretty today” or ”thank you for being so kind”. You may not be able to change her narrative,, but you might change this moment and that could change the ending. Who knows, it’s worth a try right?

The maze is a lonely place sometimes. It is full of twists and turns, sometimes going forward and sometimes hitting what seems like a dead end. My challenge is to keep searching for the way out, no matter what it takes. Maybe I’ll reach out to someone during those lonely times and ask for help finding my way.

Life is complicated isn’t it? One day you are worrying about what flavor popsicle you want as you anxiously await the ice cream man, hearing the music blaring from the next street over. All of a sudden it is time to decide on a college and career. What will you do for the rest of your life? Do you want to marry and how do you feel about kids? What if you don’t find the right person? Where will you live? See, it’s complicated or is it?

What seemed like big decisions when you were young are minute now as you grieve the loss of someone or something you loved. Decisions are simple during the weeks following loss. What do I eat or do I eat? Should I try to go to bed or wait until I am so exhausted and I can’t fight it anymore? When I wake multiple times, do I give in and get up or do I stay and fight the racing thoughts that are so painful? What do I do with the “things?” I should take a shower and go out, but I don’t feel like it. I’m so tired. How do I celebrate the holidays? Do I celebrate the holidays?

Decisions are on a much smaller scale now. Life as you knew it has changed forever. Will I ever feel better you ask yourself. What does this new life look like?

Rick died exactly 5 weeks and 5 days ago. My entire identity is different. I was married for 46 years and in filling out a form the other day I had to list myself as “Single”. This is so beyond my realm of thinking and caused me to reflect on how quickly life can change. Those everyday decisions become almost unbearable and can even be physically painful to make. I realized that I don’t have an identity right now. Sure I am still the same person physically, but I am a very different person inside. You change when you lose someone and that is normal. Many want you to go back to being the person you were, but that isn’t possible, nor would you want to. You are who you are because of what experiences you’ve had in life, good or bad. You are forever changed, but the change is the challenge. How you are affected by life’s speed bumps is really up to you. There is a meme that says you can be bitter or you can be better.

What you want for your life becomes the question. This revelation doesn’t come overnight, but I believe is a process that evolves over time. As you incorporate the loss into your life and learn to live without that person, you also start to move forward towards a new and different future. That future can be frightening and that is where I find myself today, frightened about the road ahead. Where do I fit? What do I do for recreation? People have asked me innocently if I was going to move. Honestly I had never considered that an option. I read something about what to do with your wedding rings, didn’t know that was a thing I needed to consider. Lots and lots of decisions for someone who is just trying to get out of bed and get dressed isn’t it?

When Lindsey died I was in a dense fog for at least a year, but right now I am keenly aware of each and every aspect of my life. There is no fog, the path is in front of me and the water ahead is crystal clear. I know what I need to do, I just don’t know how to do it and I sure don’t know how to do it alone. That is my challenge, to figure out how to be Carolyn without Rick.

So for now, I’m going to stop and rest in the maze, contemplate my future and eat my grape popsicle.

It’s Memorial Day and everyone is anticipating a long weekend, filled with family and friends, gathering at beach houses, lounging by the lake, fishing and boating and all of it culminating in good food and fellowship. It is a time to remember those who have given the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom to do these things. We live in a country with freedoms that many only dream about. We have no concept of what it would be like to not be able to exercise our free will to make decisions about our everyday life. It is important to stop and remember why you have this life and who helped make it possible. This brings me to the concept of remembering.

For those grieving the loss of someone, remembering is probably the most difficult part. Forgetting their voice, their smile, their laugh, the smell of their cologne or any and everything about them is the biggest fear of all. It makes you want to freeze time in order to preserve those things in your mind. Unfortunately, time marches on and it becomes more and more difficult to hold onto these precious things. All we want is to remember.

I remember thinking if I got better, after Lindsey died, that it meant leaving her behind. This fear was paralyzing and made it very difficult to see a future. I had to learn to take her with me and that meant I had to do the work of grief. It meant reading and studying everything I could in order to understand what grief work was. It meant taking better care of myself and exercising self compassion. I made it a priority to always take my “grief breaks” when I needed to. Wearing the mask in public is necessary, but when you are free, you can sit with your grief and just take moments to remember.

If you lose an infant or have a baby die before birth, you may not have made a lot of memories, but even the smallest of these babies bring something unique and special to this world and leave footprints on our hearts. Remember.

Sometimes relationships are complicated and many of those memories are not positive or helpful. This is also where self compassion comes in. No one wants to be unhappy, no one wants to have difficult times, but life is life and sometimes crap happens. When you don’t get a second chance, it can be extremely difficult to heal. Be kind to yourself when you have these thoughts and try to capitalize on the positive things. I find as time passes, the negative thoughts start to dim and the light shines brightest on the memories you want to keep. Remember.

If you want to help someone who is grieving, share a memory with them. Talk freely and openly about their loved one. Don’t be afraid to say their name. They may get emotional, but not because you brought them up, but because you remembered them. Our biggest fear is that our loved one will be forgotten by the world. Let us know that we, too, can freely share our memories with you and you won’t change the subject or visibly show your discomfort. Finally, really listen to us and you will give us the greatest gift of all. Remembering.

My memories are something that no one can take from me.

Lindsey, I remember your fierce love for your family. I remember you always told me you loved me before you hung up the phone.

Rick, I remember your sweet and mischievous smile. I remember how you looked at me and I felt true love.

Mom, I remember that you always had the right advice in any given situation. I remember the smell of your home cooking.

Nanny and Papa, I remember the love in your eyes when you looked at each other.

Memories are like the breadcrumbs you drop to find your way out of the maze…

There should be more lessons on grieving and loss growing up, just like we learn Math and History. We teach our children everything from how to tie their shoes, sports, how to treat others, even teach them how to help someone who is choking. We do not however, teach them how to navigate loss. I was not aware of this until I read The Grief Recovery Method Handbook and attended their workshop and training. I had the most phenomenal mother one could be blessed to have, but I don’t remember ever sitting down for a lesson in grief. Maybe we did, but my guess is, we continued on with life attending services, providing meals, sending cards and all the expected activities. My 8 year old cousin died when I was in Middle School and I remember it. I remember the sadness and I attended her funeral. I don’t remember anyone really talking about the loss, but more about the accident. Her family had stopped on the Lee Bridge to help a stranded motorist and a drunk driver came down the hill, hitting and killing her and severely injuring her mother. After that we went back to work or school and no one talked about it anymore. It was a part of life and something you had to “deal with” and “get over”. This was also something our parents had learned growing up and their parents before them. What happens in situations like this is we emulate the behaviors of the person or persons we trust the most and of course we pass on that learned behavior. Our society as a whole, sucks at grief, but it’s not anyone’s fault. I am blessed with people who even if they don’t understand or know what comforting words to offer, they are present. The best thing you can offer a grieving person is your time, even if it is just a few minutes.

The world is a scary place and what is more frightening than losing someone you dearly love. Can you grieve over someone you did not feel love for? The answer is an absolute yes. You can grieve over any type of loss whether it be by death, divorce, a move, job change, loss of health and many, many more. It is probably the most underrated human emotion. It is an overwhelming sadness that something has changed and you miss what you had or should have had. Grief steps in and becomes your copilot in life. It has a seat in your car, a chair at the dinner table, even goes to bed with you at night. If you embrace it, that friendship will last a lifetime. Thing is, you never get over it, so let it be your friend. You can’t go around it, you must go through it to ever see the other side.

Do you ever stop loving someone you lose to death? I don’t think that is possible, but what I do believe is the depth of the grief reflects the depth of the love. I love Rick with all my heart and I believe I will grieve that same way. Grief is not a bad thing, it is the thing that gets you to the next place, whatever that is.

Watching others grieve is painful for us also. My daughters are grieving the loss of their dad and observing that is like watching someone flailing in the water, trying not to drown. I don’t know what that feels like because I didn’t grow up with my dad. I didn’t have that closeness they had, I didn’t experience that relationship. What a blessing that they experienced something that special. Seeing my grandchildren grieve their Poppy makes my heart hurt. It is truly physical pain and leaves me exhausted. Rick’s many friends have suffered this loss in a way that is so touching. How can someone affect people that way? Rick left his mark for sure, on his family and on his countless friends. We will grieve for him because we will love him forever.

This quote I got at the National Compassionate Friends Conference:

“When you lose a parent, you lose your past. When you lose a spouse, you lose your present and When you lose your sibling you lose your past, your present and your future.”

I think this states unequivocally that each loss is different so grief will be different for each of us. You hurt for what you are missing and you hurt for each other. How can you help someone else when your pain is so deep? Love is always the central theme and continuing to acknowledge and honor that love is the vehicle that will propel you forward, sometimes getting stuck for a bit then slowly inching forward again.

What is this thing called grief? It’s merely love trying to find its way out of the maze…

My life, as I knew it, is over. I lost my husband of 46 years one month ago today on April 20th at 7:19 pm. How can that be I ask myself? What happened in this crazy universe we live in? I won’t accept it. It can’t be true. But it is true and I am now a widow. What does that mean I ask myself. I don’t even know if I’ve ever said that word out loud. I never dreamed this would be my reality, but it is. In order to make some sense of this life I have decided to write this blog about my journey with grief. Now you may ask yourself, is she ok to do this? Isn’t it too early? Shouldn’t she wait until things settle down and she has started healing? Well my journey didn’t just begin, I have been trudging down this road for the last nine years.

My life changed forever on a Wednesday. Until that day, I thought I had it all. I don’t mean physical wealth, but what was much more important to me… A loving family, three beautiful daughters, a wonderful husband, a career I loved as a labor and delivery nurse and countless friends. I had three grandchildren that upon taking their first breath, stole my heart forever. I was a leader on my unit, the “go to” person for questions, advice, and was jokingly considered a “mother figure”. I had a comfortable home, plenty to eat and anything I wanted (“within reason”). I really could not have been more contented…and then my daughter died.

My world was shattered. “Why me?” I asked. I can’t survive this. Throughout my life I had two fears, one was the loss of my mother and the second was the loss of a child. I had seen this happen to others, people I loved dearly and I saw the pain in their eyes. It was a sadness that was always present even when they were laughing. I was convinced I would never survive such a loss. They must have been stronger than myself to be continuing without their child.

The question becomes What to do? Oh there are plenty of options, but none of them what I wanted. I was lost, afraid, lonely , scared, and most of all sad. I missed Lindsey and I didn’t want a life without her. I felt like I was in a maze and couldn’t find the way out. I cried most of the time, first thing in the morning and last thing at night and a lot in between. My family, as I knew it, had died too or so I thought. I read everything I could find on grief and survival, but this journey was too hard for a mom. I wasn’t that strong person I had been before. I was a shell of my former self. Quite frankly, surviving was too difficult, much easier to give up. During this dark time, I never missed a day of work, never didn’t get out of bed, never didn’t do what was expected of me in my former world. I just chose to collapse when I was done.

One day my oldest daughter looked at me and said “mom you never smile anymore” Previous to this moment, I had been told I was never seen without a smile. This hit me hard, what was I doing to all the others that I loved so dearly. I woke up that day and started searching for the exit to the maze. I had a choice to give up or live and Lindsey would want me to live and be happy. This was not my plan, certainly not what I wanted, but here I was and it was up to me to find my way. Along the way I read “The Grief Recovery Method” and discovered ways to help me survive. I might not be the “Me” I was, but maybe a different version of “me” would be ok. There is no magic to this, it is hard work and painful and worth it. We can’t always choose our path in life, but we can choose how we react to it.

That began my love affair with grief. Grief is hard and grief is forever. Well that’s depressing you’re thinking. Not really, it is a fact and once you embrace that fact, you will begin to heal. My husband, Rick, and I began a healing journey together. We attended a support group, The Compassionate Friends, and embarked on the journey we never expected to take. On that road, we met some of the most courageous people with the most inspirational stories of healing after loss. We began to laugh again and enjoy the simple things. We learned to not pressure ourselves to do things we couldn’t do. We learned self compassion. We began to heal and started looking at life in a different way. Five had become four and we had to learn that living and being happy didn’t mean forgetting. We learned to carry our memories like treasures. We protected them as if they were tiny pieces of hand blown glass, handling them with ease as we shared with others. Sharing wasn’t always easy, but that will be another post down the road. See, we still had so much left and so many that loved us. It was not an option to give up or exit. This new life before us was daunting and scary, but we took each other’s hand, fingers interlocking, and started going forward, together.

Now my best friend and the one I held hands with on that dark road full of twists and turns is gone too and I am not sure what that means. I invite you to join me on my journey searching for the light because once again I am trapped in a maze.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton