Since these mental pictures drag me down, I consciously switch my thoughts to positive pictures, such as my twin grandchildren graduating from high school. I’m glad I learned how and when to do this.

Though we all go through grief, Americans tend to avoid the topic. But talking about loss and grief helps mourners to recover. Judy Tatelbaum makes this point in her book, The Courage to Grieve. “Talking about death in natural conversation can be freeing, enabling us to accept death more fully as a fact of life,” she writes.

Tatelbaum thinks sharing our grief is crucial to recovery. “It is an opportunity to examine your own beliefs, feelings and experiences.” Death has taught me many things and one is that I need to say my daughter’s name. The Compassionate Friends, a national organization for parents and families that have lost a child, is one of the few places I can do this.

Why do I need to say my daughter’s name?

Talking about Helen is a way to keep her alive in my memory. Four years into the grief journey, I can tell stories about her without breaking down. Many stories generate laughter. One of my favorite stories involves my grandchildren’s pet hamster. Somehow, the hamster caught his tail in the cage, and he lost the tip of his tail. My engineer daughter re-attached the tip with super glue and it worked!

Saying my daughter’s name is a way to honor her accomplishments. Though she made self-defeating decisions in high school, she recognized them, and turned her life around. She became a nursing assistant, earned a two-year business degree, became a composite engineer, earned her MBA, and six special certifications for industry. Clearly, she was an accomplished woman who died too soon.

Saying my daughter’s name keeps her memory alive for her children. My twin grandchildren moved in with us after their parents were killed in separate car crashes. They were 15 years old at the time, stunned by grief, and lost. The court appointed my husband and me as their legal guardians. Our pledge then and now: Helen, we will not fail you.

As the years passed, the twins were able to tell stories about their mother. In fact, they love telling stories and hearing them. Recently I met a man who had worked with my daughter before she earned all of her degrees. He described her as a hard worker. I shared this story with my grandchildren and my granddaughter replied, “Of course!”

Though few ask how I’m doing, I tell them anyway. I tell them about Helen, all she accomplished in life, and about her marvelous twins. Her values live in them. I am proud to speak my daughter’s name aloud and proud to be her mother.

Copyright 2011 by Harriet Hodgson

Harriet Hodson’s latest book, GRIEF DOODLING, is available at Amazon.com: Grief Doodling: Bringing Back Your Smiles (9781608082520): Hodgson, Harriet: Books

For more articles by Harriet Hodgson, click here.

The post Mother Finds Comfort Saying Daughter’s Name appeared first on Open to Hope.

Moving is one of the most stressful experiences of life. My husband and I have moved so many times we’ve lost count and we’re good at moving. We’ve lived in our present house for 20 years, the longest time we’ve lived anywhere, and made the house our own. This house has nurtured us through some tough times and now we must move.

In the fall, my husband’s aorta dissected for the second time. He had three emergency surgeries, including a 13-hour operation to graft a Dacron descending aorta to his existing aorta. It was life-threatening surgery. His chances of dying were 20 percent and his chances of being paralyzed were 10 percent. Unfortunately, he had a spinal stroke during the surgery and, though he can move his legs and feet, according to his neurologist, he will never walk again.

My husband has been in the hospital for three months. He was going to be transferred to a nursing home for short-term rehabilitation, but at the last minute, was sent to the hospital rehab floor and the care of the spinal cord injury team. For this to happen, I had to find a place for us to live immediately. In fact, I only had three days. I started calling senior living complexes and they were all full. Where could we go? If I didn’t find a place for us to live what would happen to us?

Moving Quickly in a Crisis

Thankfully, the last place I called had a small assisted-living apartment available – the only apartment and our only option. I signed the necessary papers, put down a deposit, and visited the apartment, only 700-square feet of space. The apartment wouldn’t hold much of our furniture and I had to consider my husband’s disability in arranging it. Months from now, after we are settled, the apartment may feel like home. But it will never be the home we’re leaving.

There is a wooded area behind the house, a stopping place and nesting place for many birds, including cardinals. I love to watch the birds the birds land in the pine trees, the Spring Snow apple tree in our yard, and low bushes bursting with berries. On one of the coldest days of winter a flock of mixed birds – cardinals, blue jays, finches, sparrows – landed on the bushes and ate the red berries in a matter of minutes.

We are going to miss our home and the space. We are going to miss the flowers that bloom in the garden. And we are going to miss the neighbors who live on our cul-de-sac. We are going to miss the location that feels like country and is within eight minutes of the city. I’m the one in charge of clearing out the house and moving us, tasks that must be done in the next three weeks because my husband will only be in rehab for about 20 days. At four in the morning, I awaken from a sound sleep, my mind racing, my anxiety mounting.

Moving is Losing

The other day, I had a total meltdown. I sobbed for my husband, and I sobbed for myself. Though we’re grieving the home we love and must leave, we are blessed to have each other. When our daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash, and when her former husband died in another crash, we became guardians of our twin grandchildren. The twins were 15 years old when they moved in with us and turn 22 in February. They will be moving out of the house and getting their own apartments. For all I know, they, too, are grieving for the home they learned to love.

After my daughter died, I made a promise to her: I will not fail you. I’ve made the same promise to my husband. I will not fail him, I will cherish the second chance he has been given. Wherever we are, as long as we are together, it is home.

Harriet Hodson’s latest book, GRIEF DOODLING, is available at Amazon.com: Grief Doodling: Bringing Back Your Smiles (9781608082520): Hodgson, Harriet: Books

For more articles by Harriet Hodgson, click here.

The post Moving after Loss: The Grief of Leaving the Home You Love appeared first on Open to Hope.

Her husband served in the navy, she shared, and the flag reminded her of him. She came to see the flag many times, an object that linked her with her beloved husband, the man she loved and missed and admired so much. 

Objects that Link You 

Mother’s Day is coming, and if your mother has died, you may want to find items that link you to her. The linking object can be anything–a framed photo, wind-up watch, or rolling pin. I’ve moved several times since my mother died, so I have only a few linking objects. 

One is my mother’s cut glass water bottle, an antique that has been on many holiday tables. When the bottle is on the table, it’s almost as if my mother is eating dinner with the family. Using the bottle comforts me.

Kayla Waldschmidt writes about linking objects in her Grief Resource Center article, “Memory Tokens and Linking Objects.” She defines memory tokens and linking objects as visual reminders of deceased loved ones. These objects are powerful, powerful enough to make you cry.

Find a Link to Mom

Your mother is gone, but your love is not,  and may be even stronger than ever. Take some time to find your linking objects, Waldschmidt advises, and it’s good advice. If you haven’t found a linking object for Mother’s Day, start looking now. Your object doesn’t need to be large. A recipe card or bookmark will do.  

When my father was courting my mother, he gave her a friendship ring — common practice at the time. The 1920s ring is made of platinum, has a diamond in the middle, and blue sapphire chips on each side.

After my father died, my mother gave the ring to me. I will wear it on Mother’s Day and think of her. My mother was my rock, my role model, and biggest fan. I will always be grateful for her confidence and strength. Even if grief is raw, you and I can find comfort in linking objects. When I wear my mother’s ring, I will feel her hand touching mine. 

Harriet Hodson’s latest book, GRIEF DOODLING, is available at Amazon.com: Grief Doodling: Bringing Back Your Smiles (9781608082520): Hodgson, Harriet: Books

For more articles by Harriet Hodgson, click here.

The post Using Linking Objects on Mother’s Day appeared first on Open to Hope.

In the early stages of grief, sadness was all I could think about. I viewed my life—indeed the world—from the lens of sadness. Each day, I felt like I was drowning in sadness and there was nothing to be happy about. Unfortunately, when I did this, I made my life darker and turned it into a future without hope.

What might happen if I changed my thinking?

I had read about the human mind and how miraculous it is, how we may be the only living species capable of consciously changing our thinking. Dr. Heidi Horsley and Dr. Gloria Horsley write about two techniques in their book, Teen Grief Relief. I purchased the book when I was caring for my orphaned twin grandchildren.

One idea: “Select a pleasant thought and hold it in your mind as you touch your thumb and index finger together to make a circle, or link,” they write. The Horsleys call his “The Happiness Link” and I tried it. “The Happiness Link” worked, and I continue to use it.

What am I Learning from Grief?

“Thought-Stopping” is another of their ideas. When concentration is needed and grief set aside, you wear a rubber band on your wrist and snap it when you need to focus. I tried this technique, and it worked. In a sense, I was snapped to attention. Like “The Happiness Link,” this requires a physical response, and I think that’s why it works for me.

I live at Charter House, a retirement community owned and operated by Mayo Clinic. Charter House offers a continuum of care. Though my apartment is in Independent Living, I know Assisted and Supportive Living are available.  Residents talk about health issues and death freely. We also discuss the importance of a positive attitude.

What I Learned from Grief

Since I’m a list-maker, I made a list about the things I learned from grief, and it may help you.

• You become acutely aware of the blessings in your life: food, clothing, shelter, occupation, interests, grandchildren, and more.

• You practice mindfulness—the non-judgmental awareness of the present, your body, surroundings, and what is going on.

• You are more compassionate than you were before learning from grief.

• You make good things from grief. Examples: Help fund a scholarship, donate books to the public library about your loved one’s occupation and/or hobbies, donate to a national health organization.

• You volunteer in the community in memory of your loved one. Every time you volunteer you think of him or her.

• You ask family members to contribute written memories of your loved one and make these into a book.

• You gather family members to a dinner comprised of your loved one’s favorite foods—some healthy and some not so healthy.

• You treasure objects that link you to your loved one: wind-up watch, antique rolling pin, woodworking tools, etc.

• You give yourself permission to laugh and treasure every moment of life.

Life is the Winner

After my husband died in 2020, I made a conscious decision: Death will be the loser. Life will be winner. I will make it so. I created a new life based on the foundation of my husband’s love. And I remain open to hope and open to happiness. As Heather Lende writes in her book, Find the Good: Unexpected Life Lessons from a Small-Town Obituary Writer, “Find the good. That’s enough. That’s plenty.”

Learn more about that and her other books: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet Hodgson on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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In 2007 my elder daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash. Helen loved Christmas and the first one without her was indescribably painful. I thought the second Christmas without Helen would be easier for me. It wasn’t. In fact, my grief seemed worse.

While my grief has eased during the passing years, every bereaved parent knows holidays can spark grief again. We go backwards on the recovery/reconciliation path and may come to dread the holidays. We’ve lived another year without a child and there are more years to come. So how can we survive? I don’t know about you, but I need to say my daughter’s name aloud. And I need to tell Helen stories that remind me of her.

Close friends often smile when I tell stories about my daughter. However, people who don’t really know me, yet know my story, tend to change the subject quickly. They want to avoid any association with grief.

Grieving Parents Learn to Survive Holidays

Bereaved parents like you and me can’t avoid grief during the holidays. Instead, we learn to live with loss and practice self-care. Some families place a photo of their deceased child on the holiday dining table. Although my husband and I have never done this, displaying a photo may comfort you.

When I think of Helen stories the first one that comes to mind is her solution for a pet hamster losing the end of his tail. The twins loved their hamster and were upset when they found the tip of his tail. Helen, a composite engineer with six industry certifications, came up with a original solution. She glued the tail back on with super glue and it took!

A friend shared another story about Helen. At a time of life when she was strapped for money, Helen stopped by and gave the friend a cutting from a raspberry bush. She told the friend how to root the cutting and plant it. The friend remembers Helen’s simple gift to this day.

Surviving the Holidays by Telling Stories

Helen told me a story about managing a production line. One worker didn’t approve of female managers and, to make things worse, decided not to insert a screw in the product because it was unnecessary. Helen told him the screw was necessary for safety, but the man refused to insert it. “Then I’ll shut down the production line and you will be the cause,” Helen countered. Apparently, the worker checked on Helen’s ability to shut down a production line, because he changed his mind and inserted the screw.

Each story illustrates a different facet of Helen’s personality. The hamster tail story illustrates ingenuity and humor. The raspberry bush illustrates kindness. The production line story illustrates values. Telling stories about a deceased child is comforting and helps to keep that child alive in memory. Although our children aren’t physically present, our love for them never wanes.

Deep in our hearts, we know our children would want us to enjoy the holidays. Let’s tell stories about them and speak their names with joy. We are their parents and always will be.

Learn more about that and her other books at  www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet Hodgson on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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Multiple Losses Can Increase Isolation

“We don’t see many people these days,” my husband commented.

“I know,” I answered. “It’s because of our multiple losses.”

After our twin grandchildren lost their parents in separate car crashes in 2007 we became their legal guardians and conservators — roles that required tremendous time and documentation. Then two more family members died. Grieving for four loved ones while raising grandchildren is the hardest thing we have ever done.

Coming to terms with one death is hard, but coming to terms with four is much harder. According to Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD, Director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition, the American culture does not encourage mourners to express their grief. He makes this point in his article, “Helping Dispel 5 Common Myths About Grief.”

Our culture tells mourners to carry on, according to Wolfelt, to keep our chin up and stay busy. “So, they [mourners] end up grieving within themselves in isolation, instead of mourning outside of themselves and in the presence of loving companions.”

The Isolation of Grief

The University of Texas cites the isolation of grief in a website article, “Life After Loss: Dealing with Grief.” It says a person who has suffered sudden loss may have sleep disturbances, nightmares, distressing thoughts, depression, severe anxiety, and social isolation. “The length of grief is different for everyone,” the article explains. “There is no predictable schedule for grief.”

There is no predictable schedule for multiple losses either. My stages of grief were not absolute and often overlapped. It took several months for me to realize I was grieving for my loved ones in the order they died. Though a small group of friends encouraged me to express my grief, they were the exception.

Why do multiple losses increase isolation? In our case, becoming a GRG (grandparent raising grandchildren) made us isolated. While friends were visiting relatives, taking cruises, and attending conferences, we were at home with our twin grandchildren. Our interests are different, too.

The number of losses is another cause of isolation. Bob Deits, author of “Life After Loss,” describes grief as a test of endurance. He thinks it takes at least two or three years to work through a death. We cannot expect someone who is grieving for several loved ones to bounce back instantly. I still have days when I cannot believe my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law died within nine months.

Studying Multiple Losses

Lack of information about multiple losses also contributes to isolation. Many friends were so stunned by my story they did not know what to say or how to help. The bereaved person has a sense of impoverishment, according to Judy Tatelbaum, author of “The Courage to Grieve,” and needs companionship. Your friends may not be able to provide companionship at this time.

The power of secondary losses is yet another reason for isolation. Each death creates dozens of secondary losses. In some instances, the pain of the secondary losses is greater than the deaths. When my daughter died, for example, I losy Sunday dinners with her, family stories, common interests, such as decorating, traveling with her, and the satisfaction of seeing her excel in life.

Other factors may contribute to isolation. You may have a chronic illness, be a family caregiver, or forced to move. Still, you may get help from friends, your religious community, social services, national groups, relatives and neighbors. We can emerge from our isolation cocoons and soar like butterflies.

Learn more about that and her other books at  www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet Hodgson on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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In 2007, four family members died in a row: my daughter (mother of my fraternal twin grandkids), father-in-law, brother, and the twins’ father. My daughter and father-in-law died the same weekend. I didn’t want to look at their photos on the obit page of the newspaper but couldn’t stop myself from looking.

Is Love Stronger Than Death?

A week later, I sat down at the computer and poured out my soul in words. Is love stronger than death? The answer is a resounding “yes.”

To cope with grief, I created Action Memorials© for my loved ones. In memory of my daughter (a true comedian), I dedicated belly laughs to her. In memory of my father-in-law, I vowed to emphasize ethics. And in memory of my brother, I volunteered at the public library bookstore. n memory of the twins’ father, I observed nature more closely.

Years passed and life was going smoothly. Then, in 2020, my husband John died after a long illness. I was his caregiver and watching John’s health fail was gut-wrenching. John and were married for 63 years. To be loved for who I was—and who I wasn’t—was a source of strength.

Loving Someone Gives You Strength

As the ancient Chinese philosopher, Lao Tzu, explained, “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

Just as I had done in 2009, I turned to writing and wrote Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal. Part memoir and part self-help, it’s a deeply honest book and packed with practical ideas. And I wrote two more grief books, Grief Doodling: Bringing Back Your Smiles and Grief in Your Words: How Writing Helps You Heal—eleven in all.

What else could I do? One of the most drastic things I did was turn John’s bedroom (really a hospital room) into my art studio. Today, every wall of my studio is covered with framed Doodle Art. Sometimes I feel John is there with me, almost looking over my shoulder. He was always my biggest fan and I still think of him that way.

Art and Love

John and I believed in volunteerism, and I acted on this belief. I chair the Arts and Decorating Committee for my retirement community. I give free Doodle Art workshops, writing workshops, and talks about grief healing. And I donate to the organizations we supported in the past, and new organizations too.

Every day, I think of my departed loved ones and the love we shared.

In his book, To Bless the Space Between Us, John O’Donohue includes a poem titled “To Come Home to Yourself.” (Page 97). Multiple losses, especially the death of my beloved John, helped me realize the power of love. Love has made me a better person, more self-aware, and more aware in general.

I’ve come home to my new self. The best thing I can do to honor my loved ones is to enjoy the miracle of life. Each moment is a blessing.

Learn more about that and her other books at  www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet Hodgson on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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In 2007, the traumatic loss of my daughter became imprinted in my mind forever. A traumatic loss is sudden, unexpected, and happens without warning. The loss of Helen was more than traumatic; it was violent.

I pictured the crashed car in my mind and Helen’s crushed, bleeding body. The images were torturous. Her death was nature’s mistake, an out-of-turn death.

The car crash happened on a snowy February night. Helen and her daughter, one of her twins, were on their way home from a Girl Scout meeting several towns away. It was snowing, and the country road she was driving on connected to the highway at an angle. Helen turned onto the highway, didn’t see the oncoming car, and was hit broadside.

Haunting Image of Daughter’s Crash

The Mayo One helicopter came to her rescue, and my granddaughter went to the hospital by ambulance. A helicopter crew member called me. “Your daughter has been in a car crash,” she said. “Her injuries are really bad, and your granddaughter probably has a concussion.”

Oh my God. The news sparked unease and fear. Earlier that evening when John and I were eating dinner, I had suddenly felt so nauseated that I didn’t finish my food. This happened around six thirty in the evening. Was this the time of the crash? Do mothers have the same communication as twins? Had Helen thought of me on impact?

I never learned the time of the accident or the answers to these questions, and I had to make peace with that. Many of life’s questions have no answers. A television news crew showed up at the crash site. The footage they took appeared on the early news. A friend called to warn me. “Don’t watch the news tonight,” she urged. “It shows your daughter’s crash, and you don’t need to see that.”

Hopes Dashed for Miracle

I thanked her for calling and followed her advice. I didn’t need to store these images in my conscious or subconscious mind. Surgeons operated on Helen for twenty hours, but her injuries were so extensive the doctors couldn’t save her life. “If we fix one thing, we’ll have to fix another,” the lead surgeon explained.

I could tell by his facial expression and body language that he was truly sorry to share this news. He said he tested our daughter, and she was brain-dead. Our hopes for a miracle were dashed.

Helen was an organ donor. A representative from an organ donation organization came to the hospital. I wouldn’t be able to do this woman’s job, and I admired her courage. However, I wasn’t pleased with her clothes. She wore a low-cut dress that was so out of place I wondered if she had come from a cocktail party. John and I sat down at a table with her to sign legal documents. Every time she leaned over, I saw her breasts and said a mental oops. The “oops” happened several times. What an odd experience.

John’s brother and his wife came to the ER to support us, and they saw the woman’s breasts. I felt birth and death were sacred experiences. The woman’s revealing dress desecrated Helen’s death. When family members talk about this experience, we refer to the woman as Mrs. Cleavage. She will always be Mrs. Cleavage to us.

Daughter’s Organs Saved Lives

John and my surviving daughter went to the police impound lot to see the damaged car. There was a lot of blood in the car, enough to fill an empty coffee cup. When John was an Air Force flight surgeon, he investigated several crashes and was used to doing this. John didn’t say much about Helen’s crash and said nothing about her car.

Helen’s organs saved three lives and restored another person’s sight. The organization sent remembrance medallions to the twins and an invitation to the yearly banquet. The twins didn’t want medallions or a fancy dinner; they wanted their mother.

The organization continued to send us invitations. Receiving them was so painful, so I asked for our names to be removed from the mailing list. This decision sounded harsh, even to me, but I couldn’t handle any more invitations.

The traumatic loss of Helen was difficult to process. First, there was debilitating shock and disbelief. When I learned more details about the crash, Helen’s death was even more traumatic. When she was barely conscious, apparently Helen had patted her daughter on the knee to comfort her, a maternal thing to do.

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

The post Coping with Traumatic Loss of Daughter appeared first on Open to Hope.

After so many losses in one year, loneliness was personal for me. We’d had Golden Retrievers for years, and I missed them. One dog was named Sally and the other was named Max. I longed to have a pet again, but according to retirement community rules, I could only have fish.

In my mind, fish weren’t true pets; they didn’t respond to names or offer affection. For centuries, dogs had adapted to humans and learned to “read” their body language and conversation. While it was fun to see the pet therapy dogs that came to Charter House, they weren’t my dogs. The dogs didn’t know me, and I didn’t know them. I wanted a dog and couldn’t have one.

This fact added to my loneliness. Many of my friends had died, and I missed them. Their deaths made me think about my father-in-law. As the years marched on, more of his friends died, and he was the last one standing. If Dad was upset, he didn’t show it. Dad would simply say, “Fred (or whatever the name was) was a wonderful person and I’ll miss him.”

How Dad Dealt with Death

Then Dad went on with his life. I didn’t want to be the last person standing or become a CDC statistic, so I started an anti-loneliness campaign.

Step one: I joined an informal support group of residents. Our discussions were honest and funny. Laughing with them changed the day.

Step two: I took advantage of free coffee for residents. Getting coffee gave me opportunities to talk with friends, strangers, and staff. Even if I only said a few words, my loneliness was reduced. I lived with residents who understood loneliness and this time of life.

Step three: I talked with friends about loneliness. One friend had moved across the country to live at Charter House. She missed her husband, her house, and her friends. Another friend said they were lonely and didn’t know what to do about it. Other friends thought loneliness was a serious topic that couldn’t be explained.

Desperate to Connect

Despite their interesting careers, these friends talked the most about their husbands and children. One friend lived alone and felt separated and lonely due to COVID-19. She had no contact with others, and the silence in her apartment was oppressive. “Then the phone rang,” she explained. “I said, ‘Oh good. I have someone to talk to and am not alone.’” My friend looked forward to future phone calls.

Loneliness reminded me of a paper I wrote for Study Club about Robinson Crusoe. Daniel Defoe’s novel, Robinson Crusoe, was published in 1719 and is considered one of the first English novels. Defoe’s story is based on the real life of stranded sailor Alexander Selkirk. In the novel, Robinson Crusoe lives alone on a Caribbean island for twenty-eight years.

Selkirk was stranded for eight years, and during that time, he lost the ability to speak. He was miraculously rescued and returned to England. He had to learn how to speak all over again.

Would Loneliness Harm Me?

Was I a female Robinson Crusoe at risk for losing my ability to speak? In some ways, I had lost touch with reality. I walked into John’s bedroom to tell him something and remembered he wasn’t there. I thought about calling a friend and remembered they had died. My circle of friends was shrinking rapidly, and my loneliness was relentless.

I lost a future with my parents, my in-laws, my brother, my daughter and my husband. For the rest of my days, I’ll wonder what my daughter would have accomplished if she had lived. What would we have done together? Which holidays would we have celebrated? What would she think about the twins becoming adults?

When he was about sixty years old, I asked John to write his memoir, or dictate it. He never did. Maybe John didn’t write it because he didn’t realize he had an unusual life. Aerospace medicine, aviation medicine, internal medicine, preventive medicine, and Air Force service were ordinary things for John. Yet John’s life was extraordinary, and I was blessed to share it with him.

My Own Mortality

The deaths of family members and friends hit close to home. I realized I could die at any time. After our mother died, my brother said, “I’m in front now.” I understood his comment. And when John died, I believed I was next in line to die. If I wanted to write more books, or do more to market them, I’d better get cracking. If I wanted to do something unusual, now was the time.

No sitting around and feeling sorry for myself. Having a pity party wouldn’t be beneficial and would delay grief healing.

I asked other widows how they coped with the loss of their husbands. My next-door neighbor said she thought of her husband every day. “You have to keep going,” she said. Like my neighbor, I think about John every day and miss him. I had many happy memories.

As time passed, thinking about John became less painful. The second year as a widow or widower is often called “lonely year.” It was a terribly lonely year for me.

Without John’s presence, the silence in my apartment was unbearable. The only sounds I heard were the ticking of the antique clock and the television if I left it on. Now John was gone. He didn’t say, “Honey, is there more coffee?” or “This is delicious,” or “I like your new sweater,” or “I love you.” I missed the sound of John’s voice. I seemed to be stuck in loneliness and wanted to be unstuck.

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

The post The Lonely Year for Widows appeared first on Open to Hope.

Joining a support group can help those who are grieving. Many support groups were available in my area, and they differed widely. Before I joined a group, I did my homework and considered the following factors.

Factors in Joining a Support Group

Type of group: Support groups are supposed to meet needs. They include faith-based groups, disease-specific groups, end-of-life groups, after-death groups, and more. I wanted to find a group that fit my needs.

The meeting place: Support groups meet in churches, hospitals, and places that have a minimal charge or are free. I looked for a group near my building to reduce driving time.

The meeting time: Because I get up around four thirty or five in the morning, I preferred to meet during the day. I don’t like to drive at night, but I can if I need to.

Frequency of meetings: Many groups will meet on a weekly basis. I didn’t have the time to meet more often. Once every two weeks didn’t appeal to me.

Number of members: A small group suited me best. Before I joined a group, I needed to know how many members were in the group. Was the group accepting new members?

The group structure: I needed a group that was a true sharing, not a pity party. Group members would share coping tips, discuss the pros and cons, and come to conclusions.

A test drive: Before I joined a group, I decided to attend a few meetings. Instead of talking, I would just listen and observe group interaction.

Helpful leads: I wanted support group meetings to provide me with information about experts, organizations, and plans. It would be beneficial if the group had a resource library.

My feelings: After a meeting, I wanted to feel better. I knew from experience that I didn’t need to be friends with all members to benefit from meetings. When someone spoke, I could learn from them and try their helpful tips.

You Can Always Leave

If joining a grief support group doesn’t meet my needs, I can always drop out. A lack of confidentiality would be a reason to leave a group. I would also leave if the leader was abrupt or preachy. If I decided to leave, I would be courteous, respectful, and softspoken. I would follow my husband’s advice: “Never burn your bridges.”

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

The post Joining a Grief Support Group  appeared first on Open to Hope.

Usually when someone asks this question, they expect one reply: “Fine.” I used this answer at first to end painful conversations. But I wasn’t fine, knew it, and came up with different answers to this common question. Months passed, and my next answer to the question was, “Okay.” I liked the answer because it was common language and fit many situations.

“Getting along” was my third answer, the one I used in the middle stage of grief. This answer implied progress, which seemed to satisfy people. When I felt stronger, I answered the question with one word: “Coping.” I only used this answer with close friends.

Finally, well into my grief journey, I said “I’m good.” And I was good because my support system began with me. I had identified the gaps and fixed them. To move forward on the healing path, I needed to become my own support system, a responsible person in charge of myself.

My early efforts at creating a personal system were a false start— confusing and ambiguous. I wondered why. In her book, Loving Someone Who Has Dementia, Dr. Pauline Boss writes, “It’s up to you, in your own mind, to create a safe space—perhaps even a delicious place—where you know . . . that you have done your best and can do no more.”

These words resonated with me, and I took them to heart. I felt I could help others who were grieving, not just relatives and caregivers of patients suffering from memory loss. Reaching out to others would help them and help me.

What steps did I take? I continued to learn about grief. While this wasn’t fun reading, it helped me understand grief in general, types of grief, styles of grieving, what I was going through, and what others were going through. The more I read, the more my compassion grew, and I resisted judging myself.

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

The post When Someone Asks: ‘How Are You?’ appeared first on Open to Hope.

My husband John’s illness progressed, and self-care became harder. I felt like I was playing a bad game of catch-up. No matter how hard I tried, I never caught up with caregiving tasks, and there were always unchecked items on my to-do list. I wondered if I’d make it through the day.

When I was alone and honest with myself, I worried about burnout. Burnout can take years to develop. The caregiver’s feelings progress from enthusiasm (when they are first hired), to stagnation (too much work, too little time), to frustration (not being able to do the work), and finally, apathy (the result of exhaustion).

Even trained, dedicated health care workers are subject to burnout. I could be at risk of burnout or compassion fatigue. Compassion fatigue is a form of burnout—physical, emotional, and spiritual exhaustion. Unlike burnout, which develops slowly, compassion fatigue comes on quickly. It happens when someone cares too much.

Controlling and Focusing Thoughts

I thought about John all the time and hoped I wouldn’t have compassion fatigue. The holidays put additional pressure on me. I wanted to stop compassion fatigue before it stopped me.

I did this by controlling my thoughts. The idea came from Dr. Amit Sood, author of The Mayo Clinic Guide to Stress-Free Living. “As soon as you wake up, before you get out of bed, let your first thoughts be one of gratitude,” Dr. Sood advises.

The minute my eyes opened in the morning, I thought of someone who helped me. Other names came to mind. Each day, I thought of five people. Five more people the next day, and the next. I had a list of people who were kind, smart, and had my back. The mental exercise caused me to remember people from my past, and I was humbled by their kindness.

A Theme for Each Day

Dr. Sood believes that having a theme for each day of the week helps to reduce stress: Monday: gratitude. Tuesday: compassion. Wednesday: acceptance. Thursday: higher meaning. Friday: forgiveness. Saturday: celebration Sunday: reflection and prayer.

This sounded like a beneficial approach. I followed his advice but did it differently. Since I couldn’t remember all the themes, I chose one I could easily remember: love. This theme meshed with every day of caregiving.

Thinking about love reduced my stress and helped me get through the day. Love reminded me of why I was John’s caregiver. His love helped me find my way through the caregiving maze. The maze had twists, turns, and corners. I would deal with an issue, turn a corner, and another challenge appeared. But there was always love at the end of the day.

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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I wanted to experience “healthy grieving.” These words often appear in grief articles and books. Did healthy grieving mean sobbing like crazy, being confused, or having grief brain? None of those sounded healthy to me. I went in search of healthy grieving.

As I walked forward on the healing path, I understood the meaning of these words. Healthy grieving required thinking of my deceased loved ones differently and finding new places for them in my life. Some grief experts said I had to develop a new relationship with the deceased.

This idea puzzled me. I thought my loved ones needed to be alive to have a relationship with them. Not true. Developing a new relationship included breaking through emotional barriers until I reached the truth.

Multiple Losses Required Extra Time to Grieve

Four losses in 2007 were too much to handle. Coming to terms with grief took longer for me because I could only think about one person at a time. I thought about the nature of each relationship: my relationship with my father, mother, brother, father-in-law, mother-in-law, daughter, son-in-law, and John.

For the most part, these relationships were good. My mother-in-law, for example, wrote me a note about how much she appreciated my sense of humor. Thinking about relationships was time-consuming, exhausting, and revealing. I couldn’t move forward on the healing path until I had done this thinking.

According to grief expert Therese A. Rando, I had to recall the ups and downs of each relationship, the positives and negatives, the crises and joys, and how these relationships changed through the years. Doing this would allow me to have a new relationship with my departed loved ones.

Continued Bond with the Deceased

As I thought about each relationship, images from the past came to mind. My father was the air-raid warden for our block during World War II. In my mind, I saw him walking up and down the street, checking to make sure the houses were dark. I remembered how serious he was about his job.

I saw my mother baking sponge cakes—her specialty. She was such a superb baker that friends asked her to bake cakes for them. They delivered the ingredients and Mom baked the cakes. Our small kitchen became a cake factory.

I saw my brother’s collection of sailing books lined up on a shelf. He read them all. My brother always looked for a sailing book wherever we went, and he had amassed an extensive collection. The book about tying sailing knots was one of his favorites.

I saw my mother-in-law setting the table for a formal dinner. She was a Victorian grandmother and proud of it. Her table settings, which included a “silence cloth” beneath the tablecloth, were worthy of royalty. I wished I could set a table as well.

Actively Remembering Loved Ones

I saw my father-in-law flying a small plane. He did this for a few years. “Now I know what keeps a plane in the air,” he said with a chuckle. “Money.” For Dad, that was a joke and wasn’t a joke. He quit flying.

I saw Helen sitting at the sewing machine and make a skirt in an hour without reading the instructions. We were astonished. To this day, I can’t believe my daughter did this.

I saw my former son-in-law holding his babies. He was proud of them and had a T-shirt that said, “Father of Twins.” He was proud to be their dad.

I saw John in his Air Force uniform and colonel’s hat. The hat had silver lightning bolts on it, and the jacket was adorned with rows of service ribbons. John represented the Air Force well. These were happy memories, to be sure.

Recalling Life Stories

Remembering my loved ones made me think of stories about them. One story was about my mother taking driving lessons. Since Mom didn’t drive, she had to wait until my father could drive her places or, if it wasn’t too far, walk to her destination. This became so tiresome, my mother decided to take driving lessons. The first lessons went well, and Mom was pleased with herself until the day she hit the porch with our car.

My brother had a wicked sense of humor. He heard the thump, opened the front door, and shouted, “Did you knock?” Mom didn’t find his comment humorous. In fact, she was so ashamed she gave up on driving lessons. After my father died and Mom moved to Florida, a cousin gave her driving lessons. She passed the test and became a licensed driver, which was a highlight of her life.

I chuckled when I remembered Mom hitting the porch, and then I became teary-eyed. Tears connected me to the past and were signs of love. Someone cared about me, and I cared about them. My tears didn’t last long, yet they were a relief—proof that life was moving forward. I felt better. I was making progress in my search for healthy grieving.

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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Giving away linking objects is part of my story. Linking objects are things that belong to the deceased person, such as a watch, a bread knife, woodworking tools, and more.

As soon as he died, I slipped John’s wedding ring on my finger. Wearing the ring made me feel like John was still with me. I touched the ring and remembered the years we shared. Wearing John’s ring comforts me every day.

Linking objects could comfort other family members. I gave John’s black leather medical bag with gold letters on the side that read, “C. John Hodgson, MD,” to my grandson. When my grandson looked at the contents of the bag, he said, “You don’t see these things anymore.” The bag contained a knee hammer, a dated stethoscope, and other medical tools. Looking inside the bag was looking at medical history.

Gifts to Next Generations

I gave my daughter the handcrafted mug John used to keep pencils and pens in when he was a child. The relief on the outside of the mug depicted the story of Little Red Riding Hood.

I also gave my daughter John’s winter Air Force coat. The coat was about forty years old, had a broken zipper, and needed to be drycleaned. My daughter wears her father’s coat when she plows snow. The coat keeps her warm and makes her feel close to her dad. She thought about having the coat cleaned but changed her mind. “I didn’t want to wash Dad off,” she explained.

I found more of John’s linking objects, including three NASA passes from the days when he was a flight surgeon at NASA Houston. Without the passes, John wouldn’t have been admitted to mission control. The passes were part of John’s history and our family history. This history needed to be shared. I gave a NASA pass to my daughter and the twins.

Linking Objects Keep Loved Ones Close

Breaking out of the grief bubble didn’t mean I forgot my loved ones. Every day, I thought about them and remembered them with “action memorials,” the words I used to explain my actions. The idea for the memorials came from Dr. Therese A. Rando, and I’m grateful for it. One way to keep a loved one in your life, Rando writes, is to identify with the person. “It is a way in which you can keep him with you.”

How could I keep my loved ones close? I thought about the qualities of the people I had just lost: my daughter, my father-in-law, my brother, the twins’ father, and John. Each one had special qualities, and I chose one quality that represented each of them. Helen’s humor. My father-in-law’s ethics. My brother’s love of reading. The twins’ father’s love of nature. John’s love of medicine.

Linking to a Daughter’s Laugh

In memory of my daughter, I decided to laugh more. The first laugh happened in a Twin Cites restaurant. A year after Helen died, John and I took our youngest daughter out to dinner. While we waited for our food to arrive, we swapped stories about our trip to London and the Isle of Man.

The stories became funnier and funnier, and our laughter got louder and louder, so loud I thought we’d be thrown out of the restaurant. I hadn’t laughed since Helen died, and my laughter was as rusty as an old hinge. As laughter poured out of my body, I said to myself, “Helen, these laughs are dedicated to you.”

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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After my husband died, I had to decide what to let go of and what to hold onto.

I let go of John’s companionship. John and I enjoyed each other, were honest with each other, and most importantly, listened to each other. After conversing with him for years about a wide range of topics—everything from saving whales, to changes in  political parties, to child Advance Review Copy Uncorrected Proof 144 Winning development—I didn’t have anyone to talk to. The apartment was silent. I remembered past conversations and yearned to have new conversations with him.

I let go of family history carriers. Everyone in the Hodgson family was a storyteller. One of the most interesting stories my father-in-law told was about a young family member who was left to homestead on some Minnesota land during the winter. The young man developed scurvy because food was limited. A traveler gave the relative an onion, and it contained enough vitamin C to stop the scurvy from getting worse. Family stories were history, and the generation that told them so eloquently was gone.

I let go of guilt. Guilt was a corrosive emotion, like acid eating the soul. Though guilt could lead to good things, I considered it my enemy. More than that, guilt was a waste of energy. Instead of wasting time on guilt, I identified the positives in my life, and they were building blocks for the future. I had the basics: safe water, enough food, seasonal clothing, and shelter. I still had my education and life experience.

What I Held Onto

I held on to happy memories. Some of my best memories were of Christmas dinners at our house and relatives’ houses. We had a live Christmas tree and decorated it with gift ornaments I received from nursery school students. The ornaments were charming: a tiny handmade sled, a photo of one of my students, and glittering stars. Each ornament made the tree unique. No other family in town had a tree like ours.

I held on to family traditions. Before we ate Thanksgiving dinner, my father-in-law started a tradition of holding hands and saying, “God bless us everyone.” After my father-in-law died, my brother-in-law continued this tradition. I want this custom to continue in the future, and time will tell if it will.

In the meantime, I hold on to my spirituality and faith. Dr. Katherine Piderman, Coordinator of Spirituality Research at Mayo Clinic, Rochester, defined spirituality in a way I understood: “Spirituality is an opportunity to experience life at the deepest level. It gives you a way to approach each day with wonder and gratitude, grace and generosity, meaning and purpose.”

Piderman uses this definition with patients who participate in the “Hear My Voice” program, a storytelling, remembrance, and thoughtful program for hospice patients. This program helps participants answer I-wish-I-knew and I-wish-I’d-told thoughts. In my confused state, I wondered if church members would respond to my daughter’s death and John’s death.

Friends Rallied

Church members didn’t just respond, they rallied. One couple gave us a book they read after their son had died. “It helped us and may help you,” my friend said. The Caring Committee sent me cards for years after John died. Support from my church congregation kept me going.

I held on to love. Not many couples were as close as we were. John’s death didn’t quell my love for him; I loved him more than ever. I often dreamed about John. In my dreams, we were on a trip and having fun together. Several times I dreamed we were lost and woke up suddenly.

My wish-fulfillment dreams were signs that I wished John were still alive.

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

The post Holding On, Letting Go After Husband’s Death appeared first on Open to Hope.

When my husband John died, I didn’t know how to go on living. Rather than existing, I wanted to flourish and savor life. That meant setting new goals, working for them, and reaching them. I wanted my living loved ones, and John, to be proud of me. Creating a new life took gumption, and I had it. Grief could have a better outcome if I let it. I could learn from grief and use my experience to help others.

Judy Tatelbaum, author of The Courage to Grieve, thinks grieving people need to make good from their grief. “Making our grief meaningful can be an antidote to despair and suffering as well as the stepping stone to personal growth and achievement,” she explains.

Her words strengthened my resolve. I found many ways to make good from grief—some traditional, some nontraditional, and some that were new for me.

Setting Goals for a New Life

My goals were to share the talents I’d been given, be grateful for what I had, live mindfully, adapt to life, and focus on the positives, The old caregiving-to-do list was replaced by a new to-do list. The first two items on my list: “Live the best life” and “Be happy.” I was the “executive” in charge of my happiness, and it began with writing more books and giving talks and workshops.

John often said I was low maintenance, not the kind of person who needed flashy stuff to be happy. For me, happiness is sitting in my favorite chair, which is probably forty years old, with a cup of coffee within reach and an engrossing book in my hands. Happiness means sitting on a bench in the park across the street and doing nothing. Silence doesn’t bother me.

Life was an adventure, and I wondered what was around the next corner. I wanted to live life to the fullest. Would life disappoint me or surprise me?

Reaching My Goals

During my forty-five-year career as a freelance author, I wrote forty-five books. The books didn’t write themselves. My writing career hinges on research and strong work habits. I started typing in the basement near the furnace. Then I graduated to a personal computer and workstation. Tractor printers were slow, and mine was so slow that I would start it, go to the grocery store, and the printer would still be going by the time I got home. I was excited when I graduated to a home office and bought an inkjet printer. Having a new printer and place to write made writing easier.

Star of Hope

Many people have asked me if Winning would be my last book.

“I’m not sure,” I answered, “because I never know when an idea will strike.” I’ve had several ideas for new books and haven’t decided whether I will pursue them. This decision depends on book sales and my health. If I’m being honest with myself, I hope I’ll write another book because I have more things to say, and my mind is still working.

Hope was important for both my future and my mental health. I had hope for my books, my family, and my life. My mother felt she lived at the best time. I adopted her attitude and acted on it. No matter what was going on in the world, or in my corner of the world, I celebrated life. I looked to the future with hope.

As Emily Dickinson wrote in one of her poems, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.”

Hope perched in my soul, and though I occasionally faltered, I followed the star of hope.

Excerpted from Harriet’s upcoming book, Winning. Learn more about that and her other books at  www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet Hodgson on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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The year after my husband John died, my grief brain was at its peak. I wanted to give my brain a rest, but I couldn’t do that. There were dozens of tasks on my to-do list, and progress ranged from slow to nil.

Recovering from grief brain was a slow process that came in spurts. I never slipped into classical depression, thank goodness. My brain struggled to adapt to the loss of my beloved John and the onset of more grief. I often felt “down” and wondered if I really was getting depressed.

Clinical depression is a mental disorder that gets worse over time. This depression can get so bad that the person becomes nonfunctional. If I didn’t take some proactive steps to counter grief brain, my mind could turn to “squash rot,” the term my brother-in-law had used to describe mental decline.

I wanted to avoid squash rot. What steps could I take? It took months to answer this question. Some solutions were simple, yet when they were combined with others, the results were surprisingly effective. Even if I only took one baby step, I was moving forward.

Dealing with Situational Depression

I didn’t slip into classical depression after John died. Thank goodness. But I had “situational depression,” a response to a traumatic or stressful experience. John and I had discussed situational depression after Helen died, so I already knew about it. As time passed after John’s death, my sad, dour feelings eased and finally went away.

I helped myself by eating right, getting enough sleep, writing, and talking with other widows. I’m a visual learner, so marking the calendar with checkmarks helped me. I checked off the days when I had grief brain. In the beginning, most calendar squares were checked off. As the weeks passed, fewer squares were checked off. When I turned the calendar to the next month, no squares were checked off.

I was encouraged because I could see my progress clearly. Writing reminders on sticky notes helped me. I stuck notes everywhere—on the computer screen, the refrigerator door, the kitchen counter, and the bathroom mirror. It’s a wonder I didn’t stick a note on my nose!

Some experts don’t recommend sticky notes because they can get lost. The notes were clues to my day, and I didn’t lose any. I had considered keeping a grief brain log, but I didn’t do it. My books and articles served as my log. A diary and a log are different. You make daily entries in a diary, which can be a lot of work. You make regular entries in a log, which is less work. Entries may be weekly, every other week, or every two weeks— whatever works best.

Excerpted from Winning: A Story of Grief and Renewal: Hodgson MA, Harriet: 9781608082919: Amazon.com: Books.

Visit Harriet’s website: www.harriethodgson.net.

Read more by Harriet on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

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Thanksgiving is one of America’s favorite holidays. The dinner menu varies from culture to culture, and family to family, yet the idea of giving thanks crosses all boundaries. Until I changed, November was a difficult month, a testing month, and I wasn’t sure I’d pass the test. Two family members died in November.

My elder daughter was born on Thanksgiving. While I was in labor, I smelled roasting turkey and herb-flavored stuffing and fragrant gravy. I wanted Thanksgiving dinner and couldn’t have it. How frustrating. Years passed, and Thanksgiving became a dual celebration, giving thanks and my daughter’s birthday.

Multiple Losses Forced a Change

In February of 2007 my daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash. In November of 2020 my husband died of prostate cancer and heart disease. The first Thanksgiving after he died, I could hardly hold my feelings together. The second Thanksgiving without my husband was better, but still painful, and I felt it was time to change.

I needed a new purpose for life. The ability to find new meaning empowers us to find a path forward, according to David Kessler, author of Finding Meaning: The Fifth Stage of Grief. To find new meaning I decided to give myself away. What did this entail?

How I Gave Myself Away

I found a buddy. A friend of mine was a recent widow and I asked if she would be my grief buddy. She was thrilled. Our rules were simple: meet weekly, same time and place, wide-ranging discussion, and confidentiality.

I wrote about loss and healing. A week after my daughter died, I started writing a grief book. This changed the focus of my writing from health/wellness to grief and I authored 11 books.

I wrote for free. Newsletters, ghost writing, bulletins—I wrote them all. Doing this saved organizations money and made me feel good inside.

I spoke about grief. Because of COVID, I gave Zoom workshops about grief healing. After the epidemic slowed, I spoke at national and local grief conferences.

          I gave doodle art away. No store-bought birthday or get-well cards for me. A doodle artist, I made hand-painted cards for people, and continue to make them.

          I gave the gift of listening. Grieving people needed to tell their stories, so I listened actively. When I listened, I tried not to say anything.

Each day, I gave myself away. This helped me create a new, meaningful, surprising life. I continue to give myself away and think it symbolizes the spirit of Thanksgiving. Giving myself away adds richness to my life. As Kessler writes, “Meaning matters, and meaning heals.”

Harriet Hodson’s latest book, GRIEF DOODLING, is available at Amazon.com: Grief Doodling: Bringing Back Your Smiles (9781608082520): Hodgson, Harriet: Books

For more articles by Harriet Hodgson, click here.

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“Is it straight?” asked the activities director. She was hanging 21 pictures I contributed to a retirement community art exhibit. The pictures are doodle art, a combination of doodling, comics, and folk art. I turned to this art form when I was caring for my husband, John.

My husband was dying. John knew it and I knew it. We rarely talked about his impending death because we’d talked about almost everything during 63 years of marriage. I’m a freelance writer and John was my biggest fan; I wanted to keep my career going for John and myself.

To complicate matters, I had to quarantine for two weeks because I tested positive for Covid (no symptoms) and two more weeks because of a visit to the emergency room. For me, working from home is normal, and I wrote and illustrated Grief Doodling: Bringing Back Your Smiles while quarantined.

‘They Make Me Smile’

After John died on November 28, 2020, I turned his bedroom into my art studio and continued with doodle art.

While my pictures were being hung, people walked by, commenting “Wow!” to “I love the colors” to “They make me smile.” One woman stopped and looked at each picture. We talked about making art and our lives. I told her about my doodle art, shared comments, and said “cute” was often-used word. She shook her head vehemently. “These pictures aren’t cute,” she declared. “You turned inward and chose joy.”

Grief Doodling Helped Me Choose Joy

How did I choose joy? How can you choose it?

Be grateful for what you have. Time and again, after John died, I sat in silence and counted my blessings—a beautiful marriage, family, friends, food, clothing, and home. I live in the apartment we shared and feel John’s presence daily.

Practice thought-stopping. Dr. Heidi Horsley and Dr. Gloria Horsley detail the technique in their book, Teen Grief Relief. When grief gets in your way, tell yourself to stop grieving for a while. If this is difficult, wear a rubber band on your wrist and snap it to help you focus.

Let nature help you heal. I always have flowering plants in my apartment. Watching plants grow brings me joy. I also enjoy sitting in the park across the street. Looking at centuries-old oak trees and flying birds is calming. Nature may calm you as well.

Find a buddy. I’ve been a widow for just over a year. To help me track this grief journey, I asked another widow to be my grief buddy. She agreed. We meet weekly and learn from each other — including that each person’s grief is unique.

Build on love. John’s love is part of my soul and always will be. I’m living a new life in his memory and honor of our years together. One thought keeps me going: Love is stronger than grief.

Though you may not know it yet, you have the power to choose joy.

Read more by Harriet Hodgson on Open to Hope: https://www.opentohope.com/get-a-grief-buddy/

Check out the writer’s website: Harriet Hodgson

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Many grief books and articles say it’s important to tell your story. Indeed, telling your story is a forward step on the healing path. And one way to improve the odds of that happening: Get a grief buddy.

Grieving people need to tell our stories so we can come to terms with reality. When we can tell our stories without sobbing, we are making progress.

What are the benefits of telling our stories?

According to the Grief Recovery Center website, telling our stories helps us to become familiar with the stages of grief, find support, and feel less alone. Every griever has a story and “it’s one of the most important parts of the bereavement process.”

Tell Your Grief Story

Telling our grief stories helps us face facts, find things in common, and cope with feelings like guilt and self-blame. Over time, telling our stories helps us develop resilience. Each grief experience makes our stories more meaningful.

My husband died on November 28, 2020. We had been married for 63 years and I was his caregiver for seven of them. After my husband died I did well because I didn’t have to accomplish a myriad of caregiving tasks. I didn’t have to rush every minute of the day, worry about him while I was shopping for groceries, or cope with sleep deprivation.

Aloneness Can Be Intense

But life changed about eight months later. In some ways, it was as if my husband died again. I had to accept the fact that he was gone forever. There was no one to chat, no one to ask for advice, no one to hug and kiss. Other family members and friends had died, and this intensified my feeling of aloneness.

“Coping with Grief and Loss,” an article by Melinda Smith, MA, Lawrence Robinson, and Jeanne Segal, PhD, asks grievers to seek face-to-face support from people who care about you. This led to the idea of getting a grief buddy. The more I thought about the idea, the more it made sense.

How would the buddy system work? The only way to find out was to test it. I asked a recent widow who lived in my apartment building to be my grief buddy.  Her husband died several months ago, and her grief was still raw.

Buddy System Guidelines

We met for an hour on a Sunday morning and quickly became involved in a serious discussion. At our second meeting we discussed buddy system guidelines:

• We would meet weekly.
• Our meeting would last one hour. (We could always talk longer if we felt we needed to.)
• Confidentiality was paramount. We would trust each other with information and our deepest emotions.
• Laughter was welcome and something to share.
• Each of us would keep a log: date, topics discussed, and future topics to discuss.

Though we’ve only met twice, my buddy and I have already found we many issues and ideas in common. We’re looking forward to future meetings. Are you mired in grief? Getting a grief buddy may be just the solution you need. One buddy can lead you out of the darkness into the sunshine.

Read more by Harriet Hodgson: Memories Can Help Us Heal Our Grief – Open to Hope

Learn more about Harriet Hodgson’s books on her website: Harriet Hodgson

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Turning to Writing

Because I’m a writer, I turned to my occupation for solace. A week after my daughter died, I sat down at the computer, and poured out my soul in words. While I was writing articles, I searched for ways to help myself. I looked for memorable quotes, words that would sustain me.

This search led to a book of quotations for women. But I didn’t stop there. I started writing affirmations in my mind. Indeed, they flooded my mind. So many affirmations came into my consciousness I created a book of them.

‘You Will Survive’

This leads me back to Deb Kosmer’s Facebook post. Today, I am able to see the grief healing steps I took. Many of the steps were unconscious, my mind’s way of saying “You will survive.” I am so glad I expressed my grief with words.

My heartfelt words, and the resources I used, led to a new life. Writing about your grief can do the same for you. If you are feeling lost, I ask you to write. Put your ideas and feelings into words. Keep doing it. As time passes, your words will reveal feelings, problems, and possible solutions to these problems.

In time, your heartfelt words will lead you out of the darkness into the light.

Harriet Hodson’s latest book, GRIEF DOODLING, is available at Amazon.com: Grief Doodling: Bringing Back Your Smiles (9781608082520): Hodgson, Harriet: Books

For more articles by Harriet Hodgson, click here.

The post Writing Your Grief Can Create New Life appeared first on Open to Hope.

I need the support of community. Together, the members of our church are a safety net. When my husband began hospice care I notified our church. I notified our church again after my husband died. The church sent an email blast to members and sympathy cards started to arrive. The cards keep coming and knowing others are thinking of me boosts my spirits.

I need to feel needed. When the Open to Hope Foundation asked me to join the team and help for a few hours a week, I was thrilled. Being asked to help was encouraging and satisfying at the same time. The position would draw upon my expertise and also challenge me, something else I need.

One by one, I tucked each of these things–feeling needed, support of community, new interests, giving to others, continuing my writing career–into my mental survival kit. Assembling a grief survival kit will not eliminate the pain of my husband’s death, but it will help make it bearable. I know my amazing, brilliant, humorous, humble husband would want me to be happy. He is part of my soul and always will be. Creating a new life is a tribute to him and the love we shared.  

There is more living to be done and I will savor every moment.

Visit Harriet Hodgson at www.harriethodgson.com

The post Assembling My Grief Survival Kit: What’s In Yours? appeared first on Open to Hope.

Children are not supposed to die before their parents; it is against the laws of nature. Life is so unfair, I thought, and wondered if I would survive such tragedy. In order to survive, I turned to what I knew best—writing. A  week after  the dual deaths I sat down at the computer and started to pour out my soul in words. I continued to write about loss and grief when my brother died of a heart attack eight weeks later.

In the fall of the same year, just when I as beginning to feel better, my former son-in-law died from the injuries he received in another car crash. His deaths made my twin grandchildren orphans and my husband and me GRGs—grandparents raising grandchildren. Raising grandchildren while grieving for four family members has been the biggest challenge of my life and I did everything I could to help myself.

Writing helped me most and I wrote books, articles and affirmations about recovering from loss and grief.  I read a lot, too, research papers by experts, books by authors who have experienced tragedy, and quotations about the journey of life. Many quotations lifted my spirits. Some even made  me taught and others were inspiring. All of these factors—multiple losses, writing, research, and reading—contributed to this book.

Originally, I compiled this collection of quotes to inspire women of all ages and stages and life. When I reviewed the book as a whole, however, I realized the quotes could also empower women. As you read the quotes, the image of a spiritual woman starts to take shape. By the end of the book this image is virtually complete. Though the book is aimed at women, men will also find  inspiration and empowerment within its pages.

Each quotation is a little spark of  hope. But quotations, alone, cannot  provide happiness. You need to fan these sparks with proactive steps and connecting with other women is one of them. Though you may not realize it yet, you are more resilient than you think. This resilience—and the spirituality deep inside you—leads to a rich and fulfilling life.

Preface from The Spiritual Woman: Quotes to Refresh and Sustain Your Soul, by Harriet Hodgson

The post The Spiritual Woman Arises From Daughter’s Death appeared first on Open to Hope.

Hope is your lifeline, but for now, all you can do is wait.

The waiting is hard and just keeps getting harder. Anticipatory grief follows you like a black storm cloud. If you feel this badly now, how will you feel after your loved one has died? Your thoughts jump around from past, to present, to future, and back again. You may think you are going crazy.

Finding a moment of peace is impossible. The longer anticipatory grief lasts, the more vulnerable you become, and nobody wants to feel vulnerable. Not you. Not me. Vulnerability is the pits.

I know these things because I have experienced them before and am experiencing them now. Though I am holding myself together, my anticipatory grief is so acute I started planning my husband’s memorial service. To my surprise and shock, I also started planning for life as a widow. Am I a cold, unfeeling person? No, I am a practical person, one of God’s realists.

Grief expert Therese A. Rando, in her book How to Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies, describes anticipatory grief as a “golden opportunity.” Really? When I read these two words I was startled. But Rando goes on to explain that anticipatory grief gives you chances to do things to help your loved one and yourself. For some, it is a chance to make wrong things right.

I am a bereaved mother, daughter, sister, daughter-in-law, niece, friend, and pet owner. Anticipatory grief has taught me that each moment of life is sacred. My husband and I talk about things we haven’t talked about before—paying taxes without his help, continuing to care for family, and how our love keeps growing.

“I love you more today than yesterday,” I keep telling him.

“I love you to eternity,” he replies.

Being realistic has activated my coping skills. My previous experience with grief has given me a wellspring of strength I can tap again and again. I love to write and will continue to write when I am a widow. Maybe I will write more books about grief healing and hope. I have a new hobby, doodle art, a mixture of doodles, cartoons, and folk art, and will keep doing it.

James E. Miller writes about a future without a loved one in his book, One You Love is Dying. Caring for someone who is dying is one of the most stressful tasks of life, according to Miller. “Go easy on yourself,” he advises. Miller thinks people who are experiencing anticipatory grief need to pace themselves and adjust their expectations. “It’s hard but you can do it,” he says. “You really can.”

And we will. Love will be our strength and guide us forward to a new life.

The post Anticipatory Grief: As the End Nears appeared first on Open to Hope.

• I have the right to lose track of conversations.
• I have the right to thank others for bad advice and ignore it.
• I have the right to put things in odd places, such as comb in the refrigerator.
• I have the right to lose things, even an egg.
• I have the right to read with poor or no comprehension.
• I have the right to get a driving buddy while overcome with grief.
• I have the right to burst into tears without warning.
• I have the right to dream about my child and awaken with tears on my face.
• I have the right to say my child’ name and say it often.
• I have the right to be angry and apply this energy to healing.
• I have the right to share my grief story.
• I have the right to learn from other bereaved mothers.
• I have the right to banish guilt feelings.
• I have the right to have bad days and good days.
• I have the right to detour from the healing path.
• I have the right to treasure happy memories.
• I have the right to be comforted by linking objects.
• I have the right to create memorials in honor of my child.
• I have the right to face a future without my child.
• I have the right to love my child after her or his death.
• I have the right to laugh and give myself permission to do so.
• I have the right to be happy again.

Copyright © 2020 by Harriet Hodgson

The post A Grieving Mother’s Bill of Rights appeared first on Open to Hope.

• As I reconcile my losses, I give myself permission to say no to things I do not want to do.

• Sorrow gives new—and surprising—meaning to my life.

• When I think of sorrow, I think of it as a sacred experience and place.

• Down days don’t defeat me; they are an opportunity to feel better tomorrow.

• I have promises to keep to my deceased loved one, myself, and my life.

• Despite the pain, the one-year anniversary of my loved one’s death proves I am a survivor.

• I give myself permission to laugh and am refreshed by it.

• Writing my grief story is a way to honor my life and loved one.

• Words are powerful and I let the words I write empower me.

• Each morning I awaken with a sense of purpose.

The post Affirmations to Ease Your Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

Early grief is a feeling of loss before a death or dreaded event occurs. Though anticipatory grief is the correct medical term for this process, it’s a mouthful to say and read, so we use early grief instead.

Early grief may strike at any time and for different reasons. You may grieve for an aging parent who suffered a debilitating stroke. You may grieve when you find out that your company is downsizing and, according to the rumor mill, 150 jobs will be cut. You may grieve when you and your partner start divorce proceedings.

You may not recognize early grief when it’s happening, and that’s OK. Confronting feelings is often painful and you may come up with excuses to explain your feelings. You may tell yourself that you’re overtired, overworked, and feeling blue. Sure, early grief can make you tired, muddle your mind, and make you feel blue,  but it’s more complicated than that. Research findings suggest that early grief is as raw and powerful as “normal” grief. That makes it a big deal. You may feel early grief if your:

• Baby is born with a heart defect
• Teenager is hooked on drugs
• Loved one is in the military and receives orders for a combat zone
• Retirement date is approaching
• Dear friend is dying of AIDS
• Parent is in hospice
• Life involves caring for the chronically or terminally ill
• Government raises the terror alert

Smiling Through Your Tears focuses on early grief before death and guides you through the process. It’s designed to be reader-friendly Each chapter begins with a quotation to help you focus your thoughts. Topical headings guide you through  the text. Stories from people who’ve experienced early grief bring research findings to life. Healing steps—114 of them in all—are printed in bold within the text and summarized at the end of the chapters.

One-by-one, thee healing steps lead you to your healing path. The reading time for the book is about three hours. You don’t have to read it all at one sitting. Read the parts you need most and save the rest for later. Tears are cleansing and if you feel like crying while you read, go ahead and do it. Early grief is part of the human experience. Though you can’t avoid it, you can get through it, and create a new and meaningful life.

The post Early Grief: Anticipating Loss Before it Happens appeared first on Open to Hope.

Understanding yourself helps you recover from loss. You may call this self-awareness or “emotional intelligence,” a term coined by Dr. Daniel Goleman. In his book, Emotional Intelligence: Why it Can Matter More Than IQ, Goleman explains the basics of the term. He thinks self-awareness involves recognizing strengths and weaknesses “and seeing yourself in a positive but realistic light.”

Being self-aware helps you avoid pitfalls. Similarly, a lack of self-awareness can lead you straight to them.

Since I was a small child I have been self-aware. One of the most important things I learned about myself is that I need quiet in each day. Quiet helps me understand events, process them, find solutions, consider options, and plan for the future. When I don’t have enough quiet time I lose my logic trail, get confused, and even upset. That’s because I don’t “hear”  myself.

According to Goleman, self-awareness has health benefits, and reducing stress is one of them. Self-awareness can prevent you from shaking in the wind like a leaf on a branch. I think self-awareness is one of the strongest building blocks of life. Are you self-aware?  Nurturing self-awareness is always worth the effort and the joy. . . .

Quiet is necessary when you’re on a grief journey. You need to spend time alone with an interesting person—you. In the quiet, you are able to hear your thoughts and your soul. But well-meaning visitors may stay too long or insist that you go out. Remember, you are in charge of you and can do what you want. As Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD advises in his article, “The Grieving Person’s Bill of Rights,” you shouldn’t “allow others to push you into activities you are not ready for.”

The post Embracing Quiet on the Grief Journey appeared first on Open to Hope.

 Understanding yourself helps you recover from loss. You may call this self-awareness or “emotional intelligence,” a term coined by Dr. Daniel Goleman. In his book, Emotional Intelligence: Why it Can Matter More Than IQ, Goleman explains the basics of the term. He thinks self-awareness involves recognizing strengths and weaknesses “and seeing yourself in a positive but realistic light.”

Being self-aware helps you avoid pitfalls. Similarly, a lack of self-awareness can lead you straight to them.

Since I was a small child I have been self-aware. One of the most important things I learned about myself is that I need quiet in each day. Quiet helps me understand events, process them, find solutions, consider options, and plan for the future. When I don’t have enough quiet time I lose my logic trail, get confused, and even upset. That’s because I don’t “hear”  myself.

According to Goleman, self-awareness has health benefits, and reducing stress is one of them. Self-awareness can prevent you from shaking in the wind like a leaf on a branch. I think self-awareness is one of the strongest building blocks of life. Are you self-aware?  Nurturing self-awareness is always worth the effort and the joy. . . .

Quiet is necessary when you’re on a grief journey. You need to spend time alone with an interesting person—you. In the quiet, you are able to hear your thoughts and your soul. But well-meaning visitors may stay too long or insist that you go out. Remember, you are in charge of you and can do what you want. As Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD advises in his article, “The Grieving Person’s Bill of Rights,” you shouldn’t “allow others to push you into activities you are not ready for.”

The post Quiet on the Grief Journey appeared first on Open to Hope.

Almost a year ago, he fell to the floor and fractured his pelvis in three places. A paid caregiver was with him at the time. Though I don’t know how the accident happened, my husband says he thought he was transferring from his bed to a shower chair, only the chair wasn’t behind him.

Relatives advised us to move to a retirement community with support services. Researching communities took months. In our hometown, the demand for this housing exceeds the supply. Most retirement communities were full.

Then we heard of a vacancy in a community we toured years ago. In fact, we put down a deposit. We visited the vacant apartment, liked the views, and decided to move in. Then the real work–culling possessions and renovating the apartment–began. I made most of the decisions.

As I was doing this, I realized that choosing a retirement community is also about choosing a place to live and die. This realization became clear when I met with administration and had the final tour. Part of the tour was seeing the picture frame where photos of the newly deceased are displayed.

This brought back memories of my father-in-law. Dad died here at age 98 1/2 years of age. Family members followed Dad’s wishes and we didn’t have a public memorial service for him. Instead, we had a private memorial, ate Dad’s favorite foods, and watched family movies.

We’ve lived in the retirement community a month and are slowly adjusting to group living. Do I want to die here? This question is still being answered, yet I know some important things. I know administration cares about the residents. I know kind, caring people live here. I know friends and strangers comfort each other. I know the community has a continuum of care.

Before I had open heart surgery, I planned my memorial service. The plans included a display of the books I’ve written, choir music, hymns. and a synopsis of my life. I emailed the plan to our minister. “Thank you,” he replied. “I wish more people did this.”

Moving into a retirement community involves a series of adjustments. My husband and I are making these adjustments together. We are blessed to be alive, be here together, and love one another more each day.

If you are thinking about moving into a retirement community, please allow enough lead-time and do your research. Does it offer a continuum of care? What are the fees? Are the residents happy? Do I want to live here? Do I want to die here? Have I planned my memorial service?

Love has many forms. Planning for the end of your life is an act of love. Your answers are a gift for family members and will make their lives easier.

The post Choosing a Retirement Community is about Living and Dying appeared first on Open to Hope.

I grieve for a lost lifestyle. Our apartment is in the independent living part of the building, yet we won’t be totally independent. Wherever we go, we will be surrounded by people. According to the purchase agreement, we must eat in the dining room 26 times a month–far different from eating in our own cozy dining room. Don’t get me wrong. These are friendly, kind people and I know many of them. Still, I need privacy. A freelance writer for 38 years, I need quiet time, thinking time, and time for my mind to rest.

I grieve because I’m leaving friends. It took us several years to get to know our neighbors. Now we are leaving them and faced with the challenge of making new friends. This requires effort, persistence, and energy. While I’m willing to make new friends, in some ways it’s another job, one that comes at a time of life when my energy is waning. Friends have agreed to say in touch, perhaps even visit, something may or may not happen.

I grieve for aging. With a snap of the fingers, or so it seems, I changed from a middle age person to an elderly person. Americans in general aren’t kind to the elderly and assume we’re stupid and no longer “with it.” But I’m still writing, producing good work, contributing copy to three websites, and giving workshops and talks. I am with it. Maybe I should wear an armband that reads, “84 years old. Still sharp.”

I grieve for less contact with nature. There are two bird feeders in the back yard. My husband and I enjoy watching the birds nibble on peanut butter suet and take little sips from the bird bath. Sparrows, cardinals, goldfinches, purple finches, and hummingbirds come and visit us. Our new apartment is on the 18th floor of the high rise. We’ll be lucky if we see a crow fly by.

I grieve for lost space. We already downsized when we moved into our town home. Our present home has 1,750 square feet. Our new home has just over 1,000 square feet. I’m afraid I will feel claustrophobic in this small space. Only time will tell what my reaction will be. When I’m honest with myself, I admit this is the last move in 62 years of married life. The next stop is the hereafter.

Lack of space, less contact with nature, being “officially” elderly, leaving  friends, and a changed lifestyle contribute to grief. As I have done before, I try to balance negative thoughts with positive ones.  We will have a beautiful apartment. We will have access to a variety of services. We will be safe and secure.  We will be downtown, close to the  library, restaurants, and shops. We still have goals. We will enjoy our grandchildren and newly adopted great grandchild.

Goodbye town home that I love. Onward to the next chapter of my surprising, amazing life.

The post Can You Grieve for a Place? appeared first on Open to Hope.

When I was about eight years old I had Scarlet Fever. The disease damaged my heart and I have lived with a heart murmur for decades. A year ago I noticed I was short of breath. Sometimes I gasped for breath–not a good sign.

I had a variety of tests and, after studying the results, my doctor referred me to a heart valve specialist. He recommended surgery to replace my leaking mitral valve with a pig valve. I didn’t express my fear, thanked him, and went home to share the news with my husband.

“You’ll be as good as new,” John said. But this wasn’t true. Two more heart valves were leaking. The prospect of open-heart surgery scared me to the marrow of my bones. Last year I had surgery for cancer and now I was slated for life-threatening surgery.

John didn’t say much about my surgery. Still, I could tell he was worried. He kept telling me he loved me to eternity. I told him I loved him the same way. He is paraplegic and spends his days in a wheelchair. I worried about what would happen if I died and decided to prepare for my demise.

I planned my memorial service and emailed it to loved ones and our minister.

I inventoried the freezer and posted a shelf-by-shelf list on the refrigerator to make things easier for our daughter, who was coming to care for John while I was hospitalized.

I put car keys, along with some cash, in a plastic zipper bag and set it on the kitchen counter.

I paid all of the outstanding bills.

I checked our finances–investments, saving account, and checking account.

I emailed my publisher. In the event of my death, my husband would take charge of all of my books and the royalties.

I emailed the two organizations I had promised to write articles for and informed them of my surgery.

Laws change and we had updated our wills, so I didn’t have to worry about that. Finally, I told friends about my surgery.

As I was wheeled into the operating room I reviewed these actions. I thought about John loving me to eternity. I thought about the encouraging messages I received from family members and friends. I felt surrounded by love and felt a sense of peace. Open-heart surgery reminded me, yet again, of the miracle of life.

If you haven’t confronted your mortality now may be the time to do it. What actions need to be taken? Do you have a will? Is your will current? Are your finances in order? Can thorny relationships be mended? What unsaid words need to be spoken? Facing personal mortality makes every moment of life more precious and that is a gift. Facing death helps you make the most of life.

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After three bouts of living with an irregular, rapid heartbeat (atrial fibrillation), I was diagnosed with acute heart failure. Though I knew I was having heart problems, I didn’t think they were life-threatening. Heart failure was bad enough, but the word acute really bothered me. I wasn’t prepared for the emotions that surfaced in response to this diagnosis.

For a day or two, I was in denial. Things couldn’t be that bad, could they? But a series of tests, including having a camera inserted in my throat to photograph my heart valves and cardio conversion—electric shock to restore my heart to a normal rhythm—banished denial quickly. I searched the Internet for more information on the grief of chronic illness.

Some authors compared this grief to the five stages identified by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross: denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. While parts of this comparison work, I don’t think all the stages apply to the grief of chronic illness. For me, anticipatory grief is a better comparison.

I devote a chapter of my book, Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,  (Lois Krahn, MD, co-author), to the symptoms of anticipatory grief and they include:

• Denial
• Nervous, restless behavior
• Ongoing anxiety and dread
• Mood swings
• Anger
• Depression
• Poor concentration
• Forgetfulness
• Feeling vulnerable
• Poor eating habits
• Interrupted sleep or sleep deprivation

When I was in the hospital I couldn’t sleep because I was reviewing my life and facing my mortality. Already stressed, my stress continued to build. I am my disabled husband’s primary caregiver. Paid caregivers come to our home every day and stay for two hours to get my husband up. I take care of everything else—medication management, medical appointments, emergencies, haircuts, and recreational activities.

What would happen to my husband if I died before him? I worried more about my husband than myself. Years ago, we registered with two assisted living communities and paid the deposits. Now it was time to re-think these decisions. We thought the newer community might suit us. A friend convinced us otherwise. She had researched the facility thoroughly and said, “They don’t have real nursing care. The other one does.”

As with anticipatory grief, my fear of acute heart disease was tempered with hope. According to “Living with Heart Failure,” an article in the “Mayo Clinic Health Letter,” heart medications and lifestyle changes can prolong patients’ lives. I was responding well to new prescription meds and eating heart healthy.

I was also hopeful when members of my health care team explained non-invasive procedure that involved entering a vein, going into the heart, and clamping the valve that was leaking the most. A church friend had this surgery and was home from the hospital in a day and a half. His story also gave me hope.

You may have been diagnosed with chronic illness, yet there are steps you can take to help yourself. Learn about your disease. Watch for symptoms of anticipatory grief. Update your will. Get a will if you don’t have one. While you’re doing this, get Power of Attorney and an Advanced Directive. Live mindfully and make the most of each day—a miracle in action.

The post Grief of Chronic Illness appeared first on Open to Hope.

In 2007 four family members died–my daughter (mother of my twin grandchildren), my father-in-law, my brother, and the twins’ father. Grief myths found me in record time. Be on the lookout for these myths. Don’t let repetition imprint them in your mind.

Myth: You will be over grief in a month or so. This myth is unrealistic and anyone who has experienced grief knows this. The death of a loved one causes a gap in your life and you will live with it for the rest of your days.

Myth: Grief has stages and you will experience all of them. Research has proven this myth to be false. When Elisabeth Kubler-Ross described the five stages of grief–denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance–she didn’t intend for them to be absolute. Today, many grief experts think there are more stages of grief.

Myth: You will have to give up things you live to recover from grief. After the twins’ parents died in separate car crashes, the court appointed my husband and me as their guardians. Friends told me to give up writing so I could care for the twins. This was terrible advice. Writing about my losses helped me track my grief journey and stay on the recovery path.

Myth: Recovering from multiple losses is the same as recovering from one. This, too, is false. I know because I coped with multiple losses. Recovering from multiple losses takes longer and can get complicated. Your feelings bounce around from past, to present, to future, and may keep bouncing around.

Myth: Staying busy will speed recovery. The opposite is true. Trying to stay busy can be an avoidance response to grief. Unless it is addressed, postponed grief may become complicated grief, something you don’t need. Complicated grief can morph into Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Myth: Grief experience lessens the pain of future grief. I wish this were true, but it isn’t. Every loss is devastating. If your losses are close together you are doubly devastated. I’ve found it best to process each loss as it comes and think about the joy the deceased person brought to my life. As I do this, I track and name my feelings.

Though myths can make us think about painful subjects and search for solutions, the myths I’ve cited may deplete your resilience. When you hear a myth, label it as such, and don’t give it room in your mind. You’re entitled to your feelings. Be patient with yourself. Take the time you need to get your bearings, come to terms with loss, and rebound from grief. Ask for help if you need it. Say your loved one’s name and create memorials in their honor. When you do these things, happiness becomes possible again.

The post Don’t Fall for These Grief Myths! appeared first on Open to Hope.

It a life without a loved one worth living? Although you’re trying as hard as you can, you may feel mired in grief, and unable to escape its grip. You would feel better if you could see some signs of progress, and the list that follows contains many signs. Give yourself credit for each one because all of the steps you take, large and small, eventually count. The day will come when you realize you are moving forward on the recovery path. Watch for these indications.

• You don’t cry as much.
• You can tell your story without sobbing.
• You laugh again, although your laughter feels rusty.
• You have your first belly laugh.
• You are aware of the outside world again.
• You attend your first support group meeting.
• You continue to go to support group meetings.
• You want to help others.
• You think about establishing  a memorial.
• You make a life change in honor of your loved one.
• You welcome quiet.
• You can be peacefully alone.
• You choose to live and enjoy the miracle of life.
• You remember your loved one and smile.

People have similar grief symptoms, yet each journey is unique, and no grief journey is like yours. As someone who experienced four deaths in six months, including the death of my daughter–mother of my twin grandchildren–I can assure you that sunshine will return to your life. Your loved one would want you to be happy. So make the conscious decision now, at this moment, to let happiness back into your life. Do this in memory of your loved one. You are worthy of happiness and can claim it for yourself.

The post You Know You’re Recovering from Grief When . . . appeared first on Open to Hope.

For three months I experienced odd symptoms. Because I’m my disabled husband’s caregiver, I paid no attention to the symptoms until they couldn’t be ignored. Fortunately, I was able to get an appointment with my doctor and undergo tests. The question: Did I have uterine cancer? The question alone was enough to cause anticipatory grief, only this time it was for myself.

A surgical appointment was made for me. Things were getting serious and became more serious. My husband had just been dismissed from the hospital after treatment for pneumonia and pleurisy. The first day home he did fine. The second day home he was so weak he slid to the floor. I felt anticipatory grief for him. Where would he stay while I was in the hospital? My husband’s primary care physician was helpful and, with help from a social worker, my husband was given a room at a rehabilitation center. He would go there four days before my surgery.

The night before surgery, as were about to eat dinner, I turned to my husband and began, “Neither of us knows how long we will live. All we can do is cherish each other and savor every day. Although we will die alone, we won’t be alone, and will be surrounded by each other’s love.” I hugged my wheelchair-bound husband and sobbed. He hugged me back and sobbed to. So this is what acute anticipatory grief feels like, I thought to myself. Damn, it’s powerful. But we were glad we experienced anticipatory grief because it brought us even closer together.

As I was wheeled into surgery I felt my husband’s love. The surgery took more than four hours and I spent four hours in the recovery room. When I awakened I saw smiling family members and they were giving me “thumbs up.” It turned out I had stage one uterine cancer, had surgery for it, and needed no additional treatment.  Anticipatory grief–a feeling of loss before a death or dreaded event happens–is extremely painful. Yet this form of grief can be beneficial. The anticipatory grief I felt before surgery taught me, again, about the preciousness of love and life.

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On February 23, 2007 Helen died from the injuries she received in a car crash. Two days later my father-in-law died. Two months later my brother, and only sibling, died. In the fall, the twins’ father died from the injuries he received in another car crash. The court appointed my husband and me as the twins’ guardians/caregivers.

Ever since Helen died I’ve prepared myself for the anniversary of her death. My preparations included self-talk (nobody can be tougher on me than me), activities to divert my mind, and connecting with other bereaved parents. When the month of February was near, I said to myself, “It’s time to get ready. You can do it.”

But the 23rd day of the month came and went and I never thought of Helen. Not even once. I didn’t realize this until the next day and it made me feel awful. “Guess I’m a terrible mother,” I admitted to my husband. How could I have forgotten the anniversary of Helen’s death? Answering this question has taken months and lots of introspection. The simple answer: Life got busy.

I do my grief work. While grief work has similarities, each person’s work is different. We recover from grief in our own way and in our own time. In my experience, grief work is ongoing and never ends. No matter how old I am, or what I’m doing, I will always be a bereaved mother.

I have a new life. In 2013 my husband’s aorta dissected and I became his caregiver the night I drove him to the hospital. He had three emergency operations, spent a month in intensive care, and six months in therapy. Finally, he was dismissed to my care. I’m his primary caregiver. Most of this role is devoted to his care, and I’m devoted to him.

I am healing. Having the twins move in with us helped us to heal. Seeing life through teenage eyes was interesting, exciting, and challenging. I savored the experience and, years later, can see the results. Today, my grandson is finishing his second year at The Mayo Clinic School of Medicine, and my granddaughter is mothering three foster children. She is also an independent photographer.

I grew into grief. Alice J. Wisler, a bereaved parent and author, expands on this point in her article, “Growing into Your Grief.” Wisler thinks grief shapes us and time tests us. “Over the years, you have worked hard. Now you have a time-tested grief,” she explains. No doubt about it, multiple losses tested me again and again. I didn’t just grow into grief, I grew from grief.

I make good things from grief. This idea comes from psychotherapist Judy Tatelbaum. Unless we learn from grief and use it, Tatelbaum thinks grief is useless. As she notes in The Courage to Grieve, “Making our grief meaningful is the antidote to despair and suffering.” The minute I read this sentence I vowed to make good from grief. I’ve written hundreds of grief articles, eight books about grief recovery, and developed webinars.

Although I forgot Helen for a day, I didn’t forget her forever. To keep Helen’s spirit alive I tell stories about her, use her kitchen tools, donate to the food bank in her memory, and give grief healing workshops. My relationship with my daughter doesn’t hinge on a date. Helen is in my heart and always will be.

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What should you say to a grieving friend? What shouldn’t you say? Finding the right words may be so hard that you decide to send a sympathy card. “Well, that’s done,” you mutter to yourself.  Later, though, you may wish you had talked to your friend face-to-face. Of course, this isn’t always possible.

Instead of sending sympathy cards, I send bereaved friends a grief affirmation book I wrote several years ago. The gift is always welcome. One friend wrote such a beautiful thank-you note that I cried. In addition to writing grief recovery books, I give talks about affirmation writing.

A few weeks from now I’m giving a webinar about affirmation writing as a grief healing step. The webinar closes with ideas for applying affirmations to daily life. When I wrote the script for my webinar, many ideas came to mind, including the idea of Hope in a Jar. Things in jars are popular right now. You can buy cookie mix in a jar, cake mix in a jar, or keep a Happiness Jar, an idea that comes from author Elizabeth Gilbert.

Why not Hope in a Jar? It is easy to make. Get a Mason or Ball jar with a lid. Write one-sentence affirmations, save them on your computer, and print out the file. (You may also hand-write affirmations.) Cut the affirmations into strips and put them in the jar, with the print facing inwards. Tie a bow around the top and affix a tag that says, “Hope in a Jar. Read one a day.”

You don’t have to be a writer to create the jar. Only a few things are needed—motivation, a computer keyboard, or paper and pen. I recommend one-sentence affirmations because they are easy to write and remember. Write affirmations that comfort you. To get you started, here are a dozen affirmations I have written.

• Every so often I call time out and take a break from grief.
• Instead of pain leading me, I lead the pain.
• Happy memories of my loved one are comforting.
• Slowly, surely, I’m a creating a new life for myself.
• Getting better! I can talk about my loved one without crying.
• Well-meant advice doesn’t always have to be followed.
• In defense, I’ve prepared answers to the question, “How are you?”
• With every breath I take, I’m thankful for the gift of life.
• Quiet time is part of each day, a time to rediscover myself.
• I keep my loved one close by living her (his) values.
• Sometimes I just want to be alone and that’s o.k.
• My life is what I make it.

You can fit 60 affirmations or more in a jar. When you create this gift for a bereaved relative or friend, in a sense, you’re creating a gift for yourself. Writing affirmations changes your thinking from negative to positive. What’s more, writing makes you aware of your own grief journey, and the progress you’ve made. Although your progress may be measured in baby steps, it is still progress.

Simple as the idea sounds, Hope in a Jar can have a significant impact on the recipient and you. It’s hope that keeps us going!

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I have some understanding of your feelings. My elder daughter made some poor decisions in her teens, decisions that hurt her and the family. Thankfully, she found the courage to earn an engineering degree, an MBA, industry certifications, and had a promising job. Then my daughter died.

Proud as I am of her accomplishments, some memories of my daughter are vivid and troubling. According to “Dealing with Painful Memories,” posted on the Family Recovery & Life Guidance Resources website, memories fall into two main groups–traumatic and nagging. Traumatic memories result from an acutely stressful event, the article explains. Nagging memories resurface “when we have trouble reconciling an experience with our ideas . . .”

My daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash. Surgeons operated on her for 20 hours, but were unable to save her life. As the lead surgeon explained, the team would fix one problem, and something else would fail. After surgeons determined she as brain dead, my husband and I signed off on all life support. The cause of death was listed as blunt force trauma. Stopping life support is one of the most painful memories of my life.

Time has taught he how to cope with painful memories. The tactics I use may help you handle painful memories of your deceased loved one. One of the first things you can do is face your memories. To counter a painful memory I think of a happy one. Therapist Martha Beck, in her book Finding Your Own North Star, says, “Even as real grief breaks your heart, something in you knows that you’re being broken open, and there is something profoundly hopeful at the core of that sensation.” I have found this to be true.

Diverting your mind is another coping tactic. Rather than dwelling on a painful memory, do something you enjoy. Pick up your knitting project, go for a bird walk, have lunch with a friend, play a round of golf, read a book, or attend an art exhibit. A short break can lift your spirits immensely.

Creating Action Memorials is another idea. Therese A. Rando, author of How to Go on Living When Someone You Love Dies, says we can identify with positive aspects of the deceased’s personality. Four of my family members died in 2007. Each family member had positive characteristics. For example, my brother loved books. In his memory, I donate books to the public library. I call this an Action Memorial, and have created other Action Memorials in memory of my loved ones.

You may also think of memories as a bridge. Earl A. Grollman, in his book Living When a Loved One Has Died, describes memories as a bridge to the future. “The past travels with us and what it has been makes us who we are,” he writes. Painful memories and happy memories have things to teach us. What we learn can serve as girders of our bridges to the days ahead. If we let them, memories make us stronger, strong enough to help others who are bereaved.

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Planting a garden is one way to memorialize your loved one. Whatever you choose to do, you want the memorial to be “right.” When it comes to memorials, I think the bereaved have several options.  One is to choose something that represents her or his occupation. For example, my husband and I established a medical student scholarship in memory of his father. Another option is to choose something that represents your loved one’s interests and hobbies. If your loved one liked to garden, you may donate gardening books to the public library. Still another option is to choose something that represents your loved one’s goals, such as establishing a day care center.

Robin Downes offers some suggestions in her article, “Tips for Memorializing Your Loved One,” posted on the Elev8 website. These tips include creating a video, creating a special website, donating flowers to the church, and planting a tree. I know some family members make quilts and teddy bears from the deceased’s clothing. While they are stitching, I’m sure they see images and think of stories associated with their loved ones.

Other memorial suggestions are posted on The Grief Support Center website. Ginny Brancato, in her article, “Ways to Memorialize a Loved One,” suggests creating a water pond with fish, lilies, and plaque, or setting up a memorial table with a photo album, the departed’s urn, a candle, and a poem. While these are all good suggestions, I prefer memorials that get me involved, and call them Action Memorials.

In 2007 my daughter (mother of my twin grandchildren), father-in-law, brother, and the twins’ father all died. What are my Action Memorials? My brother loved books, so I volunteered in the public library’s used book store. Unfortunately, I had to stop volunteering because I became my disabled husband’s primary caregiver. In memory of my father-in-law, I made one of his most outstanding personality traits–ethics–part of my life. Every chance I get, I stand up for ethics. And in memory of the twins’ father, I became an acute observer of nature.

The court appointed my husband and me as the twins’ guardians. Years passed, and we couldn’t think of a memorial for our deceased daughter. Although I can’t speak for my husband, I can admit that the absence of an idea made me feel guilty. Why couldn’t we think of anything? Looking back, I think we were so busy we could hardly think, let alone come up with new ideas. Finally, we realized that the best memorial to our daughter was raising her children, and sending them on their way.

Choosing a fitting memorial a process, and I urge you to take all the time you need. One day, when you least expect it, the idea for the “right” memorial will surface. You can develop this idea and make it come true. Good for you!

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He immersed himself in sailing books, practiced knot-tying, and memorized tacking diagrams. After he mastered the Sandpiper, my parents bought him a Star, a racing sailboat with a keel. It was a sleek, blue boat and I loved it. My brother and I often went sailing. Unfortunately, I never learned to handle the helm because I was “crew.”

Mom packed wonderful sailing lunches: egg salad or bologna and cheese sandwiches, iced tea with orange instead of lemon, and summer fruit. Although Mom went sailing a few times, she preferred to stay on shore, and watch the boats. However, Dad often came with us. He wasn’t thrilled when my brother threw a new, expensive Danforth anchor overboard without an attached rope.

At the time, my brother was a bit scatterbrained, and he actually threw TWO untethered anchors overboard. Dad couldn’t believe it.

One afternoon we invited a local librarian to go sailing with us. She had never been on a sailboat, and was excited about the prospect. As we tacked across Long Island Sound, the tide began to go out. When we neared the shore, the Star came to a sudden, shuddering halt. “Did you use the brakes?” the librarian asked. There were no breaks. We had run aground on the Long Island Sound mudflats.

My tall brother jumped overboard, and pushed the sailboat out of the mud. Within minutes, we were skimming across the water again.

Like many families in the neighborhood, we often went to Jones’ Beach (named after a pirate) on the South shore of Long Island. It was a wonderful beach then, and is apparently a wonderful beach now. Sometimes, as a special treat, we stayed for the water show—synchronized swimming in a giant pool. We sat by the pool and enjoyed clam chowder with tiny crackers. I liked the crackers best, and still love clam chowder.

I also enjoy sailing. My husband and I had a sailboat for several years, but our sailing days are over. He is disabled, in a wheelchair, and I’m his primary caregiver. Minnesota is a vacation state, with more than 10,000 lakes. Still, I wish I could turn back the clock to childhood, sailing, and family. All of my family members—my father, mother, and brother—are gone, and I miss them.

My father died at age 80 of lung failure, the result of his constant smoking. My mother died at age 93 from acute dementia. Her mind, the body’s computer and control system, stopped working. My brother died at age 78 from a heart attack. While he survived cancer treatment, his heart did not. After my mother died, my brother commented, “I’m next in line.” His comment proved to be true.

I may be next in line, yet I choose to focus on life. I laugh when I remember the librarian asking if we used the sailboat brakes. I marvel at my father’s patience and willingness to buy a third boat anchor. I think of my mother’s cooking skills when I make egg salad sandwiches, and iced tea with orange. Although my family members are gone, memories of them are still with me. So is their love.

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Recovering from multiple losses takes longer than recovering from one. Four successive losses brought me to my knees. My elder daughter, (mother of my twin grandchildren), died from the injuries she received in a car crash. Two days later, on the same weekend, my father-in-law died of pneumonia. Two months later, my brother, and only sibling, died of a heart attack. In the fall, the twins’ father died in another car crash.

His death made the twins orphans and my husband and me their guardians. Raising grandchildren while grieving for four family members is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. While I was grieving, I continued to do my grief work. To my surprise, I made a crucial decision. I decided death wasn’t going to win, LIFE was going to win. This decision guided me through the darkness, towards the light, and the new future that awaited me.

I’m glad I made this decision, for in 2013 my husband’s aorta dissected. He had three emergency operations and, during the last one, suffered a spinal cord injury that  suffered a spinal cord that paralyzed his legs. Still, the fact that he survived was a miracle, and even his doctors were amazed. After being hospitalized for eight months, my husband was dismissed to my care, and I moved him into the wheelchair-friendly town home I built for us.

Few people recover from spinal cord injury. A nursing supervisor told me my husband would never walk again. After being home a year, he received an appointment notice from Mayo Clinic rehabilitation. I wondered what rehab could do after he had been sedentary for a dozen months. Thanks to dedicated, determined therapists, my husband learned to stand, stand and pivot, and take some steps with a walker. On his last day of therapy he took 85 steps–another miracle.

In the last few weeks my husband has been hospitalized twice, once for acute asthma, and once for pneumonia. He was referred back to Mayo Clinic rehab for a tune-up. I was familiar with the gym and all of the equipment there. This time, however, there was a new notice on the wall: YOU NEVER KNOW HOW STRONG YOU ARE UNTIL BEING STRONG IS THE ONLY CHOICE YOU HAVE.

Wow! This sentence summarized my grief recovery journey. I didn’t think I would survive multiple losses, but I did. I didn’t think I could raise the twins and grieve, but I did. I didn’t think I could maintain my writing career, but I did. This is my 20th year as a caregiver, and my fourth  year as my husband’s caregiver. I’m amazed by his unfailing courage, and the miracles that have come to us.

Today, the Mayo Clinic notice hangs on the wall opposite my computer. I am living proof that you can find the strength you need, create a new life, and be happy again. So I urge you to believe in yourself. Say yes to life. Tap the wellspring of strength inside you. You are stronger than you realize. Your loved one would want you to live each day to the fullest. Get out there and do it!

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A few days before the anniversary of their mother’s death, the twins were going to celebrate their 25th birthdays, and receive their mother’s legacy. To mark the occasion, my husband and I were going to host a family dinner at a local restaurant. Since both twins were interested in home improvement, we decided to give them gift cards from Home Depot. I went to the store, selected two gift cards, and proceeded to checkout. The woman at the cash register wore a hijab, the modesty scarf Muslim women wear.

“These are generous gifts,” she said. Her comment triggered something deep inside me.

“Well, it’s a special occasion,” I replied. Suddenly my mind went back in time to my daughter’s death and the other three family members who died that year. “My daughter was the mother of our twin grandchildren. Their parents died in separate car crashes. They were 15 when they moved in with us and my husband and I cared for them for seven years. These cards are for their birthdays.” Then I blurted, “Now I’m going to cry.”

The checkout woman was so touched she started to cry too. She reached across the counter and gave me a big hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Both of us tried to get our emotions under control, but we couldn’t. She proceeded to tell a story more tragic than mine. I cried harder and she cried harder.

“Your daughter is in your grandchildren,” she said, trying to comfort me. The woman reached for a box of tissues, handed me one, and took one for herself. What a pair we were, two bereaved women from different cultures, different religions, and different experiences. Yet we were bonded by grief. I paid for the gift cards and left the store. On the way home I thought of something Alan Pederson, Executive Director of The Compassionate Friends, told me. We were about to record a program for Open to Hope Radio and chatting beforehand. I told Alan how I cried unexpectedly at the dinner table.

“The 10th anniversary is a big one,” he said. Now I know what he meant.

Other bereaved parents have also learned the power of the 10th anniversary of a child’s death. One person is blogger Sukey Forbes. She wrote a letter to her deceased daughter, Charlotte, and posted it on her blog. In the letter she tells how she decided to make life her daughter’s legacy. Impossible as this decision seemed, Forbes felt it was the “only true course” for her. Later in the letter she tells Charlotte, “I learned how to be a warrior from you.”

I learned how to be a warrior, too, and it surprised me. Why is the 10th anniversary so powerful? I think there are two reasons, one physical, and one mathematical. We have 10 fingers and 10 toes and are reminded of this every time we bathe. Americans tend to mark the passage of time, even history itself, in decades. Many things can happen in a decade. In the last decade my grandchildren graduated from high school, went to college, graduated from college, and found jobs they enjoy. Brace yourself if the 10th anniversary of a loved one’s death is approaching.

Get ready for old memories to re-surface and for unexpected tears. Don’t berate yourself when you cry. Tears are proof of your love and it lasts forever.

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For me, Thanksgiving is a happy-sad time, a happy day because I’m with family, a sad day because of the empty chair at the table. Since I don’t know if I’ll fall apart emotionally or hold myself together, I have to prepare for this day. You may be facing a similar challenge. How can we take care of ourselves? How can we practice self-defense? These steps have helped me and may help you.
EAT SENSIBLY

Most of the time I eat a healthy diet, but the holidays can make me stray. Food is everywhere and it’s easy to fall into the over-eating trap. When I go to a luncheon or am invited to dinner, I try to avoid salt, sugar, and fat. If the host or hostess asks me to eat more, I say I’m full. Sometimes I ask if I could take a dessert home, a way to avoid over-eating.

When my husband and I go out to eat, something we don’t do very often, I focus on fruits and vegetables, and avoid condiments. I’ve ordered from the senior menu, which has smaller servings, and eaten appetizers as a main course. Sensible eating provides me with the energy I need and doesn’t make me logy. To eat sensibly, however, I need to be constantly alert.

GIVE TO OTHERS

As the years passed, I realized that giving helped me cope with the death of my daughter. Money was tight when Helen was going through a divorce, and she relied on the local food bank. For several years now, my husband and I have given money to the food bank in her memory. We did this again this year and it’s a fitting memorial. I think Helen would be pleased with our decision.

In December I’ve giving a workshop at a grief recovery center in my home town. The title of the workshop is “Affirmation Writing: A Grief Recovery Step.”  Of course we never recover from grief fully, we learn to live with it. Still, I like the title of the workshop and it makes recovery a possibility.

As usual, I’m giving the workshop for free. I speak to many community groups for free, give away lots of books, and also write for free. Writing for others always helps me. Giving to others makes me feel good inside, and that’s good for grief reconciliation. Chances are you’ve given to others, but if you think about it, will find even more ways to give.

DRAW STRENGTH FROM NATURE

The grief process envelopes us in such darkness we may miss nature’s details. After a long winter Minnesotans emerge from their homes like soldiers from bunkers. They stare in amazement at purple crocus buds, watch the trees leaf out, and start thinking about summer gardens. The changing seasons can serve as a comfort and inspiration.

From my desk I can see the flowers in our garden, the tall birches, oaks, and pine trees on the hillside. One day a large buck with massive antlers strolled through our yard. What a surprise! I like to watch changing cloud formations, which can be dramatic on the prairie. Yesterday I awakened to a pink and blue sky with cotton ball clouds, a beautiful sight.

CARE FOR THE SOUL

During the holidays we may rush around to avoid painful thoughts. As a bereaved parent, daughter, sister, and niece, I know trying to outrun grief doesn’t work. Rather than trying to escape my thoughts, I try to control them. If a negative thought comes to mind, I counter it with a positive thought.

I also get support from my church, my devoted husband, and close friends. But nobody understand my loss like the other parents who have suffered the loss of a child.

Helen died just when she was soaring in life. She was an active AA member, sober for 29 years, became a composite engineer, earned her MBA, found a satisfying job, and was assured of advancement in the company. Although her life was too short, I’m glad she was part of my life, and blessed to be the grandmother of her twins.

When I look back at my grief journey I can see the progress I’ve made. I made a conscious decision to create a new life and have done that. In many ways, becoming the twin’s guardian, along with my husband, saved me. Every family member knows Helen was born on Thanksgiving. There will be some teary eyes at the dinner table, but these tears will be balanced by love that never dies.

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Objects like these are sources of comfort. Kayla Waldschmidt details the values of linking objects in her article, “Memory Tokens and Linking Objects,” posted on the Grief Resource Center website. She thinks linking objects are powerful “items that keep you connected to your loved one.” This connection can last for months or years.

Grief counselor J. Worth Kilcrease, MBA, MA, LPC, FT, tells how this “stuff” has special meaning in an article titled “Linking Objects,” posted on a personal website. After a loved one dies, “everything that was important to the deceased becomes important to us simply because it was important to the deceased!” Kilcrease writes. But problems can arise when we accumulate too many linking objects and they take up too much space. “Keep it as long as you need to,” Kilcrease advises.

Right now, if you’re in the early stages of grief, you aren’t thinking much about linking objects. Instead, you’re just trying to make it through the day. Later in the grief process, your awareness of these objects, and the comfort they provide, may increase. I have my mother-in-law’s bread knife, which belonged to her grandmother, who came from England. The knife links me to her and the generations that preceded her. Although it isn’t a very good knife, it’s a very good linking object.

You may use several linking objects at once, dishes and flatware, or tools and a workbench. Eventually, the day comes when you realize you don’t need all of these objects, and need to winnow them. This is a process, and it happens in stages. For years, I kept my deceased daughter’s purse in the closet until, quite suddenly, I realized I didn’t need it any more. So I cleaned out the purse and discarded it.

Creating linking objects is also an option for the bereaved. I belong to an historic Study Club, one that has been functioning for more than 135 years. When a member dies we contact the public library and submit a list of the deceased member’s interests: cooking, travel, history, etc. The librarian sends us a list of appropriate books and prices. We discuss each book and chooses one that represents the member best. Our donated books serve as linking objects and help an organization we care about.

Now may be the time to sort through your loved one’s things. Make two piles, one to keep, and one to donate. Select objects that are the most meaningful. Remember, the smallest object, a shell, a key, a ring, can have profound meaning. The best linking object, if it can be called that, is the love you feel for the departed. Wherever you go, whatever you do, this love is always with you.

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The twins, one boy and one girl, were 15 years old when they moved in with us. Our challenge was to stay upbeat for them and grieve at the same time. I’m a strong person, but wondered if I would survive such tragedy. As time passed, however, I realized that having teens in the house again was fun.

Still, I experienced two opposite emotions, joy and sorrow, at the same time. Like bumper cars in an amusement park, these emotions crashed into each other. Sorrow and joy didn’t just hit each other, they fractured, the parts of one merging with parts of the other. I would have a good laugh, and the next minute tears would be sliding down my cheeks. Sometimes I wondered if I was going crazy. But I wasn’t crazy, I was overcome with grief.

In The Courage to Grieve author Judy Tatelbaum lists the strengths that help us accept death: knowledge, a support system, knowing one’s purpose, courage, and emotional maturity. During my first year of grieving I turned to Tatelbaum’s book so much I felt she had written it for me. I thought about her list of strengths and put them to use. You may be feeling opposite emotions now. How can you cope?

Research grief. There’s a wealth of information online and in public libraries. Centering Corporation in Omaha, Nebraska, the largest and oldest grief center in the US, has a wealth of information.

Check your support system. A system that functioned well five years ago may need some updating. Is the contact information correct? Do you see any gaps?

Keep a journal. Putting thoughts into words can be very beneficial and help you make sense of what’s going on. You will re-discover yourself in the words you write.

Re-think your purpose. Becoming a guardian altered my purpose. The new one: Protect the twins, nurture them, encourage them, and love them more each day. Everything else in life was secondary.

Tap emotional maturity. According to Tatelbaum, “Emotional maturity is the willingness to acknowledge and cope with reality, to experience and express our feeling; it is also a kind of resilience, a capacity to bounce back to ‘normal’ after we have faced stress.”

Be selective about advice. Grief expert Helen Fitzgerald offers other suggestions in her book, “The Grieving Teen.” Well-meaning friends and relatives will say dumb things, she notes, and some comments may come from their discomfort with the topic of death. You have the right to ignore these comments.

Grief tests us and we are stronger than we know. We can draw upon our strengths, use our minds, acquire new coping skills, and craft a future.

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We don’t visit our daughter’s grave. While this is a shocking statement for some, others understand our feelings. Whether or not to visit a gravesite is a personal decision, based on religious and spiritual beliefs, relationship with the deceased, the grief work that has been done, current feelings, and plans for the future. The comfort derived from a visit is another factor.

On the first anniversary of our daughter’s death my husband and I, family members, and a few of her friends, gathered at her gravesite. I passed out a list of my daughter’s values—practices that she lived by and wanted her children to live by. Our twin grandchildren, one boy and one girl, were 15 years old when their mother died. We wanted to increase their awareness of her values, and how they might help in the years to come.

After this small ceremony we gathered for lunch at a local restaurant. Grief was still fresh for those sitting at the table, and we told “Helen stories.” Tears were shed, with more tears to come. This was the last time we visited our daughter’s grave. A friend asked why we don’t go there on Helen’s birthday, Christmas, Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, or other holidays.

“It doesn’t do anything for us,” I answered honestly. Maybe my answer was too honest, but it was the truth.

Six months after our daughter died from injuries she received in a car crash, the twin’s father died from the injuries he received in another crash. We were almost paralyzed with shock, and his death brought back painful memories. A month later, the court appointed us as the twin’s guardians. They were already living in our house and lived there for seven years. Fortunately, the layout was perfect for them. Each of the twins had their own bedroom and they shared a bathroom. It was almost as if the kids had their own apartment.

We helped the twins get through high school, helped with the college search, and stood by them all through college. Both of them graduated from college with highest honors, were Phi Beta Kappa, found satisfying jobs, and planned for the future. Our grandson will be attending the Mayo Clinic College of Medicine and our granddaughter and her husband, a divinity student, hope to start an inner-city ministry someday.

To remember our daughter we don’t have to visit her gravesite. Raising her children and staying involved in their lives is our memorial. We don’t believe our daughter’s soul is buried in the ground with her. Rather, we believe her spirit is always with us and honor her spirit by giving to others. Helen’s former husband asked us to buy a plot, casket, and gravestone so the twins would have a place to visit. But things didn’t work out that way.

The twins visited their mother’s grave once and never went again.  They’re too busy living her values, pursuing their dreams, and savoring every moment of life.

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If your loved one is suicidal you may have similar feelings. You may be so worried that you are unaware of your anticipatory grief—a feeling of loss before a dreaded event or death occurs. All you know is that life is different, dark, and bleak. Without any warning you may start crying, an upsetting experience. Focusing your thoughts is hard because your mind keeps wandering. Like a leaking faucet, sadness seeps into your days.

Rabbi Earl Grollman, in his book, Suicide, notes that suicide attempts may not seem serious. Although family members may dismiss these attempts as attention-getting behavior, Grollman thinks every threat should be taken seriously. “There is no more dramatic and poignant cry for help,” he explains.

Grollman goes on to say that people who attempt suicide are depressed, mentally ill, grieving, gay, have debilitating illness, are alcoholics, addicted to drugs, facing life transitions, have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or feel abandoned. “There is no single causational factor,” he notes. Unfortunately, many family members feel manipulated by ongoing suicide threats, and you may be one of them.

How can you cope with the anticipatory grief of suicide attempts?  Here are some suggestions.

Call time out. Rebecca Woolis, author of When Someone You Love has a Mental Illness, thinks it’s important for family members to pace themselves and take breaks. “The presence of family and friends can be more harmful to the relationships than it is helpful to the person,” she writes, especially if your loved one abuses drugs and/or alcohol. Keeping a “loving distance” can be helpful, according to Woolis.

Know the symptoms of anticipatory grief. Dr. Lois Krahn, my co-author. and I list the symptoms in our book, Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief. The list includes emotional numbness, nervous/restless behavior, mood swings, forgetfulness, changes in your health, hyperactivity (to escape feelings of sadness), poor sleep, fatigue and exhaustion, and feeling isolated and alone. If you have several of these symptoms it may be time to seek help.

Learn how to control negative thinking. When a negative thought comes to mind, try to balance it with a positive one. Dr. Heidi Hosley and Dr. Gloria Horsley, authors of Teen Grief Relief, call this “thought stopping.” Recalling happy experiences may help you do this. “Select a pleasant thought and hold it in your mind as you touch your thumb and index finger together to make a circle or link,” they write. This simple exercise can give you an emotional boost.

Read books and articles about suicide. Knowledge is power and learning more about suicide can be calming and powerful at the same time. More important, knowledge helps you see the big picture, frame your responses, and plan for the future. “I know I’ve done all I can,” one mother shared, “and that is reassuring.”

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How am I doing?

All in all, I think I’m doing surprisingly well. Like you, I didn’t choose this journey, but I’m here, and trying to make the most of my days. Reading books by grief experts has helped me to assess my progress.

Bob Deits, in his book Life After Loss, says “Nobody wants to be good at grieving—we are half-afraid that having such a skill would attract more grief.” Deits asks people to do their grief work and following his advice has taken all the courage and persistence I could muster. But I kept at it, which wasn’t easy, because three more family members died after my daughter died. Still, I haven’t given up on life or myself.

Judy Tatelbaum, in her book The Courage to Grieve, says each bereaved person can be a “creative survivor.” In other words, we have the power to make good things from grief. “Making grief meaningful can be an antidote to despair,” she writes. Each of us determines what our meaningful actions will be. Instead of writing about health and wellness, I changed the focus of my writing to grief healing, and produced eight books on the topic. Doing this gave new meaning to my life.

Marianne Richmond, in her book, The Gift of Memory, writes that the heart [our feelings] can lead us to healing. According to one verse of her picture book, “A time will come when the pain of where you’ve been makes room within your heart for hope in life again.” Years passed and, despite challenges and crises and pain, I continued to believe in hope. Some days believing in hope was all that kept me going.

Today, I have a new life and a new mission. In 2013 my husband’s aorta dissected and he had three emergency operations. During the third operation his heart stopped beating and he had a spinal stroke that paralyzed his legs. It’s a miracle that he is alive. Now I’m his family caregiver, a role I’ve had for more than two years. Grief comes in many forms, and I grieve for the fisherman that used to tromp through streams, and the buddy who used to walk around the neighborhood with me.

Perhaps you’re wondering how you are doing. Assessing grief progress comes down to basics. You’re making progress if you can talk about your loved one without sobbing. You’re making progress if you continue to do your grief work. You’re making progress if you’re making good things from grief.  And you’re making progress if you feel like you’re moving forward with life. Love doesn’t stop after a family members dies; it lasts forever.

Awful as it is, grief can also be awe-full, and make us savor the gift of life.

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My mother-in-law’s friends were eager to see Helen, so I decided to have an afternoon gathering for them. I made the invitations with gift wrap, typing paper, and leftover ribbon. The wording read: On December _____ (I can’t recall the date), exactly at three, you are invited to come for tea.

All of the friends accepted the invitation. I set the little round table in the front window with the few good things I owned. I made finger sandwiches and cookies for the tea. As requested, the friends came on time. “Helen wakes up a little before three,” I explained. “That’s why I wrote what I wrote on the invitation.”

When Thelma, one of my mother-in-law’s best friends, walked in the door, she had a big smile on her face. She scanned our sparsely furnished living room, saw the Christmas tree in the corner, and the few presents beneath it. Thelma let out a large sigh. “I’ve found Christmas,” she said. I didn’t understand her comment at the time, but understand it now that I’m a grandmother.

A new baby is a symbol of hope. Presents symbolize the giving spirit of the season. The holiday makes us think about peace in our hearts and peace in the world. People of all faiths understand hope and joy and the need for peace. What I remember most about Helen’s first Christmas is the immense happiness I felt.

I’ve thought of the holiday many times and Thelma’s comment about finding Christmas. In 2007, after four family members died in succession, I thought of it again.

December 25th is approaching – another Christmas without my daughter. Though she won’t be physically present, she is present in my mind. I am grateful for having Helen in my life. I can still see her as a newborn, a toddler, a school child, a boisterous teenager, a young mother, a competent engineer and manager. Helen loved Christmas, especially the gift-giving part, and even though she had little to give, she always gave to others. In fact, Helen worked on Christmas all year.

Holidays are difficult for the bereaved, but they are especially difficult for those who have lost a child. The pain of grief is razor sharp and the journey can be so long you think it will never end. Yet we have the ability to find peace. Time, grief work, and grief writing helped me find peace, and may do the same for you. This year, more than any other, I am grateful for my loving family and caring friends. I am grateful for the Open to Hope community and wish you peace.

One thing is certain: My daughter wouldn’t want me to be sorrowful for the rest of my days. She would want me to enjoy every day of my life. Thelma found Christmas and I’ve found it too. The hope of a newborn, joy of the season, and joy of giving reside in all of us.

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It’s here again—the time to assemble my Holiday Survival Kit. I do this every year, well before Thanksgiving, because my deceased daughter was born on this day, and it’s difficult for me.

Almost nine years have elapsed since she died, and as the years passed, the contents of my kit changed. What’s in this year’s kit?

Special plans. My husband is disabled and I’m his primary caregiver. Our plans have to be detailed and I have to consider things like lead-time and wheelchair van parking. I try to plan fun activities, such as a funny movie, seeing holiday lights, and eating at a new restaurant. Every plan is noted on the calendar.

People who understand. This year my brother and sister-in-law are hosting Thanksgiving dinner and we will be with people who understand our grief. I will also attend the monthly chapter meeting of The Compassionate Friends, an international organization for those who have suffered the loss of a child.

Social contacts. Isolation is my enemy and that’s why I connect with others. My husband is a retired physician and we get together with other retirees once a month. Church members and friends have been ongoing sources of support. Book talks get me out of the house and out of myself.

Selected memories. Instead of getting sucked into guilt, I choose to focus on happy memories. One year the Christmas roast was done early. To prevent the dog from eating the roast (which she would do), I put it on top of the car in the garage. The minute family members walked in the door they smelled the roast. “Is that dinner?” one asked. I answered affirmatively. Years later, family members still ask if dinner is on top of the car.

Linking objects. During the holidays I make special effort to use things that connect me with departed loved ones, such as my mother’s World War II cookbook, or her handwritten recipe cards. I use my mother’s cut glass water pitcher. I also like to look at photos of my deceased loved ones.

Spirit of giving. Four loved ones died in 2007 we donate to organizations in their memory:   The Salvation Army, local food bank, the public library, and our church. Our gifts may be monetary, a thoughtful deed, or books I’ve written. I also do a lot of free writing for community groups.

Journaling. Many grief experts tout the benefits of journaling. I don’t keep a separate journal because the articles and books I write act as journals. Putting feelings into words has helped me greatly. Sometimes I’m surprised by the words I see on the computer screen. Writing has helped me understand myself and my grief.journey.

Walking. Before my husband was disabled, we were on a walking program, and walked in our neighborhood. We held hands as we walked, something neighbors noticed. Today, I walk at a health club. While my husband is peddling a special bike to strengthen his legs, I walk a mile on a treadmill. I also use this time to write in my head.

Assemble your Holiday Survival Kit now. Start with my list and include things that work for you. Making a survival kit is what’s important and you can do it.

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Guilt is a component of grief. Often our guilty feelings begin with the words “I wish.” My guilty feelings were associated with my elder daughter, who died in 2007. Some of my thoughts:

I wish I had known sooner.

I wish I had more knowledge.

I wish I hadn’t been so tired.

I wish I hadn’t said what I said.

I wish I told her I loved her more often.

I wish my daughter hadn’t died.

Like me, you may be grappling with guilty thoughts. Our thoughts can wake us up at night and keep us awake. But facts are facts, and we can’t change them. Bob Deits, in his book, Life After Loss, says guilt feelings are common after a sudden loss. “Guilt is the flip side of blaming someone else for the loss,” he writes. “With guilt, we blame ourselves.”

Our elder daughter was a difficult child to raise, especially during her teenage years. Painful thoughts about these years are still with me. Life taught me that we forgive our loved ones, but we don’t forget. Disturbing thoughts are stored in our minds, and come to mind suddenly like pop-up ads on the computer.

Therese A. Rando, PhD, in her book, How to Go on Living When Someone You Love Dies, thinks guilt is a “normal and expectable aspect of the grief experience.” She goes on to list the reasons for this. One is that human relationships include ambivalence. She goes on to say that relationships aren’t perfect. A third reason is that we fall short of our own expectations.

We may feel guilty for being alive when a loved one is gone, a reaction that’s called “survivor’s guilt.” I’ve felt some of that, but not much, thankfully. With conscious effort I am able to control these feelings.

When I start to feel guilty, I distract myself by cooking, cleaning, and doing other household chores. Reading is also a distraction and I enjoy reading mysteries, travel books, and cookbooks. In fact, I read cookbooks like some people read novels. Catching up on email can also be a distraction. Shopping is something I don’t do.

When guilt surprises me, I tell myself that it’s normal. I also remind myself that wallowing in guilt is a waste of time and life. And I remember something Elizabeth Kubler-Ross said years ago. “We grapple with fear and guilt. We search for meaning, love, and power . . . We seek to discover who we are and how we can become truly happy.”

I relate to this quote because I’ve lived it. Eight years have passed since my daughter died and during that time I created a new life. It’s a happy life, filled with new people, new work, and new hope. If you’re feeling guilty now, take steps to control your feelings. Take care of yourself and say goodbye to guilt. You have better things to do.

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Anticipatory grief and I are well acquainted, too well acquainted. My mother had progressive dementia and I was her caregiver for nine years. Every day, I felt like she was dying right before my eyes. When my daughter (mother of my twin grandchildren), father-in-law, brother, and twin’s father died in 2007, I had anticipatory grief again. “Who’s next?” I wondered. In 2013, when my husband’s aorta dissected, my anticipatory grief was so acute I started planning his memorial service.

Do you think you are going through anticipatory grief? You may be, if you have these symptoms.

• Your thoughts jump around from past, to present, to future.
• Every day is a day of uncompleted loss.
• You are constantly stressed because you don’t know when the end will come.
• Days are filled with suspense and f ear. Will this be the day my loved one dies?
• Anticipatory grief puts limits on your life.
• Fear is tempered with hope. You hope a miracle drug or surgical procedure will save your loved one.
• You are constantly waiting for the endpoint.

I write articles about anticipatory grief, give talks about it, and co-authored a book about it with Dr. Lois Krahn, a Mayo Clinic psychiatrist. Before she collaborated on the book Dr. Krahn said she wasn’t too aware of anticipatory grief. “Now I realize it walks into my office every day,” she noted. One of my goals as a health and wellness writer is to increase awareness of AG. Why should you know about it?

Identifying AG can ease your worries. Some of the people I’ve talked with told me they thought they were going crazy when they experienced AG symptoms. Acute stress prevented them from identifying the symptoms, which prolonged their grief and made it worse.

Knowing the symptoms is the first self-care step. Figure out how many symptoms you are experiencing and gauge their intensity. If your symptoms are acute you may want to seek help. Contact a physician, grief counselor, or support group leader.

Awareness of AG may help you prepare for post-death grief. Anticipatory grief can be an emotional rehearsal for what is to come. You may discover which emotions are the hardest for you. The awareness of anticipatory grief may help you find new ways of coping.

Anticipatory grief has made me more aware of the miracle of life. I am grateful for this miracle and try to live each day to the fullest. Developing an awareness of anticipatory grief has made me a more empathetic person. It may do the same for you. Hard as life may be right now, make the most of this day, for it will not come again.

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Affirmation writing promotes positive thinking. Negative thoughts will come to mind as you think of affirmations. You can consciously turn these negative thoughts to positive ones. Instead of thinking, “I feel so alone” you may turn this around and write “I am blessed to have had my loved one in my life.”

Writing affirmations is a proactive step. I know bereaved people who sat around and waited for someone to rescue them, a self-defeating idea. Affirmation writing can be a way to rescue yourself. As your collection of affirmations grows, life may start to look brighter. You are taking steps to heal yourself and this is empowering.

You clear clutter from your mind. Writing involves word choices and affirmation writing requires positive words. I write one-sentence affirmations because they’re easy to remember. In her book, One to One: Self-Understanding Through Journal Writing, Christina Baldwin recommends writing about grief. “We emerge from the grieving process changed people, people who carry the reality of our experience and our grief forward with us into the rest of our lives.”

Affirmations take less time than journal and diary entries. Keeping a journal require an entry every few days, whereas keeping a diary requires daily entries, which is a time-consuming task. Affirmation writing takes less effort and may suit your schedule best. You may also see it as a form of self-help.

Positive words nudge you forward on the recovery path. Negative thoughts can slow grief healing, whereas positive thoughts can promote it. Slowly, you begin to see a future and this is reassuring. Indeed, the future may look brighter than you imagined. Our departed loved ones would want us to enjoy each day of our lives.

You can write affirmations anywhere. Affirmations can be mental, but it’s wise to put them on paper. I write them in the car, in the grocery store, in a hospital waiting room, when I’m watching television – any time inspiration strikes. The minute you have an affirmation idea, write it on scratch paper, an old envelope, a cash register receipt – whatever is handy. Later, when you have more time, you may enter your affirmation into a computer file.

Over time, affirmation writing can lead to a new life. Grief expert Judy Tatelbaum, author of The Courage to Grief, thinks affirmations cam become a self-fulfilling prophesy. “The most important rule for making an affirmation is that you desire whatever it is you affirm,” she writes. She recommends saying affirmations out loud several times a day. Another recommendation is to write the same affirmation 10 to 15 times to imprint it in your mind. Her example: “I have the courage to live alone now that my spouse is gone.” In other words, your affirmations may become your goals.

Try writing affirmations if you haven’t tried it before. Writing affirmations may discover surprising things about yourself. Sentence by sentence, you may create a foundation for the happy life you hope to have. The love you have, and will always have, for the family member who died is part of this life, and that is a blessing.

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My mother often said, “The good fairy isn’t coming.” When she said this, she was trying to tell me I was responsible for myself. The good fairy wasn’t coming to rescue me. Relatives and friends may help, but in the end, problem-solving is up to me. In recent years, I’ve heard my mother’s voice in my mind many times, repeating this saying.

Another one of my mother’s saying was, “You have to be kind to people.” Certainly, she practiced kindness. One memory stands out clearly in my mind. An elderly woman was walking up the hill past our house, and became short of breath. My mother saw her, went out and asked her to rest in a chair on our small porch. She brought the woman a cold drink. If memory serves me right, the woman sat there for a half hour, talking to my mother, and went on her way.

“Finish what you have started,” was another of my mother’s sayings. As a child, I had a tendency to start many projects and not finish them. Even though I was about eight years old when my mother told me this, I knew she was right. So from then on, I tried to finish a project before starting a new one. Memories connect me with my mother and that’s a good feeling.

But not all memories are pleasant. I have some troubling memories, and chances are you have them as well. Still, we can learn from these memories. Pauline Boss, PhD, author of Loss, Trauma, and Resilience, says the process of finding meaning in memories is slow and we need to be patient. “Rituals are designed to help people find meaning in loss,” she continues. You have the option of reviving old rituals or creating new ones.

Vamik D. Volkan, MD and Elizabeth Zintl discuss memories in their book, Life After Loss: The Lessons of Grief. They think bereaved people conduct “a slow-motion review of their connection” with the deceased. Fond memories can boost spirits, whereas painful memories can make you feel sad again. Maybe this isn’t all bad. I made a conscious decision about bad memories and vowed not to repeat them. This decision has served me well and shaped my life.

In his book, Living when a Loved One Has Died, Rabbi Earl A. Grollman includes a section about Recovery and Growth. “You may not have completely regained your balance,” he observes. “Yet life continues.” We may have activated our resilience, faced our own mortality, see and live in the world differently. “You gain insights that had previously escaped you,” Grollman concludes. Memories can contribute to this insight.

Memories of my mother’s sayings nudged me forward on the recovery path and I’m grateful for them. Review your memories and focus on the best ones. Let your memories comfort you, energize you, lead you forward, and bring you peace.

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My deceased parents were married on Thanksgiving, so I think of them. Our elder daughter was born on Thanksgiving. The year she was born Thanksgiving was on the 23rd of the month. Ironically, she died on the 23rd of February in 2007 from the injuries she received in a car crash. You can understand why Thanksgiving is hard for me.

Thanksgiving is a day of remembering. I think of my parents, but most of all I think of my daughter and grieve for her. In a Legacy Connect website article, “Death of a Loved One: Coping with the Anniversary,” life coach Ellen Guest says the word anniversary takes on a new meaning after a loved one has died. She thinks the weeks leading up to the anniversary day are almost harder than the day itself. “It is about reliving those last moments, or, if the death was unexpected, thinking about you might have lived those last couple of weeks/months differently,” she writes.

Thanksgiving is a day of painful images. On Thanksgiving, more than any other day, I think of the car crashes that killed my daughter and our former son-in-law. Their deaths left holes in my soul and I think these holes will always be there. I think about becoming my grandchildren’s guardian and caregiver. Thankfully, I think of the marvelous adults they have become, and how happiness can counter sadness.

Thanksgiving is a day of returning grief. My grief isn’t as intense as my initial grief, but it is there, a swirling sub-current of Thanksgiving Day. Because I am with family, I am happy, but inside, I keep thinking of my daughter’s birth and death. According to Judy Tatelbaum, author of The Courage to Grieve, anniversary reactions are common and can happen even 50 years after a loved one has died. “We may be caught by surprise at a time that may feel inappropriate, or when there is no support from others,” she explains.

I am thankful for the support I have from my husband, family members, extended family members, and friends. Seven years have passed since my daughter died and during this time I have written about grief, done my grief work, continue to do this work, and tried to make good things from grief. This thanksgiving, in honor of my daughter, I am donating seven copies of my latest grief book to the library. I am donating money to the local food bank. Most important, I will treasure the time I have with family, and experience each moment twice, once for me, and once for my daughter.

Yes, I will always miss my loved ones, but refuse to let grief get the upper hand. Life is a miracle and I am glad to be here, amidst the people I love.

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My deceased parents were married on Thanksgiving, so I think of them. Our elder daughter was born on Thanksgiving. The year she was born Thanksgiving was on the 23rd of the month. Ironically, she died on the 23rd of February in 2007 from the injuries she received in a car crash. You can understand why Thanksgiving is hard for me.

Thanksgiving is a day of remembering. I think of my parents, but most of all I think of my daughter and grieve for her. In a Legacy Connect website article, “Death of a Loved One: Coping with the Anniversary,” life coach Ellen Guest says the word anniversary takes on a new meaning after a loved one has died. She thinks the weeks leading up to the anniversary day are almost harder than the day itself. “It is about reliving those last moments, or, if the death was unexpected, thinking about you might have lived those last couple of weeks/months differently,” she writes.

Thanksgiving is a day of painful images. On Thanksgiving, more than any other day, I think of the car crashes that killed my daughter and our former son-in-law. Their deaths left holes in my soul and I think these holes will always be there. I think about becoming my grandchildren’s guardian and caregiver. Thankfully, I think of the marvelous adults they have become, and how happiness can counter sadness.

Thanksgiving is a day of returning grief. My grief isn’t as intense as my initial grief, but it is there, a swirling sub-current of Thanksgiving Day. Because I am with family, I am happy, but inside, I keep thinking of my daughter’s birth and death. According to Judy Tatelbaum, author of The Courage to Grieve, anniversary reactions are common and can happen even 50 years after a loved one has died. “We may be caught by surprise at a time that may feel inappropriate, or when there is no support from others,” she explains.

I am thankful for the support I have from my husband, family members, extended family members, and friends. Seven years have passed since my daughter died and during this time I have written about grief, done my grief work, continue to do this work, and tried to make good things from grief. This thanksgiving, in honor of my daughter, I am donating seven copies of my latest grief book to the library. I am donating money to the local food bank. Most important, I will treasure the time I have with family, and experience each moment twice, once for me, and once for my daughter.

Yes, I will always miss my loved ones, but refuse to let grief get the upper hand. Life is a miracle and I am glad to be here, amidst the people I love.

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We attended gymnastics meets, choir concerts, marching band concerts, and other high school events. Seven years passed, and during this time, we melded into a grand family. When the twins left for college, we were empty nesters again. Both of the twins graduated from college with high honors and Phi Beta Kappa distinctions. To our surprise, each of them secured a meaningful job.

Several months ago, our granddaughter became engaged and she asked my husband to escort her down the aisle on her wedding day. Her request was touching because my husband is paralyzed and will spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. I am my husband’s caregiver and we have outside help four hours a day. On the day of the wedding, our caregiver stayed an extra hour to get my husband ready for the ceremony.

He looked so handsome in his white dress shirt, dark gray slacks, and paisley tie. We drove to the church and mingled with other members of the wedding party, including our grandson, who was an usher. The music began. The groom escorted me down the aisle to my pew and I sat down. My surviving daughter handed me some tissues. “Brace yourself, Mom,” she said. “There is going to be a slide show with Helen.”

Just as the photo montage began, I looked up at the screen. I saw our deceased daughter, smiling and holding a twin in each arm. There were photos of our daughter with toddlers and grade school children. Photo after photo, years passed in minutes before my eyes, and I began to cry. Then the music changed and members of the wedding party processed down the aisle. My husband wheeled his chair slow, with our granddaughter by his side, her arm linked in his as if he were walking.

This picture made me cry harder. Grief – all those feelings I thought were under control – bubbled to the surface. I felt like my daughter died yesterday. Would sadness be my wedding memory? Thankfully, it is not. Other memories, the adorable flower girl scattering fall leaves, the “potluck extravaganza” reception, and the shining love of the bride and groom, are stronger. All in all, it was a beautiful, thoughtful, memorable day.

But I re-learned something I had almost forgotten: Without any warning, grief can reach out and grab us by the throat. We feel the same feelings and think the same thoughts as we did when our loved ones died. It takes immense effort and discipline to bring us back to the present.

Grief will grab us again and again as long we live. Because we loved someone deeply and still love them, we grieve. Still, we can savor the moment and feel joy, something our loved ones would want us to do. We can think of each joyful experience as a tribute to them.

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Winters can be beautiful. We usually have several ice storms that glaze the trees with ice and turn the town into a fairy land. Fierce wind chills, however, and temperatures of 35-40 below zero, must be taken seriously. Radio programs tell parents to cover their children’s faces and hands. Old, worn, unfashionable coats are pulled from closets and donned with pleasure. Minnesotans don’t care how they look as long as they are warm.

Brutal weather and dark winter days can awaken my grief. My daughter was born on November 23rd, Thanksgiving that year, and the holiday is always difficult. She died on February 23, 2007, an odd coincidence. Three other family members, my father-in-law, brother, and my twin grandchildren’s father, also died. Experience has taught me that I have to prepare for anniversary reactions.

These reactions – reminders of a loved one’s death – can be anywhere. According to a Mayo Clinic website article, “Grief: Coping with Reminders After a Loss,” reminders can ambush you. “You might suddenly be flooded with emotions when you drive by the restaurant your partner loved or when you hear your child’s favorite song,” the article explains. It goes on to say these reactions can trigger sadness, loneliness, anger, anxiety, sleep problems, fatigue, and pain.

What do I do? What can you do?

Write like crazy. Writing is my salvation and solace. Losing four family members in succession changed the focus of my writing. I stopped writing health books and wrote eight grief healing books. Though my goal is to help others, writing these books helped me immensely. You may record your feelings in a journal or diary.

Have blooming plants in the house. You may have a green thumb, but I am Mrs. Blackthumb, and have not had much success with gardening. For some unknown reason, I have success with African violets, and have four in the kitchen. There is a giant African violet on the coffee table. Once it starts blooming, this violet produces flowers for two months. Every flower is a source of joy and hope. Blooming plants may bring you similar pleasure.

Spend time with friends. Since I’m my paralyzed husband’s caregiver, I can’t connect with friends often. When I do connect, however, I make the most of it. My husband is a retired physician and I belong to an organization for physicians’ spouses. Our goal is to improve community health and I believe in it wholeheartedly. I retired from some organizations, but retained my membership this one.

Give to others. I give workshops and talks to community groups. Sometimes I mentor fledgling writers and it is always a satisfying experience. We donate money to community groups that have meaning for us, such as the Salvation Army. After our daughter died we gave money to our church to commission a choir piece in her memory. The piece is beautiful and every time I hear it I get chills. Think of ways you could give to others.

These steps help us beat the blues, cope with anniversary reactions, and enjoy each season. Rather than being caught off guard, we are prepared, strong, and ready for life.

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Seven years have passed since my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law died. During this time I’ve told my story in articles, books, talks, and workshops. Today, with the clarity of hindsight, I realize sharing my story helped me to heal. In his book, Life After Loss, Bob Deits says telling our stories gives us permission to grieve. He asks mourners to write a statement on paper, “The sadness I feel is a badge of honor.”

Grief is the result of love and that is a badge of honor too. Telling my story helped me jump-start my resilience.

What is resilience? Pauline Boss, PhD describes it in her book, Loss, Trauma and Resilience. More than recovery, a resilient person is able to maintain stability, according to Boss. “There are multiple and sometimes unsuspected pathways to resilience,” she writes. For me, telling my story was a pathway and it may be a pathway for you.

You may share your story with family members, the ones who are usually willing to hear your story over and over again. You may share your story with a grief support group. You may share your story with your religious/spiritual community. As you and re-tell your story things begin to happen.

The reality of death becomes believable. Many times I asked myself, “Did all of this really happen?” You may have asked yourself the same question. The more I told my story the more it became real, an important step on the recovery path.

You are able to identify feelings. This may be a gradual process and, as time passes, you are able to identify your feelings: sorrow, anger, confusion, despair, helplessness, hopelessness and more. When you’re able to tell your story without sobbing, you are beginning to heal.

Telling your story leads to acceptance. If you survived this you can survive anything. Your thoughts may shift to the future, setting new goals, and planning a new life. Thinking about the future doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten your loved one. Rather, it means you’ve come to the realization that your loved one would want you to be happy.

Your story may help and inspire others. At a workshop I was giving I shared a short version of my story. I told attendees they were worthy of happiness, a comment that made one woman cry. Later, she thanked me for my comment. “I didn’t believe I was worthy until you said it,” she summarized. “You’ve changed my whole outlook.”

Resilient people are able to rebound from tragedy. Each time you tell your story you are jump-starting your resilience. Though your resilience may be hidden now, like the arrival of spring, it will reappear and bloom again. Your grief story is unique. Tell it and keep your resilience humming.

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There was no time for self-pity, however, because my husband and I became our grandchildren’s guardians. This responsibility changed my life and my writing. Instead of writing about health/wellness, I began to write about healing from grief, and in the process, learned many new terms. I just came across a new term, Posttraumatic Growth.

According to Eunie Alsaker, member of the Minnesota Coalition for Death Education and Support Board, research on the topic began in the 1990s. She describes in in her article, “Practitioner’s Corner: Posttraumatic Growth,” published in the September 2014 issue of the organization’s newsletter. “Not all who experience trauma experience positive growth,” she explains.

Alsaker lists some signs Posttraumatic Growth: less materialism, not taking things for granted, spiritual growth, and increased self-confidence. Her observations made me wonder about my healing journey. Seven years ago I didn’t know about Posttraumatic Growth, yet I started working on it unconsciously. Today, seven years later, I am able to see signs of personal growth.

Living the moment. Last October my husband’s aorta dissected and surgeons operated on him three times to save his life. His life was saved, but he is now paralyzed, and I am his caregiver. I don’t take a moment of life for granted and am grateful that we are together.

Living the moment. Last October my husband’s aorta dissected and surgeons operated on him three times to save his life. His life was saved, but he is now paralyzed, and I am his caregiver. I don’t take a moment of life for granted and am grateful that we are together. He is glad to be alive as well and will escort our granddaughter down the aisle, in his wheelchair, when she gets married in October.

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Emotional strength. I have survived multiple losses and the trauma of having a husband in Intensive Care Unit for weeks. Life hangs in the balance on this floor, halfway between life and death, and I was very aware of this. I knew I had to be strong for my husband and myself. When I look back now, I see my determination, and the emotional strength that developed. I am truly a survivor.

More forgiving. In the past, I could be pretty tough on myself, at least, that’s what my husband says. Today, I’m more easy going and if I don’t get all of the items on my To-Do list done, I cut myself some slack. Life isn’t perfect and I’m not perfect. If I don’t dust the furniture it isn’t the end of the world.

Reliance on humor. Before the year of death, I had a ready sense of humor. After all the deaths my humor disappeared temporarily. It is back now, and stronger than ever. Laughing with my husband is one of the most joyful experiences of life. I laugh often and am grateful for it.

Whether you realize it or not, you may have been working on Posttraumatic Growth, and have points to add to my list. Healing from grief is a journey and so is Posttraumatic Growth. Though it’s a long journey, it’s a worthwhile one, and brings you joy again.

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“Where is my shawl?” he would ask, looking worriedly about the room. “That’s a special gift and I don’t want to lose it.”

Day shift and night shift nurses became aware of the shawl’s importance and comfort. It was practical, too, and my husband often asked a nurse to place the shawl over his shoulders when he was chilly. The term “linking object” is most often used in reference to death, an object that connects the bereaved person to the departed. For my husband, the shawl was, and continues to be, an object that connects him to the church he has belonged to for decades. In fact, he has belonged to the church longer than anyone else.

When my husband transferred from the Intensive Care Unit to the rehabilitation floor the shawl went with him. As before, he would ask “Where is my shawl?” And when my husband was dismissed from the hospital and transferred to a nursing home for rehabilitation, the shawl went with him again. It kept him warm after a bath, when he was napping, and when he was eating in the rehab dining room.

My husband is home now and the shawl is always within sight. Because his legs are paralyzed, he couldn’t return to our old house, and returned to a wheelchair-friendly townhome I built for him. Most nights, he drifts off to sleep with the shawl over his shoulders. “That’s a special gift,” he keeps saying. Tears come to his eyes when he says this and seeing his tears brings tears to my eyes.

Every stitch is a link of love and the shawl arrived just when he needed it most. Linking objects, whether they connect you with a deceased or living person, provide a measure of comfort. You remember that person, picture scenes in your mind, and feel some of the feelings you felt before. Though a linking object may generate tears, in the end, the love you have for that person prevails, and that is a blessing.

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I’m a grief writer and know lots of grief words. After four loved ones died, however, I realized I had to learn more. Adding to my grief vocabulary helped me to understand research. New grief words and terms also helped me to understand my journey. Most important, these new words and terms helped me evaluate my grief.

The National Cancer Institute, in a website article titled “Loss, Grief, and Bereavement,” defines some basic grief terms. Grief is defined as the normal process of reacting to loss. Bereavement is defined as the time after loss, a painful time of tears and fear and sadness. Mourning is defined as the process of adapting to loss. But multiple losses complicated my grief process and that is why I kept learning how to “talk grief.”

New words and terms helped me to see that my grief was normal. Unfortunately, some people go through complicated mourning. Vamik D. Volkan, MD and Elizabeth Zintl discuss this kind of mourning in “Life After Loss: The Lessons of Grief.” Two types of complicated mourning caught my attention: denial and perennial mourning. Denial is self-explanatory; you cannot accept what has happened. Perennial mourning is more complicated. “Perennial mourners are locked in a chronic review of their lost relationship in a an attempt to find resolution to it,” the authors explain.

One of the most unusual terms I learned was “absent grief.” These people are incapable of mourning so their grief is unresolved. Volkan and Zintl also talk about perennial mourners, people with severe grief that becomes depression. Thankfully, I was not a perennial mourner, absent mourner, or a mourner in denial.

Grief counselor Bob Deits, author of “Life After Loss: A Practical Guide to Renewing Your Life After Experiencing Major Loss,” sees grief in two ways — healthy and distorted. He describes grief as the “nuclear energy of our emotions.” That is why it is important for you and I to evaluate our grief. Evaluating was not an easy thing to do, but it is a necessary thing.

Judy Tatelbaum defines many grief terms in her book, “The Courage to Grieve.” Delayed grief is one of these terms. I know people who have delayed their grief for years and it is unhealthy. As Tatelbaum explains, “Delayed grief is the pushing aside of feelings at the critical early stages of mourning to be dealt with at some future time.” Delaying may keep you functioning, she goes on to say, but it leaves you open to an emotional explosion in the future.

From my standpoint, there is no better time to cope with grief than now. Naturally, I worried about myself when grief triggers, like the first anniversary of death, pushed my recovery backwards. I felt better after I read a Mayo Clinic website article, “Grief: Coping With Reminders After a Loss,” and its assurance that grief triggers are normal. Now I watch for triggers and prepare for them.

The grief and bereavement field has its own language. Nobody — not me, not you — wants to learn to “talk grief.” Still, we must face the reality of what has happened. The reality is that you have lost a dear one, someone you will miss forever. Learning new grief words and terms will help you stay on the recovery path. In time, your words of sorrow will become words of joy. Please believe me when I say this, for I have found it to be true.

Copyright 2008 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

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Still, he has a positive outlook on life. “I haven’t given up on hope,” he told his physical therapist. His hope has renewed my hope. Equally important, his hope made me aware of the power of hope. As the days passed I realized hope made us a team. Though we’ve been a husband-wife team for 56 years, hope made us a healthcare team.

Physical therapy has enabled my husband to regain much of his upper body strength. A retired physician, my husband is a marvelous patient and a man of quiet courage. He keeps on trying. As one doctor told me, shaking his head in wonder, “He’s giving it [physical therapy] his all.”

I was giving my all too, acting as my husband’s advocate and getting training to be his caregiver. The road is hard and the challenges are daunting. When I tried to find an assisted living apartment for us, I encountered so many barriers I gave up, and built a wheelchair accessible town home for us. Our house is for sale and I’m slowly moving us into our town home.

This is tiring work and some days I’m so tired I can hardly think. Hope tugs me back to “normal” and my loving husband. You may be feeling helpless and hopeless now, but I can tell you, from life experience, that the tiny flicker of hope is waiting to burst into flame. You need to be patient, be kind to yourself and, at the same time, be proactive.

Emily Dickinson described hope well when she wrote, “Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches on the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.” In other words, hope can keep you going.

Since he was hospitalized I’ve visited my husband three times a day. Yesterday I arrived just as the occupational therapist was finishing her session. She called in all the nurses on the rehab unit to witness my husband’s progress. Using grabbers, he managed to put on his slacks. Using the hospital bed trapeeze, shifted his legs to the side, slid onto the transfer board, and slid into his wheelchair.

The nurses burst into applause and I clapped with them. I wanted to cry, but didn’t because it would have spoiled the moment. Perhaps hope is keeping us all going, starting with me, his wife and caregiver, occupational therapists, physical therapists, nurses, nurses aides, and homemaker staff. If you don’t give up on hope it won’t give up on you.

Hope will comfort you, provide energy for the days ahead, and make you glad for each one.

Copyright 2014 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

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In 2007, after my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law all died, my mother’s saying came to mind. Coping with grief was up to me, not an imaginary good fairy. Instead of waiting to be rescued I would have to rescue myself. Sometimes I could almost hear my mother’s voice saying, “The good fair isn’t coming and you’re in charge of recovering from multiple losses.”

Grief is exhausting. You may feel stuck right now, unable to move forward or backward, and worrying about the future. Worse, you suspect you’ll never be happy again. As someone who has coped with multiple losses and created a new life, I can tell you happiness is possible. How can you find happiness? These steps helped me and may help you.

1. Tell yourself “I’m worthy of happiness.” I told myself this again and again. Repeating the sentence helped me believe it. You really are worthy of happiness and this belief can change your outlook on life.

2. Ask for help. Multiple losses made me evaluate my support system. Where could I get help? I turned to family first and my extended family became an ongoing support system. I turned to my church and met with my minister several times. Though my husband and I didn’t use any additional church support, we knew it was available if we needed it.

3. Practice self-care. At this challenging time of life you may be tempted to eat on the run or rely on fast food, but you need to eat regular, balanced meals. Try to get enough sleep, at least seven hours a night. Meditation can also help you take care of yourself.

4. Get a physical exam. Though you may not realize it, you may be run down or even anemic. If you haven’t had a physical exam in months or years now may be the time to get one. Your physician will be able to give you tips about self-care and coping with grief.

5. Put your story in writing. Many grief experts ask the bereaved to write their story in a journal, or poetry, or affirmations. Writing is therapeutic and the more you write the clearer your journey will become. You will identify problems and, more important, writing will lead you to solutions.

There is a moral to your grief story and it’s that you are in charge of you. Though you had no control over the plot of your story, you can create a happy ending. Don’t waste time waiting for the good fairy to come and help you recover from grief. The good fairy is here and it’s YOU.

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I was sitting at a table with my husband, who was in rehabilitation for wound care and physical therapy on his paralyzed legs. After a few silent moments, the woman turned to me and smiled. “My husband was in the navy for years,” she explained, “and seeing the flag reminds me of him.” She has come to see the flag several more times and is usually lost in thought.

An American flag may seem like an unusual linking object but, for this woman, steeped in military tradition, the flag was a logical choice.

Grief writer and bereaved parent Nan Zastrow describes some of her linking objects in a Grief Digest article, “Linking Objects: When can the Chain be Broken?” The Zastrows’ son died as a result of suicide and since that fateful day she has kept his belongings in closed boxes, “with everything still intact.” But a forthcoming move caused her to examine her grief feelings and prompted her to let go of some linking objects.

She let go of a trunk of baby clothes and blankets and donated them to a church mission project. Still, she kept a few of her son’s things — Scouting patches, graduation photos, and military items. Zastrow says she doesn’t need objects to remind her of her son and her love for him.

Kayla Waldschmidt writes about tokens in her Grief Resource Center website article, “Memory Tokens and Linking Objects.” She defines a memory token as a visual reminder of a deceased loved one. Waldschmidt thinks tokens and linking objects are powerful and keep you connected to your loved one. Her advice for those who are grieving: “Take some time to find your memory tokens and linking objects.”

Your object doesn’t have to be as large as the national flag. Instead, you may choose a piece of jewelry, such as a ring, or a watch, or a belt buckle, or even a stuffed animal from childhood. As time passes you may be able to let go of some objects as Nan Zastrow did. Letting go of these things doesn’t mean you forget your loved one, according to Zastrow, it means you’re “moving forward with grace and gratitude.”

Linking objects and tokens are like stepping stones; they tug you towards the future and the happiness you seek. Some day, and that day may come sooner than you think, you will be happy again. Your happiness will fly straight out in the wind like the flag.

The post How Tokens and Linking Objects May Help the Bereaved appeared first on Open to Hope.

I want to have everything ready for him: a hospital bed, bedside table, and shower wheelchair.

Thinking about all I have to do wakes me up at four in the morning. Once I’m awake, I rarely go back to sleep. I make coffee, sit on the couch, and assess my feelings. It has taken several early mornings to make me realize the impending move sparks grief feelings.

Though he hasn’t said it, I think my husband shares these feelings. Why are we grieving?

First, we are going to miss our home, a place that has sheltered us from storms, the death of family members, and allowed us to enjoy holidays, birthdays, and family celebrations. We’ve lived there for 20 years, and leaving the familiar for the unfamiliar will be hard.

Uncertainty is part of our grief. When we move to our town I will be my husband’s primary caregiver. Since I can’t do this alone, I contacted a home healthcare agency. I’ve tried to think of everything to make our town home a loving, nurturing place for my husband, but we won’t know if I’ve succeeded until we’ve lived there a while.

Worry contributes to my grief. Will my husband feel trapped in a smaller space? I worry about the cost of pending and future healthcare bills. I worry about the cost of medications and renting hospital equipment. I worry about buying an electric wheelchair for an estimated cost of $33,000. We’ve saved for this time all our lives, yet our funds could be gone in a flash.

Because I’ve studied grief for 20 years, I’m able to recognize my anticipatory grief. In the coming months my husband faces many challenges and I don’t know if his body can survive them. He is getting physical therapy at a local nursing home and this therapy will continue for months to come. In the past few weeks he has had a fever several times and that sparks my anticipatory grief.

Stress hypes my feelings. According to the The Social Readjustment Rating Scale, also known as the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale, stress may contribute to illness. Psychiatrists Thomas Holmes and Richard Rahe developed the scale in 1967. Life changing events on the scale were given different numerical ratings or weights. As an article on the Mind Tools website, “The Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale” explains the test. “The higher the score, and the larger the weight of each event, the more likely the patient was to become ill.”

I’ve experienced many of the events on the scale: death of a close family member, change in health of a family member, spouse stops work, and will soon have a change in residence. Thankfully, I’m able to recognize my grief and take steps to combat it. Instead of wallowing in grief, I focus on my husband’s love and the new life we will share together.

The post Moving to a New Home Sparks Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

And every day I wondered, “Will this be the day she dies?” Anticipatory grief became my constant companion.

Now I’m a caregiver again. In late October my husband’s aorta dissected and he had three emergency operations. During the third one, 13 hours of life-threatening surgery, he suffered a spinal stroke and his legs no longer support him. He was hospitalized for three months and is currently receiving physical therapy at a local nursing home. His dream is to be able to use a walker and only time will tell if his dream comes true.

Becoming a caregiver again awakened old feelings. When my husband was on the Intensive Care Unit I was sure he would die and planned his memorial service. But surgeons and nurses saved his life and he is improving steadily. Though he will probably be in a wheelchair the rest of his days, he will have a quality life.

You may be a caregiver, a family member who is responsible for the health and welfare of a loved one. Caregiving is a challenging job, so challenging it diverts you from your own life. As days become weeks and weeks become months, you feel more alone. Anticipatory grief feelings add to your aloneness. How does caregiving link you to anticipatory grief?

The fact that your loved one needs a caregiver can be shocking. You remember your loved one as a bright, independent person and now he or she needs help. Indeed, your loved one is dependent on you.

You’re witnessing the degeneration of a loved one. Thinking about my mother becoming confused, forgetful and angry still causes me pain. I never dreamed my mother would get into fist fights or steal from others, but she did. I had to accept the fact that the kind, brilliant mother of my childhood was gone forever.

If you are caring for a failing parent you may worry about role reversal. Your parent used to take care of you and now you’re taking care of your parent and it makes you uncomfortable. Arguing with your parent makes you more uncomfortable. One time, when I was walking through an airport, I saw a young man wheeling his mother in a wheelchair. The mother was complaining and the son exclaimed, “Don’t start in Ma! Don’t even start.”

Finally, you may grieve for yourself. Life is filled with new responsibilities and you have little time to deal with them. Certainly, you wouldn’t be the first caregiver to ask, “Will I survive this?” Hard as it to believe, you will survive this, and find your way. At this challenging time you’re doing your best and that’s what counts. Caregiving is an act of love.

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“Your chances of having more time with your family are 80 percent,” one surgeon explained. My husband accepted the risks in order to be with his family.

He was anesthetized for three weeks in Intensive Care. Finally, the medical team decided to awaken him slowly. As he awakened my husband, a retired physician, began assessing his own medical condition. Though he could move his legs and feet and wiggle his toes, his left leg was far weaker than the right. The medical team suspected a spinal stroke and medical tests confirmed this.

Being in bed for three weeks would make an Olympic athlete weak. But my husband has been in bed for three months. Physical therapy is helping a little, yet he has a long way to go, and his neurologist doesn’t think he will walk again. A nursing supervisor said the same thing to me. I sobbed on the way to the car, all the way home, and when I got home. I continue to grieve for my husband.

Though I am grateful he is alive, I grieve for all he has been through — the surgeries, the searing pain, the isolation of Intensive Care, his weak body, the challenges he faces, and life in a wheelchair. According to bereavement experts, grief has many faces, and I’m face-to-face with the grief of disability. How am I coping? I’m doing two things, learning to care for a loved one who can’t walk and building a wheelchair friendly town-home for us.

Hospital nurses showed me how to use a patient lift. I’ve learned my husband will need special tools, including a grabber, non-lacing shoes, and a shoehorn. After researching assisted living communities, touring them, seeing apartments, and checking on regulations, I realized that none of them fit us. Despite healthcare support, most of the communities asked me to hire an in-home nursing service for my husband. So we acted on our last option, building a barrier-free town-home.

Sometimes my mind is so filled with details I think it might explode. Then I calm myself. Life is a miracle and my husband is still alive, still the intelligent, caring, kind man I married, the man who has cheered me on for 56 years. He continues to recover from all of the anesthesia he received, sharp some days, slightly confused on others. But he is my husband and we agree on this: Love will guide us and lead us forward.

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My husband and I shared this mission. We didn’t know where it would lead or the challenges we would face. Five years have passed since our grandchildren moved in with us and, though they are now legal adults, our mission continues.

The word sacred implies spirituality. What is it? Peg Thompson, PhD, a St. Paul, Minnesota psychotherapist, defines it in her book, Finding Your Own Spiritual Path. She thinks spirituality is “our connection with the sacred” and the act of applying these connections to daily life.

“Growth in the life of the spirit is essential to recovery,” she writes, and “each of us finds his or her spiritual path from within.” I agree with Thompson’s views and found my spiritual path to healing. But I also think I helped to create this path.

Spiritual growth is possible because humans are born with a miraculous component — the mind. We have the ability to question, to search, to experiment, to learn from experience. In order to do these things, we must recognize the spirituality in our lives. In other words, we have to be on “spirituality alert.”

Thompson lists a dozen spiritual things to watch for and each plays a role in recovery. They include an altered sense of time and place, heightened awarenss and concentration, recognizing the majesty of life and nature, wholeness and health, a sense of mystery, and what she calls “inexpressability.” As she writes, “When we meet the holy, we usually know it. . . . because spiritual experiences involve the whole of us and the unfathomaable depth and unimaginable breadth of the holy, we cannot fully capture them in words.”

I couldn’t capture all of the aspects of spirituality and grandparenting in my life, but I tried. Writing about my experiences helped me make sense of them. Meditating about my experiences also helped me. Looking back, I think Thompson is right when she says you and I find our spiritual paths. I think I’m right when I say we help to create them.

Still, I am careful with the word “recovery.” Just as I will never forget my deceased daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law, I will never forget the happiness they brought to my life. I am not a substitute parent, I am a grandmother, loving my grandchildren, caring for them, encouraging them, protecting them, and ensuring their futures. For me, each day is a spiritual day, and each writing project is a spiritual one.

Please be on the lookout for the spirituality in your life. Use it to make your days better. Spirituality is an individual journey and, as Peg Thompson explains, it “will continue as long as you live. Everything in your life has the potential to deepen your relationship with the sacred.”

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In late October my husband’s aorta dissected and he has been in the hospital ever since, almost two months, most of this time in the ICU. He had three emergency operations, one life-threatening surgery, and four wound-cleaning surgeries, or as doctors call it, “procedures.” Worse, it doesn’t look like my husband will be dismissed any time soon.

The holidays may pass him by this year. I thought and thought about how I could bring the holiday spirit to him. You may be in a similar situation. These ideas may help you bring some holiday cheer to your loved one.

1. Create a photo show. My granddaughter is a superb photographer and I asked her to take photos of our holiday decorations, including the fresh wreath by the front door. She transferred these photos to her computer and we showed them to my husband at breakfast time. The show was a hit.

2. Share greeting cards. We’re not sending out cards this year because it’s too much work and too costly. However, we’re receiving cards from friends. I take a few cards to my husband, three or four at a time, so he can catch up on news.

3. Deliver all get well cards. Friends are thinking of my husband and this comforts him. I deliver every get well card to him. One card, sent to the hospital, actually made it to his room.

4. Bring some magazines. You can only watch so much television when you’re in the ICU. “I feel like I know every commercial by heart,” my husband commented. Lately, I’ve been delivering December issues of his favorite magazines to him. When he is stronger I will deliver a book or two.

5. Decorate a bit. ICU rooms get crowded with stuff: machines, monitors, hoses, wires, sheets, blankets, pillows, meal trays, and other equipment. Since there’s little room to spare, I bought a small, artificial pine tree in a red pot for my husband’s room. It’s decorated with pine cones and so life-like a nurse was going to water it.

6. Display a family photo. A photo of family members gathered together can boost your loved one’s spirits. Last year we used a family shot for our Christmas card. He loves the photo and I brought a framed version of it to his room.

Visiting your loved one also boosts your loved one’s spirits. I visit my husband three times a day, but am careful not to stay long. He needs medications and sleep and physical rehabilitation in order to recover. Certainly, I don’t want to interfere with his schedule. “I love to see you,” he says constantly, and I love to see him. We are each other’s holiday spirit.

Copyright 2013 by Harriet Hodgson

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A frown and look of disappointment appeared on my granddaughter’s face. Clearly, she didn’t agree with my decision about the tree. “Don’t worry, Grandma,” she answered. “I’ll put it up.”

Minutes later, her twin brother climbed the ladder and retrieved the tree from the attic. Three years ago, tired of wandering around in sub-zero cold looking for the “right” Christmas tree, my husband and I bought an artificial one. Twenty minutes later, the tree was assembled and I could tell my granddaughter was excited about Christmas. I offered to decorate the tree.

I took familiar ornaments one-by-one out of the red box they were stored in and hung them on the branches. Two ornaments had pictures of my twin grandchildren on them, photos taken when they were about four years old. As I hung them on the tree tears came to my eyes. In 2007 their mother and father died from the injuries they received in separate car crashes. Christmas just isn’t the same without these family members.

I thought about blessings, too, the fact that my husband and I had been appointed as the twins’ legal guardians, which turned out to be the biggest blessing of our lives. So I kept decorating the tree, adding ornaments from the twins’ childhood. My granddaughter returned to the living room, saw the tree, smiled and exclaimed, “Oh, I was so little when I made that ornament!”

Though I didn’t think putting up the Christmas tree would boost my spirits, it did, and I’m glad my granddaughter insisted on doing it. Slowly, the excitement of Christmas and the joy of giving lifted my dark mood. I bought my husband a small artificial tree for his hospital room and a sweater he could open and wear in the hospital. And I asked my grandkids to take pictures of the tree and gifts to show their grandfather.

He would have a different experience this year, but he would have Christmas. What other traditions could I keep?

For years, our family had oyster stew on Christmas Eve. The first time my twin grandchildren tasted the soup they gave it a loud “YUK!” rating. In the passing years, however, they’ve learned to eat an oyster or two and respect the tradition. I didn’t have time to go into Christmas cookie production, but I could bake a batch of cookies and my granddaughter offered to bake Spritz. In a few days my grandson will be home from college and we will be ready for Christmas, ready t share traditions together.

I’ve found hope in the simple things again – spending time with family, giving to others, caring for my beloved husband in health and in sickness. Each time I visit him I tell him the same thing: “I love you more today than I did yesterday.” The journey has been hard, but my husband is alive, and that is the best Christmas gift of all.

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Unfortunately, my husband suffered a spinal stroke during the 13-hour operation. Sometimes I’m optimistic about his recovery and other times I’m pessimistic. I felt intense anticipatory grief and less hopeful than I had been in a long time. Where was hope? Could I find it again? Are hope and optimism the same? You may have asked yourself the same questions.

Scott Barry Kaufman talks about the differences between optimism and hope in his Psychology Today website article, “The Will and Ways of Hope. He thinks someone who has hope also has the will and determination to achieve their goals. “Put simply: hope involves the will to get there, and different ways to get there,” he explains.

Hope is proactive and Kaufman describes it as a dynamic cognitive motivational system.

To understand the differences between hope and optimism, I looked up the words in the dictionary. Though they are similar, hope and optimism are quite different. Optimism is defined as a tendency to look on the favorable side of things. In my life experience, optimism is often a “wait and see” emotion. Hope is defined as feeling what you desire is possible.

In other words, hope is packed with possibilities. When you have hope, you set goals, work towards them, and assess your progress. Kaufman goes on to say that hope leads to learning your goals. I thought about these points for hours and wondered how I could apply them to my life. For two weeks I worked on identifying goals and the proactive steps I could take. You may take similar steps.

First, I considered the options. After my husband is discharged from the hospital, he will need follow-up physical therapy. With help from a social worker, I identified a senior living facility that would meet his needs. I contacted the facility and submitted our financial information as directed. Think about the options that are open to you.

Second, I thought about sequencing. Getting my husband admitted to the facility was a beginning of four new lives together. Clearly, we would have to move into this facility. I talked with the marketing director and she said my husband would have to meet with the admissions committee. “I’ll let you know when he can do this,” I promised. Can you come up with a workable sequence?

Third, I gathered more information about our health insurance and the estimated costs of my husband’s care. This information will help us plan our future. I gathered additional information about our finances, finances, including the market value of our home. Gathering information now may save you time later.

Fourth, I decided not to put our home up for sale in the winter and list it in the spring instead. My husband and I made this decision jointly. To reduce our stress, we decided to move into our senior living apartment in stages. I made a list of the things we would bring and things we would sell. You may be a list maker like me, and if you are, now may be a good time to make one.

These were difficult decisions, yet they boosted my spirits, and I began to hope again. “Thankfully, I’m good at moving,” I told a friend. Understanding the differences between optimism and hope can help you move forward with life. You may find, as I did, that identifying goals and working towards them can jump-start hope. Hope can keep you going.

Harriet Hodgson has been a freelancer writer for 36+ years and is the author of 33 published books, including eight grief recovery resources. Her latest releases are “Happy Again! Your New and Meaningful Life After Loss” and “Help! I’m Raising My Grandkids,” available from Amazon.

The post For the Bereaved, a Difference Between Optimism and Hope appeared first on Open to Hope.

1. Keep selected people informed. I send regular updates about my husband’s condition to four or five friends. One friend forwards these messages to other friends in my support system. Her gift of friendship relieves my stress and saves me time. You may wish to ask someone in your support system to relay your messages. Personally, I wouldn’t update more than five people; it’s too much work.

2. Filter the offers of help you receive. Many people have offered me food and, while I appreciate their offers, I’m the only person at home. I have enough food and enjoy preparing meals for myself. When people offer to deliver food I thank them and state a fact. For example, I may say “Thanks so much. I just made a huge batch of vegetable soup.” Sure, you can accept help from others at this trying time, but you don’t have to accept all of the offers.

3. Share your concerns. Many people want to visit my husband in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). The ICU is a sterile area and not a place for an open house approach. The other day a stranger visited my husband. This visit confused him at a time when he was exhausted, learning how to swallow again, and exercising his vocal cords after his breathing tube was removed. Worse, my husband tried to make conversation. I turned to the desk attendants for help and they posted a sign on his door: NO VISITORS EXCEPT FAMILY. PLEASE CHECK WITH THE DESK.

4. Be honest with others. I sent an email to the selected people in my support system, telling them that my husband was struggling to regain his memory and thinking abilities. He is struggling because he has received so much anesthesia and pain medication, and been in the ICU for 20 days. “Please do not visit him at this time,” I concluded. My friends are respecting my request.

5. Be careful with social media. I wasn’t going to post anything on Facebook, but a relative emailed me and asked me to do it. So I started posting general information and dozens of people responded. Many said they were praying for my husband and would continue to pray. Others said they were sending me positive thoughts and virtual hugs. All of this caring is comforting. You are the only person who can decide whether to use social media. If you do, be careful about what you share.

6. Say thank you and keep saying it. Someday I hope to return the kindness I’ve received from my friends, caregivers, and other worried family members in the ICU waiting rooms. The magazines in the waiting rooms were dated, so I brought in current magazines from home.

I am blessed to have a support system that includes medical experts, friends, church members, and community groups. My goal is to use this system when necessary, but not overload anyone. So far, I’m achieving this goal.

The post Use Your Bereavement Support System Wisely appeared first on Open to Hope.

I’m feeling intense anticipatory bereavement, wide mood swings that go from despair to hope. Because I’ve studied anticipatory grief for more than a dozen years and written about it, I recognized these feelings and realized I needed help. So I contacted family members and they rallied to help me.

I reached out to a neighbor. “I’m talking with you now because I may need your help,” I explained.

“Thank you for asking,” he replied.

My husband is a retired physician and I contacted one of his colleagues. “Please let the department know his aorta dissected again,” I asked. She said she would spread the word and asked me to hold on to hope.

I reached out to physicians’ wives I’ve known for years. I contacted my minister and asked for help from my church community.

I contacted our financial advisor, who has become a friend. I contacted two of my husband’s best friends.

Each contact made me feel less alone in my bereavement. My husband’s surgery lasted about 12 hours and, though he came through it better than I thought, I’m afraid to hope too much.

As the emails come in, as I talk on the phone, I realize my contacts have make people pause and think about life. It’s easy to get caught up in mundane things, to run around the gerbil wheel of life, and forget that each moment is a miracle.

If you are feeling anticipatory grief now, don’t be afraid to ask for help. Your requests remind family, friends, and colleagues that life is fragile. Love matters. Family matters. Friendships matter. Meaningful work matters. Asking for help is nothing to be ashamed of; you are living your life mindfully.

The post Asking for Help with Anticipatory Bereavement appeared first on Open to Hope.

After my mother died I wrote a book about anticipatory grief. Dr. Lois Krahn, a Mayo Clinic psychiatrist, was my co-author. A year after the book came out Dr. Krahn called me. “Before we wrote the book I didn’t know much about anticipatory grief,” she said. “Now I realize it walks into my office every day.”

The last few days I have been living with anticipatory grief and exerienced its power again. On Sunday my husband’s aorta dissected for the second time. The dissection was below the Dacron aorta that Mayo Clinic surgeons installed 10 years ago.He had emergency surgery and all seemed to be well. When I visited him the next day the medical team was thrilled with my husband’s progress. He seemed to be a miracle patient.

But the next day the medical team realized that one of the two stents that had been installed was leaking. An x-ray reavealed that large amounts of blood were flowing into his chest. My husband had emergency surgery again. He came through the surgery pretty well, but chest fluid built up and had to be drained.

Now his life is touch and go. Thankfully, he is able to move one foot and has minimal movement of the other. I call the Intensive Care Unit often to check on his progress. My life is touch and go as well. What will happen to me if my husband dies? How will I cope with all the loose ends in my life? How will I handle the loneliness?

Anticiaptory grief can be more powerful than post-death grief and I have found myself sobbing unexpectedly. I cry with wrenching sobs and finally get myself under control. Once I’ve calmed down I think about my husband and the happy years we have shared. I think about the man who tells me he loves me every day. I think about the excellent physician he became and all of the patients he helped. I think about his profound kindness and his respect for me as his wife.

You understand my feelings if you are experiencing anticipatory grief now and the sorrow I am feeling. Self-care is extremely important at this time. I’m trying to eat right and hope you are too. I’ve checked my support system: family members, my church, organizations I belong to, and close friends. As I’ve done before, I’ve turned to my occupation as a freelance writer for comfort and healing.

Anticiaptory grief is powerful, so powerful it may surprise you. Please take care.

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I have dreamed about my daughter, too.  In my dreams she is either a baby or a toddler.  Though four years have passed since she died, I still have times when I can’t believe she is gone.  My daughter was 45 years old when she died and at a turning point in her career.  A composite engineer, she worked for a large corporation, ran three production lines, received outstanding performance reviews, and was assured of advancement in the company.

Then she died.  Yet on Christmas morning, I half expect her to walk in the door with her twins, smiling, and lugging boxes of gifts.  I think about the gifts she gave my husband and me and the gifts we gave her.  Usually we gave her practical things, like sweaters.  Sometimes I chose impractical gifts, like a musical snow globe and a teapot shaped like a beehive with a bee on the round top.

Unfortunately, during the holidays I tend to think too much.  “You should have chosen different gifts,” the troublesome side of my personality accuses.  The upbeat side of my personality answers, “But all of us need beauty in our lives.”  This year, the argument is playing again in my mind and the sound is getting louder.

Thankfully, I have stayed in touch with my daughter’s best friend and we’ve had coffee together several times.  Not only is her perspective helpful, she has stayed in touch with my twin grandchildren.  My granddaughter sees this friend as a substitute mother and calls her when she has a problem.  I respect this friend for her honesty.

One day, when we were having coffee, she said something that startled me.   “Helen always said you and your husband never gave up on her,” she noted. What a revelation.  My daughter’s high school years were troubled ones and she became involved in drugs and alcohol.  Thanks to inpatient treatment and Alcoholics Anonymous, she turned her life around, and became a productive citizen. 

My husband and I never knew our daughter was grateful for our faith in her.  The comment made me feel like my daughter was speaking from the grave.  Of all the Christmas gifts we gave her, believing in her strength may have been the best.  This knowledge gives me courage and comforts me.

I don’t have to over-think things.  I don’t have to wonder about past gift choices.  I don’t have to make myself sad.  Instead, I can focus on my daughter’s resilience and the resilience of her children, the twins we love so much.  We have become a family and all of us are living new, happy lives.  That is our Christmas gift and blessing.

Harriett Hodgson 2011

The post Thoughts of Holiday Gifts and My Deceased Daughter appeared first on Open to Hope.

In 2007, after my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law all died, my mother’s saying came to mind. Coping with grief was up to me, not an imaginary good fairy. Instead of waiting to be rescued I would have to rescue myself. Sometimes I could almost hear my mother’s voice saying, “The good fairy isn’t coming and you’re in charge of recovering from multiple losses.”

Grief is exhausting. You may feel stuck right now, unable to move forward or backward in life, and worried about the future. Worse, you think you’ll never be happy again. As someone who has survived multiple losses and created a new life, I can tell you happiness is possible. How can you find happiness? These steps helped me and may help you.

1. Tell yourself, “I’m worthy of happiness.” I told myself this again and again. Repeating the sentence helped me to believe it. You really are worthy of happiness and this belief can change your outlook on life.

2. Ask for help. Multiple losses made me evaluate my support system. Where could I get help? You will need support and help in order to create a new life. If you haven’t checked your support system lately, now is the time to shore it up. You will find that many people are ready and willing to help you.

3. Practice self-care. At this challenging time of life it’s easy to eat on the run or rely on fast food. Nutritional, balanced meals are brain food and can improve your mood. Try to get enough sleep, at least seven hours a night. Meditation may also help you take care of yoursef.

4. Get a physical exam. Though you may not realize it, you may be run down or even anemic. If you haven’t had a physcal exam in months or years, get one now. Your physician will be able to give you tips about self-care and coping with grief.

5. Put your story in writing. Many grief experts ask the bereaved to write their story in a journal, poetry, or affirmations. Writing is therapeutic and the more you write the clearer your journey will become. You will identify problems and, more important, regular writing will lead you to solutions.

There is a moral to your grief story and it’s that you are in charge of you. Though you had no control over the plot, you can give your story a happending ending. Don’t waste time waiting for the good fairy to come and help you recover from grief. The good fairy is here and it’s YOU.

The post The Good Fairy isn’t Coming and Recovering from Grief is Up to You appeared first on Open to Hope.

Choose happiness. Again and again, I told myself, “I’m worthy of happiness.” Saying this sentence helped me to believe it. I also believed in myself and the coping skills I honed over the years. You are also worthy of happiness and, if you take some proactive steps, you will find it. Choosing happiness changes your outlook on life – your thinking, your actions, and your plans.

Take care of your health. Healthy food is brain food. With this thought in mind, I fixed balanced, made-from-scratch meals for my family. My husband and I stuck to our routine of going to bed at 10 a.m. Walking in the neighborhood also boosted our spirits. Bettyclare Moffatt cites the benefits of running in her book, Soulwork. “Releasing, releasing, I am releasing now. Good-bye to all cares, all worries, all obstacles, all impediments, all fears.”

Take care of your spiritual self. Some bereaved people avoid quiet in an attempt to escape fear and pain. Not me. I made quiet time part of each day. Quiet helped me to identify problems and find solutions to them. In the quiet you will find the courage you need to move forward in life. Taking care of your spiritual self may include attending religious services, volunteering in your community, and giving to others.

Write your story. Bereaved people need to tell their story and say the names of their loved ones aloud. You may record your story in a journal, diary, short stories, articles, or books. The act of telling your story relieves some of the tension you’re feeling and may help other bereaved people. Giving workshops and grief recovery talks are other ways to share your story.

As your life journey continues, you will identify other proactive steps that help you. Investing in change is your responsibility. Like the sun rising on a spring morning, light will seep into your life and brighten it anew.

The post Proactive Steps After a Loss appeared first on Open to Hope.

Choose happiness. Again and again, I told myself, “I’m worthy of happiness.” Saying this sentence helped me to believe it. I also believed in myself and the coping skills I had honed over the years. You are also worthy of happiness and, if you take some proactive steps, you will find it. Choosing happiness changes your outlook on life — your thinking, actions, and plans.

Take care of your health. Healthy food is brain food. In fact, a balanced diet can change your thinking. With this thought in mind, I fixed balanced, made-from-scratch meals for my family. My husband and I stuck to our routine of going to bed at 10 p.m. Walking in the neighborhood also boosted our spirits. Bettyclare Moffatt cites the benefits of running in her book, Soullwork. “Releasing, I am releasing now. Good-bye to all cares, all worries, all obstacles, all impediments, all fears,” she writes.

Take care of your spiritual self. Some bereaved people avoid quiet in an attempt to escape pain and fear. Not me. I made quiet time part of each day. This time helped me identify problems and find solutions to them. In the quiet you will find the courage you need to move forward with life. Taking care of your spiritual self may include attending religious services, volunteering in your community, and giving to others.

Write your story. Bereaved people need to share their story and say the names of their loved ones aloud. You may write your story in a journal, diary, short stories, articles, and books. The act of telling you story relieves some of the tension you’ve been feeling and may help others. Giving workshops and grief recovery talks are other ways to share your story.

As your life journey continues you will identify other proactive steps and take them. When all is said in done, you are responsible for your own happiness. Like the sun rising on a spring morning, light will seep into your life and brighten it anew.

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My current publisher was interested in this grief resource, and I sent the manuscript to the executive director. The company has a collaborative agreement with another publisher and she forwarded the manuscript to this publisher. Three months later, the manuscript was returned to me with dozens of editorial notes written in the margins.

For example, one notation said the manuscript was too emotional, a comment that stunned me. Death is emotional, especially the death of a child. The editor also wanted me to eliminate some stories and add footnotes. I wrote this guide for bereaved people, people who need reliable information and need it fast. Footnotes would turn the guide into a textbook.

Last, the editor thought my style was too personal. During my grief journey, I’ve given workshops at several national conferences for the bereaved. I tell personal stories so workshop attendees know I’m not just talking the talk, I’ve walked the walk, the same journey they have taken. Plus, people remember stories more easily than they remember statistics.

I came to several conclusions. First, I will let myself be emotional about grief. Second, I will stick to the self-help format because I’m not a textbook author. Third, I will see this guide in print. What did I do? I followed the suggestions that strengthened the book and passed on the others. The guide is in production now and will be available in two months.

You may be writing a grief resource now, a story for children, a book for teens, a self-help book for adults, or a novel based on your life story. While you’re writing, questions may come to mind. Is my writing good? Am I being honest? Will my book help others? I encourage you to be yourself. Consider the suggestions you receive from others and then follow your instincts.

Though you may have to revise your book several times, it will get better with each revision. At the end, you’ll know you did your best, documented family history, identified problems, found solutions, and shared your grief journey.

Grief is emotional and always will be. Writing your grief story from the heart will touch those who read it. Someday, maybe years from now, you’ll read your book again and say, “I’m glad I wrote that.” Future generations will be glad you wrote it as well.

Your book is for today, for tomorrow, and family members you will never know. Good luck on your writing journey.

The post Writing Your Book about Grief: Helpful Tips for Beginning Writers appeared first on Open to Hope.

“I’m here to buy something to wear to my mother’s memorial service,” she said. “My mother died two days ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

The woman went on to tell me her 29-year-old son committed suicide last year. She didn’t understand his suicide and hasn’t felt the same since. Two deaths, so close together, had clearly devastated this mother.

Still standing by the rack of long-sleeved tops, I told her I was a grief writer. I asked her if she knew about The Compassionate Friends and Open to Hope. While she had heard of The Compassionate Friends, Open to Hope was new to her. Fumbling around in my wallet, I gave her my business card, and told her to log into the website.

“It’s an online community for those who are grieving,” I explained. “It’s a reliable community and I think you will find many helpful articles there. You can post on the blogs, too.”

Each of us started telling our grief stories. She said she hadn’t been able to move forward in life since her son died, and showed me a photo of her two boys. Her second son had just married. I told her about the multiple losses I suffered in 2007 and how my husband and I became guardians of our orphaned twin grandchildren.

“How are they doing?” she asked. “They both graduated from high school with honors and both received college scholarships,” I replied. “I just sent them off to their senior years at college.” Without any warning, tears filled my eyes. “And I’m going to cry,” I said. The woman started to cry, reached out, and gave me a hug. I hugged her in return.

There we stood, two grieving woman next to long-sleeved tops, two women who met each other by chance and offered each other comfort. Impulsively, I reached for a long-sleeved green top, held it up to the woman and said, “This would look nice on you.”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “Since my son died, strange things have happened,” she admitted. “I met you by chance today. You started the conversation. You’re a grief writer and green is my color.” Her voice trailed off.

I don’t know if meeting this woman was providential or not, but I do know each of us benefited from it. We shared our feelings and comforted one another. That is the journey of grief, the loss of a child, and the challenge of creating a new life without that child. Each of us has her own journey, yet I hope I will meet this woman again. I am grateful for her comfort and hope she is grateful for mine.

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Bereaved people like me are everywhere — at the grocery store, filling car gas tanks, walking discount store aisles, and waiting at red lights. After four of my family members died in 2007 I wanted to release the pain of grief and tell everyone about my losses. I wanted to shout, “I’m a bereaved parent!” But I didn’t.

Duluth News Tribune columnist Sam Cook describes grief in his moving article, “Amid Grief, Life Goes On.” He begins his article by saying outsiders are often unable to see mourners’ grief. While we see grief at church and memorial services, we don’t really see or understand what mourners are going through.

Mourners are among us, Cook observes, “with us and apart from us all at once.” He suspects the pain of grief lasts a long time. He is right. Suffering multiple losses six years ago resulted in deep emotional pain and I felt isolated. To cope with this pain I turned to my occupation — writer — and it’s one of the best decisions I ever made.

Whether it’s an article, book, or workshop, I share my story with others. My story is recounted in hundreds articles and eight books about grief reconciliation and recovery. Still, I have more to say. I would like to hire a car, a microphone, drive through my hometown and say:

Look at me carefully, for I am a bereaved parent.

I will be a bereaved parent, daughter-in-law, sister, and mother-in-law for the rest of my life.

Multiple losses have not destroyed me; they have made me stronger.

Hard and lonely as my journey has been, I found my way through the darkness.

Helping other bereaved people makes me feel good inside.

Enjoying my life is a tribute to my deceased loved ones.

Raising my grandkids is the greatest blessing I have ever received.

In his article Cook cites some of the grief triggers that take mourners back in time, the awful phone call or knock on the door. Since I am grieving for four family members I am on constant alert for grief triggers. I also look for ways to share my story and the happy life I am living now.

But some mourners try to bypass emotional pain by keeping their sorrow to themselves, a process called “stuffing feelings.” I understand this response and succumbed to it for a short time until I realized my grief history makes me who I am today. Rather than stuffing our feelings, mourners like you and me may share our stories. We may listen to others’ grief stories as well.

As The Compassionate Friends (TCF) notes in its Workshop Presenter Information and Agreement,  “Tell your own story briefly (remember that each person to whom you are speaking also has a story).” If you haven’t shared your story yet, I encourage you to do so. You will be amazed at the kindness and information and caring you receive in return.

The post Let Me Tell You About My Grief: Releasing Hidden Feelings appeared first on Open to Hope.

The death of a child is bad enough; the death of a child from blunt force trauma is horrific. I wondered about my daughter’s last minutes of life and worried about my granddaughter, a passenger in the car. Why did the accident happen? Years ago, my daughter was involved in another car crash and broke her neck. It happened on my birthday and my husband and I had gone out to dinner with our daughters to celebrate.

We came upon the accident and my husband, a physician, revived his own daughter. This sounds unbelievable, but I can assure you it happened. I directed traffic while my younger daughter ran to a farm house and called for help. Though my daughter’s broken neck healed, she never had full neck mobility, and I think this is what caused her second car crash.

You can understand why I felt traumatized by her death in 2007. Randle Clark, MA and Avril Magel write about trauma in “Unraveling Trauma from Grief,” an article published in the Summer 2013 issue of We Need Not Walk Alone. They say psychological trauma occurrs after exposure to an “extraordinary stressor outside the usual realm of human experience.”

According to the authors, the symptoms of trauma can include extreme anxiety, hyper-vigilance, the startle response, extreme sensitivity to stimuli, avoidance thinking, concentration problems, painful images, and flashbacks. I had some of these symptoms, but not all. Still, I was concerned about myself and read several resources about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Thankfully, I didn’t have PTSD and thankfully I had good coping skills that I put to work.

You may be going through a traumatic loss now. How can you cope? I can tell you how I coped and my steps may help you. First, I identified my grief work and started working on it, work that continues to this day.

Next, I became aware of my emotions and named each one as I felt it. I also made a conscious decision to be a survivor, not a victim. You can make the same decision. I hope you choose to be a survivor because the victm choice sets you up for complicated grief and can prolong grief.

Each day, I set aside some time for meditation. I’m a professional writer and before I started work in the morning I meditated for a few minutes. Sometimes I meditated as I was walking. Writing affirmations also helped me. I started writing them in my mind and wrote so many one-sentence affirmations I started a computer file. This file eventually became a book.

I pushed myself forward on the recovery path by setting goals. My first goal was to set goals. As soon as I completed a goal, I crossed it off my list. As you might expect, my goals changed as the years passed.

Telling my story with written and spoken words has helped me immensely and I think it will help you. If you haven’t done this, I hope you will start writing your story today. You may write daily in a diary, regularly in a journal, or even write a book about your experiences.

Six years have gone by since my daughter died. Yes, I suffered a traumatic loss and I have survived it. Today, I am living a new life. Traumatic loss need not define you or the life you are living. With hard work, determination, and honesty, you can recover and find happiness again.

The post Are You Experiencing Grief, Trauma or Both? appeared first on Open to Hope.

Still, I had to give myself one-sentence pep talks. For example, I told myself I had experienced grief before and this experience could work for me. I also knew I had good coping skills. Some days, however, when life was unbearably bleak, I lied to myself and said, “You’re always strong.”

I am a strong person, but coping with four deaths was the greatest challenge of my life. In truth, I feared I might not survive it. Author Cheryl Strayed wasn’t sure she would survive a life-changing hike. She describes the challenges she faced along the way in her book, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Coast Trail.

When I ordered her book online I thought it was about hiking. It is about hiking, but it’s more of a book about the grief recovery process. Lost and despondent after the death of her mother, Strayed decided to hike the Pacific Coast Trail in hopes of finding herself. The trip was lonely, grueling, and dangerous for a woman alone. “Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves,” she writes, “so I told myself a different story from the one women are told.”

Strayed told herself she was safe. She told herself she was strong. And she told herself she was brave. In short, she refused to let herself become afraid.

After I read this passage I thought of my grief recovery journey. My husband and I were guardians of our 15-year-old twin grandchildren and we didn’t have time to be afraid or worry about ourselves. Yes, we mourned our daughter and the other family members who died, but we spent our energy on our grandkids. We kept them safe and encouraged them and loved them.

As days became weeks, weeks became months, and months became years, I gave myself many pep talks. Some examples:

My child development training is helping me.

I can still laugh though I’m grieving.

Each day, I will savor the time I spend with my grandkids.

Gentle guidance is my caregiving approach.

When the twins get angry, I will remember that it is grief that is talking.

I will enjoy all of the gymnastics meets, choir, and band concerts.

Fixing the twin’s favorite meals brings me joy.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

“When a Loved One Dies,” an article published on the Cigna Behavioral Health website, contains a section about mending the heart. To mend a grief-stricken heart the article suggests setting “small realistic” goals, contacting supportive people, and taking care of yourself. “Celebrate your good memories of the person who died,” the article advises.

That is what I have done. I have also made new memories with my grandkids and the husband who loves me so. Pep talks helped me create the new and happy life I’m living today. You may benefit from one-sentence pep talks, starting with “I will be happy again.”

Copyright 2013 by Harriet Hodgson

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Cheryl Strayed writes about recovering from the death of her mother in Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail. When I ordered the book online I didn’t know much about it and thought it was a book about hiking. It is about hiking, but Wild is really a chronology of grief recovery.

Strayed and her siblings buried their mother on land near their house. As Strayed stood by her mother’s grave, she said her mother would always be her mother, but that she had to leave. Her mother was no longer in the flower bed, Strayed explained. “I’d put her somewhere else. The only place I could reach. In me.”

After I read these words I stopped reading. I, too, had put my loved one, my deceased daughter, within me. How is she within me?

She is within me because my husband and I were appointed as legal guardians of our 15-year-old twin grandchildren. Immediately after the twin’s father died in another crash, the twins moved in with us. Our new mission was to protect them, care for them, and love them more each day. Raising our grandchildren has been the greatest blessing of our lives.

Thanks to her children, my daughter’s spirit is part of me.

She is within me as I continue to learn. Our extended family stands for education and everyone in the family has gotten an education. Helen loved to learn and became a composite engineer, a production manager with an MBA degree and six industry certifications. For her, learning was either about engineering, production, or flying, and she was constantly reading the pilot’s manual in preparation for taking flying lessons.

I am committed to lifelong learning and have spent countless hours learning about grief, grief reconciliation, multiple losses, and grief recovery. This learning led to writing grief resurces that braid research findings with life experience. According to readers and reviewers, this is a formula that works.

Because of learning, my daughter’s spirit is part of me.

Laughter also connects me with my daughter. She had a marvelous sense of humor and when she laughed hard she would slap her knee. People have told me Helen could have been a stand-up comic. In 2007, after she and three other family members died, laughter stopped for me. Certainly, I didn’t have much to laugh about.

But like my daughter, who faced many challenges in life, my laughter couldn’t be repressed. Though I was grieving, I gave myself permission to laugh. My sense of humor has returned, thank goodness, and I can even laugh at myself. Every time I laugh I think of my daughter.

If you are in the early stages of grief, you may not think your deceased loved one will ever be part of you. But that will change. As time passes, and you come to terms with loss, you will focus more on the gifts your loved one brought to your life. Or as Bob Deits says in his book, Life After Loss, you will “believe that your grief has a purpose and an end.”

The post My Daughter’s Spirit is Part of Me appeared first on Open to Hope.

I asked myself this question after four family memers died in 2007. When I reviewed my experiences with each of these people, painful memories came to mind, and I decided to learn from them.

First, I let the memories come. Clearly, my subconscious mind was processing information and I let it do its work. With the passage of time I was able to see these memories more clearly. If I was confronted by similar experiences today I would probably act differently. I would be more patient and better at give and take.

In an article titled, “Grief,” the Hospice World website explains that all human relationships involved positive and negative feelings and “it is important that these be brought into balance in grief.” Many humorous memories were mixed in with my painful ones, and I paid close attention to them. Remembering funny memories was healing for me, and I started to tell stories about them. Each painful memory had its good and bad parts and I filed them in my mind. 

Every time I had a negative memory I balanced it with a positive one. This conscious response is my bridge to recovery and hopefully yours. Six years have passed since I suffered multiple losses and I am doing better than I thought I would. Still, there are days when grief takes me backwards.

Larry M. Barber, a licensed counselor, Director of GriefWorks and Counseling Works, describes going backwards in a Grief Minister website article, “Grief Anniversary Dates: Milestones and Painful Memories.” Twenty years have passed since his wife and daughter died and, according to Barber, sometimes it feels like forever. “Many times when painful memories hit me and grief outbursts take place, it seems like the losses just happened yesterday,” he explains.

I’ve had times when my multiple losses seemed like yesterday. To be honest, I think this will happen again and again and have prepared myself for it. The good thing is that you and I don’t have to give up everything in your past. Earl A. Grollman, author of Living When a Loved One Has Died, thinks memories of the past can be a bridge to the future.

“Don’t try to destroy a beautful part of your life because remembering it hurts,” he advises. All of my memories, and all of yours, help make us who we are today — learning, growing, changing people who are grateful for the gift of life. So let the memories come. Sort them out and think about what they can teach you. Start building your bridge to the future now.

The post Painful Memories can be a Bridge to Recovery appeared first on Open to Hope.

We are the home they come home to, and when I hear one of the twins or both, is headed home I become almost giddy. I can hardly wait to see them and hug them and listen to their stories. Several weeks ago my grandson returned from a semester in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Last week my granddaughter returned from Thailand, where she taught English to high school students. In a few days my granddaughter will come home for the summer.

It takes me a week to adjust my grocery shopping to young appetites. But I adjust to their presence immediately and savor it. Raising my grandkids is how my husband and I honor our deceased daughter’s memory and continue her mission. This is a sacred mission for us and we have given it our best.

Joy surges when our grandkids come home, yet the joy of having them in our lives is with us all the time. Our grandchildren have kept us interested in life and excited about the future. We look forward to their college graduations (only a year away!), seeing them head out into the world, and have families of their own. Life has been really good to us.

The post When My Grandkids Come Home Joy Returns appeared first on Open to Hope.

I agreed with his points and, though I was impressed with his wisdom, I did not write THE LETTER.

This idea had become a giant billboard in my mind, with the words THE LETTER printed in red, for red alert. In a website article, psychotherapist Alexandra Kennedy lists the purpose and elements of this letter. “Writing a letter is a powerful way to reconnect with loved one after he or she has died,” she explains. She thinks this letter might include some of the things you miss, or regret, or things you have learned.

Helpful as her suggestions are, I did not write THE LETTER.

Some grief experts recommend hand-writing the letter on your best stationery. When I was younger, I used to have good handwriting, curvy letters that represented the Palmer Method. I can still see the green, cursive letters on posters that went along a classroom wall. But arthritis changed my handwriting, so I figured I would write THE LETTER on the computer.

While this was an easy solution, a quick solution, but I did not write THE LETTER.

Other grief experts recommend putting the letter or letters away for a while, then taking them out, and reading them aloud. I thought this was a good idea. Since I am a professional writer, I often read my prose aloud. And so, like all of the other ideas I had read about, reading my letter aloud was something I was willing to do.

Logic did not win out, however, and I still did not write THE LETTER.

During the past month, I have been working on a book about growing from grief. Like all of the grief resources I have written, it is a book I never planned to write. This book came as a complete surprise. I wrote the outline in two days and started the manuscript on the third. Words came so quickly I could barely keep up with them. I realized one chapter needed THE LETTER, my actual letter to my deceased adult daughter. And I was scared.

Would I be able to do this? Would I break down and sob? Would I go backwards on the recovery path? The only way to answer these questions was to sit down and write. In the night, my subconscious mind kept writing and re-writing THE LETTER. The next morning, I sat down at the computer and poured out my soul in words. Searching for words was not a problem and they came quickly. So did the tears streaming down my face.

There. I had done it. I had written THE LETTER, and it is now part of my book. I did not go backwards on the recovery path, I went forwards. Writing the letter was easy because I have been doing my grief work ever since my daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash. It is a good letter, a healing letter, and I am glad I wrote it. If you have been worrying about writing THE LETTER I hope you will sit down and do it.

Writing the letter will make you feel better.

The post I Finally Wrote THE LETTER to my Deceased Daughter appeared first on Open to Hope.

In the six years that have passed since my twin grandkids lost their parents in separate car crashes, I have become re-acquainted with teenagers, learned some new jargon, learned about new customs, and learned that I need my grandkids more than they need me.

Though they will be home off and on this summer, for the most part, they will be gone. My grandson lives in Minneapolis and my granddaughter has summer travel plans. Just like before, I miss the chatter and busy life of teenagers. Being an empty nester twice is not easy.

Still, I am excited when they walk in the door and say, “Hi Grandma!” I love hearing about their activites and plans. I am delighted they are on the Dean’s List and doing wll in college. We have become a grand-family and it is rewarding.

The post Raising Grandkids: I’m an Empty Nester Again appeared first on Open to Hope.

Her death was bad enough. Two days later, my father-in-law died. Then my brother (and only sibling) died. Nine months after my daughter died, my former son-in-law, father of my twin grandchildren, died from the injuries he received in another car crash. My husband and I became the twin’s legal guardians. Raising teenage grandchildren was our new mission in life and we felt it was sacred.

Six years have passed since my daughter died. Though I have a new and happy life, a place of sorrow is within me. This place reveals itself on the anniversary of my daughter’s death, her birthday, the twins’ birthdays, at holiday time, and during holiday celebrations. It reveals itself when my grandson says something his mother would have said. My granddaughter looks more like her mother each day and sometimes the resemblance is startling.

I will always love my daughter.

I’ve spoken at conferences for bereaved parents and local chapter meetings. Every parent has a story like mine. They share stories about sudden death, prolonged death, and suicide. If we do our grief work bereaved parents, including myself, learn to cope with loss. We learn to work around it and find joyful moments. As grief expert Rabbi Earl A. Grollman writes in his article, “Holding On and Letting Go,” mourners need to walk through grief, not run. I’ve walked through grief, with grief, and learned love is stronger than death.

I will always love my daughter.

My husband and I honor our daughter’s life in many ways. In addition to caring for her children, we have tried to be good role models and live her values. We commissioned a choir piece in her memory and it is beautiful. Contributing to organizations in her memory is another way to honor our daughter’s life. While these actions have helped us cope with grief, we still have moments of sadness. My husband thinks of her early in the morning and I think of her all during the day.

I will always love my daughter.

Multiple losses changed my writing. A health and wellness writer for years, my work shifted from general wellness to grief recovery. Writing led to research and the more I learned about grief, the more I understood it. I’ve written about multiple losses, grief reconciliation, grief recovery, affirming life, and more. My resources help others and writing them has helped me. Many of the words that appear on my computer screen are assurances of a mother’s love.

I will always love my daughter.

Bettyclare Moffatt writes about moving forward with life in her book, Soulwork. One chapter, “When I am an Old Woman,” tells what she will do in her advancing age. Instead of going out on rainy afternoons Moffatt says she will sit in a comfy chair by the fire. Her cat will be on her lap and she will drink tea with honey. “I will remember all the bright days and dark nights of my life . . . and I will hold no regrets,” she writes. “I will be satisfied.”

Though my daughter died, I will always be her mother, and will always love her. I will be satisfied with knowing I did my best. My daughter lost her way for a while and I will be comforted by the fact that I never gave up on her. Caring for her twins has been more than satisfying; it is the biggest blessing of my life. Raising her children links me to the daughter I love so much.

The post A Mother’s Love Lives On appeared first on Open to Hope.

Recently I read an article by Elizabeth Harper Neeld, PhD, published on the Legacy Connect website. The article, “How Long is this Grieving Going to Last,” describes two types of time, chronos and kairos. I hadn’t encountered these words before. What did they mean? How did they apply to me?

According to Neeld, chronos time is “ordinary” time, measured with a calendar, and divided into days, weeks, months, and years. Kairos time is our inner time, or as Neeld puts it, “moments of awakening” and “paying attention to the present moment.” Neeld says this is the time that really matters to us. In short, kairos times are those times when we are connected to our emotions.

Though we have made progress, many people still think we should be over grief in three months. Every grieving parent knows this idea is false. According to Neeld, there is no right or wrong time for grief. We take the time we need, she continues, and ask ourselves important questions. Some of my questions were:

• Will I survive such tragedy?

• How do multiple losses differ from one?

• Am I on the right path?

• What can I learn from grief?

• Do I have a new life mission?

• Can I make good things from grief?

• Are my husband and I raising our grandchildren “right?”

• Will we be able to let go of the twins when the time comes?

Only those who are grieving, you and I, can determine how long it will take to come to terms with grief. Neeld says healthy grieving, “at the right time for each of us, is an experience of integration.” After my daughter died several friends repeated the adage about time healing all things. Time can help, but in the long run, we really heal ourselves. Instead of marking time, we can make a conscious decision to grow from grief.

So I live each day in kairos time and it has led me in surprising directions. For years I had been writing health and wellness books. Kairos time changed the focus of my writing to grief and recovery. Like many bereaved parents, I decided to share my story. I speak to church groups, community groups, at bereavement conferences, and bereavement chapter meetings.

Were it not for kairos time I wouldn’t be doing any of these things. How do you measure time? Are you stuck stuck in chromos time and obsessing on the date of your loved one’s death. Or have you created a new life for yourself? Each day, you may memorialize your loved in various ways. Volunteering in memory of your loved one may also be something you do. Let kairos time lead you, guide you, and comfort you.

Love doesn’t end with death. You live your life in kairos time because you love a child.

The post Bereaved Parent Lives Life in Kairos Time appeared first on Open to Hope.

A child is always your child, no matter his or her age. Having a child die before you goes against nature’s plan. No parent should have to bury a child, yet some are doing that after the Boston terrorist attack. How can we cope with this news? How can we make our lives count?

Like all bereaved parents, I had to find my own way through grief. I had to identify the proactive steps I could take and, at the same time, remain stable and encouraging for the twin grandchildren in my care. The journey hasn’t been easy, but I have learned from it.

I’ve learned that I can still laugh. Indeed, I laugh in memory of my funny daughter.

I’ve learned that writing about loss helps a bereaved parent come to terms with it and move forward with life.

I’ve learned that giving, whether it is a monetary donation or speaking to a bereavement group, helps me stay on the recovery path.

I’ve learned there is a hole in my life and that it will always be there because I loved my daughter when she was alive and I continue to love her.

I’ve learned that I am not alone and thousands of bereaved parents are by my side.

I’ve learned that practicing kindness helps one come to terms with grief and, over time, brings me happiness.

If your loss is new, you are starting a journey that will last a lifetime. A bereaved friend of mine lost her husband and two children. Though others see her as a heroine, she doesn’t see herself that way. “I’m fortunate to have had them in my life,” she says. Though our children are gone, bereaved parents are fortunate to have had their children in their lives. This brings me back to the Boston terrorism, a total disregard for the miracle of life. We cannot let these dispicable actions turn us away from happiness and the miracle of life.

Our children would want us to enjoy each day and that is what I’m trying to do. With help from family, friends, and other bereaved parents, I have a new and happy life. It’s a life I created out of pain and ashes and love. Open to Hope friends helped me create this life and for them, and all bereaved parents, I am grateful.

The post Boston Deaths and Injuries Disrespect the Miracle of Life appeared first on Open to Hope.

Walking felt good after sitting so long. My husband and I kept walking. Though we didn’t walk daily, we walked regularly, several times a week. While we were walking, we talked about our loved ones and how grief had changed us. As the days passed, we walked more. I developed a new understanding of the benefits of walking.

I understand these benefits because I’ve lived them. Several weeks ago, I finished a women’s book about walking for heart health. While I was writing the book, I thought about how walking helped me cope with grief. Walking was an antidote to grief, changing my body and mind. Today I am a walking advocate.

Mayo Clinic details the emotional benefits of walking in a website article, “Exercise: 7 Benefits of Regular Physical Activity.” Exercise improves your mood, according to Mayo. Physical activity releases chemicals in the brain that make you feel happier and more relaxed. Regular physical activity makes your heart and lungs work more efficiently, which gives you more energy.

WebMD makes a similar case in its article, “Exercise and Depression.” Endorphins are released in the brain when you exercise, the article explains, and this changes your perception of pain. “Endorphins also trigger a positive feeling in the body,” the article says. Other benefits of physical activity include stress reduction, combatting depression, and a better night’s sleep.

I have received all of these benefits. Eight years ago, I was on a regular walking program and kept at it for years. But two more family members died and my husband and I became guardians of our twin grandchildren. Multiple losses, raising teenagers, and the physical ailments that come with aging, brought my walking program to a half. Consequently, I put on weight.

The day finally came when I broke out of the fog and reclaimed responsibility for my physical and emotional health.

Ask me about fitness, and I’ll launch into a detailed story about my walking program. Walking is the easiest and cheapest form of physical activity. You don’t need pricey equipment and already know how to do it. When you’re feeling down, climb on a treadmill or walk in your neighborhood. Check with your doctor, however, before you begin a walking program.

Your walks can be meditations. What is a walking meditation? Dr. Kelly McGonigal defines it in her Psychology Today website article, “Walking Meditation: The Perfect 10-Minute Willpower Boost.” You start by walking at a rate that increases your heart rate slightly, she explains. Next, you focus on your breathing and your feet connecting with the ground. Then you shift your mind to “a state of open awareness.”

I’ve been in this state, and it isn’t the same as daydreaming. When you’re in open awareness, you pay attention to what you see, hear, smell, taste and touch. I’m also aware of balance and moving forward. If I can walk several blocks or a mile, I can move forward with life. You can too.

Grief is a solitary journey and, though people help you, nobody can grieve for you. How can you cope with grief? I recommend walking. Keep walking day after day and you’ll notice a change in mood. Life won’t seem as bleak and your spirits will lift. You may think of all the things your loved one brought to your life and treasure every one.

With persistence, healthy eating, and grief work, you can walk out of the darkness to the bright life that awaits you. Life can be good again.

The post Walking Your Way Out of Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

I sat down at the computer and started writing about grief and recovery. My articles were short, with an average count of 500 words, and posted on a royalty-free website. National organizations found the articles and posted them as well. Writing helped me so much I made a promise to myself: I will write my way through grief. As I look back, I realize my grieving style is matter-of-fact.

Avoiding Grief

Years ago, my next door neighbor, a dear friend I called Aunty Barbara, lost her husband suddenly. While he was at work, he dropped dead of a heart attack. Though she was a nurse and familiar with sorrow, Barbara did all she could to avoid grief. She never talked about her husband and was always rushing from one place to another, in an attempt to outrun grief. Several months after her husband died she impulsively married a man she barely knew. The marriage lasted a week.

Ian Anderson, of the University of Toronto, and his co-authors, describe this grief response in their paper, “Grief and Bereavement: A Practical Approach.” During the confrontational phase of grief, according to the authors, some mourners are so restless they can’t sit still. They can’t stick with their normal routine and withdraw from people who might be able to help them. Both of these observations fit my neighbor.

Delaying

Delaying grief is similar to avoidance, and it can be dangerous to you. If you delay grief it festers and just becomes worse. Feelings build up and you don’t know when they will reach maximum capacity and implode or explode. I’ve met people who delay grief and they’re always dour. A looming problem for delayed grief is that it can become conflicted grief, expressed with extreme anger and guilt.

I’ve met people, and you probably have too, who became angry people after their loved one died. Anger seems to be their only response and it spills over into all corners of their lives. Being with these people isn’t any fun. Unfortunately, delaying grief can push people away just at a time when you need comfort and help.

Wallowing

Then there are the mourners who decide, consciously or unconsciously, to wallow in sadness. You could say they are stuck in grief. Death happened years ago, yet these people act like it happened last week. Experts call this response chronic grief. As Ian Anderson and his colleagues explain, “It is like the grief is fresh all the time.” Who wants to live this way? Not me and, hopefully, not you.

Shortening

Cutting grief short is another response. Therese A. Rando, PhD defines it in her book, How to go on Living When Someone You Love Dies. Short-lived as it is this is still normal grief. “Often it occurs when a significant amount of anticipatory grief has been completed prior to death,” Rando explains. This happens because you’ve done so much grieving already. I understand this explanation because I was my mother’s family caregiver for nine years. Each day, I watched her die a little bit more.

Year after year, I faced the reality of my mother’s dementia, documented her journey, and adapted to it. After she died, my mourning was short, and I found comfort in the fact that I had never failed my mother and always done my best. And I can’t help but chuckle at something my mother said: You may be doing your best, but it isn’t good enough.” She was right. My caregiving couldn’t reverse progressive dementia or make her young again.

Evaluating

Though you may be in the depths of despair, take a moment to think about your grieving style. What is it? Are you moving from one style to another? Have you created your own style? Is your style working? If not, you have the option of changing your style. Humans are resilient. We are blessed to have minds that gather data, interpret it, and make insightful decisions. You have the power to find your way through grief, plan a future, and find happiness again.

The post Your Grieving Style: Is it Helping or Hurting You? appeared first on Open to Hope.

Some unhappy memories also came to mind and I accepted them.  “I’m going to be okay,” I told myself.

But things weren’t okay and I kept making mistakes, silly mistakes I wouldn’t ordinarily make.  For example, I sent my graphic designer the wrong photo number.  When I was proofreading headings I found some reversed words.   At dinner time, I forgot to turn off a stove burner.  Thankfully, I discovered this mistake when I was doing the dishes.

These mistakes worried me.  What was the problem?  It took me a few days to realize I was dreading the anniversary of my daughter’s death.  To keep me from going backwards on the recovery path, I made a plan.  Actually, family members made the plan and they decided February 23^rd would be a family day.  I was touched by their thoughtfulness.

The day began with me drinking coffee at the kitchen table and posting about my deceased daughter on Facebook.  Several tears trickled down my face as I entered the post.   My granddaughter had come home for the weekend and we shared a teary moment together.  “Today is the sixth anniversary of you mother’s death,” I began.

“I know,” she replied softly.

“Grandpa and I have not forgotten her,” I assured her, and then I burst into tears.  We hugged like we had never hugged before, and I felt close to my granddaughter and I think she felt close to me.

“Nobody has forgotten her,” my granddaughter replied.  I nodded my head in agreement and muttered something about crying on the anniversary of her mother’s death.  “It will be like this for the rest of my days,” I said.  And maybe it will.  Teas are an expression of love and there’s nothing wrong with crying. 

Later, family members gathered at a local restaurant for lunch.  It was supposed to be a birthday celebration of my granddaughter’s 21^st birthday, which had occurred the previous week.  However, I think lunch was also group support for all family members.  On this special day we wanted to be with one another.  My granddaughter posted about her mother on Facebook, thanking her for guidance in life, and my remaining daughter posted too. 

Since I had done my grief work, written articles and books about grief, spoken about recovery, I was surprised at my tears.  I wasn’t down or depressed; I was missing my daughter.  Therese A. Rando, PhD, author of How to Go on Living When Someone You Love Dies, says anniversary reactions come from an unconscious internal time clock.  These reactions are normal “as long as they do not unduly interfere for too long with your functioning or reduce your ability to have enjoyment and gratification in your life,” she writes.

Though I miss my daughter, I am living a happy and rewarding life.  I feel like she is cheering me on and saying “You go Mom.  Enjoy every day.” 

The post Anniversary Reactions and a Strange Week appeared first on Open to Hope.

She sat by his hospital bed and worked at her laptop computer. “She was here all night,” Dad declared, a statement that wasn’t true, “and she cured me.” But my daughter didn’t cure Dad. In fact, she died two days before he did from the injuries she received in a car crash.

I can still see the two of them in my mind, Dad smiling at his first grandchild and my daughter smiling back at him. Though these images are painful, they are also comforting, because they represent love. How can we cope with awful memories and the anniversaries of a loved one’s death?

Understanding the type of death is a starting place. Therese A. Rando, PhD, in her book How to Go on Living when Someone You Love Dies, says traumatic loss, the type I experienced, differs from others. The symptoms of grief last longer, unfinished business lingers on, and we may experience a loss of security. If a loved one can die suddenly, what else could happen?

Memories can haunt us for years. The Gippsland Palliative Care Consortium in Australia offers some coping tips in a website article, “Grief: Coping with Challenges.” Replaying memories time and again helps us to come to terms with stress, according to the article. To counter these memories we can give ourselves permission to repeat them, share our thoughts with others, and get more information.

Planning ahead also helps us deal with memories. On the anniversary of my daughter’s death I’m going to do something that makes me feel good. Dr. Alan D. Wolfelt offers tips for coming to terms with memories in his article, “The Mourner’s Six Reconciliation Needs.” He describes needs as yield signs. The first sign is to acknowledge the reality of death and I’ve done this.

Embracing the pain of loss comes next and goodness knows I’ve felt enough pain. After my daughter and father-in-law died, my brother and my grandchildren’s father died, all within nine months. Yield sign number three is developing a new self-identity. I had two new identities, guardian of my twin grandchildren and grief writer.

Searching for new meaning, sign number five, was easy because of my new identities. I didn’t have time for a pity party; two vulnerable teenagers were counting on me and my husband. When it comes to the sixth yield sign, receiving ongoing support from others, I am blessed. My extended family and a close circle of friends have been by my side all through my grief journey.

“Hope for a continued life will emerge as you are able to make commitments to the future,” Wolfelt writes. I have found his statement to be true. Despite all of the sorrow, I am at a good place in life. Are you wrestling with awful memories and anniversary reactions? I hope you will find your new identity, grow from pain, choose happiness for yourself, and create a new life.

On the sixth anniversary of my daughter’s death I will write in the morning, email my grandson in Argentina, where he is studying, and get together with family members. I will always be a bereaved parent and have learned that love is everlasting. Love really is stronger than death.

Copyright 2013 by Harriet Hodgson

The post The Grief Process: Dealing with Painful Memories appeared first on Open to Hope.

Six years have passed since I suffered these multiple losses. Now I’m able to see my recovery journey more clearly. To be honest, I’ve surprised myself. Where did the courage come from? How did I make lemonade?

First, I made a conscious decision to choose happiness. At my age and stage of life, I knew happiness was a choice, not an accident. Death was not going to defeat me and life was going to be the winner. Raising my grandchildren was my new life mission, a mission my husband shared. At the time, neither my husband nor I knew raising grandkids would tug us out of grief and push us towards the future.

I made lemonade by accepting emotional pain, and it was crushing. Pain seeped into every thought, every limb, every bone, every cell. Yet deep in my soul, I knew my recovery journey started with pain. It wasn’t an easy starting place, yet was a place to “park” for a while. Meditation, prayer, and quiet helped me cope with the pain of grief, and I think they will help you.

I made quiet time part of each day. When someone we love dies, we tend to avoid silence because we don’t want to be alone with our thoughts. Truth is, we can never outrun grief and it will find us sooner or later. Silence helped me find the answers to questions, identify the action steps I needed to take, and craft a new ife. In the silence I found a wellspring of strength to draw upon again and again.

Writing was my first action step and, like grandparenting, it pushed me towards the future. When people ask me how I became happy again, my first answer is “writing.” If you’re overwhelmed by grief now, I hope you will write in a journal, write poetry, or a book about your journey. Affirmation-writing may also help you.

Speaking about loss, grief, and grief recovery was another way I made lemonade. I’ve spoken to church groups, service groups, regional and national conferences. You may be at a point in your grief journey when you’re able to share your story. Stories link us together and give us strength. My speaking experiences have led to new friendships and I treasure every one.

Making lemonade also meant I was going to enjoy the miracle of my life. I’m alive and still have time to do some of the things I want to do. The greatest joy of my life, other than marrying my husband and having two daughters, has been watching my grandchildren grow into responsible, caring, motivated adults. They are finishing their junior years in college and my husband and I plan to be at their graduations.

Your lemonade recipe may differ from mine. Instead of writing, you may join a support group, read books about grief reconciliation and recovery, participate in blogs, take a course, attend a conference, or join a national organization, such as The Compassionate Friends. Though our recipes differ, making lemonade means you’re doing your grief work and taking care of yourself.

Let’s make lemonade together!

Copyright 2013 by Harriett Hodgson

The post Making Lemonade: Building on Life’s Challenges appeared first on Open to Hope.

 “Your talk was wonderful!” she exclaimed.  “But you forgot something.  I kept listening for it, but you didn’t say it.”

“What was that?” I asked curiously.

“Silence,” she replied.  “Silence as comfort.”

She told me a story about meeting a distraught woman at a memorial service.  The mother of the deceased boy was so overcome with grief she could barely walk, and family members held her up as she left the sanctuary.  “She was crying huge subs, sobs a child would make,” the woman recalled, “and walking towards me.”

The woman stretched out her arms to the grieving mother.  “I didn’t say a word,” she explained.  “I just hugged her.”  While she was hugging the distraught mother, the woman waived family members back.  They moved back and watched the scene unfold.  Finally, the mother was able to stop crying.  “So you see, silence can be comfort,” the woman concluded.

I thanked her and promised to add her point to my talk.  Though I had spoken about listening as a source of comfort, I hadn’t mentioned silence.  How can silence help?  Dag Hammerskjold, the former head of the United Nations, described it as the “language of the heart.”  His description resonated with me.

After unbelievable tragedy – the death of my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law within nine months – I turned to silence.  Some days all I did was sit on the couch and sob.  Other days I meditated quietly, focusing on one word, such as love.  Years passed, and in the silence I found the strength I needed, strength I didn’t know I possessed.

How does silence help?  While I can’t speak for others, I can speak for myself.  When I was silent, my mind was working, reviewing my coping skills, identifying new ones, and putting in touch with myself.  Silence allowed me to slow my thoughts, examine them honestly, and listen to my soul.  Silence allowed me to ask painful questions, things I didn’t want to ask, but my soul answered, “You must.”

In the silence I found strength I the strength I needed.  I continue to be amazed by the power of silence.  Today, five years after my multiple losses, I know silence gave me a gift.  Silence helped me create a new and happy life.

If you are grieving now I hope you turn to silence.  Or you may be worrying about what to say to someone who is grieving.  Like the storyteller, maybe you don’t need to say anything.  Rather, you can offer a pat on the hand, a gentle hug, a concerned expression, and your tears. Silence can speak louder than words, and your concern will be felt in the quiet of the moment.

Knowing what to say is a gift, and so is silence.

Harriet Hodgson 2013

The post Silence, a Source of Comfort for the Bereaved appeared first on Open to Hope.

The next Sunday my friend sought me out. She gave me a CD, a recording of the lay church service I had given several weeks ago. “This is for you,” she said with a smile. Her gesture surprised and touched me. “Thanks so much,” I mumbled, at a loss for words. Now I realize my friend was tying up loose ends before she moved to hospice.

Two weeks later, our minister told the congregation my friend was dying. “She doesn’t want any visitors,” the minister began. “However, she would love to receive cards from you.” Willing as I was to send a card, a get-well card wouldn’t be appropriate, and there were no cards for a person dying in hospice. Finally, I spotted a “thinking of you” card and bought it.

The card had a line drawing of a smiling woman on the front. Inside there were only two words, “with love,” with plenty of white space for my message. What could I write? Though I’ve been a writer for decades I couldn’t seem find the words I needed.

Somehow, I had to honor my friend’s life and all she had done for others. This was turning out to be of the greatest writing challenges of my life. I wrote two drafts on the computer and neither was right. One draft was too long and the other was too short. Since I didn’t know if my friend was still lucid, or heavily medicated, I opted for four short sentences.

“During your life, you have helped many others, probably more than you know,” I wrote. “Thank you for all you have done for the church. I enjoyed all of our conversations and appreciate your friendship and help.” My note ended with the words, “Thank you for being you.”

This Sunday morning, before the service began, another friend tapped me on the shoulder. “I’ve been sitting with Mary Beth,” she explained. “She is very confused and so frail she can’t open cards. I open them and summarize what they say. When Mary Beth learned one of the cards was from you, she smiled and her entire face lit up.”

This story cheered and saddened me. Clearly, my friend’s life was drawing to a close, and I hoped she understood the deep feelings behind my simple words.

Are you thinking about sending a card to a friend in hospice? If so, please choose a suitable or blank card. Keep your message short and close with the most important sentence. Whatever you choose to write, don’t worry about your handwriting, and write from the heart.

Now I realize my last sentence, “Thank you for being you,” said all I needed to say.

The post Writing to a Friend in Hospice appeared first on Open to Hope.

It hasn’t. Your light – the talents, training and experience you possess – is still within you. These gifts have not disappeared. Instead, they lie fallow and are waiting to grow again. How can you rekindle your light and share it?

Connecting with a spiritual community is a good starting point. According to Peg Thompson, PhD, author of “Finding Your Own Spiritual Path,” a spiritual community provides “companions for the journey.” Later in her book Thompson writes, “Through community, we are encouraged, taught, and nourished by others.”

Participating in rituals may also help. I participated in The Compassionate Friends Worldwide Candle Lighting at 7 p.m. on the second Sunday of December. As bereaved parents light candles, a virtual wave of light goes around the globe. The candles stay lit for an hour. Looking at the candle flame reminded me of how much my daughter loved Christmas. More important, it reminded me that I wasn’t alone in my grief.

Giving is another way to share your light. When you hear the word “giving” money may be the first thought that comes to mind. While monetary donations are always appreciated, “giving” has a broader meaning, and includes sharing your gifts. You may play the piano, mentor a new employee, or volunteer for community organizations. My brother loved books and I serve on a library board in his memory.

Caring is yet another way to share your light. In order to care for others, I know I must take care of myself. I eat a balanced diet, exercise daily, and make sure I get enough quiet time. For me, caring also means answering posts from Open to Hope parents who have lost an older child. Writing for free is another way I show I care.

Telling your story may give others hope. Bereaved people, especially the newly bereaved, are in desperate need of assurance. They need to know life gets better and happiness is possible. You may give talks about identifying your grief work, doing this work, and what led you to your recovery path. I gave a lay sermon at my church describing the ways I said yes to life. Afterwards a person came up to me and exclaimed, “I wanted to stand up and cheer.”

Writing is one of the best ways to share your light. When I attended the national conference of The Compassionate Friends in Bloomington, Minnesota, I was amazed at the number of bereaved parents who had written books, were currently writing them, or planning to write them. Some were fortunate enough to find a publisher and others self-published their work.

You light is within you even in grief. An old Gospel hymn describes this light and one verse says, “Everywhere I go, I’m going to let it shine.” You can light the dark days of winter, your own life, and the lives of others. I hope you shine brightly.

The post Your Light in the Darkness of Winter and Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

First, do not compare death to sleep, as some have done. This comparison leads to misunderstanding and, in some instances, denial. I would avoid the bedtime prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep” because of its reference to death. Indeed, your child may think God kills people while they are sleeping. Grief expert Rabbi Earl Grollman thinks parents must be honest when talking with kids about death.

Personally, I wouldn’t tell a young child that God needed little angels in heaven. Even preschool and kindergarten kids are capable of thinking, “I don’t want to be an angel. I want to be with my Mommy and Daddy and play with my friends.” The concept of angels can be difficult for adults, let alone children, so it may be best to avoid it.

Since young children have limited vocabularies, encourage them to draw pictures about their feelings. Stock up on plain paper, crayons and water color markers. Art therapist Marge Heegaard has written several art books for young children, When Someone Very Special Dies and When Something Terrible Happens. Both are available from www.amazon.com.

Read stories to young children about loss and grief. Centering Corporation in Omaha, Nebraska, a company that specializes in grief resources, has published picture books for young children and workbooks for older kids. To learn more about these resources visit www.centering.org or call 1-866-218-0101.

Grief expert Rabbi Earl A. Grollman has written a helpful resource for parents to share with children, Talking About Death: A Dialogue Between Parent and Child. It begins with an illustrated story to read to your child. Page 10 explains death clearly. “It’s not like playing a game. . . . When people die, they never come back to life again.” Adult feelings, including denial, guilt, memories, rituals, customs, and the loss of family members, are discussed in the second part of the book.

Encourage young children to remember the deceased in special ways, such as planting flowers, writing a story, or creating a memory book with photos and words. If a deceased sibling loved teddy bears, for example, you could donate books about teddy bears to the public library. Ask the library to put “In memory” stickers on the title pages.

Tell your child that his or her feelings are okay. Help your child name his or her feelings – sad, lonely, scared, angry, etc. Admit you have these feelings, too, and your feelings are often mixed up. Most important, assure your child will always remember the deceased and that love lasts forever.

Harriet Hodgson 2012

The post After Sandy Hook: Talking to Young Children about Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

She put her talents and intelligence to work and made gifts – fragrant apple pies, plants grown from cuttings, and needlework items. She also bought gifts from flea markets and thrift stores. On Christmas morning, when she walked in the back door loaded down with presents, joy radiated from her face. 

I wish I could get that excited about the holiday, but I cannot. Maybe it is because I have celebrated so many Christmases and miss my daughter. If I am honest with myself, I know I have a sense of poignancy. My daughter is gone forever; I am alive. 

How do my husband and I get through Christmas? Five years have passed since my daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash. During these passing years, I have learned how to handle the rush of the holidays and the flood of emotions I feel.

First, we contribute to the Salvation Army. We know our daughter shopped in its store, respect the organization’s mission, and the work it does. Like last year, we’re ringing bells for the Salvation Army at a red kettle location in a grocery store. At this time of year, it is freezing in Minnesota and the kettles are often indoors. 

Second, we focus our attention on our daughter’s twins, our grandchildren, who live with us and turn 21 in February. As we wait for them to come home from college our excitement builds. Our granddaughter looks so much like her mother it startles us. Our grandson thinks like his mother, who eventually became a composite engineer, and he cuts through problems like a knife cutting through butter. 

Third, we foster our grandchildren’s dreams. Because our grandchildren are really adults, we do not get involved in their decisions, and offer advice only when asked. We were surprised to learn our grandson will be spending the second semester of his junior year in Argentina. We were equally surprised to learn our granddaughter will be spending May in Thailand, teaching English to students.

Sure, we could wring our hands and worry, but we don’t. Instead, we support their decisions and cheer them on. We focus on our life mission, helping the twins get the education they need, set life goals, and pursue them. 

Fourth, we embrace new traditions. Most of our relatives have moved to Wisconsin and for the last two years we celebrated Christmas with them. Being surrounded by noisy family members, the people who loved and supported us when tragedy struck, is comforting and puts “merry” into the greeting, “Merry Christmas!” This Christmas, as with all the Christmases that have passed since our daughter died, we renew our pledge: “Helen, we love you, love your children, and will not fail you.” Our daughter’s spirit lives on in Christmas and in her children, the children we love and treasure so much.

Harriet Hodgson 2012

The post Christmas Memories of my Daughter appeared first on Open to Hope.

She walked like a person in pain, leaning to one side, and progressing slowly. Her physician recommended injections to relieve her pain and she had a series of them. When we learned of the fungal menningitis outbreak we were worried. Thankfully, her doctor’s office called our daughter and said the injections she received weren’t contaminated.

But last Friday the doctor’s office called again. There had been a mistake. Our daughter did receive contaminated injections made by the New England Compounding Center. She was told to go to the hospital emergency department immediately and have a spinal tap.

After two tries, the third tap was successful. Unfortunately, the tap gave my daughter a horrendous headache and her neck also ached. So it was back to the emergency department for pain medication. The pain persisted, and our daughter returned to the hospital for a “blood patch,” a procedure that involves taking blood from one part of the body and injecting it into the spinal tap site. The procedure worked, thank goodness.

Results of the spinal tap showed no evidence of fungal meningitis. As encouraging as this news was, we weren’t out of the woods yet because it can take weeks for meningitis to develop. As my daughter’s story developed my anticipatory grief developed.

I recognized it because I had studied anticipatory grief and even wrote a book about it. Anticipatory grief is a feeling of loss before a dreaded event or death occurrs. We had already lost our elder daughter and I worried about losing our remaining one. I have many symptoms of anticipatory grief: nervousness, anger (I am really mad at the compounding company), poor concentration, feeling of vulnerability, interrupted sleep, lack of sleep, fatigue, and feeling alone.

How does fungal meningitis get into a prescription drug? So far, 214 people in the nation have become ill, and 15 have died. The Food and Drug Administration has asked doctors to check patients who had eye surgery and heart surgery. My husband and I won’t relax until several weeks have passed and we are sure, really sure, our daughter doesn’t have meningitis.

Yet our story is one of hope. I posted the news of our daughter’s scare on Facebook and many friends said they were praying for us and “the daughter you love so much.” I am grateful for caring friends. I am also grateful for the health care professionals who helped my daughter. And I am grateful for you, the members of the Open to Hope community, for understanding my feelings. I’m sending virtual hugs to you all.

The post Daughter’s Fungal Meningitis Scare Causes Anticipatory Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

Though I had never met this local author before, I felt connected to her. Both of us were freelancers and both of us had experienced crisis. During our conversation, we agreed that crisis made us more appreciative of family, friends, and the blessings in our lives.

The memory of this conversation was tucked away in the back of my mind until 2007, when I lost my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law. My grief was raw and so were my emotions. Crisis made more aware of everything in life.

To recover from multiple losses, I turned to writing. As the months passed, I began to see a glimmer of light at the end of my dark grief tunnel. Months became years, and I wrote six grief resources, and hundreds of articles about grief acceptance, reconciliation, and recovery. Like my writing friend, I wrote some of my best stuff that year.

Writing expanded to talks about grief recovery. Life became busier and busier, and I worried about losing my ability to live a mindful life. What is it? Mayo Clinic describes this approach in its LiveWell newsletter article, “Mindfulness at Work.” According to the article, mindfulness is being acutely aware of what you’re sensing and feeling all the time, “without interpretation or judgment.”

The article includes tips for improving mindfulness, including attentive listening, observation, and meditation. In time, these simple exercises help your mind focus better and restore a sense of peace to your life, the article concludes.

Psychology Today posted an article about mindfulness on its website titled, “The Art of Now: Six Steps to Living the Moment.” I have condensed and summarized the steps for you.

Step one: Stop thinking about it. This takes tremendous effort, I know, but you can do it.

Step two: Focus on the present. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow has not come, so you may as well put them out of your mind and focus on the present.

Step three: Inhabit the present. This means you train your mind to be constantly aware and use your senses to the fullest.

Step four: Become engrossed. I love this step because I understand it. When I am writing, for example, I am totally engrossed in the task.

Step five: Accept reality. This is a challenge, to be sure, and you may try to run away from it, but grief catches up with you in time. From experience, I can tell you acceptance is the shorter route.

Step six: “Know that you don’t know.” This step is linked to acceptance. You don’t know why your loved one died at this time in your life, but it happened.

Mindfulness has become an accepted way to reduce stress, as explained on the Mindful Living Programs website. A website article, “What is Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction?” details the work of Dr. Jon Kobat-Zinn, who developed a special program at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center. His program combines mindfulness techniques and yoga.

Today, his Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction program is offered in more than 200 medical centers, hospitals, and clinics around the world. “Mindfulness is a lifetime engagement — not to get somewhere else, but to be where and as we actually are in this very moment,” the article notes.

Living a mindful life reduced my stress and opened my eyes to the possibility of a future. I try to be mindful each day. Are you feeling lost? Do you wonder what will become of you? Instead of wasting energy on worry, try the six mindful tips. Life is a miracle and mindfulness can help you appreciate each moment.

Copyright 2012 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Mindfulness is a Way to Cope with Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

According to Beck, each person’s essential self is determined before birth. As she writes, “You are designed with the ability to find the life you were meant to live.” This resource is filled with activities, exercises and tests to help you get to know yourself better.

Since I was reading for content, I only did one exercise, “Questions for Testing Your Social-Essential Self Connection.” I turned out to be very connected. How can this book help you navigate through grief?

First, it helps you understand that death changes your identity. You may be a widow now, or a widower, a bereaved parent or grandparent. “The only way to accept this fact is to grieve,” Beck notes.

Grief has bult-in stress and it’s awful. Yet you have to manage it. Beck tells readers to make getting away part of each day, “going inward, turning into your essential self.” My essential self loves to write, read, cook, and browse antique shops.

Handling guilt, which you may or may not have, is another way of coping. Friends may not understand the depth or length of your grief, for example. This makes you pull away from them, something you feel guilty about and don’t need. You goal is to take stock, gather strength, and move on.

Beck recommends writing, and I agree. After my daughter, father-in-law, brother and former son-in-law died in 2007, I decided to write my way through grief. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Some days I wanted to quit writing, but I didn’t, for I knew it would eventually help me.

As you are writing and coping with loss, never lose sight of you, or what Beck calls “the essential self.” This self will keep you moving forward on the recovery path. Expressing your grief with words will help you identify feelings, problems, family dynamics and, with the passage of time, solutions.

Keep in mind that your life has changed and you have changed. If you’re like me, it may take months for you to see these changes, But in time, they will become part of your essential self — the new and improved you.

Harriett Hodgson 2012

The post Finding Your ‘Essential Self’ after a Loss or Life-Changing Event appeared first on Open to Hope.

But my husband and I were our twin grandchildren’s guardians and we didn’t have time to waste. Two vulnerable teenagers were depending on us. At the time, I didn’t have a grief recovery plan, yet my subconscious was working on it. Each day, I set aside some time for reflection. And I opted for a spiritual path to healing. What is spirituality?

Spirituality and Religion

Religion is a set of beliefs shared by a community of people. Ceremonies, practices, symbols and writings support these beliefs. Spirituality, on the other hand, is an individual approach to the mysteries of life. As Rabbi Earl Grollman explains it in his article, “Spirituality/Religion and the Professional,” the word spirit has its roots in a Greek word, pneuma, which means “to breathe.”

“Unlike religion, which has established, definite systems,” Grollman continues, “spirituality allows a simple questioning of everyday life . . . .”

Spirituality and religion may be a bit different, but I don’t think they are vastly different. Just as you choose your beliefs, you may choose your path to grief healing. My path was dark at first and gradually became brighter as time passed. The steps I took may help you to create your recovery path.

Meditation

Some people fill their lives with activity and noise in an effort to escape the pain of grief. I did the opposite and embraced quiet time, 15-20 minutes a day. Meditation has many benefits and, as I discovered, in the quiet, you discover yourself.

Even if your first attemps at meditation are not successful, I encourage you to keep at it. According to a Mayo Clinic article, “Meditation: Focusing Your Mind to Achieve Stress Reduction,” the practice has many benefits, including the reduction of anxiety, depression, and high blood pressure.

I discovered other benefits of meditation: self-knowledge, awareness of weaknesses, awareness of strengths, understanding life purpose, setting new goals, gratefulness for life, and a sense of peace.

Meditate in a quiet place that has no background noise. Relax your body and repeat a word or phrase. I meditate for a few minutes before I start to write. Other days, I focused my meditation on one word, such as love.

Writing

Many grief experts tell their clients to put their feelings in writing. You may do this in a blank journal, on the computer, or lined paper. With a diary, you make entries each day. With a journal, you make entries regularly. My daughter and father-in-law died the same weekend. One week later, I sat down at the computer and made a conscious decision to write my way through grief. This decision, more than any other, kept me on the recovery path.

“I’m not a writer,” I hear you saying. It doesn’t matter. Identifying your feelings and expressing them with words is what matters. You’re not writing for the Smithsonian or a publisher or your friends; you’re writing for you. If you keep at it, you will begin to see where you are on the recovery path. Best of all, you will identify problems and come up with solutions.

Giving

When I vowed to write my way through grief, I had no inkling it would lead to writing six grief resources. Writing these books made me feel better, and I hope they make others feel better as well. I give lots of books away, which also makes me feel good.

Donating money to national organizations, such as the American Cancer Society and the American Heart Association, also helps you cope with loss. We commissioned a song in memory of our daughter. It’s written by St. Paul, Minnesota composer Elizabeth Alexander. The idea of other choirs singing her song gives me chills.

You may donate books to the library in memory of your loved one, money to the local food bank, or volunteer for community organizations. Giving is an act of love, and gets us out of ourselves, which is important.

Whether it’s giving, writing, or meditating, each step moves you forward in life. These steps may be taken by believers and nonbelievers alike. Bob Deits writes about religion in his book, “Life After Loss: A Practical guide to Renewing Your Life after Experiencing Major Loss.” He writes, “You will search for hope. The kind of hope that will serve you best acknowledges that you will never be the same again, but insists that life after loss can still be full and good.”

Today, I am a happy person living a new life. Deep in my heart, I know my loved ones wouldn’t want me to get stuck in grief. Rather, they would want me to savor my remaining days. I am here, you are here, and we can make the most of each moment. We can also remember Albert Schweitzer’s words, “If you love the life you live, you will live a life of love.”

Harriet Hodgson 2012

The post Your Spiritual Path to Grief Healing appeared first on Open to Hope.

I added a line to Deb’s post, “And some words make a new life.” Why did I add this line? It comes from my experience. In 2007, I lost four family members, my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law. Losing their father made my twin grandchildren orphans and my husband and me GRGs, grandparents raising grandchildren.

Each loss was painful, but the loss of my daughter was the most painful of all. Frankly, I didn’t think I would survive. Because I’m a writer, I turned to my occupation for solace. A week after my daughter died, I sat down at the computer and started to pour out my soul in words.

I wrote focused, 500-word articles and posted them on a free article website. Some of my articles were published by national health organizations. While I was writing articles, I also searched for other ways to help myself. I looked for quotes that were easy to remember, words that would sustain me during the day. After looking at thousands of quotes, and a good case of eye strain, I compiled a book of quotes for women. To make the book different from others, I added some meditation tips.

But I didn’t stop there. I started writing affirmations in my mind. When I was washing dishes, an affirmation would pop into my consciousness. When I was driving I would think of an affirmation. When I was sitting at the computer, getting ready to write, I would think of more affirmations.

So many affirmations came into my consciousness, I created a book of them. This leads me back to Deb Kosmer’sd quote on Facebook. I hardly remember 2007 because I was in shock, coping with multiple losses, and raising grandchildren. Today, I can see the recovery steps I took: article writing, quotations, affirmation-writing, and grief recovery books. I wish I could say these steps were deliberate, but they were not.

These writing steps came my subconscious and I acted on them. Apparently my subconscious was telling me, “You will survive.” That’s why I added the line to Deb Kosmer’s post. I’m so glad I expressed my grief with words. Often, as I was writing, tears would be running down my face. But the words I chose, my heartfelt words, let me to a new life.

Your heartfelt words can do the same for you. If you are lost in grief, I hope you will write. I hope you will put your feelings and ideas into words and keep doing it. Don’t give up!

As time passes, your words will reveal feelings from the past, family dynamics, problems you are facing, and solutions to these problems. Your heartfelt words will lead you out of the darkness and into the light.

Harriet Hodgson

The post Writing Heartfelt Words Can Lead You Out of the Darkness appeared first on Open to Hope.

One sentence to avoid is, “I don’t know what to say.” This doesn’t comfort the bereaved person and may even upset you. Unfortunately, many of us resort to platitudes and unsolicited advice when speaking with those who are grieving. As Rabbi Earl A. Grollman writes in his best-selling book, Living When a Loved One has Died, everyone seems to know what is best for you.

But they don’t really know what you are going through. Grief has common symptoms, yet each person’s grief is unique. People who have experienced grief often say, “I know just how you feel.” This makes the bereaved person want to scream, notes Rabbi Grollman. We may also say the deceased “lived to a ripe old age.” His answer to this statement: “At any age death is a robber.”

I’ve studied loss, grief, and grief recovery for years, and keep a list of things not to say. My list includes these statements.

It’s probably for the best.

This is a blessing in disguise.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

God must have needed another angel in heaven.

He is at peace.

Time heals all wounds.

God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.

What can you say? As I look back on my grief journey, I think the most comforting words were, “I’m so sorry.” That was all I needed to hear. Many friends told me to call them if I needed something. But the bereaved rarely call because we don’t want to burden others and often don’t know what we need. We don’t call because we don’t want to appear weak.

The Jewish faith has traditional words of comfort. This faith also encourages the bereaved to remember, with statements such as “Tell me what your loved one was like.” This sentence gives the grieving person a chance to say his or her loved one’s name and recall happy memories.

For me, the question, “How are you?” was extremely painful. In America, this question is so common we don’t think about it. For the bereaved, the question can be dicey. Some days I didn’t know how I was and other days I was in despair. Instead of asking,”How are you?” reframe the question and ask “How is today going for you?”

Sharing memories may also comfort the bereaved. I just wrote a sympathy note to a widower. His wife had been a member of my study club for years and, since I remembered her as a brilliant, caring and giving person, I said this in my note. According to Rabbi Grollman, bereaved people are thankful for your company, but not your advice. So think before you speak, be brief, and give the grieving person a heartfelt hug.

The post Aurora Tragedy Reminds Us What to Say to Bereaved — and What Not to Say appeared first on Open to Hope.

Since I had experienced loss before, I understood the advice, but it makes grief counselors cringe. Becoming too busy can turn into grief avoidance. When my friend called I had no inkling that two more family members would die. I didn’t know I would find a way to “stay busy.”

Five years have passed. Today, I have a better understanding of this approach to grief reconciliation. I think the approach hinges on how you stay busy. Many find comfort in the activities of daily living: grocery shopping, cooking, washing dishes, vacuuming, dusting, and doing laundry. Simple tasks can be soothing and give your mind a brief respite from grief.

I chose to stay busy with writing, a logical choice because it is my occupation. However, the focus of my writing shifted from health and wellness to grief recovery. Instead of avoiding grief, I learned all I could about it. I printed out hundreds of Internet articles, bought books on the topic, and wove this information into articles and books. Accomplishing writing tasks — identifying points, putting them in order, finding the right words — made me feel better.

Grief hadn’t robbed me of my ability to write.

A childhood lesson also helped me. When I was in fifth or sixth grade, the man who lived next door to us died. His wife, a retired nurse, responded to this loss by becoming excessively busy. She was always rushing from one place to another and rarely had time to talk with my mother, who was one of her best friends. Mom worried about her and rightly so, for our widowed neighbor married again in haste, only to abandon the marriage a week later.

Turning to my occupation for comfort sounds like a risky decision, but it wasn’t. My husband and I were guardians of our twin grandchildren and they kept us involved in life. Being a GRG, grandparent raising grandchildren, made it impossible for me to overdo writing. I managed to find a middle pathway between busyness and excessiveness.

I also paid attention to my grief work. In his book, Living When a Loved One has Died, Rabbi Earl Grollman says we should grieve NOW (in caps) and not suppress our feelings. “If you do, your feelings will be like smoldering embers, which may later ignite and cause a more dangerous explosion,” he writes.

This explosion may be delayed or complex grief, things that are best avoided. Later in the book, Rabbi Grollman refers to the “medicine of time.” He goes on to explain that what you do with time is important. For me, writing day after day, month after month, year after year, was the medicine of time in action.

If your grief is new and raw, please watch for signs of avoidance. Let the simple tasks of daily living comfort you. Find comfort in hobbies and helping others. Most important, find a middle pathway between occupying your mind and excessiveness. This path will lead you to a new life.

Copyright 2012 by Harriet Hodgson

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/7142386

The post Does Staying Busy Get You Through Grief or Lead to Avoidance? appeared first on Open to Hope.

My emotions were like a rubber band pulled in opposite directions. The past tugged one way and grief work tugged me another. I felt confused, defeated, and robbed of a future. What were some of my forward and backward steps?

Examples

Writing was a proactive step and helped me most. Since I’m a writer, I made a conscious decision to write my way through grief. It’s one of the best decisions I ever made. Asking for help was another forward step. Family members helped me and many friends came to my aid. My church community was helpful as well.

The backward steps were different and often unexpected. Memories, smells, and seeing people that resembled my deceased loved ones would push me backwards. Holidays and birthdays also tugged me backwards. Each backward step stalled my recovery for a few weeks. As time passed, however, I began to trust myself and my ability to create a future.

Grief expert Rabbi Earl Grollman describes the push-pull of grief in an American Hospice Foundation of America article, “Holding On and Letting Go.” Letting go of ties to the deceased is a horrendous experience, Grollman writes. Yet he doesn’t give up on mourners. We let go of possessions, he explains, and retain our memories. “The life that has touched yours goes on forever,” he writes, and I found this to be true.

Coping

Fortunately, you can counteract push-pull feelings. Reviewing your support system is a good starting place. This suggestion that comes from Marty M. Tousley. In her article, “Managing Your Grief,” Tousley says many groups are ready to help, including family memers, your church community, work colleagues, special interest circles, clubs and organizations.

Writing in a journal or diary is something else you can do. The words you choose express more than feelings; they express fears and problems. In time, your writing leads to solutions. Reading your past entries gives you a sense of where you are on the recovery path and how fast you are recovering. If you are unable to write paragraphs, write an affirmation sentence and keep it in your mind all day.

Physical activity is another way to cope, according to Mayo Clinic. In an article, “Exercise and Stress: Get Moving to Combat Stress,” Mayo describes exercise as “meditation in motion.” I love this description because I’ve lived it. Exercise pumps your endorphins, the neurotransmitters in your brain, and this improves your mood, Mayo notes. After our daughter died my husband and I sat on the couch and sobbed for two weeks. Finally, we decided it was time to get up and get moving. We went for a half-hour walk, and the benefits lasted for hours.

Remember to reward yourself because you deserve rewards. Go to a movie, out to dinner, to an art museum, a symphony concert, or take a day trip – whatever makes you feel better. Small rewards can have a big impact on your physical and emotional health. You may want to keep a list of the rewards that were most beneficial.

Believe in You

Believing in yourself – your heritage, education, talents, personality, coping skills, and learning ability – is the most powerful proactive step of all. When you believe in yourself, grief work is accomplished more quickly and you can visualize a future. Or as Bettyclare Moffatt, author of Soulwork explains, “Be willing to grow, to learn, to start over.” With courage and perseverance, you will be happy again.

Harriet Hodgson 2012

The post The Push and Pull of Grief Recovery appeared first on Open to Hope.

Other family members had also died — my father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law. We sobbed for them all. As days became weeks, and weeks became months, our tears slowed. “It was time and past time to heal the stones of sorrow within our hearts,” Bettyclare Moffatt writes in Soulwork. The time for memorials had come.

How could we honor our daughter’s memory? We brainstormed on options and narrowed them down to parental goals, interests, giving and personality.

Parental Goals

Our daughter wanted her twins to be healthy, educated, and kind. After she died in a car crash, and her former husband died in another crash, we became our grandchildren’s guardians. This designation made it easier to continue her parental goals.

Five years have passed since the twins moved in with us, and we have thought of her goals every day. The twins graduated from high school with honors, were awarded college scholarships, and are in college today. Both are on the Dean’s List. They have big goals, too, goals we think they will achieve, and we’re doing all we can to help them. Raising our grandkids is our memorial and the greatest blessing of our lives.

Interests

Gardening, decorating, baking, refinishing furniture, volunteering — all interested our daughter. As a former teacher, I’m committed to life-long learning. When I’m learning I think of my daughter. Whenever she could, wherever she could, she supported her children’s intellectual pursuits. We’ve continued this, proofreading school papers when asked, suggesting/providing resources, and supporting travel as learning.

We also helped the twins find their way through the college search. If you asked them what we did, they would answer, “Nothing.” But we let the twins conduct their own searches, steered them gently, and supported their decisions. It was a tricky path, but we made it.

Giving

Our daughter’s best friend stayed in contact with the twins. We met for coffee several times. “I remember the day Helen gave me a cutting from a raspberry plant,” she shared. “She didn’t have much, but she was always giving.” In memory of our daughter, we’ve given money to churches and national grief organizations.

I also give away copies of the books I write. Recently I donated books to the Elder Network library. Giving makes me feel better and connects me with my daughter. Presentations are also a way to give and I speak for free. Many times, especially in recent months, I’ve felt like my daughter is cheering me on.

Personality

Our daughter was really funny. Working at the church rummage sale is one of my funniest memories. One church member donated some new bras, something we had not received before, and we didn’t know how to price them.

“Twenty-five cents a cup,” my daughter quipped, and everyone laughed. At 50 cents each, the bras sold quickly. Working with my daughter at the rummage sale is a treasured memory. Today, when I laugh, I say to myself, “This one is for you, Helen.”

Are you thinking about creting memorials in memory of a child? If so, please consider your child’s goals, interests, actions, and personality. Think of how these memorials might comfort you. As Judy Tatelbaum writes in The Courage to Grieve, “Each of us can be a cretive survivor. We can choose to turn great personal tragedy into life-affirmation action or personal change.”

Harriet Hodgson 2012

The post Recovering from Grief: Creating Memorials Helps to Keep Your Child’s Spirit Alive appeared first on Open to Hope.

Finally, the time came to think about memorials. As Bettyclare Moffatt writes in “Soulwork,” “It was time and past time to heal the stones of sorrow within our hearts.”

How could we honor our daughter? We brainstormed on our options, and narrowed the memorials down to three things, parental goals, our daughter’s interests, her giving nature, and love of laughter. These are some of the memorials we created.

Parental Goals

Our daughter wanted to raise children that were healthy, giving, educated, and kind. After our grandchildren lost both parents in separate car crashes, my husband and I became their legal guardians. These designations made it easier to carry our her goals.

Five years have passed since the twins moved in with us, and we thought of her goals each day. Our grandchildren graduated from high school with honors, were awarded college scholarships, and are both on the Dean’s List. Raising our daughter’s children is the greatest memorial to her and our greatest blessing.

Finding New Interests

Gardening, decorating, baking, learning, volunteering — all interested our daughter. As a former teacher I’m committed to lifelong learnng. I think of my daughter when I’m doing research or reading about something new. Whenever she could, wherever she could, she supported her children’s intellectual pursuits. We continued this practice by proofreading school papers, suggesting/providing resources, and supporting travel as learning.

We also helped the twins find their way through the college search. If you asked them what we did they would say “nothing,” but our nothing included letting our grandchildren search on their own, gently steering them, and supporting their decisions.

Giving to Others

Our daughter’s best friend stayed in contact with our grandchildren. We met for coffee several times. “I remember the day Helen gave me a cuttnig from a plant in her garden,” the friend recalled. “She didn’t have much, but she was always giving.”

We have given money to churches and national organizations in memory of our daughter. I also give many of my books away. Recently I donated books to the Elder Network library. Presentations are also a form of giving and I speak for free.

Personality

My daughter was really funny. Working at the church rummage sale was one of the funniest times we shared. A church member had donated new bras for the clothing section. “What should we charge?” a volunteer asked.

“Twenty-five cents a cup,” my daughter quipped. At 50 cents each the bras sold quickly. I think about this memory many times and today, when I laugh, I think to myself, “This one is for you, Helen.”

Has the time come for you to create memorials in memory of your child? If so, think about your child’s goals, interests, and personality. These memorials may comfort you. In “The Courage to Grieve” Judy Tatelbaum writes, “Each of us can be a creative survivor. We can choose to turn great personal tragedy into life-affirmation action or personal change.”

Harriet Hodgson 2012

The post Thoughtful Memorials Keep Your Child’s Spirit Alive appeared first on Open to Hope.

Since the worst thing has already happened to you, Horsley continued, you take chances and do things like founding a foundation. I understand her point. After my daughter died in 2007, I started to take more chances.

In the past, I tended to be a conservative person, but that has changed. I’ve said things I never thought I would say and done things I never thought I would do. In short, I have surprised myself.

If you are just starting your grief journey, you may not have taken any chances yet. But as your journey progresses, you may become more adventurous.

One of my friends is the widow of a physician. She and her husband used to take long trips together. Now, instead of taking trips with her husband, she travels alone and takes mini trips on weekends. “I just get in the car and go,” she said with a smile.

The Chances You Take

Your definition of taking chances may differ from mine. For me, taking chances is speaking my mind, getting involved in new projects, and accepting new challenges. Judy Tatelbaum, in her book The Courage to Grieve, makes an interesting observation in the epilogue. She originally wrote the book to recover from the loss of her brother. When the book ended, however, Tatelgaum felt bereft.

Loneliness took over her days and her life. Tatelbaum withdrew from all social contacts. Getting back to her normal life took Tatelbaum months. “In order to survive, we must learn to face loss and grieve fully and trust that we can recover and re-create our own lives,” she writes.

Daniel Goleman, author of Emotional Intelligence: Why it Can Matter More Than IQ, might compare taking chances to using our emotional aptitude. In order to tap this aptitude, we must determine our personal skills and apply them. Are you using your emotional aptitude? Are you taking chances?

Grief is debilitating. Because you are stressed, confused, and on emotional overload, the realization that you are taking chances may not come immediately. If you are a widow or widower, attending an event without your spouse is a major step, one of the first chances you take. You may withdraw from one group, such as couple’s bridge, and join another. Taking chances requires practice and the more chances you take, the easier it becomes.

Learning to Trust Again

According to the article, “Sudden, Unanticipated Death,” posted on the Grief Net website, grief makes us vulnerable and shakes our sense of security. You may feel less secure and less confident, the article explains, and it can be hard to “reattach to a future.”

Taking more chances may help with this reattachment. When I take a chance, I think of my deceased loved ones–people who would be cheering for me if they were still alive. This thought is more than comforting; it gives me courage.

You may find the same courage. In memory of your loved one, take a chance today. Plant some seeds and hope they will grow. Go on a mini field trip. Join a new organization. Many options are available to you. Taking chances is a way to affirm your loved ones and the life you are living.

Harriet Hodgson 2012

The post A Willingness to Take Chances May Come from Loss and Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

My talk began with a summary of the nine years I spent caring for my mother, who suffered from progressive dementia. The stress of caregiving increased as my mother’s dementia progressed. “Each day, I wondered if this would be the day she died,” I explained. I also talked about losing four family members, including my daughter, in 2007.

Everything was going well and then, without any warning, tears filled my eyes. “I’m going to cry,” I announced, and I did. Oh dear. The director brought me some tissues. I wiped my eyes, and continued my talk, noticing at the same time, that several volunteers had cried with me. Had the unexpected tears ruined my talk? Was my message lost?

Apparently my worries were unfounded, for the group gave me a loud round of applause. On the way out, several attendees commented on the power and value of my presentation. The next day, others emailed their reviews to the staff. One wrote, “I’m so glad I went.” Another admitted, “I needed that talk. My anticipatory grief journey is just beginning.”

Unexpected tears can distract speakers like you and me, but they also let people know you speak from the heart. As the Elder Network director noted, “Feelings just are.” Still, it was embarrassing to lose it in the middle of a talk that had been going well. My mother had been gone for a decade. Five years had passed since I suffered multiple losses. So why did I cry?

I think not practicing my talk aloud was the main reason. Before I give a talk, I usually practice it aloud several times to check the length and word flow. But the biggest benefit of practicing talks aloud is that it prepares me for pain. Somehow, and I’m not sure how, hearing the words makes my story believable and prepares me for telling it. Because I was busy, and had given the talk before, I didn’t practice it aloud for this group. And that was my mistake.

Fatigue may have prompted my unexpected tears. The week was packed with appointments, tax preparations, and family invents that required travel. I also have two books in production, and was swamped with detail work—proofreading, submitting corrections, and getting legal permissions.

The next week I delivered some of the books I’ve written to the Elder Network office, including books on Alzheimer’s disease, aging, and grief recovery. To my surprise, staff members appeared to welcome me. One asked me to autograph my books. “We’ll include an article about your books in the next issue of our newsletter,” my contact person assured me.

Unexpected tears in the middle of a talk reminded me—yet again—of the power of loss. As time passed, I adjusted to life without my mother, daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law. But I still have empty places inside of me, places that remember the deceased and yearn for them to be with me again. Tears are reminders of love and love keeps me going.

Harriet Hodgson 2012

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Though ambiguous loss has many of the same symptoms as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), therapists and counselors treat it differently. Counseling hinges partly on how long you have been suffering from ambiguous loss and the strength of your support system. It also hinges on family structure.

Several years ago, I suffered an ambiguous loss when a close relative died. I attended the memorial service and, for reasons unknown to me, most of my relatives treated me like a stranger. Hardly anyone talked to me and I wasn’t asked to participate in the service. From the stories relatives shared, and the large photo display, I realized their memories of the deceased differed from mine.

In fact, I hardly recognized the person my relatives described. This made me feel more like a stranger.

Therapist Pauline Boss, PhD, is credited for first identifying ambiguous loss. She has developed specialized treatment for it and describes the approach in her book, Loss, Trauma, & Resilience. She thinks therapists should communicate with empathy, not sympathy. Focusing on sympathy could make the person feel like a victim.

Boss also thinks therapists should help the person find meaning in their loss. With this approach, the therapist helps the person “make sense of an event or situation.” It is hard to make sense of any situation without meaning. So how do you find it? According to Boss, the ways include naming the problem, turning to religion/spirituality, forgiveness, small good works, rituals, and hope.

Another counseling step is to temper one’s concept of mastery. Americans tend to think they can master anything. We can’t. Sooner or later, the time comes when you must accept the facts. While Boss thinks people can’t get over such massive losses as September 11th, we may “learn to live with the loss and ambiguity.”

In time, people who have grappled with ambiguous loss need re-think their attachment to the person. Some people disconnect from the person prematurely, according to Boss, and others act as if nothing has changed in their lives. A healthier approach is to detach gradually and stay connected to caring, supportive people.

I didn’t get counseling for ambiguous loss. However, I did think about my attachment to my deceased relative. My memories of this person are still clear in my mind. The memory of the painful memorial service has faded, probably due to the fact that I accepted pain and did my grief work. Caring for my grandchildren is now the focus of my life.

You may, or may not, be able to let go of painful feelings. Seek counseling if the emotional pain is unbearable and impacting your life negatively. Learning about ambiguous loss helped me immensely, and I think it will help you. You may also benefit from joining a support group.

Harriett Hodgson 2012

The post Counseling for Ambiguous Loss: One Expert’s Approach appeared first on Open to Hope.

What is ambiguous loss? Basically, it is loss without closure. There is no body or death certificate. You may be experiencing this loss now if a parent has Alzheimer’s, a sibling has chronic mental illness, a runaway child has never been fund, or a military spouse is missing in Afghanistan.

According to Pauline Boss, ambiguous loss is the most devastating of losses “because it remains unclear, indeterminate.” But there is more to it than first meets the eyes.

Several years ago, I attended a memorial service for a close relative. Though several people said “hello,” nobody really acknowledged me. Nobody introduced me. Nobody asked me to participate in the service. As I listened to family members’ comments and viewed the photo display, I realized I didn’t know my deceased relative any more.

After the service, family members met at a local restaurant for lunch. With a few exceptions, most family members continued to ignore me, and I felt like an outsider. You would think I had a communicable disease.

I thought about the service for years, and every time I did, I became uncomfortable. Finally, I emailed Dr. Boss. In my email, I said I didn’t think I had suffered an ambiguous loss. But she said I had, a reply that surprised me.

Like all grief, ambiguous loss has a ripple effect on the family. Dr. Boss describes the effects in her book, Ambiguous Loss: Learning to Live with Unresolved Grief. She thinks ambiguous loss baffles the people who aren’t going through it. The uncertainty of loss blocks your recovery. That’s bad enough, but you are also denied the symbolic rituals of loss. In fact, people may withdraw from you. Ambiguous loss makes you feel helpless.

Though ambiguous loss and anticipatory grief are different, they have two similarities. With anticipatory grief, you are always waiting for death to occur. “Will this be the day?” you ask. The same is true of ambiguous loss and you ask, “Will this be the day he or she is found?” While I was caring for my demented mother, I hoped a cure would be found for Alzheimer’s. Hope is part of anticipatory grief and ambiguous loss.

According to Dr. Boss, ambiguous loss can traumatize and its symptoms are similar to those of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. “With ambiguous loss, the trauma (the ambiguity) continues to exist in the present,” she writes. “It is not post anything.” Learning more about ambiguous loss helped me greatly and I think it will help you.

Today, though I still have sad feelings about the memorial service I attended, I don’t dwell on these feelings. Instead, I enjoy the happy and satisfying life I have with my husband of 55 years and my twin grandchildren. The kids are college sophomores now, and pursuing exciting careers. Life isn’t dull at our house!

Harriett Hodgson 2012

The post Have You Suffered an Ambiguous Loss? appeared first on Open to Hope.

Where did the time go? What did I learn in the last five years?

I learned that two kids and two grandparents can come together to form a grand family. It’s a miracle. Before their parents died, the twins used to come to dinner with their mother every Sunday. Though they didn’t know us that well, they knew our personalities and our house. When they moved in with us, they learned about our strengths and weaknesses.

They learned that Grandma (me) is an organized person and the house runs like clockwork. They learned that Grandpa loves ketchup. In fact, my grandson jokes about ketchup being Grandpa’s favorite “beverage.” They learned we are reliable people and when we promise to do something, we do it. But the most important thing they learned is that they are loved and safe here.

I learned that my grandchildren are kind, helpful people. Though I can crank out thousands of words on the computer, I am a technical nerd. “Can you help me?” is a common question. Invariably, one or both of the twins stop what they are doing and rush to my aid. When they left for college, my computer technicians also left. Thankfully, they answer emergency emails and phone calls.

During the passing years I learned grief can be shared. Family members, friends and total strangers have come to my aid. I don’t know what I would have done without their kindness. In the early stages of grief, the twins didn’t want to talk about their sorrow. Now they are more open and we share stories about their deceased parents.

One of my favorite stories involves my daughter and the family’s pet hamster. Somehow, the hamster lost part of his tail. My daughter saw the part, grabbed super glue, and re-attached it. Amazingly, the tail stayed on! Only my engineer daughter would repair a tail with super glue.

The most important thing I learned is that all of us have the power to create new lives. For me, 2007 was the year of death, the year I lost my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law. I didn’t think I would ever be happy again. But I am, and I’m living a new life. I didn’t set out to create this life, it evolved almost on its own, as I wrote about loss and grief, did my grief work, and watched the twins grow into adults.

My husband and I are blessed grandparents. Today, many grandparents live miles away from their grandchildren. They don’t get to see their grandchildren very often, and worse, they don’t get to know them. The grandchildren don’t get to know their grandparents either. But we are a grand family. Much of the happiness I feel today comes from the twins, two of the smartest, finest people I know.

Harriet Hodgson 2012

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Today, as I was surfing television channels, I came across a CNN program about Jake Saimabukuro. A Hawaiian musician of Japanese descent, Jake started playing the ukulele at an early age and his music is all over the Internet. He talked about the simplicity of the ukulele and described it as an “instrument of peace.”

Unlike the trumpet, which is always loud, Jake said the ukulele was soft and “I had to learn to play it softer.” He strummed a sample melody, the notes loud at first, decreasing in volume, and then barely audible. Apparently soft music makes people listen intently. “I can almost feel the audience learing in and I’m leaning in,” he explained. “We’re all trying to hear the music.”

According to Jake, concerts are all about letting go. Because he has practiced the pieces, he doesn’t feel nervous before a concert. Instead, he considers each concert as a time to share his emotions. This explanation made me think of the grief process.

Though it didn’t happen to me, many mourners get angry at life, so angry they want to scream loudly and rail at life’s unfairness. Unfortunately, anger doesn’t provide answers. Quiet does. Like Jake, maybe we need to play our lives more softly and hear the music of our emotions.

Jake Saimabukuro plays from the depths of his being and it shows. One concert-goer, a ukulele player himself, said he came to Jake’s concert because he plays music “that touches my soul.” Instead of going too fast, talking too much, and doing too much, I think we need to slow down, quiet ourselves, and embrace stillness.

In the stillness, we rediscover ourselves. Each of us has our own melody, a song that expresses our spirit. It may be hard to hear your song right now, but it is there, deep inside you, waiting to be sung. Like Jake, you may lean in and hear life’s music.

No music is like yours. Hear it. Share it. Play with all your being.

Harriet Hodgson 2012

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I began to write affirmations. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Affirmations came to me in the car, at the grocery store, and while I was fixing meals. At first, I wrote the affirmations in my mind. But I wrote so many affirmations I started a computer file of them. These affirmations became a book.

In the summer, while I was writing a book about grandparenting, I took a break from affirmation-writing. To be honest, I missed it. I missed searching for positives in my life and strong, action words. Instead of making resolutions, I decided to write affirmations for the New Year. What is an affirmation?

“Write Your Own Affirmations,” an article on the University of New Hampshire website, defines it as “a statement designed to bring about positive change in oneself or one’s environment.” As I have discovered, affirmation-writing is a proactive way to process grief. In fact, affirmation-writing may alter your grief journey.

These are the steps I follow to write affirmations.

1. Turn off all background noise and sit quietly for at least 10 minutes.

2. Think of something positive in your life.

3. Compose a sentence about it.

4. Use the present tense.

5. Check your word choices. (All of the words should be positive.)

6. Write one affirmation per sitting.

7. Continue to write affirmations and look for positive steps in your journey.

8. Apply these affirmations to your life.

According to the Affirmating website, you should write affirmations in cursive form to instill them in your sub-conscious. “You will also be visually taking this information through your eyes.” While I think this is a valid suggestion, I think you can also take in information you see on a computer monitor.

Write your affirmations as if they are true. “Always believe that what you are saying is happening,” notes the University of New Hampshire. “The more you believe, the stronger the affirmation.”

Choose positive words when you’re writing an affirmation, words such as believe, confident, value, grow, trust, make, care, give and honor. Here are some of the affirmations I wrote previously.

• When I am quiet I tap the wellspring of courage within me.

• With every breath I take I am thankful for the gift of life.

• Each morning I awaken with a sense of purpose.

Here are some of the affirmations I wrote last year.

• My grandchildren’s laughter fills me with love.

• I am finding new ways to give to others and this makes me feel good inside.

• Happy moments don’t mean I’ve forgotten my loved ones; rather, they are a sign of recovery.

Does life seem bleak? Are you stuck in grief? Do you feel like you’re going backwards on the recovery path? Try affirmation-writing. Creating affirmations will change your attitude and view of life. You may even write your way to happiness.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

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Recovering from multiple losses takes longer than recovering from one. As I discovered, your emotions bounce around a lot and you may go backwards on the recovery path. When I looked for information about multiple losses on the Internet, I found a few articles, but they weren’t enough. The message: Recovering from multiple losses was up to me.

As the story of our losses spread, people expressed condolences and asked the dreaded question. But I didn’t know how I was. All I knew was that I kept putting one foot in front of the other. Most of the people who asked how I was expected my answer to be, “Fine.” That’s the common answer in our society. But I wasn’t fine, I was almost prostrate with grief. In self-defense, I came up with some answers to the question, “How are you?”

Early in the journey, I said I was “fine” to end conversations. Months passed, and my next answer was “okay.” I liked this answer because it fit all conversations and all people. “Okay” is also a common answer in our society. “Getting long” was my third answer and I used it in the middle stage of grief. This answer implied progress and that seemed to satisfy people. A year and a half later, I found the courage to say I was “coping.” I used this answer with close friends only.

Well into my grief journey I was able to say “I’m good.” Now this answer has changed. Four years have passed since my daughter died. During this time I continued to do my grief work, wrote five books about recovering from loss and grief, saw my twin grandchildren graduate from high school with honors, and receive college scholarships. My husband and I gently guided our grandchildren through the college search and they are now sophomores in college.

I’m so proud of my grandchildren I could shout their praises from the roof tops. But the biggest miracle of my life is that I am more than a survivor, I am happy. I have created a new life and, though it isn’t the one I anticipated, it is rewarding. Evidently my new-found happiness shows on my face. When I met a friend in the grocery store she stopped and declared, “You look happy.” How did I find happiness again?

Every day, I looked for something to be happy about, such as seeing a pair of cardinals. I gave myself permission to laugh. Meditation helped me to re-discover the strength within me. If a negative thought came to mind, I balanced it with a positive one. Giving to others has helped me immensely. Of all these things, writing has helped me most and the books I write are actually my journals. When people ask how I am (and I appreciate their concern) I can honestly answer, “I am happy.”

I hope this miracle comes to you.

Copyright 2011 by Harriet Hodgson

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Spiritual women offer comfort.  When I was lost in the darkness of grief my sister-in-law kept saying, “You will get through this.”  I appreciated her reassurance.  Other friends said they were praying for me.  Three small words, “I’m so sorry,” comforted me as well. 

Spiritual women stay in touch.  Early in the grief journey you receive lots of help – sympathy cards, bouquets, and casseroles galore.  But help wanes quickly because people need to return to their own lives.  Helping women stay in touch with emails, phone calls, and cards.  A small group of friends stayed in touch with me and their support was energizing.

Spiritual women listen.  Bereaved people need to talk about their feelings, something that is hard to do in a culture that avoids death.  My close friends, however, gave me the gift of listening.  They asked prompting questions that allowed me to verbalize my feelings and concerns. 

Spiritual woman are specific.  You hear the sentence time and again: “If you need anything, just give me a call.”  The person who is grieving may not call because he or she doesn’t want to intrude in your life.  Be specific when you offer to help.  For example, “I’m going to the grocery store this morning.  Give me your list and I’ll shop for you.”

Spiritual women give back.  I pass on the kindness I’ve received by donating to the food bank in memory of my daughter, giving free talks, writing grief resources, and mentoring new writers.  Giving back gets you “outside” yourself and moves you forward on the recovery path.

Spiritual women practice self-care.  You can’t care for your family, your children, your grandchildren, or others, unless you take care of yourself.  This means you eat right, build physical activity into your days, and get enough sleep.  Self-care isn’t selfish; it’s common sense.

Spiritual women meditate and pray.  Some mourners become super-busy to escape their thoughts.  It doesn’t work.  To recover from grief you need to face the quiet and yourself.  In the quiet of your soul you will find the solutions you are seeking.

Of course, these points are true of spiritual men as well.  We help because we care and that makes life brighter for us all.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

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When I think of this family holiday, I think of my daughter.  We gave her birthday presents at many Thanksgiving dinners and sang “Happy Birthday” to her.  Now there are no birthday gifts and no songs.  Memories of my daughter are all that remain.

How do I survive my thoughts of past Thanksgivings and future ones?

First, I’m selective about my memories.  Instead of dwelling on sad experiences, I focus on happy ones and my daughter’s marvelous sense of humor.  I think of the delicious pies she made and her love of watermelon pickles, which she always served at Thanksgiving time. 

Second, members of my extended family celebrate the holiday differently today.  This year we are gathering at my brother and sister-in-law’s home in rural Wisconsin.  About 20 people will be there and our celebration will be like a mini family reunion.  Holidays are a chance to catch up on news and the chatter can be boisterous.

Third, as I have done in years past, I will make giving part of Thanksgiving.  This year my husband and I have decided to give money to the local food bank.  I’ve also donated children’s books I’ve written about nutrition and physical activity to the bank and that makes me feel good inside.

Fourth, I will cherish my twin grandchildren.  Though they will be at the family gathering, we have to leave early the next morning because the twins have to work.  Both are slated for the closing shift on  “Black Friday.”  Hectic as it is, this day is a green day for the twins because they are making money.  Having the twins home from college, even for a few days, renews my spirit.

Fifth, and most important, I will give thanks for family, a devoted husband, my daughters, my grandchildren, and parents who cared about me so much they supported all of my decisions.  Despite the challenges, despite the sorrow, life has been good to me and I am grateful.  On this Thanksgiving I will give thanks for life itself.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

The post Thanksgiving Day Brings Sweet, Sad Memories appeared first on Open to Hope.

Before the crew arrived, we had to clear out closets and cull legal papers. In 2007, four family members died and we took in items from three estates. My husband was managing these estates and the paperwork was incredible. The office floor was covered with cardboard file boxes filled with legal documents and tax returns.

During the sorting process, my husband came across our deceased daughter’s purse, a large black purse filled with items that represented her life. Her wallet. Her make-up kit. Medication. A pack of gum. Work keys. One by one, he removed the items from her purse and showed them to me. I began to cry. “This is so sad,” I sniffed.

Four years had passed since my daughter died and I was living a new life. Finding the purse tugged me back to my former life, a life I shared with my daughter and her twins. Thanks to years of grief work, I felt whole again and thought I was past tears. I was wrong.

Finding my daughter’s purse opened a Pandora’s Box of memories. I remembered graduations, two weddings, the birth of her twins, the jobs she held, and her hopes for the future. Unfortunately, I also remembered the day she died of blunt force trauma sustained in a car crash. I remembered the day the twin’s father died of the injuries he sustained in another car crash. Had I gone backwards on the recovery path?

The answer is “no.” I was a normal person with normal feelings. According to a Cigna Behavioral Health website article, “When a Loved One Dies,” the grief we feel after a loved one dies “will always be there.” This has been true for me and may be true for you. Yet we learn to live with loss and move forward with our lives.

According to “Managing Your Grief,” an article on the Grief Healing website, mourners need to identify people, groups and activities that can become a personal support system. “Write down each potential source of support,” including their name, telephone number, and address, so you’ll have them handy when you need them,” the article advises.

I followed this advice, created a strong support system, and more important, used it. Though I feel whole again, I also feel like parts of me have been re-shuffled. For example, I was empathetic before and am more empathetic now. Judy Tatelbaum, in her book, “The Courage to Grieve,” says facing loss can cause us to revise our sense of self. “Such changes may be essential for us to restore our lives and continue living,” she writes.

Today, I have a new life and am living it to the fullest. The tears I shed were prompted by memories and the love I still have for my daughter. The purse is gone and love remains.

Copyright 2011 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Finding Daughter’s Purse Restarts Grief Four Years Later appeared first on Open to Hope.

It was beyond belief.  While each year has its triumphs and tragedies, 2007 was a really hard year.  My daughter and father-in-law died the same weekend, my brother died a few months later, and now my former son-in-law was gone.  Like the words of the famous hymn, “Amazing Grace,” I was blind and couldn’t see. 

Life had stopped.

Now the twins (one boy and one girl) were orphans and we were GRGs, grandparents raising grandchildren.  Would I have the energy to raise grandchildren at age 72?  Could I grieve for four losses and stay upbeat for the twins?  What would become of me?  I was haunted by questions and all I could do was put one foot in front of the other.

If you asked me to provide details about “the year of death,” I could give you only a few.  As time passed, however, I was able to see my recovery path, the steps I took, and my winding journey from darkness to light.  Ten percent of all of the grandparents in the nation are raising their grandchildren and you may be one of them.  My survival tips may help you.

1. Eat dinner together.  Meal time isn’t just about food, it’s about family values, sharing news, and learning how to cope and solve problems.  We expected our grandchildren to eat dinner with us.  I’m a made-from-scratch cook and my grandchildren appreciated this.  “I love your salad dressing more than the salad!” my granddaughter constantly exclaims.   
2. Support school activities.  We cheered for our granddaughter at gymnastics meets and applauded our grandson’s trumpet playing at concerts.  Sometimes the twins asked me to help with their research papers and I was glad to help.  “I’m only proofreading,” I assured them, “and won’t change your style.” The twins appreciated my help and I was impressed with their writing. 
3. Set new goals.  Making it to the next hour was my first goal.  After I could do that, my goal was to make it through the day, then a week, and then a month.  Step-by-step, I inched my way along the recovery path.  Though I took several detours, for the most part I kept moving forward.  Setting goals gave purpose to my life, helped me see my location on the recovery path, and how close I was to the end. 
4. Practice self-care.  Writing is self-care for me.  Friends thought I would have to abandon my writing career to care for my grandchildren.  Giving up writing would feel like another death in the family and it would be mine.  So a week after my daughter and father-in-law died, I sat down at the computer and poured out my soul in words.  I’m still writing.  Think about how you take care of yourself and keep doing it. 
5. Embrace silence.  Like many who are grieving, I was afraid of quiet times, the pain I would feel in that quiet, and the discoveries I would make.  But in the silence – a few moments of meditation each day – I found a wellspring of strength I could tap again and again.  I still go to that wellspring and always find comfort.  Instead of avoiding silence, you may want to make it part of each day.
6. Believe in yourself.  “I will survive this” was my mantra and you can make it yours.  Attitude has a lot to do with how we approach each day and I gave myself frequent “attitude adjustments.”  When a negative thought came to mind, I balanced it with a positive one.  This takes practice, but the results are worth it.
7. Trust life again.  When you’re raising grandchildren there isn’t time for self-pity.  My grandchildren’s trust in me enabled me to trust life again. Four years have passed since they moved in with us.  Their energy and interests have changed my life forever.  Instead of me saving my grandchildren, they have saved me.

Both of the twins graduated with honors, and the high school ceremony was an emotional experience for us.  The man our daughter planned to marry came to the ceremony, took a photo of the twins, and emailed it to me.  Every time I looked at the photo I cried, yet I couldn’t stop looking at it.  What was going on?  I looked at the photo closely and realized I was crying because it was the first time I saw hope in my grandchildren’s eyes. 

When I began my grief journey, I was blinded by sorrow.  Today, I’m living a new life, a happy life with my husband and grandchildren.  I’m also a far stronger person.  As the hymn says, I “was blind but now I see.”  

Harriet Hodgson 2011

The post Now I See: Grieving and Raising My Grandchildren appeared first on Open to Hope.

My husband and I have already reserved a unit at a Mayo Clinic assisted living community in the heart of downtown Rochester, Minnesota.  Knowing that we will live there years from now is a source of comfort.  But it’s also a source of relocation grief.

Moving is one of the most stressful experiences of life.  It’s so stressful a new response, Relocation Stress Syndrome (RSS), has been identified and documented.  When I move to our new apartment, I think I’ll have RSS big time.

Colleen Smart describes the syndrome in her ABC Elder Care website article, “Relocation Stress Syndrome.”  Identified in 1992, the symptoms of RSS include depression, anxiety, withdrawl and confusion.  Losing control of your life contributes to the syndrome.

Older adults have a wealth of life experiences, yet coping with RSS can be a challenge.  “Research shows that seniors may take longer to adjust than younger people,” Smart observes.

David J. Sorenson, MSW, LSW, writes about the grief of relocation in her ElderCare Advocates website article, “Moving and Griefwork.”  As Sorenson explains, “Even if the elder made his or her own decisions to move, grieving will occur related to the loss of the previous home.”  The grieving time depends on the person’s reaction to the move and the help he or she receives.

Sorensen thinks parting with the small stuff – kitchen items, knick-knacks, photo albums, and holiday decorations – is “one of the most traumatic events  in the lives of elders.”

Moving involves more than the loss of possessions.  When my husband and I move to assisted living, we will be leaving the familiar for the unfamiliar. This is scary.  We’ll be leaving the home we have lived in for many years, our cozy street, our community, and our privacy.  That’s hard enough, but we will also have to adjust to living in smaller space.  We don’t know what type of unit will be available when we relocate, but it will be far smaller than the 2,700-foot home we live in now. We will also have to adjust to new rules, new services, and new timetables.

Friends of ours are moving to the same high-rise next year.  They started planning for the move two years ago.  “We will only be able to take one sixth of our things,” the husband explained.  “I don’t know what we’ll do with the rest.”

Like other older adults, the things we don’t need will be given to our remaining daughter, charity, or merged into an estate sale.

Another couple I know is in the process of moving to assisted living.  Two one-bedroom units are being merged into one.  “We’re waiting for a wall to be knocked down and then we can move in,” the wife explained.  She went on to say they had given their good dishes to their daughter, “but she will probably never use them.”

Family members can make relocation easier by helping with planning and having a meaningful farewell, according to Jeanette Franks, PhD, author of “Moving Seniors: Settling Into a New Home.”  Her article is published on the Assisted Living website.  Franks thinks older adults shouldn’t be rushed into decisions.  Instead of buying new furniture for a new place, a wiser decision may be to use old, familiar furniture.

While I respect this opinion, I won’t follow it.  When we move into assisted living, no matter how small our unit is, I will make it a little gem.  I have a graduate degree in art and decorating is one of my passions.  So I’ll put as much effort into decorating a small space as I put into decorating a larger one.

A new field, Personal Relocation Expert, has come about to assist those who are relocating.  Moving is never easy, but sometimes it’s necessary.  When I become anxious about moving to assisted living, I think of a friend of mine.  She was fortunate enough to get a corner unit with windows on two sides and plenty of light.  “I didn’t want to move,” she volunteered.  “You do it for those you love.”

Her wisdom gives me courage for the days to come.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

The post The Challenges of Relocation Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

Anticipatory grief is a feeling of loss before a death or dreaded event occurs.  With mass murder and terrorism, the survivors worry about both – more attacks and more deaths.  Some survivors may think their anxiety stems from excessive news coverage when they are actually experiencing the symptoms of anticipatory grief.

Some grief experts think this grief is as powerful as post-death grief.  Lois Krahn, MD, Chair of the Department of Psychiatry at Mayo Clinic, Scottsdale, and I devote an entire chapter to the anticipatory grief of terrorism in our book, Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief. September 11^th devastated Americans for many reasons:

• The element of surprise
• Our altered concept of reality
• Sheer brutality of the attacks
• Mass casualties
• Successful and failed rescue attempts
• Increased fear of terrorism and mass murder
• Fear for children’s safety
• Questions about national security
• Impact on national economy
• Impact on local economy
• Anxiety and need to stay close to home
• Safety worries
• Loss of freedoms previously taken for granted

Today, many Norwegians are grappling with the same concerns.  This peaceful country, a country that bestows the Nobel Peace Prize, seemed unprepared for such an attack.  It took 90 minutes for a police boat to reach the island where the children were camping.  According to reports, the camp had no security at all.  Unprotected government buildings in the heart of Oslo suffered so much structural damage they will probably have to be rebuilt.

Anticipatory grief is a burden for a nation and for individuals.  How can we cope with this burden?

First, we can model calm behavior for children.  This isn’t easy, but it is possible, and helps us at the same time.  Second, we can focus on the present, go about our lives, and enjoy each moment.  Third, we can learn more about the reasons behind mass murder and terrorism.  Fourth, we can become familiar with community resources.  If there aren’t enough resources, we can request them and help create them.  Fifth, we can limit television viewing, especially late newscasts.

Michael Osterholm, PhD, MPH, Director of the Center for Infectious Diseases at the University of Minnesota, is an expert on bioterrorism.  He thinks we need to stay in contact with family members and make a disaster plan.  This plan should include a central meeting place and back-up systems.  Every family member should have a copy of the plan.

The American Red Cross has also developed a program to help young people deal with tragic events and terrorism.  It’s called “Facing the Fear.”  Contact your local Red Cross chapter for more information.

Finally, writing about your feelings can help immensely.  Identifying our fears helps us to process them.  You may write in a grief diary, journal, or separate journal.  If you write on the computer, be sure to date your entries and print them out for safekeeping.  Tragic as the murders in Norway are, we need to remember there are many kind and caring people in the world and count ourselves among them.

Harriet Hodgson  2011

The post Mass Murder in Norway Triggers Anticipatory Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

My brother was five years older than I.  According to my mother, he was so excited to have a baby sister he asked to stay home from kindergarten when I came home from the hospital.  Due to the age difference between us, we didn’t play together that much.

Though we shared the same sense of humor, our personalities were very different.  I was the quieter, creative person, whereas he was the boisterous, loud person.  After I graduated from college, we went our separate ways.  My brother moved to Florida and I moved to Minnesota.

Our mother also lived in Florida.  She moved there to be near her older sister, and then her sister died.  Mom went downhill after that.  When she was found wandering in a department store, I realized she needed to be closer to family.  Often the female child in the family is the caregiver and that was the case with our family.

I moved my mother to an assisted living apartment in my hometown and was her caregiver for nine years.  My brother and his wife visited her several times and he always said the same thing, “Mom is fine.”  But he wasn’t in the caregiving trenches, and I knew our mother was far from fine.  Mini strokes were destroying her mind.  She wandered at night, had hallucinations, developed diabetes, and was an addictive spender.  Taking away her checkbook was one of the most painful experiences of my life.

And I was totally unprepared for another painful experience.  For unknown reasons, my brother cut off all contact with me and we were estranged for 10 years.   Then, out of the blue, he called to tell me he had throat cancer.  He asked my husband, a retired Mayo physician, to help him get an appointment at the Jacksonville clinic.

Several weeks later, my brother called again.  He said cancer treatment was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life and suddenly blurted, “I love you.”  I was so surprised I forgot to say, “I love you” in return.  A short while later, he died of a heart attack.

I mourned his passing and all of the years we wasted.

Paula Spencer Scott writes about family conflicts in her article, “Reconciling with Siblings After a Fight Over Caregiving for a Parent,” published on the Caring website.  “Some of the saddest caregiving stories concern brothers and sisters who come to loggerheads over some aspect of their parents’ or another relative’s care – and wind up saying ugly things, or not speaking, or worse,” she writes.

She offers suggestions for resolving this conflict, including agreeing to disagree.  Family members need to recognize that each sibling has a different relationship with a parent, she continues.  Siblings may have to get an intermediary to help. I didn’t have a chance to do any of these things.

After a loved one dies, we examine our relationship with that person.  You may be doing this now and it’s painful.  So I try to focus on happy memories.  I think about sailing with my brother on Long Island sound,  Christmas parties at the local fire house (our father was a volunteer fireman), and church socials.

Despite our broken relationship, I’m grateful for the time I had with my brother.  Katrina Kenison makes this point in her book, The Gift of an Ordinary Day.  She thinks remembering is the only way we can hold on to the things [and people] we love, and don’t want to lose.  “Maybe it is a form of prayer, this list making in the name of gratitude and remembrance,” she concludes.

So we remember, and pray, and continue with our lives.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

The post Grieving for Deceased Loved One and Broken Relationship appeared first on Open to Hope.

Many years ago, when I was in first grade, my parents and I visited an inner city grave.  It was my brother’s grave, a brother I never knew because he was a premature twin and died two days after he was born.  The other twin survived and I grew up with a brother.

While we were walking in the cemetery, I saw two people, obviously mother and daughter, approach a new site.  The mother looked at the grave stone and burst into tears.  Her crying became wailing and her wailing became keening.

Young as I was, I recognized the widow’s sorrow and felt sorrowful myself.

This memory surfaced after my daughter died in 2007.  Suddenly, my husband and I had to buy a cemetery plot, select a coffin, arrange for our daughter’s burial, and plan the memorial service.  We could barely think, let alone make major purchases.  I wanted to cry and wail and keen like the grieving widow I saw years ago.

When our daughter died, her former husband was still alive.  He asked us to bury our daughter instead of having her cremated so their twins would have a place to visit.  We did as he asked.  Today, almost four years later, we have visited her grave only once, and our grandchildren visited it once.

If you’re a bereaved parent, you may visit your child’s grave regularly, leave toys, spring flowers, or Christmas wreaths.  Visiting your child’s grave may be comforting, but it doesn’t comfort us.  Why?  For one thing, we were coping with multiple losses.

My father-in-law died two days after our daughter died.  Several weeks later, my brother died.  Nine months later, the twin’s father died in another car crash, and we became GRGs, grandparents raising grandchildren.

Visiting graves was at the bottom of our “To Do” list and our grandchildren were at the top.  We needed to give our grandchildren a stable home, their own rooms, cozy beds, nutritious food, emotional support, school support, and assist with the college search. Paul Alexander, author of “A Grief Guide and Healing Workbook,” might say we were absorbed in the flow of life.

According to Alexander, our love of the deceased and how we demonstrated our love affects our lives.  Mourning requires outward expression, he continues, and we need to “turn inward to hear the stillness and care for the heart.”

We cared for our hearts by caring for our grandchildren.  Visiting our daughter’s grave is not our memorial.  Rather, our memorial is seeing the twins graduate from high school with honors, find colleges they love, make the Dean’s List their freshman year, and pursue their careers.

You may not be able to visit a loved one’s grave because you live across the country.  Like us, you may choose to honor your loved one in different ways.  Bob Deits, in his book “Life After Loss,” says mourners are responsible for their own grief process.  This process may not include visiting a grave regularly.

Instead of focusing on death, we can focus on life, and the miracle of each day.

Harriett Hodgson 2011

The post Not Everyone Benefits from Graveside Visits appeared first on Open to Hope.

On the first page, a blank, there’s a handwritten recipe for brownies. According to my mother-in-law, the recipe came from a friend in Lima, Peru. During World War II, my father-in-law was a staff physician at the British American Hospital there. The family lived in Lima for five years.

A booklet about cake-baking is tucked into the front pages, along with a page of recipes from a magazine. In the middle, there’s a recipe for cheese puffs written on the back of a wedding invitation. Next to the recipe for custard ice cream, Mom wrote that almond extract should be added in addition to vanilla. I remember many of the recipes because I ate them.

Obviously, this was a beloved cookbook, for the pages are worn, in some instances torn, and covered with hundreds of drips. The binding is also falling off. Looking through Mom’s cookbook takes me back years.

I remember the first time I visited the family. Though I was a college student, I had never flown before, and flying from Long Island to Rochester, Minnesota felt like going to the ends of the earth. Everyone in the family, including my fiance’s brothers, was welcoming. During our first dinner together in the formal dining room the middle brother, who had a quick wit, commented on the napkins. “What are these?” he asked innocently.

Mom did her best to feed her husband and three sons, or men, as she called them. Dinners focused on meat and potatoes. Since her men didn’t like cooked vegetables, dinner usually included salads. I can still remember fixing salads with Mom in the kitchen. All I did was combine ingredients, but my future mother-in-law made a point of complimenting me.

Though my own mother didn’t make notes in her favorite cookbook, she gave me handwritten recipes on cards. I looked at some of her recipe cards today and burst out laughing when I read the instructions for Aunt Nony’s Salad Dressing. “Beat the whole mess until thick,” she wrote. Reading my mother’s recipe cards and my mother-in-law’s cookbook is almost like talking with them.

Linking objects don’t have to be big to be comforting. If you are grieving and don’t have any linking objects, you may want to look for some. The smallest item, a bookmark, a father’s watch, a mother’s necklace, can make you feel close to your loved one. Photos may also serve as linking objects.

Using linking objects brings back memories, facial expressions, family stories, and humor. These things help us face the next day, all of the other days ahead, and the new lives we create.

Copyright 2011 by Harriet Hodgson
Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/6306331

The post Recipes Link Her to Mother-in-Law, Memories appeared first on Open to Hope.

Of all the deaths, my daughter’s death was the most painful.  Family members and friends rallied to help us, but my husband and I knew recovery was up to us.  We also knew we had to confront the pain of loss.  For weeks, we sat on the couch, telling stories and crying, telling stories and crying.   We cried until there were no tears left.

It was winter in Minnesota and so, in addition to grieving, we had to face sub-zero temperatures, frightening wind chills, blizzards, and travel warnings.  When the television weatherman said, “No travel is recommended.  Please stay in your home and off the roads,” we believed him.  Grief, by itself, can be isolating and being forced to stay home increased our isolation.

But being home forced us to confront issues and consider solutions.  We were a mutual support team.

One afternoon, when I was sitting in the family room and lost in my thoughts, I looked out the west windows.  The sky was as gray as an old flannel blanket.  The pine trees and elms in the back yard were laden with snow.  Nature’s painting was monochromatic until a cardinal suddenly landed on a branch, fluffed his wings, turned his head, and looked at me.

Eyes locked together, he was perfectly still and I was perfectly still.  I didn’t move a muscle.  The sight of the red cardinal against the gray sky, perched on a snow-covered branch, brought tears to my eyes.  How did the cardinal survive?  Where was his mate?  Why did he land on the branch at that moment?  Several minutes later, the cardinal flew away.

During my grief journey, I have turned to nature time and again for comfort.  The first rain comforts me because it means spring is near.  When the rose bushes start to bud I am comforted by the cycle of the seasons.  But nothing has comforted me as much as the sight of the cardinal in wintertime.

I see him still in my mind, a symbol of life, a symbol of hope.  It was as if the cardinal was saying, “Everything is going to be all right.  You will survive.  A new, happy person will emerge from grief.”

That is exactly what happened.  Today, I am a happy person, living a new life, and the image of the cardinal is always close to my heart.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

The post The Comfort of a Red Cardinal in Wintertime appeared first on Open to Hope.

“I’m good,” I replied. “How are you?”

Widowed a year ago, my friend replied, “Oh, I’ve found that grief hides. When you think it’s gone, you find yourself crying.”

I understood her comment. After losing my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law, there have been many times when grief reached out and grabbed me. These moments happen without warning and take me by surprise.

I expect to grieve on my deceased daughter’s birthday and I do. I expect to grieve on the 23rd of the month, the day she died, and I do. I expect to grieve on the anniversary of my father-in-law’s death, and brother’s death, and I do. But I didn’t expect to play hide and seek with grief.

The unpredictable moments of sorrow make me seek the causes. What triggered my grief? Could I have prevented it? Is there more grief work to do? “Grief hides,” as my friend put it so clearly, and I’ve found that it hides in the nooks and crannies of life.

Sometimes, when my granddaughter speaks just like her mother used to, I feel renewed grief. I feel joy as well. When I see someone using a walker, I’m reminded of my father-in law, and I grieve. My brother loved books and I volunteer at the library in his memory. Last week, without any warning, I felt a wave of sadness at his passing.

For someone like me, who has suffered multiple losses, there are many games of hide and seek. Some mourners have a different approach to the game and try to hide or suppress their emotions. But hiding from emotions only prolongs grief. Thankfully, I’ve always been honest with my feelings.

If I’m grouchy or feel down, give me an hour, and I can tell you why. As I grow older, I appreciate this personality trait more and more. I also appreciate my ability to identify gut feelings.

Daniel Goleman writes about gut feelings in his book, “Emotional Intelligence: Why it can Matter More than IQ.” According to Goleman, being able to identify gut feelings has advantages. This ability gives us the chance to “immediately drop or pursue” different paths with confidence and “pare down our choices.”

Nearly four years have passed since my daughter died. Of the four deaths, hers was the most painful. Despite the pain, I have learned from it and one of the things I learned was to accept the hide-and-seek nature of grief. I accept my feelings and move on. You see, I’m a lucky woman.

My multiple losses reminded me of the miracle of life. So I’m putting the hide-and-seek nature of grief on notice: You may surprise me, but you will not defeat me. Happiness is mine, to savor each day and to share.

Copyright 2011 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Playing Hide-and-Seek with Grief appeared first on Open to Hope.

Heroic as the surgeons’ efforts were, their efforts failed.  The lead surgeon came out of the operating room to tell us our daughter was brain dead.  Lost in a web of shock and confusion and grief, my husband and I signed the organ donor documents.

Two days after my daughter died, my father-in-law died.  Then my brother died.  Then my former son-in-law died and my husband and I became legal guardians of our twin grandchildren.  “I still have times when I can’t believe it all happened,” I told my husband.

“Me too,” he replied.

But it did happen and today, as with the first day of my daughter’s death, I make the same promise: Helen, we will not fail you.  If our daughter were still alive, I think she would be proud of her twins and proud of us.

Both of them graduated from high school with honors.  Our grandson is attending a state university and had a straight A report card for the first semester.  He received a letter congratulating him for being on the Dean’s List.  Our granddaughter is attending a small private college and she has an A average as well.  She has won prizes for her photography and honorable mention for her writing.

When the twins are home for the weekend, they are happy, pleased with their college choices, and excited about life.

We are the only grandparents the twins have and they have identified with us.  Like my husband, my grandson wants to be a physician.  I’m a professional writer and have a graduate degree in art.   My granddaughter is taking art and writing courses.  Their career choices may change and that’s fine with us.

Still, my husband and I will always be counting.  Five years since our daughter died.  Six.  Seven.  Ten and more.  “It’s so sad,” my husband said.

But we are blessed.  Becoming GRGs, grandparents raising grandchildren, is our new life mission and it is a sacred one.  Our mission is joyful, too.  When the twins are home our quiet house comes to life with laughter, friends, loud music, and Internet conversations.  Though we will always be counting, as the years pass, the counting becomes easier.  Our promise remains steadfast: Helen, we will not fail you.  We have also promised each other that we will enjoy the miracle of our lives.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

The post Always Counting: Anniversary of a Daughter’s Death appeared first on Open to Hope.

After more than 20 hours of surgery, the lead surgeon told us our daughter was brain-dead. Traumatizing as the news was, discontinuing life support and signing documents for organ donation were just as traumatizing. My husband and I were frozen in shock.

Our shock increased when, two days later, my father-in-law died. Word of the deaths spread quickly. Flowers began to arrive and so did friends. Two special friends came by to offer comfort and listen to my story. Today, I think of their listening as a special gift.

What are the causes of traumatic loss? According to the International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies, the causes include disease, accidents, suicide, homicide, war and terrorism. “Sometimes grief becomes complicated, and bereaved survivors remain shaken and acutely distressed for months or years after the loss,” the society explains.

In 2007, I lost my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law. These tips come from life experience and will help you be an active listener.

1. Keep eye contact. Focus all of your attention on the mourner. According to “Listening Effectively,” an article on the Wright State University website, effective listeners show the speaker that they’ve been heard and understood. Eye contact can tell you when and if it is appropriate to give the person a hug or hand pat.

2. Don’t interrupt. If you’re a verbal person like me, ideas pop into your head and you want to share them. Interrupting doesn’t help the bereaved.

3. Focus your mind. As you listen to this raw, personal, painful story your thoughts may stray. Bring them back to the moment and focus on what you are hearing. What is the main message?

4. Withhold advice. This isn’t the time to tell your sob stories or offer advice. Remember, the person you are listening to is in shock. That’s enough to handle.

5. Ask gentle questions. In his book, “Working with Emotional Intelligence,” Daniel Goleman describes listening as an art. He thinks an active listener goes out of his or her way to hear the message. “Listening well and deeply means going beyond what is being said by asking questions, restating in one’s own words what you hear to be sure you understand.”

6. Provide feedback. Nod your head to show you understand and sympathize. If you think it is appropriate, offer comforting words such as “How awful” and “I’m so sorry.”

7. Track the time. One of my friends, dear as she was and continues to be, stayed for more than an hour. Though I appreciated her visit, I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to go to bed. Though your visit is short your gift of listening will be received.

Copyright 2011 by Harriet Hodgson

The post How to Listen to Someone Who’s Grieving appeared first on Open to Hope.

Then things began to change.  People, approximately 24,000 of them,  began to applaud points the speakers made.  “You shouldn’t applaud at a memorial service,” I commented to my husband, who was sitting beside me.

“No, you shouldn’t, he agreed.

As the service progressed, I realized this wasn’t an ordinary memorial service.  Somehow, it had evolved into something else.  I come from a religious and spiritual tradition that encourages participation at memorial services.  The attendees sing hymns together, join in responsive readings, pray and meditate as a group.

Depending on the wishes of family members, there may be a time in the service when people share stories about the deceased.  Some stories are heart-wrenching and others are humorous.  All of these elements – stories, prayers, meditation, responsive readings, and hymns – bring mourners together.  But the Tucson service, moving as it was, didn’t contain any of these elements.

Applause was the only way people could participate.

People wanted to show caring for the fallen and support the wounded.  They wanted to support the people of Tucson, the state of Arizona, and America.  “We are here!” the applause seemed to say.  “We mourn with you.”  “We will get through this together.”

President Obama’s speech touched my heart.  Speech writers and political experts think he planned a speech for a traditional service and adjusted it to the mood of the crowd.  I don’t know if this is true.  But I know his ending about living up to our children’s dreams and expectations was right for the moment.  “We can do better,” President Obama declared.

Mrs. Obama was visibly moved by the service and close-ups revealed the tears in her eyes.  She bowed her head several times to get her feelings under control; at least, this is how her actions appeared to me.

I’m a grandmother and have attended many memorial services in my lifetime.  Never have I seen a service like this one.  Unlike some, who describe the service as a pep rally, I think it was something different – a unique and American moment.  It was time to come together, time to start the healing process, time for hope.

When the memorial service was over, I asked myself, “How could I do better?”  You may have asked yourself the same question.  Though my answer may not be the same as yours, we have one thing in common: We grieve for our loved ones.  Each of us has the power to make something good from grief and for me, it is writing books.

The pain of multiple losses has made me more aware of the miracle of life.  In my 70s, I feel blessed to be here, and live each day to the fullest.  I’m making the most of my miracle.

Harriet Hodgson 2011

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These are happy memories for me, yet the prospect of a new year, can be melancholy. Life isn’t the same without my daughter and the other family members who died in 2007: my father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law. I loved them and counted on their support and now they are gone.

Grieving the loss of four family members has been daunting. Sometimes it has been confusing. It takes me a few hours or days to figure out which family member I am grieving for and identify my feelings. Still, I haven’t shirked my grief work and have kept at it. Doing this work has made immensely.

More than three years have passed since my family members died. Though grief isn’t as acute as it used to be, it remains an undercurrent in my life. As the years pass, however, I find that giving helps me most.
Giving to others helps me heal.

A few years ago, if you had told me I was going to write five books about grief, I would have said you were delusional. But that is exactly what happened. I wrote about my deceased loved ones and the challenges of coping with multiple losses. Writing forced me to think deeply, face my pain, and stick up for myself. I refused to be crushed by tragedy.

Others have reached the same conclusion. I asked an editor who is familiar with grief to write a back cover review for one of my books. She wrote a beautiful review and added added a comment about giving reviews away for authors to use as the wish. Grief books are the current focus of my resume.

I’ve been giving the books away. So far, I’ve given books to friends who are grieving, two churches, a local hospice, and AA. My daughter was an AA member and I think she would be pleased with my actions. According to an AA contact, one of my books is a perfect fit for the women’s group.

When I give books away, in a sense, I’m giving myself away. You may find comfort by giving yourself away. Are you willing to listen to other bereaved parents? Can your expertise help a struggling organization to survive? Will telling your grief story help others who are grieving?

When we give ourselves away, we are saying yes to life. We are also saying, “I’m healing and ready to trust again.” Giving is an act of self-trust, trusting that you have things to give, trusting that you can handle emotional pain. Worrying about the future is a waste of energy and we can invest it in giving instead.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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Hymns, poems, novels and stories have been written about the quest for peace. Though religious and spiritual beliefs can contribute to peace, in the long run, peace is something we grant to ourselves. In order to survive the grief journey we must make peace with many things. Doing this can be the biggest challenge of our lives.

We make peace with family discord. We accept lost dreams. We come to terms with life without a loved one. Sooner or later, we make peace with life. How can you find peace? Six steps helped me and they may help you.

Step one is facing emotional pain. Avoiding pain will only make grief last longer. My husband and I had to accept the pain of losing a daughter to blunt force trauma. Nobody wants acknowledge their child died htis way but, over time, we managed to do it.

Step two is embracing quiet. This is one of the hardest steps you can take. Many mourners rush from one thing to another to avoid quiet because they don’t want to “hear” their thoughts. But it is only in quiet that you learn about yourself, identify problems, and work out solutions. Building quiet time into each day helps you find peace.

Step three is identifying your grief work. Quiet time will help you do this and so will discussions with family members, religious advisors, and grief counselors. After our twin grandchildren lost their parents in separate car crashes, my husband and I became GRGs –grandparents raising grandchildren — and we divided our duties. He handled legal and financial matters, I managed the household and teen schedules.

Step four is critical to survival: Be kind to yourself. We tried to be kind to ourselves each day. If we were exhausted from crying we took short naps. Driving was one of our main concerns and we worried about having yet another crash. To avoid this, we used a buddy system, and took turns being the driver and the lookout.

Step five is to meditate and pray. Your definition of meditation and prayer may be different from mine and that doesn’t matter. What matters is taking care of your soul. Doing this will help you survive this dark time of life and see a bright future ahead.

Step six is possible after you’ve done lots of grief work: Help others. This step has enabled me to reconcile my losses and create a new life. I help others by donating money to local organizations, giving food to the local food shelves, speaking for free, giving my grief books to hospices and churches, serving on committees, and mentoring other writers.

With planning, purpose, and the passage of time, peace is an attainable goal. I hope peace comes to you.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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What is courage?  According to the dictionary, it is “the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., with firmness and without fear.”  I don’t know if Elizabeth faced the recurrence of cancer without fear, but television footage shows her smiling and campaigning for her husband right after her cancer returned.

Often she was the better campaigner – upbeat, funny, and natural.  Despite the grief she must have felt, Elizabeth refused to give in to pain, disease, or pity.  She faced her own death, worried about her children, and how they would get along without a mother.  Elizabeth seemed to have the personal courage her husband lacked.

I admire her for chugging on, for writing books, for making television appearances when she wasn’t feeling well.  Though she suffered hardship after hardship, Elizabeth retained her joy at being alive.  Americans admire this kind of grit and I think that is one reason for the nation’s grief at her passing.

Elizabeth was a giver, someone who thought about others before herself, and we can benefit from her example.  Each of us has this day, this life, this opportunity to make a difference.  We can make the most of what we have, be role models for our children and grandchildren, and leave a legacy for those who follow.

There are too few Elizabeths in the world and I wish, oh how I wish, I had met her.

Harriet Hodgson 2010

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The house is filled with linking objects and, when loss was still new, I cried every time I saw them.

Nan Zastrow writes about linking objects in a “Grief Digest” article, “Linking Objects: When Can the Chain be Broken?” Her son committed suicide and she clung to “his meager belongings and mementos.” Like many grieving people, Zastrow thought she would forget her son if she let go of the items that linked her to him.

The time came, however, when Zastrow was willing to let go. She realized that letting go was “about releasing the clutter and the negativity surrounding the circumstances of his death and the undeniable loneliness caused by his absence in my life.” Letting go meant she was ready to move forward in her life journey.

Salman Akhtar, MD, writes about letting to in a “Jefferson Journal of Psychiatry” article entitled “Mourning.” He divides the possessions of the deceased into three groups: things to throw away, things to give away, and things to keep. Just as grief takes time, the willingness to let go of linking objects also takes time.

In our case, it took us a year to sort linking objects into these groups. Nine months after our daughter was killed, our twin grandchildren lost their father in another car crash. We were responsible for clearing out the house in preparation for selling it. Packing up linking objects, and the happy life they represented, made us sob, and we could only work at the house for an hour before we were overcome with grief.

Most of the contents of the house were donated to Minnesota flood relief. Once the house was cleared out, we felt better. Our grandchildren were so overcome with grief they could not think about possessions so we saved some things — Christmas decorations, their mother’s favorite pictures, and photos — for them. When they are older, they can decide which ones to keep and which ones to give away.

Today, when I see linking objects about the house, I think about the love behind these gifts. But I have to be honest. Every so often, I feel a twinge of grief and tears come to my eyes. According to Salman Akhtar, this is normal. As he explains, “No mourning is ever complete and, by implication, no lost object of our affection is ever totally given up.”

Stuff does not have to control our lives. If we are patient with ourselves, the time comes when we can let go of linking objects. We can move forward with life and create new memories for ourselves, our children, and grandchildren.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Grief’s Linking Objects – Why Do We Hold On? appeared first on Open to Hope.

After four family members, including my daughter, died in 2007, the victim role was tempting.  I wanted to wallow in grief and victimization.  I’m a grandmother and, thanks to life experience, I was able to resist this temptation.  Becoming a victim would only make more trouble for me at a troubling time of life.

Sharon s. Esonis, PhD, writes about victimization in her Self Growth website article, “Stop Thinking Like a Victim!  Self-pity is a Roadblock to Your Happiness and Self-Confidence.”  She describes the victim role as “a straight shot to pain.”  Worse yet, the role restricts your options, muddies your goals, and kills your dreams.  You also lose your self-confidence.

According to Robert Elias Najemy, the victim role makes it harder for others to help you.  He approaches this role from a communication standpoint in his Not Alone website article, “Communicating with Those who Play the Role of the Victim.”  Najemy thinks the challenge for others is to express caring and love without getting caught up in the role you’ve chosen.

To help you, family members and friends may resort to “I messages,” he continues.  One of his examples: “I now realize that I do not help you by feeling responsible or guilty.”  When all is said and done, grieving is a solitary experience and nobody can do it for us.  Tempting as victimization may be, we have the power to resist it.

Why should you avoid this role?  First, it draws energy away from your grief work.  Second, it’s a nonproductive role and mires you in grief.  Third, it is progressively isolating and people will start to avoid you.  Fourth, it requires negative thinking, rather than positive thinking.  Finally, it prolongs your grief journey.

With lots of thought and work, I managed to avoid this emotional trap.  A week into my grief journey, I sat down at the computer and started to pour out my soul in words.  Journaling helped me immensely and I think it will help you.  Though I’m an independent person, I asked for help and accepted it.  I didn’t want to become isolated, so I kept selected social connections.  I wrote one-sentence affirmations and continue to write them.  The best thing I did for myself was to help others.

Mourning takes time and you have the right to take all the time you need.  But you don’t have to become a victim.  If you do your grief work, your loved one will, in time, become a treasured part of your history – part of your soul.  The fact that life exists is a miracle.  The best memorial you can create in memory of your loved one is to enjoy the miracle of your life.

Harriet Hodgson  2010

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My father-in-law, the family patriarch who always asked us to join hands and say, “God bless us every one,” won’t be with us.  Nor will my elder daughter and her husband.  My brother and I won’t talk on the phone.  Thanksgiving is bittersweet because my daughter was born on this national holiday.

I remember another bittersweet Thanksgiving.  Years ago, when my mother was in the final stage of dementia, she joined us for dinner.  Unfortunately, the only person she recognized at the table was me.  All the other family members were strangers to her.

She thought my husband was a guest.  He picked her up at Assisted Living and chatted with her on the way home.  “You’re a nice fellow,” she declared.  “I’m going to introduce you to my daughter.”  Things went from bad to worse when Mom retreated into her own silent world.  It was all I could do not to burst into tears.

“Mom really isn’t here,” I thought to myself.  Then I looked at the table and saw the antique water bottle and the cut glass butter dish she had given me.  These objects were a link to past Thanksgiving dinners with my mother, father, deceased brother, aunts, uncles and cousins.

This year, I’m fixing dinner and have planned a slightly different menu.  I’m serving an artichoke dip appetizer, cranberry-pomegranate sauce and mashed potatoes with chive cream cheese.  Dessert will be my sister-in-law’s homemade pie, made from pumpkins she has grown.

Now I’m thinking about the linking objects I will use.  As before, I’ll use my mother’s antique water bottle.  I’ll probably use my mother-in-law’s silver candy dish as well.  I’m looking around the house for other linking objects that remind me of my loved ones.  Using these things comforts me.

How can you cope with the empty chairs at your table?  Think about using some linking objects.  You may even want to put a photo on the table or near by.  Family dinners are an ideal time to share stories and my family has lots of them.  My father-in-law, for example, wore a derby hat when he put salt in the softener, so he would remember to turn off the controls.  When my grandchildren’s hamster injured his tail mysteriously, my daughter fused it back together with super glue!

My family members tell funny stories to liven up the holidays and you can do the same.  There may be empty chairs at your table, but your heart can be full.  God bless us every one.

Harriet Hodgson, 2010

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Several weeks ago I drove to a meeting with friends.  It was an hour and a half drive and, to pass the time, I showed them my new affirmations book.  This led to a conversation about loss and grief, one of those sincere, gut-level moments that rarely come along.

“I was with my mother when she died,” a friend shared.  This painful “photo” stayed in her mind for years and she couldn’t get rid of it.  As time passed, however, the “photo” began to fade.  “Now I think of my mother in her garden and cooking in the kitchen,” she said wistfully.

Her comments made me think of my deceased daughter.  In 2007 she was severely injured in a car crash.  Her injuries were so severe a team of surgeons couldn’t save her.  The chief surgeon came out of the operating room to tell us our daughter was brain dead and invited us into the room to say goodbye.

We signed legal documents to stop life support and harvest her organs.  Time was important, because the organs had to be harvested when her body was still warm.  Our twin grandchildren came with us to say goodbye to their mother.  I was so worried about them I barely looked at my daughter and focused my eyes on them.  Still, I remember the essential details – my beautiful, brilliant daughter hooked up to life support machines that would soon cease.

Life had changed so suddenly, so drastically, I was in double shock.  But I didn’t have time to spend on worry and this flashback “photo.”  Two teenagers needed me and I wouldn’t fail them.  More than three years have passed since my daughter died.  The flashback image still comes to mind, but the times are few.  This sad image has been replaced by happy ones.

I see my grandchildren looking for whales from the top deck of an Alaskan cruise ship.  I see my grandson playing the trumpet in the marching band.  I see my gymnast granddaughter on the balance beam.  I see the twins dressed up for their senior prom.  The picture I see most often is a photo of the twins in their graduation robes.  They are looking directly at the camera and smiling.  For the first time in more than three years, they look truly happy, and I see hope in their eyes.

You maybe haunted by flashback “photos.”  How do you get rid of them?  I can only answer this question from my experience.  You accept the pain of grief, do your grief work, and set new goals.  In short, you jump back into life again.  New experiences create new “photos.”  Pick one and hold it in your mind for the sad moments that strike unexpectedly.

Focus on this picture and any others that give you hope.  Continue to collect happy “photos” and fill your mind with them.  Create a life album of happy images, happy times, and happy memories.

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After losing four loved ones in 2007, I had lots of grief work to do, and did it. But there is more to do, and I decided to make a grief recovery bucket list. I knew my loved ones wouldn’t want me to get stuck in grief, so my list focuses on recovery, staying on the recovery path, and my new life. What is on my list?

1. Keep writing. Family members, dear friends, and church support helped me to survive multiple losses. But my occupation as a professional writer helped me most. Writing Internet and print articles about grief helped me see my grief journey more clearly. In fact, writing helped me create a new life. I’m a seasoned citizen and want to write one more book before my life circle is complete.

2. Appreciate family. I have always appreciated the love and support of my family, and coping with multiple losses made me appreciate it more. My extended family, including nieces, nephews, and their children, rallied to support my husband and me. Six months after our daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash, my husband and I celebrated our 50th anniversary. We made it a celebration of family and, though we were still in the throes of grief, enjoyed this celebration.

3. Give to recover. Early in the grief process I realized that giving made me feel better. I do lots of free writing, give free talks, and give away lots of books. Before 2007, I volunteered for a variety of organizations and still volunteer. My husband and I donate money to many groups and, while our donations are small compared to some, every donation counts.

4. Celebrate life. I celebrate waking up each morning beside my husband, sitting across from him at the breakfast table, and talking about our plans for the day. Nature also gives me many things to celebrate — a cardinal perched in the birch tree, seeing a female deer and her fawn, and wild turkeys scampering into the woods. Large or small, each day I find something to celebrate.

5. Make life count. When my life circle is complete, I don’t want people to think I wasted my life. Hopefully, they will say I used my talents and tried to help others. In other words, I want my life to count. This is another reason I made a grief recovery bucket list. It is, in only five points, a plan for the future.

The list helped me put my life in perspective and it can do the same for you. Making a list doesn’t mean it is cast in stone. When you have completed a point or have different thoughts about it, cross it off your list and add others. You may respond to your list as I did: Thank goodness I’m alive!

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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Her question may be applied to grief reconciliation and recovery.  Despite our losses, pain, and sorrow, we can decide who we want to be in the years ahead.  Before I read Shriver’s quote I wondered who I wanted to be and realized there were many people I did NOT want to be.

For one thing, I didn’t want to become the neighborhood grouch.  Though people have turned their carts around in the grocery store to avoid meeting me, I didn’t want to be thought of as “bad news person.”  Most of all, I didn’t want to get stuck in grief and become an endless mourner.  Determining who I want to be helped me create a new life.

Raising my twin grandchildren is my new life mission.  I have four goals: 1) protect my grandchildren physically and legally; 2) take care of myself; 3) continue to learn about grief; 4) look to the future with optimism.  In short, I made a conscious decision not to waste my life.

Rabbi Harold Kushner writes about our response to tragedy is his book, “When Bad Things Happen to Good People.”  Some people, if they are rejected, bereaved, injured, or have bad luck, feel a need to see themselves as bad people, Kushner explains.  This response “drives away people who try to come close . . .”  Kushner warns us about joining the Suffering Olympics and talking endlessly about our problems.

“Anguish and heartbreak may not be distributed evenly throughout the world,” he writes, “but they are distributed very widely.”

So I let friends see my profound sorrow at the loss of my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law.  They saw me struggle, saw me weep, saw me depressed, and pick myself up again.  When you think about it, happiness is a personal choice.  I voted for happiness and hope you will too.

Vamik d. Volkan, MD and Elizabeth Zintl write about the end of grief in their book, “Life After Loss: The Lessons of Grief.”  The time comes, they explain, when “we reach the practical end of mourning with the ability to provide for ourselves something that we needed from the lost relationship.”  Identifying with the deceased helps us to do this.  You may wear your loved one’s shirt, for example.  Creating memorials is another way of identifying with the deceased.

“What begins as an expression of a desire for closeness ends in helping us to stand alone,” write Volkan and Zintl.

After three years of pain, three years of learning, three years of grief work, I’m becoming the grandmother I want to be.  I’ve cared for my grandchildren, kept them close, and at the same time, encouraged them to let go.  They leave for college in the fall, secure in the knowledge that they are loved, will always be loved, and always have a home.

No matter where you are in your grief journey, asking yourself “Who Do I Want to Be?” will help you move beyond loss.  You can plan a new life and live it to the fullest.  Even though you may not believe it now, you can be happy again.

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We have been raising our twin grandchildren ever since their parents died of the injuries they sustained in separate car crashes. When the twins moved in with us, they were 15 1/2 years old, a vulnerable age at best, and an especially vulnerable age for grieving teens.

Our grandparenting goals were basic: care for the kids, protect them from harm, nurture their minds and spirits, and love them more each day. Both kids graduated from high school with honors and received scholarships. We are proud of their accomplishments and proud to be their grandparents.

Starting college is a big step, and it takes time to become familiar with the campus, curriculum, and other students. Though we are no longer their legal guardians, we are still GRGs — grandparents raising grandchildren — and our goals remain the same. We have turned over their finances and the management of them to the kids, and they know we are always ready and willing to help.

Taking my granddaughter to college was a happy-sad experience. Next week, we take our grandson to a state university, and I know I will feel the same. As happy as I am for the twins, I miss my deceased daughter, who should have been part of these historic events. She would have been so proud of her children and the outstanding young adults they have become.

So my eyes filled with tears, and I made my granddaughter’s bed. This happy-sad experience boils down to letting go. I let go of my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law, who all died in 2007.

Western Washington University, in a website article titled “Coping with Grief,” says caregivers need to take the time to let go. Letting go is one of the hardest things we have to do, the article continues, and life is really a series of letting go experiences.

“Letting go reminds us that we are not in control of life,” the article notes.

Because I have suffered multiple losses and studied grief, I knew letting go meant being open to different experiences. In his book, Life After Loss, author Bob Deits describes letting go as opening a new door. He thinks the life we create for ourselves after a loss “seems to offer its own joys.”

I’m so proud of my grandchildren I could shout their praises from rooftops. Heather Lende, in her book, Take Care of the Garden and the Dogs, describes joy in few words. “You can’t have real joy if you don’t understand what real sorrow is,” she writes. Since I have known real sorrow, I was able to savor joy when it came to me.

Surely many joyful days are ahead.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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Laughing helped me cope with multiple losses. “I think my zany New York sense of humor is going to save me,” I told my husband. In the early stages of grief, my laughter was as rusty as an old hinge. If I laughed unexpectedly, I enjoyed it, but wondered if my humor would last. Thankfully, it has, and I am grateful.

Laughter has short-term and long-term benefits, according to a Mayo Clinic website article, “Stress Relief from Laughter? Yes, no Joke.” The article says laughter makes you take in more “oxygen-rich air,” stimulates the heart, lungs and muscles. Just as important, laughter increases the endorphins in the brain, which affect your mood.

An improved immune system is one of the long-term benefits of laughter. In fact, laughter may cause the body to produce its own natural pain-killers. “Laughter can also make it easier to cope with difficult situations,” the article concludes. Certainly, grief is a difficult situation, probably the most difficult of your life.

A WebMD website article, “Give Your Body a Boost — With Laughter,” describes laughter therapy. Hearty laughter is similar to a mild physical workout, the article explains. But it goes on to say that you should not be hasty about stopping your treadmill workout.

Daniel Goleman comments on laughter in his book, “Emotional Intelligence: Why it can Matter More than IQ.” He says laughter seems to help people people think more broadly and associate more freely. “While in a good mood we remember more positive events, as we think over the pros and cons of a course of action….”

If you are grieving now, you are awash in emotional pain. How can you find laughter again? One way is to be open to it. Like me, you may have to tell yourself that it is okay to laugh during this sorrowful, dark time of life. The more you laugh, the easier it becomes.

Staying in touch with friends can also help. According to Judith Viorst, author of “Necessary Losses,” close friends contribute to your personal growth. Friends also contribute to your pleasure, “making the music sound sweeter, the wine taste richer, the laughter ring louder because they are there.” Friends helped me to laugh and your friends can help you.

Thinking of a funny experience you shared with your deceased loved one can also make you laugh. I think of the time my daughter helped with the church rummage sale. Someone had donated some new bras and volunteers didn’t know how to price them. “Charge 50 cents,” my daughter quipped. “That’s 25 cents a cup.” Everyone burst out laughing.

During your journey, you may come to rely on humor. A sense of humor brightens your days and leads to grief recovery. Thank goodness you were meant to laugh!

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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When the date appeared on the calendar, Berkus would have an anniversary reaction and mourn again. In time, however, he came to think of the date as just a number. “I took back the power,” he explained.

I understand his explanation because I lost four loved ones, my elder daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law, within nine months. Though I have taken back the power, as Berkus puts it, doing it was a struggle. The question is “why?”

First, I was coping with the death of a child, which is against the laws of nature. The nature of death also affects anniversary reactions. Berkus’ partner was swept away by the water. Blunt-force trauma is the official cause of my daughter’s death. Both are horrific causes.

The number of the day matters to me. My daughter was born on the 23rd of the month and died on the 23rd as well. This coincidence is mysterious, perplexing, and haunting. I deal with it as best I can and am grateful for my daughter’s life and her marvelous twins, my grandchildren.

Bob Deits discusses anniversary reactions in his book, Life After Loss: A Practical Guide to Renewing Your Life After Experiencing Major Loss. He thinks the first anniversary of a loved one’s death is “particularly significant.” You have gotten through the year and survived. Successive anniversary dates, like the 18-month mark, are painful. Yet Diets says we can think of them as bumps in the recovery road.

Multiple losses also made it harder for me to “take back the power.” Recovering from one loss is hard enough, but recovering from four is like a grief tsunami. There are more arrangements to make, more life questions to answer, and more secondary losses. Though I cannot speak for Nate Berkus, I think attitude helped him reclaim his personal power.

Most mourners come to realize they should make the most of life. Pesach Krauss and Morrie Goldfisher make this point in their book, Why Me? Coping with Grief, Loss and Change. They think the miracle of life should not be wasted and say “each day is a canvas upon which we paint the picture of our lives.”

The picture I am painting of my new life is not one I expected. My husband of 53 years is the basis of the painting. Being a GRG — grandparent raising grandchildren — is part of it. Writing is in the picture, too. Though my painting is unfinished, it is a happy one. You have the ability to reclaim your personal power and paint a new picture of your life. Make it colorful!

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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Every mourner has a story to share. You may share your story with family members, close friends, and community groups. But you need to share it without upsetting listeners so much they turn you off. How can you do this?

I have shared my story of multiple losses with many groups and take a “then and now” approach. It begins with the darkness of multiple losses, moves on to coping, doing my grief work, and the new life I am living today. You may take a similar approach.

Jenna Baddeley offers some tips in her “Psychology Today” website article, “Speaking of Grief: Tips for Grievers, Friends and Family on Talking About Loss.” Mourners are eager to share their stories, but society is not eager to hear them. “Weeks or months after a loss, grievers are expected to have rejoined ordinary life,” she writes.

According to Baddeley, listeners are more comfortable with negative emotion if it is in the past and the person has moved on to something better. Your grief may not be safely in the past, yet you may still share your life experience. In fact, I encourage you to do so. Keep these points in mind as you tell your story.

1. Avoid the rehash trap. Telling a negative story again and again does not help you and does not help listeners. Grief is a sad story, to be sure, but it can become a story of resilience. You cannot control life events, but you can control your response to them. People appreciate my story because I have created a happy ending.

2. Observe body language. Look for shifting positions and drastic changes in facial expressions. When you speak to a large group there is always someone sleeping in the back. I look for that person, and the instant I see drooping eyelids, perk up the pace of my delivery and/or tell a story to illustrate a point.
A person that moves away from you is a person who is uncomfortable with your story.

3. Add a dash of humor. Life was not funny in 2007 when I lost four loved ones. I thought I would never laugh again and you may feel th same way. Thankfully, humans are meant to laugh, and as the months pass, your humor will return. I use humor to educate listeners about loss and grief. After a recent talk to a support group a woman came up to me and said, “Thank you for your funny stories and your smile.”

4. Limit details. It is not necessary to cite every detail to get your story across. Death is painful enough, without adding suffering, blood, and gore. State the cause of death quickly and in one sentence, if possible. I say my daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash and leave it at that.

5. Share coping tips. Journaling is one of my best tips and I have developed a talk about it. What is working for you? Why is it working? Share these insights with others. You have a story to tell and can tell it in ways that help others.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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Graduation was an historic day for our grandchildren and for us.

Sitting on bleachers makes us uncomfortable, so we arrived early to get one of the few chairs that had been set out.  A multi-generational Somali family sat behind us, and I could sense their excitement.  They had brought a bouquet of flowers and a cluster of balloons with them.  We brought only our memories.

The wonderful man our deceased daughter had planned to marry also attended the ceremony.  He took photos of the kids and emailed them to us.  All of the photos are good, but one stands out from the rest.  In the photo, my grandson is looking directly at the camera with a satisfied smile on his face, and my granddaughter is grinning from ear to ear.

I look at the photo several times a day and it makes tears well up in my eyes.  What causes this response?  First, I knew about the effort that has gone into the photo: feeding teenagers, hours of carpooling, proofreading homework, cheering at gymnastics meets, attending high school concerts and banquets, and worrying about late nights.

Though most of our grandparenting efforts are obvious, others are less so, including our daily routine.  It has helped our grandchildren in many ways. My husband and I try to be good listeners.  With listening and gentle nudging, each of our grandchildren has chosen the perfect college.  The kids start school in August and we will miss them terribly.

Apparently, my empty nest feelings have kicked in early and this was one reason for tears.  Graduation pride shows in my grandchildren’s faces but, after studying the photo for hours, I see the root cause of my tears.  There is something new in my grandchildren’s eyes, something I yearned to see, and it is hope.  My tears are not tears of sorrow; they are a grandmother’s tears of joy.

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More than three years have passed since four family members died. The shock of multiple losses — my elder daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law — brought me to my knees. The deaths occurred successively, within a nine-month period, and I was in continuous shock. My emotions were raw.

Today, I realize the pain of grief made me more aware of people’s feelings and more observant of nature. Could I tap this pain and use it positively? Since I had faith in myself, I let my mind return regularly to 2007, the year of death, and the feelings I felt then. I also let myself remember images: memorial services, hundreds of sympathy cards, and countless flower deliveries. I do this for 10 minutes at a time.

This emotional exercise helps me savor my new life. Surprisingly, it also helps me with decision-making. Thankfully, I have an upbeat personality and this has helped me cope with loss, grief, and becoming a GRG — grandparent raising grandchildren.

Daniel Goleman, PhD, discusses the influence of temperament in his book, “Emotional Intelligence.” According to Goleman, experience can change our temperament. He also thinks optimism and hope can be learned — something psychologists call self-efficacy. When you have self-efficacy, you believe you have some mastery over life events “and can meet the challenges as they come up,” he explains.

Goleman thinks people who develop self-efficacy feel stronger and are more willing to take risks. All I know is that I take more risks today than just a few years ago. Many of these risks relate to my writing career.

Christina Baldwin writes about risk-taking in her book, “One to One: Self-Understanding Through Journal Writing.” She thinks a journal is the place to learn about your inner child, self-parenting, friendships, partnerships, rules and beliefs, dreams, sensuality, grieving and letting go. “Grief is an aspect of risk taking in relationships,” she writes, “in changing beliefs and adapting new rules and inner guidance for our lives.”

My emotional exercise has given me inner guidance, helps me appreciate my new life, and the grief work that went into it. Stanley Cornils writes about this work in “The Mourning After: How to Manage Grief Wisely.” The worst thing we can do is nothing, according to Cornils, to sit back and wait to be rescued. We must rescue ourselves, and Cornils asks mourners to commit themselves to a new life.

Humans are the only living creatures who know they are going to die, comments Harold S. Kushner, author of “When Bad Things Happen to Good People,” and this awareness changes us. “Knowing that our time is limited gives value to the things we do.” Tapping the pain of grief and using it positively may give value to the things you do and how you approach them.

Returning to the pain of early grief came about because I did not want to lose this emotional sensitivity. You may wish to try the exercise. Begin with the words “I remember” and see where the 10 minutes take you. Then apply this sensitivity to your new life.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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On the first anniversary of our daughter’s death, my husband and I held a graveside service in her memory. It was a brief service because the February temperature hovered around zero and the wind chill was fierce. Despite the weather, 10 people gathered to remember her.

I passed out a list of our daughter’s values. These simple, powerful values are her legacy. Today, as my grandchildren graduate from high school and prepare for college, I am reminded of my daughter’s values and how they shaped her life.

My twin grandchildren were 15 years old when their mother and father died from the injuries they received in separate car crashes. The ensuing years have been challenging for them and us. Raising grandchildren while grieving for four loved ones — my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law — is the greatest challenge of our lives.

Values are the supporting structure of life, steel girders that hold us up in times of trouble. Our daughter started to teach her twins about values when they were young, so they had good values when they moved into our home, and we are grateful for this. Where do values come from?

According to “Why You Should Know Your Personal Values,” an article on the Best of Time Management website, they come from parents, teachers, influential people, reading, television, and the “school-of-hard-knocks experience.” Values are also shaped by age and where we live. Though values may change slightly, the article says they remain fairly stable over time.

The mental picture of your loved one’s values may be clear or hazy. To clarify this picture you may read “Checklist for Personal Values” by C. Roberts, posted on the Self-Counseling website. Chances are the list includes some of your loved one’s values, things like honesty, ethics, kindness, and loyalty.

Reading the list is the first step in clarifying values. Narrowing the values down to 10 is the second. Then you narrow the list down to three, two, and finally one.

This word may be considered as a summary of your loved one’s values, or belief system. Judy Tatelbaum writes about belief systems in her book, “The Courage to Grieve.” According to Tatelbaum, the meanings we give to life “are often the keys to how well we survive the pain [of death] and how we restructure our lives after loss.”

Surely, my daughter’s values — belief in a Higher Power, practicing these beliefs, putting family first, enjoying her children, life-long learning, a job she loved, helping others, and laughter — will sustain my grandchildren in the years to come.

Still, I remind my grandchildren about these values with quick comments like, “Your mother was always learning.” But my husband and I are doing more than passing on our daughter’s values; we are living them. Our grandchildren have not commented about this, yet I can tell they understand it. Passing on your loved one’s values to the next generation is a fitting memorial and a source of comfort.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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Coming to terms with multiple losses is a journey in itself. Reconciliation is hard-won and I had many times when recovery seemed elusive — a moving target I could not reach no matter how fast I ran. Three years have passed since my loved ones died and, during this time, I often thought about happiness. Was it also an elusive goal?

Judith Viorst writes about the mourning process in her book, “Necessary Losses.” After a loved one dies, we make our way through shock, acute pain, weeping, and adaptation. As time passes, “we recover our stability, our energy, our hopefulness, our capacity to enjoy and invest in life,” she writes.

Bill Cosby’s approach to happiness is detailed in a Hospice of Siouxland newsletter article, “Laughter and Loss.” Some criticized Cosby for returning to work so soon after his son was murdered. Cosby did not agree with their opinion. “It’s time for me to tell people that we have to laugh… we’ve got to laugh,” he explained.

Laughter lifts our spirits and contributes to happiness. But mourners who define happiness by their achievements may find it difficult to be happy again. As David D. Burns, M.D. describes in his book, “Feeling Good,” we have to realize that most of us are not great achievers. Yet most Americans are happy and respected, he continues. “Clearly, happiness and great achievement have no necessary connection.”

What is necessary, it seems to me, is the willingness to change. How do we choose happiness? First, we can believe in ourselves. If we were happy in the past, we have the capacity to be happy in the future. Second, we have to learn to trust life again. After Hazelden writer Melodie Beattie’s son died, she showed her trust in life by getting a dog. Instead of getting a pet, you may travel or take a course.

Adjusting our thinking also helps us to choose happiness. When negative thoughts come into my mind, I balance them with positive thoughts. Focusing on the lessons of grief is another way to choose happiness for ourselves. For me the biggest lesson has been that every moment of every day is a miracle.

Happiness is a personal choice, a gift to ourselves, and we are all worthy of it. Every day, we have the opportunity to choose happiness, or as President Abraham Lincoln put it, “Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” Make up your mind to be happy again and enjoy that happiness. Share it with others every chance you get.

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Other family members also died that year, my father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law.  His death made my twin grandchildren orphans, and my husband and I became their court appointed guardians.  I’ve had many sacred moments after my grandchildren moved in with us when they were 15 years old.

One moment, and there have been many others, is seeing how much my granddaughter resembles her mother.  As she matures, her features and profile are almost identical to her mother’s.  She also has the same walk, same gestures, and uses similar expressions in conversation.  The first time I noticed this resemblance I wanted to cry, yet managed to contain my tears.

Seeing my grandchildren inducted into the National Honor Society was another sacred moment.  Last week, when I attended the high school Honors Choir concert, I was totally unprepared for the effect it had on me.  As the choir members walked onto the stage and took their places on the risers, I realized again how much my granddaughter looked like her mother.

It was as if my deceased daughter had come to life again.

Then the choir began to sing and I was stunned by their professionalism.  In fact, the music was so moving I began to cry.  “I’m experiencing a sacred moment,” I said to myself.  Indeed, seeing my granddaughter sing with the choir and a duet with her friend made the experience even more sacred.  I was impressed by my granddaughter’s poise and knew her mother would be proud of her.

I wished, oh how I wished, my daughter was there to share the moment.  Though she was not, I felt she was represented by the presence of my husband, my grandson (her twin brother), and the man she had planned to marry. He sat next to me and we discussed the children’s progress.  He took dozens of photos of my granddaughter during the concert and afterwards.  “I look at the photos and see Helen,” he commented.

Attending the twin’s graduation will be another sacred moment.  Both of them will receive medals.  When they leave for their respective colleges, I will be sad and happy at the same time. From the beginning, being the twins’ guardian has been a sacred experience and it will continue through their college years.

With the wisdom of sorrow and age, I now know that I’m surrounded by sacred moments.  You may have come to the same conclusion, for sorrow, itself, is a sacred time.  Our awareness of life’s sacred moments can help us turn sorrow into joy.

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I knew I had to do my grief work and did not shirk it. This work paid off and I was starting to feel better when my brother died eight weeks later. Several months later the twin’s father studied in another car crash. The fourth death in the family shook my sense of safety. What would happen next?

According to the Journey of Hearts website, “The grief response following sudden loss is often intensified since there is little to no opportunity to prepare for the loss, say good-bye, finish unfinished business or prepare for bereavement.” The survivor — you and me — has a sense of vulnerability, the website continues, because our safe world “no longer exists.”

Some days, I wondered if I would survive. I did not have time to dwell on my worries, however, because I was raising my grandchildren. Thankfully, I have good coping skills. Though my grandchildren are brilliant and have some coping skills, tragedy hit at a vulnerable time of life. My granddaughter worries about being alone in the house, an understandable feeling after a house up the street was just robbed.

The US National Mental Health Information Center, in a website article, “Care Tips for Survivors of a Traumatic Event,” says a fear of crowds, strangers and being alone is a natural response to sudden and traumatic loss.

And the US Department of Health and Human Services describes the impact of traumatic loss in “Tips for Survivors of a Traumatic Event: Managing Your Stress.” The article lists 11 signs of stress, including excessive worry. Stress affects your body in many ways and you may have stomach aches, diarrhea, headaches, changes in appetite, and sweats or chills. You may feel anxious all the time, or guilty, or depressed, or overwhelmed.

How can you cope with the stress of sudden and traumatic loss?

1. Eat a healthy, balanced died.
2. Avoid excessive caffeine or alcohol.
3. Try to get enough sleep.
4. Get regular exercise. (I walk at a local mall.)
5. Share your feelings with people you trust.
6. Learn about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and watch for symptoms of it.
7. Call “time out” and have some fun.
8. Renew your spirit by meditating, praying, or helping others.

These tips helped me and I added one more — writing about my multiple losses. Writing has helped me the most. I also think we also need to keep telling ourselves we are normal. As the US Department of Health and Human Services explains, “Know that feeling stressed, depressed, guilty, or angry is common after a traumatic event.” Our sense of safety is altered, but we still have the same strengths and talents, and can use them to help ourselves.

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Since I had been cooking for two so long, it took me several months to adjust to cooking for teens again.  I go to the grocery store every other day and am cooking constantly.  Teen slang has changed drastically and I had to learn new words to communicate with my grandchildren.  I had to learn about new teenage customs, too, such as the boy’s prom tie matching his date’s dress.

Our grandchildren were 15 ½ when they moved in with us; they turned 18 in February.  In a few weeks we are scheduled to appear in county court.  The purpose of the hearing is to end our status as the twin’s legal guardians.  But my grandparenting will continue, for the end of my guardianship is, in many ways, a new beginning.

From now on, I will be interacting with two legal adults.  Though I will modify my grandparenting, my mission to protect, nurture, and love my grandchildren will be the same.  This has become clear in recent months, as the twins applied to colleges, evaluated them, chose their schools, and made plans for the future.  Each day, the twins seem more mature and that is satisfying.

I have matured as well.  Brook Noel and Pamela D. Blair, PhD, write about the growth that can come from grief in their book, “I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye.”  They think grief “can manifest itself, by choice, as growth,” a view I agree with wholeheartedly.  The authors think mourners may create a meaningful new life by sharing their struggles, a suggestion I followed.

Bruce Campbell writes about creating a new life after loss in his article, “Ten Keys to Successful Coping: Key 10, Move Beyond Loss to Build a New Life,” posted on the CFIDS and Fibromyalgia website.  To create a new life, Campbell says you need to focus on the future, have realistic expectations, nourish yourself, cultivate a sense of gratitude, and create new meaning.  “Helping others shifts you from preoccupation with your situation and your suffering, and gives a sense of new meaning,” he writes.

Becoming a GRG created new meaning for my life.  How do I see the future?  The twins need a home to return to, so my husband and I plan to stay in our home until our grandchildren graduate from college, and maybe longer.  I see my grandchildren exploring new ideas, learning new things, making new friends, and finding a soul mate.  I see us attending family events, planning weddings and, if we live long enough, holding our great grandchildren in our arms.

The court ruling will not change my sacred mission of being a GRG.  All of life is a series of endings and new beginnings.

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Until I lost four loved ones in 2007, I did not realize recovering from grief was a personal choice. The shock of multiple losses was so great I could hardly think. Two choices were open to me. I could stay stuck in grief and remain a victim, or I could create a new life for myself. I opted for the second choice.

Early in my grief journey (surprisingly early) I began to think about recovery promises. My first promise: I will get through this.

Brook Noel and Pamela D. Blair, PhD write about recovery in their book, I Wasn’t Ready to Say Goodbye. They think actions influence recovery. “As we move through the process of grief,” they write, “it’s important to do and not just think.”

Noel and Blair include recovery exercises in their book and one involves “honoring” anger by pounding your fists on the bed. Writing thank you notes is another exercise. Looking at life in totality — something that is hard to do when you are stressed — is a third. According to the authors, grief can be a time of growth.

Rabbi Harold S. Kushner thinks we need to stay engaged with life in order to recover from loss. In his book, “When Bad Things Happen to Good People,” he points out that humans are the only creatures who know they will die. “Knowing our time is limited gives value to the things you do,” he notes.

Though I already valued life, I made these recovery promises to value it more. All of my promises are positive. I knew carrying them out could take years, yet refused to give up on myself. My promises may suit you or you can make new ones.

1. Every person, including me, is worthy of recovery.

2. I will greet each day with a loving and gentle heart.

3. I will treasure the love I shared with my departed loved one(s).

4. When I have negative thoughts I will shift them to positive ones.

5. No matter how hard it gets, I will do my grief work.

6. Independent as I am, I will accept help when it is offered.

7. Silence will be my introspective friend.

8. Every so often, I will take a break from grief.

9. It takes courage to admit I am scared and I will credit myself for this courage.

10. Reconnecting with friends shall be one of my goals.

11. I will share my grief story.

12. Nature’s miracles will help me heal.

13. Death has lessons to teach me about life and I will learn them.

14. I will enjoy the new life I have created for myself.

15. Giving to others will be part of this life.

When you make promises to yourself you are saying you believe in yourself. What are your promises? Robert Frost, in his famous poem, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” says he has promises to keep. We have promises to keep to ourselves and the miracle of life.

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Grief triggers – your deceased loved one’s birthday, the anniversary of your loss, and holiday festivities – are a recovery challenge. How will you respond? Will you continue to move forward with life or will the grief trigger stop you in your tracks? Worse, will you go backwards?

I ask these questions when I encounter grief triggers. Tuesday of this week was the third anniversary of my daughter’s death. Though I was not sure how I would respond, I knew the day would be hard. So I pulled myself together, revised my response plan, and used it.

First, I looked on the calendar for other grief triggers. No holidays were listed, thank goodness, nor were any birthdays. Still, I was worried about the third anniversary and shared my feelings with my husband. “We will get through it,” he said, “just like we have gotten through everything else.”

Evaluating my mental health came next. Usually, I am an upbeat person, but after losing four family members in 2007 I was susceptible to situational depression – discouraging feelings caused by a life event. These multiple losses, especially my daughter’s death, knocked me down. But I tackled my grief work and continued to do it. All things considered, I thought my mental health was good.

Then I checked my support system, and it was wobbly. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law, the mainstays of my system, had moved to Wisconsin. Other family members were moving to Wisconsin, too, and I felt abandoned. Who would I call in an emergency? The question bothered me and it has bothered some of my friends. In fact, we talked about this at a recent brunch.

One friend, who is a widow, described a frightening experience. “I didn’t know who to call,” she admitted. “It is hard when you live alone.”

“You can call me,” another friend replied. “We have to do this for each other at this time of life.” What a wise comment. I told my friend that she could call my husband and me as well.

When the anniversary of my daughter’s death came, I was prepared. I let myself cry and then turned to the coping method that works best for me, writing. I wrote an article about my conflicting feelings, sadness at the death of a child, and satisfaction in raising my twin grandchildren. You may prepare for grief triggers by revising your response plan or creating a new one.

Your grief trigger response plan is like a protective shield. You feel the blow, shake it off, and return to living your life. Grief response plans can be revised to meet new situations and triggers. That is good news for you and all who love you.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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Weeks later, the court appointed us as their legal guardians and fiscal conservators.

Should I mention the third anniversary of their mother’s death to the twins?  Though they were sleepy when they sat down at the breakfast table, I could tell they were in a good mood, as they talked about their plans for the day.  Making them grieve more than they already have made no sense, so I kept my feelings to myself.

So much has happened in the last three years.

The twins are straight A students.  Both of them were inducted into the National Honor Society.  In a few weeks, my granddaughter will receive the Girl Scout Gold Award.  My grandson has been accepted at the University of Minnesota and wants to be a scientist.  My granddaughter has received acceptance letters from four colleges and narrowed her choice down to two.  She thinks she will major in communications, but isn’t quite sure.

My grandson works part-time at a local discount store.  Unlike some teenagers, he doesn’t spend his money on foolish stuff.  His wages – money he is earning for college – go straight into his bank account.  The twins are excellent money managers, even a bit frugal.  Last week, they turned 18 and we had a family dinner to celebrate this milestone.  Now that they are legal adults, the twins have taken over the management of their finances.  “You can pay us an allowance,” I joked.

Conflicting feelings are painful, yet they help me see the truth: The twins are the ones who deserve credit for their achievements.  They are the ones who grappled with sorrow.  They are the ones who adjusted to living with senior citizens.  They are the ones who set goals and worked to achieve them.  My grandchildren are amazing young adults and I am proud to be their grandmother.  On this day, the third anniversary of my daughter’s death, I can say, with sureness and gladness, “Their mother taught them well.”

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I couldn’t believe it.

It was still dark when I heard a voice in the distance.  The woman was singing “My Lord What a Morning,” a famous African-American spiritual.  Her rich contralto voice, a voice worthy of the Metropolitan Opera, rolled out over the lush green countryside.  As she approached the base, her voice became louder and the melody became more complex.  This happened every weekday.

The woman was a walking sermon and, when I heard her song, I felt like I was living a sacred moment.  Though decades have passed, her song is still in my mind.  My eyes fill with tears every time I hear “My Lord What a Morning.”  I can’t sing it without crying.  While I have always been aware of life’s sacred moments, I became more aware of them after four loved ones died in 2007.

Your idea of sacred moments may differ from mine, yet these moments can lift you up and keep you on the recovery path.  The word “sacred” has many meanings and applies to beliefs, rituals, places, objects, art, music, nature, and experiences.  Sacred moments – an orange sunrise, eating with the family, the devotion of a dog, children’s laughter – happen every day.  We may not see them, however, due to the pain and confusion and stress of grief.

In her book, “The Courage to Grieve,” author Judy Tatelbaum says we need to support and love ourselves to recover from loss.  “Mourning may require self-supports different from the ones we are used to,” she writes.  We may need to be more active or quiet, she continues, think or talk more, or express feelings aloud or in a journal.

Being aware of life’s sacred moments is also a way to love and support ourselves.  The ability to spot these moments takes time, but this skill is worth our time.  Sacred moments offer comfort.  Sacred moments can create community.  Sacred moments give you hope.  Losing my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law within nine months taught me something important: Sacred moments can be times of self-discovery.

When you are “in” the moment, you get to the bedrock of your identity.  Once you hit bedrock, the only way you can go is up.  Every day contains sacred moments.  Which ones are sacred to you?  I hope you will be aware of them, revel in them, and take them into your soul.  Another day has come – your miracle – and you may find yourself singing “My Lord What a Morning.”

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In 2007, when I was devastated by the deaths of four loved ones, I looked for new ways to cope with grief. Though I had good coping skills, nothing had prepared me for multiple losses. Since I am a writer, I followed my instincts, and started writing about grief. I did something else, too. Each morning, when I awoke, I thought of an affirmation that would get me through the day.

The list started out small and became so long that I kept a computer list of affirmations. Writing one-sentence affirmations was a lot like writing poetry. Eventually, my grief journal became a book and my publisher used the affirmations in a companion calendar and journal. The affirmations were, and continue to be, timeless. Some of the calendar affirmations:

* Hope rises with the sun each morning.

* Believing tomorrow will be better shall make it so.

* My new life is what I make it.

* Loved ones will always be part of my life.

The journal affirmations are similar in tone and here are some of them:

* Silence is a discovering place.

* When I am alone I am with an interesting person.

* In writing about grief, I am inching my way towards tomorrow.

* Life is a miracle and I’m so glad to be alive!

This last affirmation is on the back cover of the journal, the back cover of the calendar, and on my website. In many respects, it has become my life mantra.

My affirmation writing turned into attitude adjustment exercises, the conscious switch from negative to positive thoughts. What is an affirmation? The “Random House College Dictionary” defines the word affirm as “to declare positively.” An affirmation is defined as an “assertion of truth or existence of something; a confirmation or ratification.”

Many grief counselors ask their clients to keep a journal. It is good advice and I followed it. But the idea of keeping a journal may seem overwhelming. You may write one-sentence affirmations instead. Writing affirmations made my dark life brighter and the same thing could happen to you. Start with the sentence, “I am alive,” and work from there.

Affirmations can change your attitude about life. David D. Burns, MD, writes about this shift in his book, “Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy.” He thinks all of our moods come from thoughts. Depressed people [and this includes mourners like you and me] start to believe that life is worse than they thought and reject positives. But humans have the power to turn negative thoughts around, according to Burns, and switch to positive thinking.

You may be paralyzed with pain right now, and feel like your life is out of control. Writing affirmations can help you regain some control and and help you get past the pain. So I encourage you to give affirmation writing a try. Write your affirmations in a small notepad or on the computer. As your affirmations add up, life looks brighter, and you begin to see a future ahead.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

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On a February weekend in 2007, my elder daughter and father-in-law died. Their causes of death were very different. My father-in-law was 98 1/2 years old and had been dwindling for months. His death was anticipated and I had made peace with it. But my daughter’s death from blunt force trauma in a car crash was the worst shock of my life.

Surgeons operated on her for 20 hours and could not save her. My daughter was also brain dead. Signing the legal papers to stop life support was an agonizing decision — the stuff of bad memories. Indeed, it has been a haunting memory. You may be grappling with bad memories as well. Daniel J. De Noon focuses on them in a WebMD article, “Why Memories Haunt Us.”

“There are some things — perhaps many things — each of us would just as soon forget,” he writes. He cites a study by two University of North Carolina psychologists, B. Keith Payne, PhD and Elizabeth Corrigan. Their study involved 218 college students. Students looked at two sets of pictures, one of emotionally stirring things, and the other emotionally neutral. Half of the students were asked to forget the first set of pictures and remember the second.

The remaining students were asked to remember both sets. Then, despite the instructions they had received, both groups were asked to forget the first set of pictures and recall the second. Students were good at forgetting the neutral pictures, but did not forget the emotionally stirring ones, whether pleasant or unpleasant. “It’s hard to isolate emotionally charged memories from other memories,” De Noon explains.

Marc Lerner writes about bad memories in his article, “How to Deal with Bad Memories,” published on the Life Skills Approach website. He thinks humans have the ability to recondition their minds about these memories and focus on the positive self. Once we have acquired this skill, we can view our memories from a new and positive perspective. “You may not be able to change the events of your past, but you can change your interpretations in the moment,” notes Lerner.

How can you handle your bad memories? You can focus on your postive self, a skill that takes practice, and worth acquiring. You can also learn from painful memories. I never thought I would find comfort in my daughter’s decision to become an organ donor, but I have. Thanks to her, two people are alive and two others can see.

Third, you can make something good from painful memories. Losing four family members within nine months changed my writing career. Today, I am writing about loss, grief, raising grandchildren, and creating a new life. Bad memories can lead us in new directions. Our memories help to define who we are and who we hope to be.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Handling the Most Haunting Memories appeared first on Open to Hope.

Rosie agreed that time had come.

After the interview I thought about my own story of multiple losses.  Would I always be seen as a bereaved person?  Could I describe myself in new ways?  If so, what would those ways be?  I thought about the answers to these questions.

Clearly, multiple losses had changed my life and changed me.  These losses had been fused into my identity.  I will always be a bereaved parent, the mother of a brilliant daughter who died too soon.  I will always miss my father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law.  The challenge, at least for me, is to learn from grief and create something positive from its ashes.

You may have come to the same realization.

This realization has changed my grief talks.  While I still state the facts – four of my loved ones died within nine months – I do it quickly and move on to the purpose of my talk.  Similar changes appear in the grief articles I write.  When I write an article, I have two goals.  One is to inform readers — in other words, to provide a few research findings — and the other is to offer hope.

Today, I portray myself as a grandparent raising her twin grandchildren and someone with a new life purpose.  Happiness is a personal decision. Instead of portraying ourselves as life’s victims, we can choose to portray ourselves as loving people who are grateful for the miracle of life.  The ability to do this comes with time, pain, and grief work.

Your grief story cannot be changed, but the way you tell it can be.  You may weave colorful descriptions and happy memories into your story.  Slowly and surely, you may weave humor into your story as well.  Telling a different version of your story does not change the facts.  A new version of your story, however, makes it more powerful and compelling.

Bereaved people are more than survivors.  We are searching beings, grateful for the gift of life.  Our stories are worth telling.

The post Is it Time for a New Version of Your Grief Story? appeared first on Open to Hope.

Nobody knows how many Haitians were killed in the earthquake. The current estimate of 100,000-200,000 is beyond understanding. Though aid is pouring in from around the world, lack of government, communications, roads, heavy equipment, and gasoline prevents it from reaching the people.

Captain Bruce Lindsey, commander of the USS Carl Vinson, anchored off Haiti’s coast, is quoted in the January 16-17 issue of “The Wall Street Journal” as saying, “Speed is of the essence in a crisis like this, but with the airport and harbor so badly damaged, there are clear limits to the amount of supplies that can be brought in at one time.”

Thanks to the U.S. military, the airport is operating. One rescue group had to unpack pallets of supplies and make smaller ones because trucks could not handle big loads. Lack of safe water, food, and shelter is also hindering rescue efforts. Doctors want to help, but right now, about all they can do is dispense pain medication and antibiotics.

When medical teams reach the trapped and wounded, they will triage the victims. Triage has one goal, to save as many patients as possible. The U.S .State Department defines it as sorting patients immediately according to the “type and seriousness of injury” and the likelihood of survival. Seriously injured patients and those near death are made as comfortable as possible and treated last.

Melissa Conrad Stoppler, MD, describes the approach in a Medicine Net article, “Medical Triage: Code Tags and Triage Terminology.” START (Simple Triage and Rapid Treatment) is one triage approach. Doctors group patients into categories: deceased, injured, severely injured, and patients with minor injuries that do not require urgent care.

Advanced Triage is the second system and it is based on colored tags. Stoppler says this system is “implemented by a nurse or other skilled personnel.” Red tags are used for patients who cannot survive without immediate care. Yellow tags are used for patients in stable condition. Green tags are used for the “walking wounded.” White tags are used for patients with minor injuries, and black tags for the deceased.

Medical triage can be a challenge for health professionals. Haitians unfamiliar with the approach may be offended, and even traumatized, by it. If your child has a broken leg, you want immediate medical care.

Television news shows public frustration with the relief efforts, which could be an indication of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The National Institutes of Health defines the disorder as a response to sudden and unanticipated loss. Symptoms include flashbacks, bad dreams, frightening thoughts, and depression.

While Haitians are dealing with mass casualties and medical triage, they are also dealing with the lack of rituals. Most families have a memorial service after a loved one dies. But the roof of the national cathedral has collapsed and, to prevent the spread of disease, the dead are being buried in mass graves. Other than public wailing, there seems to be an absence of grief rituals.

Russell Friedman and John W. James, of the Grief Recovery Institute, think humans need a visual proof of death. In their website article, “Conclusionary Rituals,” they say mourners who do not have this proof may get stuck in “incomplete” limbo. Rescue workers can help earthquake victims by giving them water, food, and shelter. They can also help by being patient, explaining triage, and providing grief counseling. Listening to the survivors’ stories will also help them.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Listening to Haitians’ Stories Crucial in the Days Ahead appeared first on Open to Hope.

Last month, my husband and I went to a holiday party. We enjoyed the food, piano music, and visiting with friends. As we prepared to leave, a friend asked what I was doing these days. When I told her we were raising our twin grandchildren because their parents had died in separate car crashes, her jaw dropped.

“That’s unbelievable,” she said.

Another person overheard our conversation and was obviously uncomfortable with my honesty. This is not the first time this has happened. Years ago, I had a similar experience. I answered a question honestly and a guest commented, “Please don’t spoil the party.” She was partially right. There is a time and place to tell your story, but sometimes you tell it because you are surprised or caught off-guard.

You have a story to tell. But Vamik D. Vokan, MD, and Elizabeth Zintl, in their book “Life After Loss,” say the American culture prohibits the expression of grief. “We are a culture of death deniers,” they write. Death deniers, which may include family members and friends, do not want any connection with your pain. Yet you must tell your story in order to cope, do your grief work, and create a new life.

Grief changes you forever. Not telling your story is to deny your identity and life experience. Though you are temporarily lost in the darkness, telling your story helps you find your way through grief. At least, that is my experience after losing four loved ones in nine months. If you are like me, you may have wondered how long you should tell your story.

Tell your story until you can do it without sobbing. In other words, you are starting to accept loss. Judith Viorst writes about this in her book, “Necessary Losses.” Some mourn quietly, she explains, while others mourn vocally. We experience terror, tears, and terrible emotions. “In our own different ways, having managed someow to work our way through our confrontations and unacceptable losses, we can begin to come to the end of mourning.”

Tell your story until you can idenfity feelings. Repeating your story will help you identify confusion, anger, frustration, and stress. You may also recognize feelings of aloneness and abandonment. I didn’t realize how worried I was about money until I wrote an article about tracking down my deceased daughter’s assets. Getting feelings out in the open helps you cope with them.

Tell your story until it gets shorter. Your story will change over time. Though it still includes the basics — cause of death, memorial service, secondary losses, and other facts — you start to condense your story. Surprising as it seems now, the time will come when you can summarize your story in a few sentences. This is a sign of reconciliation.

Tell your story until you start to see progress. Humor may start to creep back into your story. The results of your grief work become apparent. You may use more positive words. Repeating your story will help you reinvent yourself. Today, I give talks about grief to help others. How long should you tell your story? As long as you need to, and then hold it close to your heart.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

The post When to Tell – and Not Tell – Your Grief Story appeared first on Open to Hope.

I taught school for a dozen years and loved every one of them. But the day came when I realized I had done everything I could with my job and had no more to give. To keep myself creative, I started writing articles for educational magazines and several were published. The idea of becoming a writer intrigued me, so I gave the school several months notice and quit my job to pursue this new career.

Quitting teaching was a hard decision — a grieving decision — and every time I drove past the school, tears welled up in my eyes. Now I understand that I was going through anticipatory grief, a feeling of loss before a death or dreaded event occurs. One career had ended and the other was uncertain. Though some may not identify it, everyone goes though anticipatory grief.

You may have feelings of loss long before your child leaves for college. An impending divorce may cause emotional upheaval and grief. A job transfer to another city may cause you to grieve for the home and community you have come to love. Anticipatory grief is powerful, so powerful it can literally change your life. What are the symptoms?

Denial is one of them. Even if you sense you are grieving, you may push sad thoughts to the back of your mind. Nervousness is another symptoms and you are on constant alert. This nervousness may develop into anxiety and dread. Long-term anticipatory grief can lead to crying spells, mood swings, anger and depression.

Anticipatory grief does not arrive at the door like an isolated package. While you are grieving, you may also be dealing with a variety of issues, such as getting ready to move. No wonder you are forgetful. Because you are swamped, you may eat on the run or snack instead of eating balanced meals. Sleep problems keep you awake at night and your days may become a study in fatigue.

Anticipatory grief differs from post-death grief in several ways. One difference is the inability to predict when it will end. Another difference is the mixture of sorrow and hope. You feel sorrow, yet continue to hope things will turn out all right.

Meghan O’Rouke writes about “The True Nature of Mourning” in an April, 2009 issue of “The Week.” As common as grief is, O’Rouke notes that it is difficult to confront it. In a culture that tends to hide grief and lacks mourning rituals, she says, “We want to achieve emotional recovery.” Fortunately, there are things you can do to help yourself.

Be alert to the symptoms of anticipatory grief. Eat balanced meals and go to bed at the same time each night. Whether they are spoken or written, express your feelings with words. Share your feelings with a trusted relative or friend. Slowly, step-by-step, work on building your healing path.

Painful as it is, anticipatory grief helps you to discover your true self. Indeed, you may evolve into a new person, someone you did not know before and want to know better now. You are a work in progress and so is anticipatory grief.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Anticipatory Grief Can Help You Find Your True Self appeared first on Open to Hope.

Death makes us examine life. We ask: How did this happen? Why did it happen to me? How will I go on? As we struggle to find answers, we must deal with daily tasks — grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry, paying bills and home repairs. What a bummer.

I had many questions after my daughter and father-in-law died the same weekend in 2007. More questions came to mind when my brother and former son-in-law died several months later. Though I didn’t find all the answers, I found new ways to cope. You may be doing this now.

Laura T. Becker, PhD, writes about finding the meaning of loss in the October 2009 issue of “ADEC Forum,” newsletter of the Association for Death Education and Counseling. In her article, “Pushed to the Limits of Our Fragility: Religion and Rebuilding the Shattered Assumptive World,” Becker says the bereaved cope in many ways. Some of us hide our distress, some of us show it, and some of us struggle to adapt.

“People coping with loss or trauma often feel compelled to make sense of the circumstances, thereby finding ‘meaning’ in the event,” she writes. Becker sees meaning-making as a process that requires reappraising identity, adopting new identities, and finding new roles. Each mourner makes his or her life diagram, according to Becker, based on their experience and self-understanding.

I examined my life after losing four loved ones within nine months. Or, as my neighbor put it, “You need a reason to get up in the morning.” What was my reason? Life answered the question for me. My daughter’s death and former son-in-law’s death made me a GRG, grandparent raising grandchildren, and this is my new life mission.

Spending more time with my husband is another mission. I also made a conscious decision to keep writing, for giving up writing would feel like another death in the family. Volunteering in the community is another reason I get up in the morning. What are your reasons?

They may differ from mine, yet we share the common journey of grief. To figure out why you need to get up in the morning, you need to face some truths.

* Grief is work. You cannot reconcile grief until you do your grief work. Part of this work is accepting the finality of loss.
* Grief is pain. Allowing yourself to feel pain will help you get through grief and past it.
* Grief is scary. “Can I survive this?” you ask. The only way to find out is to muster your courage and move forward.
* Grief is sacred. According to Becker, “Religion increases well-being through the defense against stress.” Life and death are sacred. Your religious and spiritual beliefs make you aware of this.
* Grief is searching. As you search for meaning, you search for your new self, a person who has experienced pain, faced it, and accepted it. You are glad to be alive because you have reasons to get up each morning.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Finding a Reason to Get Up in the Morning appeared first on Open to Hope.

Finally, I realized I was grieving for family members in the order they died. Months passed and I knew I was making progress, but stability eluded me, and I was on constant alert for more tragedy. What is stability?

The “Dictionary of Psychology” contains several definitions and one is “the personality characteristic of being relatively free from radical changes in mood.” That it was I wanted and, thankfully, I found it. I think stability and balance are personal goals and we can manage our lives to achieve them. Grief didn’t stop me from envisioning a future and setting new goals.

Bob Deits discusses goals in his book, “Life After Loss: A Practical Guide to Renewing Your Life After Experiencing Major Loss.” He advises mourners to set seven-day, ninety-day, and one-year goals. Choose one goal from each group, Deits continues, and write down how you will know you have achieved it. Doing this will make you feel more in control of your life.

As you cross off goals, you may wonder if they will restore balance to your life. Natalie A. Gahrmann, in her MomMD website article, “A Balanced Life,” says balance comes from being whole and complete. She offers these tips for restoring balance:
1. Focus on your priorities.
2. Get organized.
3. Be flexible.
4. Create daily routines.
5. Establish support networks.
6. Simplify your life.

Gahrmann’s suggestions are for work-life balance, but they may be applied to grief recovery. You can identify your top priority. With help from family members, you can get organized. Grief has forced you to be flexible and you may as well go with the flow. If you have a daily routine, stick with it. Tap your existing support network and, if you don’t have one, get help from your religious community or other support services. Take steps to simplify your life.

Ever since we married, my husband and I have worked as a team and we approached grief the same way. But organization was a problem because we were dealing with four estates. Still, we kept plugging along and doing the required legal work. I stuck to our routine, serving meals at the usual times and going to bed at the same time. I turned to friends for help and received more than I dreamed. As for simplifying my life, I did what I thought was necessary and let the rest go.

These steps gave me a sense of peace they can do the same for you. Don’t give up. Take care of yourself and, if life is too chaotic, get professional help. Life is dark now, but there is light ahead, and happiness is waiting for you.

Copyright 2010 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Restoring Balance After the Death of a Loved One appeared first on Open to Hope.

For months, the image of my daughter, laughing in the sunshine, was clear in my mind.  I saw it again and again.  As time passed, however, the image began to fade.  Sidney Zisook, MD, talks about mental pictures in an Audio-Digest Website article, “Grief, Bereavement, and Depression.”

Mental images of a deceased loved one are attachment images, according to Zisook.  “Humans have mental representations of important people in their lives,” he explains.  These images often appear at stressful times and “do not change quickly in response to death.”  I have many mental images of my daughter, images of her as a baby, walking toddler, Girl Scout, college student, composite engineer, MBA, and loving parent.

Still, the image I see most is the one of her laughing with her children.    According to “Bereavement and Loss,” an article on the Breathing Space Scotland Website, the mental image of a deceased loved one “preoccupies the bereaved.  In some cases, it is as though the person was still present and adds somewhat to the denial of loss.”

Denying loss was impossible for me.  Eight weeks after my daughter and father-in-law died on the same weekend, my brother had a heart attack and died.  Then, in November, my former son-in-law died from the injuries he received in another car crash.  There was no way to deny the deaths of four loved ones within nine months.

You probably have mental images of the deceased and one particular image you see often.  This image may be starting to fade.  At this point in their grief journey, many people enlarge photos of the deceased and frame them.  I haven’t done this.  When I want to see pictures of my daughter I look at photo albums and electronic photos.

M. Katherine Shear, Professor of Psychiatry at Columbia University School of Social Work, discussed attachment figures in a University of Pittsburgh speech.  According to Shear, attachment figures are people we want to be close to, people who offer support and confidence.  “A death of any attachment figure changes your life,” she said.  “The result of bereavement is intense yearning and longing, preoccupation with thoughts and memories . . .”

Can you do anything positive with the mental images of deceased loved ones?  That is the question I asked.  A visual person and word person, I decided to describe my daughter’s image in words.  The first word is happy and this comforts me.  The second word is family and this comforts me, too.

Every day, I see my daughter’s face in her children, the 17 ½-year-old twins my husband and I are raising.

Fading images of a loved one can be worrisome, but they show you are moving forward with life.  You are thinking more about the present than the past.  Though some images fade, you will always have memories of your loved one and the happy memories and values you shared.  These are the building blocks of your future.

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When my brother died in the spring of 2007, I barely had time to mourn him. Our elder daughter — mother of our twin grandchildren — had died four months earlier. My father-in-law died the same weekend and we were swamped with tasks. We were also doing all we could to nurture our grandchildren — children who were now without a mother.

Grief was still raw when my brother had a heart attack and died. Apparently, he had survived cancer treatment, but his heart had not. We attended the memorial service on Long Island, flew home, and tried to put our lives back together. Our former son-in-law had moved in with the twins and things were going pretty well until he was killed in another car crash.

Our grandchildren moved in with us and we became their legal guardians. Though I sometimes thought about my brother, most of my thoughts were about raising teenagers. So I was surprised last summer when I started to grieve for him. I grieved for his death and our severed relationship. My brother had severed the relationship, and I did not hear from him for 10 years.

My brother was an expert sailor and I thought about sailing on Long Island Sound in the summer time. One afternoon, we were overcome by a cloud of tiny bugs swirling over the water. Since we couldn’t change tack (other boats were close by), we sailed through them, and tried to keep the bugs out of our eyes.

At six feet four inches tall, my brother was a perfect candidate for the high school track team. He concentrated on hurdles and practiced jumping in our driveway. I would see his head “bouncing” by the dining room window, with a determined expression on his face. With a smile, I remembered the time he loaned me his flashy yellow car to drive to Boston and show off to my college friends.

Our personalities were very different, yet we were brother and sister. I did not know why he severed our relationship, but had an inkling. Now he was gone and our broken relationship could not be mended. Even on the sunny, warm days of summer I felt a bit melancholy. Ten years of life had been wasted and I could not bring them back.

Grief is more than mourning the death of a loved one. It can also include mourning a broken relationship. You may have memories of a similar relationship and, like me, are stuck with these memories. What can we do? Despite broken relationships and words we wished had not said, we can still honor our loved ones.

We can remember happy times and let the rest go.

This spring, when the air is warm again, I will donate books to the public library in memory of my brother. He was an avid reader and so am I. Small as my donation will be, it is a way to honor him, and foster something he loved so much. Think about the ways you could honor your loved one. Pick one that touches your heart and act upon it.

Copyright 2008 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Honor the Deceased, Even if Relationship Was Broken appeared first on Open to Hope.

How am I going to honor my daughter’s life?

First, I am going to focus on thankfulness for having her in my life.  She became a composite engineer, had five additional engineering certificates, earned her MBA, and was supervising thee production lines for a Minnesota manufacturing company when she died.  Shipping generators to Iraq was one of the last things she did.

Second, I am going to enjoy my twin grandchildren.  My daughter did an excellent job of teaching them our family values: education, hard work, honesty, giving back.  The twins are high school seniors, straight A students, and researching colleges.  Being their guardian has changed my life.  When they leave for college my husband and I will be empty nesters again and it will be painful.

Third, I will try to be a role model for my grandchildren.  The twins have lived with us for two and a half years.  Though the kids share few personal thoughts, they are keen observers.  They know I love to cook, love to write, and have a caregiving type of personality.  “You care more about other people’s birthdays than your own,” my granddaughter observed.

Fourth, I will appreciate the miracle of life.  After four loved ones died within nine months, it was all I could do to get through a day.  I didn’t celebrate the miracle of life.  But this day is mine – a day of reflection, a day of gratefulness, a day to celebrate the miracle of my daughter’s life and our grandchildren.  As Margaret Mead once said, “The closest friends I have made all through live have been people who also grew up close to a loved and loving grandmother or grandfather.”

So I will celebrate my daughter’s life by loving her children even more.

The post Celebrating My Deceased Daughter’s Birthday appeared first on Open to Hope.

Packing up an entire house is a monumental task.  After talking with our grandchildren, the family decided to give the contents of the house to Rushford, Minn., flood relief.  We packed the kitchen first, then moved on to the family room, living room, and bedrooms.  The garage was the last area to be cleared.  “This is my favorite house,” Helen had said.  “I just love it.”

We listed the house with a top realtor.  Our daughter had started to finish the lower level and we carried out her plans, transforming the cave-like area into a bedroom, office, media room, and bathroom.  Even with a drastic price reduction (the buyer gets the lower level for free), nobody has been interested in the house, and it has been on the market for a year and a half.

The home that brought our daughter so much happiness has become a constant worry.  Three weeks ago, we had torrential rain and the lower level flooded.  The laminate floor buckled, the baseboards were ruined, and water was wicking up the walls.  According to the insurance agent, many basements had flooded and repair services were scarce.  He recommended a restoration company and the crew came within an hour.

They pumped out the water and set up huge fans and a dehumidifier.  An insurance adjuster looked at the damage and, within minutes, handed my husband a check for the maximum amount the policy allowed.  “Don’t even try to save the floor,” he advised.  “Replace it.”  Unfortunately, he thought the repair costs would exceed the amount of the check.

A plumber identified the source of the leak as a stuck valve in the sump pump and repaired it.  The restoration crew removed the damaged flooring, baseboards, and plasterboard.   We were pleased with the quality of their work and progress.  When I walked into the media room, I saw a red heart on the floor.

“Helen probably painted that,” I said, and cried.  We asked the twins about the heart and they said the man our daughter had planned to marry had painted it when he was helping her seal the basement walls with rubberized paint.  The painted heart was a symbol of their love and the future they would share.  It was all so sad.

Carpet can be picked up and cleaned, so we are installing it on the lower level.  Though the carpet will cover the heart, it will always be visible in my mind.  It is a grief marker, a reminder of sorrow and, more important, of love and happiness.  The painted heart is painted on my heart and it will be there as long as I live.

The post Symbol of Hope Among the Ruins: The Painted Heart appeared first on Open to Hope.

Nana made candied orange peel every year. Dishes of this sweet treat appeared at the Thanksgiving table and Christmas dinner. In fact, the holidays would not be the same without this candy.  After Nana died, my elder daughter continued the tradition, until she died two years ago. She was the mother of our only grandchildren — fraternal twins — and life is different without her.

Christmas was my daughter’s favorite time of year. My granddaughter loves it too, and puts up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. “Grandma, can we make candied orange peel?” she asked.

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll find the recipe.”

I had made the candy before, but had trouble finding the recipe. Finally, I reached for Nana’s reliable text, “The Boston Cooking School Cook Book.” Candied orange peel was listed in the index and, when I turned to the page, it was covered with pale orange drips. Yes, Nana had “been there” and made the recipe countless times.

The recipe calls for the rind of four oranges, cooked slowly in boiling water. After the rind is soft, it is cut into strips and cooked in sugar water and corn syrup. Cooled rind is dipped in sugar or melted chocolate. Since Nana had a sweet tooth, she did both. Nana did a lot of snacking while she was making the candy.

A newer version of “The Good Housekeeping Cookbook” contains a similar recipe, only it is more elaborate. Orange rind is cooked once in boiling water for 15 minutes. The peel is drained and boiled again. Softened peel is dipped in sugar and lemon gelatin. Though I have not made the recipe, it sounds too sweet for me. Which recipe should I make with my grandaughter?

Of course, it has to be Nana’s recipe. I can almost see her cutting the peel into little triangles and licking chocolate from her fingers. Food links generations together and my granddaughter’s request came from memories of her mother’s holiday baking. Making candied orange peel will link us with her and Nana and our memories will be sweet.

Do you need a small gift for someone? This recipe is a great gift. I dip the peel in chocolate only, but you may follow Nana’s example and roll it in sugar as well. Here is the family recipe, just in time for the holidays.

Ingredients

4 navel oranges

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup water

2 tablespoons corn syrup

1 package semisweet chocolate chips

Method

Make four slits in each orange with a sharp knife. Peel the oranges and refrigerate the fruit. Remove any white parts from the peel with a spoon. Put the peels in a large saucepan. Add sugar, water, and corn syrup. Cook over low heat until the peel is translucent, or until a candy thermometer registers 230 degrees. Cool the peel on nonstick aluminum foil or parchment paper. Cut the peel into strips. Melt chocolate chips in a double boiler. Dip the candy in the warm chocolate, coating one half of each piece of candy. Cool until chocolate has set. Store in tightly covered container.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Holiday Treats Stir Up Memories of Loved Ones appeared first on Open to Hope.

But my blood pressure was dangerously high. A nurse took a reading just before I saw my doctor. “Your blood pressure is 200,” she said, “and that’s not good.”

My doctor took another reading after my exam and the number was even higher. “We have to get you on medication right away,” she said. “Fill these prescriptions on the way home.” She asked if I could identify the causes of high blood pressure.

“Two years of non-stop stress have caught up with me,” I replied. I cited some of the causes of stress: losing four loved ones (including my daughter) within nine months; dozens of secondary losses; not selling my daughter’s house; raising my twin grandchildren; compiling guardianship reports for the court; and the challenge of getting my grandchildren through college and graduate school. No wonder I was stressed.

Health experts refer to hypertension as the “silent killer.” Mayo Clinic describes its dangers in a website article, “High Blood Pressure.” The effects of hypertension are alarming and include damage to the cells of your arteries’ inner lining, heart damage, heart attack, mini stroke (transient ischemic attack), stroke, brain damage, kidney failure, and damage to your eye vessels.

When I read this list, I became even more anxious. Thankfully, the medications my doctor prescribed started to work immediately. In two weeks, I will see my doctor again and she will evaluate my treatment plan.

There are things you and I can do to lower our pressure. First, we can exercise regularly. I’m going to re-activate my walking program, which dwindled in the last few months. Second, we can carve out more time for ourselves. This is hard to do if you are grieving for multiple losses or caring for children. We can substitute herbs for salt. If we think a recipe needs salt, we can add the low-sodium kind. Keeping a blood pressure diary is also helpful and many drug stores have free pressure machines.

“High blood pressure can occur in children or adults,” notes the American Heart Association. “It’s particularly prevalent in African Americans, middle-age and elderly people, obese people and heavy drinkers.”

Mourners face many challenges — planning the memorial service, disposing of a loved one’s possessions, tending to financial matters, protecting children, protecting themselves, and dealing with unforeseen secondary losses. Stir these ingredients together and you may have high blood pressure. There are people who need you, so take care of yourself.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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I had guilt feelings after four loved ones died within nine months. My elder daughter was the first family member to die and, though she and her twins came for dinner every Sunday, I wished I had spent more time with her.

Two days after she died, my father-in-law died. He had dementia, and caring for him became increasingly difficult. I had conflicting feelings. While I wished I had done more for him, I was pleased with the things I had done. Four months after his passing, my brother died. His death was a double blow because we had been estranged for 10 years. I mourned his death and the time we wasted.

So I didn’t just have guilty feelings, I had guilty feelings times four. Believe me, grief is a hard enough journey without guilt. Grief counselor Phyllis M. Hansen, MSW, addresses guilt in her article, “Is Grief Work?” It is work, according to Hansen, and you can find hope again by doing it. Her article includes 10 grief work tasks and one is conquering guilty feelings. “If only I had . . . grief games are non-productive,” she points out, because they are “out of proportion” to reality.

Carol R. Doss, PhD describes guilt in a Family Counseling Website article, “Guilt — A Pointless Exercise?” She defines guilt as “a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense.” Guilt isn’t a one-size-fits-all emotion, according to Doss, and “it’s the imagined part that makes this emotion so problematic.”

It didn’t take me long to realize that guilt wasn’t useful. I could not go backwards in time and rehash issues, nor can you. The only option is to get on with life. Or as Doss puts it, “Let non-productive guilt go . . .” You and I have the mental power to face guilt, temper it, and apply this energy to other things.

When I had guilty thoughts about my brother, I balanced them with humorous ones, such as the time my mother drove into the front porch. Until that moment, she had been doing pretty well with her driving lessons. She wasn’t hurt and the porch wasn’t either, but we felt the force of the collision. My brother opened the door and called, “Did you knock?” Only he would come up with a line like that!

“Guilt . . . If Only . . . What if?” is an article on the Healing Heart Website. Many mourners have guilt feelings, the article says, and “guilt is not usually satisfied with explanations.” You can spend hours searching for explanations and not feel better. A better approach is to “get” guilt before it “gets” you.

First, identify guilt feelings and accept them for what they are — part of grief. Focus on happy, humorous memories, as I did. Accept the fact that life will always have unanswered questions. Getting intellectually involved in hobbies, volunteer work, or classes will also help you get rid of guilt. Instead of devoting energy to guilt, devote it to living the miracle of your life.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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In February of 2007, our daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash.  Two days later, my father-in-law died.  Last summer, the remaining relatives moved to Wisconsin.  Others are going to move there as well.  Support was disappearing right before our eyes, and we felt very alone.

Apparently other people are in the same situation.  A friend of mine said her support system was failing fast.  “So many relatives and friends have died we don’t know who to call,” she commented.  “We went to a party last week and didn’t know anyone.”

Judy Tatelbaum discusses limited support systems in her book, “The Courage to Grieve.”  As she observes, “Many of us do not involve ourselves socially much beyond our immediate families and work.”  She goes on to say, “Thus, we deprive ourselves of much of the extensive environmental support that would benefit us.”

Clearly, we needed a new support system.  Putting a new system together sounds easy, but it hasn’t been easy for us.  In his book, “Life After Loss,” Bob Deits includes practical advice for creating a support system and it begins with a list of names and phone numbers.

“By writing down this information and keeping it by your telephone, you don’t have to remember names or telephone numbers in an emergency or when you are distraught,” he notes.  “It is also a way of beginning to take charge of life again.”  This list could include the name of a minister, priest, or rabbi.

We started our list with our remaining daughter’s name and phone number.  She lives in a Minneapolis suburb and could be here in an hour-and-a-half.  Who else could we call?  Following Deits’ advice, we added the church office number and our minister’s home phone number to the list.

At church one day, I shared my concerns about our support system with a neighbor.  She is a physician and lives up the street from us.  “You can always call me,” she said.  So far, so good, but we still needed more names for our list.

Since our daughter died, her best friend has invited me for coffee several times.  Her invitations always had a purpose, and the last time we were together she offered reassurance.  “If anything happens to either of you, call me right away,” she said.  “Bud and I are always ready to help.”  Her kindness made me want to cry.

Name by name, our new support system began to take shape.  We’re trying to get out more and continue to volunteer in our community.  These social connections and volunteer efforts could provide support in the future.  Grief is a challenging time, yet it gives you a chance to shore up your support, fill in the gaps, and create a new system.  Knowing help is at hand is comforting and you’ll sleep better at night.

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We were driving buddies. Driving can be dangerous when you’re grieving.  When we needed to go to the store, church, or social event, my husband and I always drove together.  One of us was the driver and the other was the “spotter,” looking for speeding cars and cars that ran stop signs – something that has become common in our community.  The driving buddy system kept us safe.

We were health buddies. Seven years ago, my husband had life-threatening surgery for a dissected aorta.  He survived the surgery and takes a variety of medications to stay healthy. But often, in the early stages of grief, he would forget to take his medicine and I would have to remind him.  He reminds me about my medications, too.

We were crying buddies. American society thinks “real men” don’t cry, but my husband didn’t care, and many times, especially when he went to check on our daughter’s house, he would break down.  “I always feel better after crying,” he said.  When I cried for an entire day his response was, “Good for you.”

We were comfort buddies. Eight weeks after my daughter and father-in-law died, my brother had a heart attack and died.  My husband comforted me, and I continued to comfort him.  We’ve always been close and comforting each other had drawn us even closer.

We were grief trigger buddies. Grief triggers – the first anniversary of loss, your loved one’s birthday, and holidays – can cause renewed feelings of grief.  We prepared for these days by sharing feelings, planning activities, and connecting with relatives.  Friends also served as grief trigger buddies.

We were planning buddies.  Neither of us expected to be raising teenagers at this time of life.  But here we are, listening to rock music, learning teen slang, getting updates on teen fashions and homecoming customs.  We have made careful plans for our grandchildren’s education and future.  If they want to go to graduate school, we will make that happen.

Grief is confusing and I encourage you to think about getting a grief buddy.  Your buddy may be your spouse, a dear friend, someone who is also grieving, or a member of your church.  The buddy system helps to protect you and keep you safe.  Having someone at your side also makes the grief journey easier.

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I also worried about myself and my new role of GRG – grandparent raising grandchildren.  Grief worries can take over your life.  I didn’t want that to happen to me, so I made a list of questions that pull me back to the moment.

My list may help you.

The first question: Am I living the moment?  This is the crucial question.  If I’m not living the moment, then I ask succeeding questions.  No other questions are necessary if I’m paying attention to the moment.  Asking yourself this question makes you more aware of life.

The next question: What is the gist of the conversation?  In the early stages of grief, when shock was debilitating, I could barely follow a conversation, let alone contribute to it.  You may have had the same experience.  This question promotes attentive listening.

Question three: What was the last point made?  Again, this question makes you pay close attention to conversation, especially if several people have made comments about the topic.  Answering this question doesn’t prevent me – or you – from speaking.

Question four: What is surprising about this moment?  My office looks out over the yard and nature is an ongoing surprise.  Leaves are starting to fall from the 200-year old oak trees in the yard.  Deer (sometimes herds of them) wander by.  One morning, I saw a mother deer and her newborn baby.  Nature’s surprising moments inspire me and ground me.

Question five:  Is there something new in this moment?  You may have been promoted, or been blessed with a new grandchild, or just learned friends are coming to visit.  Surprises add richness to our days and we need to embrace them.

Another question I ask: What are the benefits of this moment?  You can make a new friend in a moment or feel overcome with love.  While each moment of life can have benefits, the most important thing is that you’re here, living the miracle of life.

The last question can’t be answered quickly: How can I make a difference?

You can help others even though you’re grieving.  Call a friend and thank him or her for their support.  You may donate money to a national health organization.  Life is more beautiful – achingly beautiful – when you pull yourself back to the moment and savor it.

The post As You’re Grieving: Seven Questions to Ask Yourself appeared first on Open to Hope.

The bed was white and had small, fleur-de-lis decorations.  These were nice, but the most unusual part of the bed was the mattress, which had a picture of a bed bug in the middle and the words vermin proof.  I told my husband I had married him for better or worse, but not for the vermin-proof mattress.  We bought a new mattress and box spring from a local factory.

The bed has been with us through every move.  I slept in it when I was pregnant with my elder daughter.  Years later, after we bought bedroom furniture, we gave the bed to her and she used it for years.   She grew up, went to college, married and had fraternal twins.  Though we thought of giving her the bed, we kept it for our guest room.

Despite its age, the bed was probably the most comfortable one in the house.  Guests who slept in it always had a good night’s sleep.  We renovated the bathroom to create a guest suite and I bought a white night stand and new blue and white bedding.  The room looked like a picture in a magazine.

Fast-forward to 2007, the year my elder daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash.  In response to this tragedy, my former son-in-law moved into the twins’ house and agreed to live with them until they graduated from high school.  He lived there for nine months and then died from the injuries he received in a car crash.

The twins moved in with us and we were appointed as their guardians.  My grandson sleeps in his mother’s wood-frame bed with an electronically controlled mattress.  My granddaughter sleeps in the antique iron bed and uses her mother’s antique chest of drawers.  A few weeks ago, she told us the mattress sagged so badly she couldn’t sleep.  “I love my cozy bed!” she exclaimed.

We promised to buy her a new mattress and box spring.  When we did the math, we realized the mattress and box spring were 52 years old.  Could it be?  During our marriage, we lived in many states, and finally returned to Rochester, Minnesota, my husband’s home town.  As we had done decades ago, we purchased a mattress and box spring from the local factory.

Thank goodness the factory is still in business, because all of the brand-name mattresses and box springs are too large, and the set had to be custom-made.  Though the mattress is still a bit hard, my granddaughter loves her cozy bed.  “Grandpa and I bought you a new mattress and box spring because you love the bed,” I explained.  “When you leave us, you may want to take it with you.”  My granddaughter didn’t say anything, yet I could see what she was thinking.

Linking items – a loved one’s shirt, favorite chair, or bed – can comfort mourners.  Grief experts call these items “transitional objects.”  My granddaughter misses her mother and she will always miss her.  But I think she feels close to her mother when she curls up, snuggles under the quilt, and goes to sleep in her cozy bed.

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Four months ago my daughter was killed in a car crash. Her sudden death on a snowy night stunned her 15-year-old twins and sent shock waves through the entire family. Many of us are still in shock. I know I am. One moment, I know my daughter is gone. The next moment, I can’t believe it.

Nobody can grieve for me and I am working hard on recovery. But my grief flares when well-meaning friends say, “Last year was a hard one for you.” Last year? It has only been four months since my daughter died. When friends say this they are expressing caring and the fact that their lives have moved on. Though my life is moving forward, it is moving at a much slower pace.

Time is different when you’re grieving.

My daughter was killed on the 23rd day of the month and I don’t like to see that number on the calendar. I think of my daughter hundreds of times a day. Time goes backwards on the 23rd of each month. In my mind I see pictures of my daughter as a baby, toddler, elementary, high school and college student. Most of all, I think about the things my daughter accomplished in her short life and hope she knew she had “made it.”

Time goes backwards when I see the gifts my daughter bought for me. Each one was chosen with care. Some, like an embroidered apron, were made with love. When the twins gave my husband his birthday present, an astronomy book my daughter bought for him months ago, time went backwards again. His pleasure in the book was clear and so was his grief.

In the middle of the night time often stands still. I awaken from a sound sleep and realize I am crying. Once I am awake I’m awake for several hours. Disjointed thoughts come to mind: memories of our last Christmas together, working together at the church rummage sale, and the talks we shared. Though time is passing I feel stuck in time.

Time inches forward again when I am with the twins. They still come for dinner every Sunday because that is what their mother would have wanted. She started the tradition and my husband and I and my former son-in-law, want to continue it. Painful as it is, we tell stories about my daughter — the twins’ mother — and her joy in being a parent.

What will the future bring? Though I can’t predict future time, I know these things. I will savor every day of my life, every moment with my husband, and every moment with my grandchildren. The best gift I can give them is the gift of my time. For the hours I spend with my grandchildren will help them remember their mother and the life skills she gave them.

Time is different when you’re grieving. Thankfully, healing comes with the passage of time.

Copyright 2007 by Harriet Hodgson

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The choir was designated as the recipient of our church donation. I had been a choir member for more than 20 years and thought the money would be used for sheet music. The co-director of music had a better idea — a commissioned song in her memory.

I loved this idea. Music has always been part of my life and I thought a choral piece would comfort and uplift others.

I have belonged to several church choirs and one community choir. Singing taught me about the power of music. The Relaxation Emporium Website published an article about this power, “Music: A Powerful Relaxation Tool,” by Duane Shinn. While music therapy is not new, Shinn says the healing power of music is just starting to be understood. “How many times have you turned to music to uplift you even further in happy times, or sought the comfort of music when melancholy strikes?” he asks.

Some music provokes sad emotions, yet listening to it can still be a pleasure. Ben Koen makes this point in “The Problem of Negative Emotions,” published on the Ohio State University School of Music Website. His article cites some of the current research about sad music and responses to it. “How music can evoke a pleasant-sad emotional response and why people would seek a sad emotion in music is not totally resolved,” concludes Koen.

Who would compose the song in memory of our daughter? The co-director of music contacted Elizabeth Alexander, a well-known Minnesota composer, and she emailed us several poems to consider for the lyrics. All of the poems were depressing. Alexander sent us several other poems, among them, “A Litany of Remembrance” by Roland B. Gittelsohn. The lyrics were perfect.

Months passed, and we continued to do our grief work. Meantime, Alexander was doing her work, and finished the song sooner than expected.

Last night, I heard it for the first time. The title, “We Remember Them,” is the poem’s refrain. Though the sight reading wasn’t perfect, the choir members heard the beauty and power of the song. Alexander has a dramatic key change at the end, a double forte that sent chills down my spine. I thought to myself, “She nailed it.” Gittelsohn’s last line also nails it — “So long as we live, they too shall live, for they are now part of us . . .”

You may wish to honor your departed loved one with special music. A friend of mine had an organ concert at church in her husband’s memory, for example. If you decide to commission a song, relatives may willing to help with the cost. A family picnic and sing-along is another way to honor your loved one. Music lingers in our minds and helps us to remember loved ones. We can continue to sing their song.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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My father-in-law made many close friends during his 98 years of life. So many of those friends died that my father-in-law became known as the “last man standing.” At first, Dad would get really upset when a close friend died. After losing dozens of friends his response changed. “He (or she) was a wonderful person,” he would say, and then he would change the subject.

Life taught Dad how to cope with death.

Karen Callinan writes about coping with a friend’s death in “Facing the Death of Friends,” published on the American Catholic website. Coping with death is always hard and Callinan says “sharing the burden of sadness lightens the load.” You need to talk about your loss, she continues, but not all the time.

In her book, “When a Bough Breaks,” Judith R. Bernstein, PhD, talks about the affects of age on coping skills. The bereavement experience strengthens mourners, Bernstein notes. “A number of parents who are older . . . aren’t sure whether to attribute their newfound strength and greater courage to the toughening power of surviving hell or the process of maturing over time.”

I think my father-in-law experienced both. He lived through hellish experiences, such as sudden death, and had the maturity to accept this blow and move forward with life. You could say Dad had “paid his dues.” As Bernstein explains, “They [mourners] see that the end product of their grief-work is that they become more definitive in what they value.”

At the end of his life, all Dad talked about was family. Still, he continued to remember his friends by telling stories about them. Dad was a marvelous story-teller, and many of his stories were about fishing. At the end of a story, Dad would sit quietly for a minute or two, and then his thoughts returned to the present.

He was able to do this despite his progressive dementia. I marvel at his ability, for there are times when I bring my thoughts back to the present by sheer force of will. This is understandable after losing four loved ones, including my elder daughter, within nine months. So I continue to work on “living the moment” and I think Dad did, too.

Maybe your dear friend just died. How can you cope? Talking about your friendship is one of the best ways. You may also explore your thoughts in a good-bye letter. Donating money to in honor of your friend is another way to cope. And you may volunteer for a sports team or youth group in memory of your friend.

The last coping tip I have for you is the hardest — forming new relationships. Bob Deits writes about this in his book, “Life After Loss: A Practical Guide to Renewing Your Life After Experiencing Major Loss.” Though his suggestion pertains to recovering from the death of a child, spouse, or parent, it applies to friendship as well. Making new friends can be a way to honor the deceased. It shows “you are ready to release your attachment so you can move on,” Deits writes, “to open new doors to a life for yourself.”

The death of a dear friend is a shattering experience. Put yourself back together by making new friends, volunteering, donating money, writing a good-bye letter, and telling stories. You may also record your thoughts in a journal. Your dear friend is gone, yet he or she will always be part of your life.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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Thanks to life experience, grief research, and my writing career, I understood her description. But I did not understand it fully until four of my loved ones died within nine months. The pain of these losses was searing. Listening to my inner voice, or soul, helped me to cope.

For two years, I was in close touch with my inner voice. Then it started to fade. Clearly, I needed to recharge my spirit. How could I do it? As I usually do, I researched the topic. People have different names for their inner voice. Some refer to it as God within them. Others call it the soul or inner voice. Still others call it intuition.

Claudette Rowley, MSW, CPPS, describes intuition in her article, “Five Pathways to Your Inner Voice,” published on he Metavoice Website. She thinks gut feelings contain a wealth of information. “Remember, your intuition is never wrong,” she notes, “although your interpretation of it may be incorrect.” When intuition calls, Rowley says you should trust it.

I also read an article by Sharon Kelly West, RN, published in the April 2009 issue of “The Forum,” the printed newsletter of the Association for Death Education and Counseling. Her article, ‘”Sharon, do you know who we are?'” is about cultural awareness in end-of-life nursing. According to West, three principles are essential to culturally appropriate nursing care: look, listen, and feel.

These principles may be applied to grief and I started with the first one. I looked at my relationship with each deceased family member. There were good things, bad things, and things I wished I could change. Next, I listened to my inner voice and it was hard. I had to schedule quiet time, erase extra thoughts from my mind, and focus on one.

Last, I moved on to feelings. Thinking about feelings and memories made me see that pain caused me to lose contact with my inner voice. I had been through so much pain and didn’t want any more. But painful feelings may help us see life more clearly, according to Bettyclare Moffatt, author of “Soulwork: Clearing the Mind, Opening the Heart, Replenishing the Spirit.”

Moffatt tells a story about visiting her cousin’s husband in the hospital. He was recovering from surgery and in pain, so he asked her for a massage. She massaged the non-surgical side of his body and an emotional connection flowed between them. Moffatt left the hospital, got into her car, “and cried old numb, hurt places within me back to life.” Pain made her feel totally alive.

Carol Staudacher writes about recovering from grief in “A Time to Grieve: Meditations for Healing After the Death of a Loved One.” “We cannot discover or heal by the use of minds alone,” she says. “The brain must follow the heart at a respectful distance.” I am doing this. Each day I stop for a few minutes, quiet my thoughts, and listen to my inner voice. I am alive and this day is mine!

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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His death made my twin grandchildren orphans and my husband and I GRGs, grandparents raising grandchildren. Somehow, I had to summon the courage to grieve and raise my grandchildren. There was no time for denial, a common response to death and grief.

Vamik D. Volkan, MD and Elizabeth Zintl write about denial in their book, “Life After Loss: The Lessons of Grief.” They think denial is “a shock absorber that helps us slowly assimilate an awful truth.” My shock absorber worked for a few months and fast forwarded to acceptance, or reconciliation, as some call it.

Alan Wolfelt describes recovery in his article, “Reconciliation.” He defines reconciliation as “the dimension wherein the full reality of the death becomes part of the mourner.” The pain of grief changes from being ever-present, Wolfelt explains, to acknowledgement of loss, with renewed purpose and meaning of life.

Again and again, I’ve been told, “Your story is unbelievable.” How do you believe the unbelievable? Two years have passed since my daughter and father-in-law died the same weekend. Looking back, I can identify some of the steps I took on the road to acceptance.

1. Working on grief. Unfortunately, acceptance does not arrive like a package in the mail. You have to work on it daily. Elizabeth J. Clark, PhD, ACSW, MPH thinks acceptance is the first recovery step. She examines grief in her article, “Grief and Loss — Tip Sheet: Understanding Acute Grief,” published on the Social Workers Help Starts Here Wbsite. Clark says acceptance happens when you realize your loved one [or ones] are gone and nothing can bring them back.

2. Feeling the pain. Thanks to birthdays (I’m a gray-haired grandmother) I know pain is essential to recovery. In fact, recovery (or resolution) does not happen without pain. Therese A. Rando gives suggestions for resolving grief in her book, “How to Go on Living When Someone You Love Dies.” One suggestion is to give oneself permission to feel loss, which is pain, and grieve for deceased loved ones. I felt the pain of loss to the depths of my soul.

3. Facing mortality. Jo Turner, a Family and Consumer Professor at the University of Florida, thinks “everyone needs to come to terms with death.” She makes this point in her Internet article, “The Reality of Death.” Grief helps us to see what is important in our lives, Turner says, and we can “use death to enrich life.” Being responsible for my grandchildren has enriched my life in many ways. I’m not living the life I thought I would be living, I’m living a better life.

4. Setting goals. Since I was a child I’ve been a list-maker, and my lists include goals. When I have reached the goals on one list, I make a new one. Bob Deits, Mth writes about goal-setting in “Life After Loss: A Practical Guide to Renewing Your Life After Experiencing Major Loss.” Deits asks mourners to set short-term, medium-term, and long-term goals. “Share your goals and the dates for completion with a friend who will hold you accountable,” he advises. My husband and I created joint goals and worked on them together.

Death has taught me new things about life. I’m grateful for the gift of life, my devoted husband, grandchildren, supportive family, and writing career. Gratitude has created new life paths and I follow them joyfully. According to Hazelden author Melody Beattie, gratitude has other benefits. “It turns what we have into enough, and more,” she writes. “It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity.”

My clarity: I’m doing what I am supposed to be doing, writing more, loving more, and giving more. I have a good life.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been an independent journalist for 30 years. She is a member of the Society of Journalists and Authors, the Association of Health Care Journalists, and the Association for Death Education and Counseling. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from Amazon.

Centering Corporation in Omaha, Nebraska has published her 26th book, “Writing to Recover: The Journey from Loss and Grief to a New Life.” The company also published a companion resource, the “Writing to Recover Journal,” which contains 100 writing prompts. Please visit Harriet’s Website and learn more about this busy author and grandmother.

The post To Recover From Multiple Losses, Create New Meaning in Life appeared first on Open to Hope.

Colin Murray Parkes writes about time in “All in the End is Harvest.”  He says, “Death may happen in a moment, but grief takes time; and that time is both an ordeal and a blessing.”  Grief work is also an ordeal and a blessing and you must do it in order to recover from loss and move forward with life.

Taking your time helps you do your grief work. What is grief work?  The National Cancer Institute defines it as the “processes that a mourner needs to complete before resuming daily life.”  Grief work is a lonely work and nobody can do it for you.  When you take your journal entries, counseling, support group meetings, creating art work, and memorials.

Taking your time helps you to sort feelings. Grief causes conflicting emotions.  You may have a sense of relief if your loved one was in hospice and you have been expecting his or her death.  On the other hand, you may be angry at God and ask, “Why did this happen to me?”  Kevin Hendry examines feelings in a Forbes Health Foundation article, “Guidelines for Doing Good Grief Work.’  Mourners should honor their feelings, Hendry says, for “your healing will be found at the heart of the whole huge unspeakably intense and disorderly jumble of them all.”

Taking your time increases self-awareness. Daniel Goleman, PhD, discusses self-awareness in his book, “Emotional Intelligence: Why it Can Matter More Than IQ.”  According to Goleman, self-awareness is “ongoing attention to one’s internal states.”  Goldman says self-awareness doesn’t get carried away by emotions, but is present “even amidst turbulent emotions.”  This is good news for mourners.  Despite the pain you are feeling, you may be self-aware and listen to our inner voice.

Taking your time helps you to let go. The Coping Website, a public service of James J. Messina, PhD and Constance M. Messina, PhD, lists the tools for letting go.  The authors think letting go is “a decision to take action that will result in a significant change in your life.”  In order to move forward with life you have to let go of many things:  cause of death, memories, feelings, possessions, events, and more.  Letting go will lift your spirits.

Coming to terms with grief takes time, according to a Grief Watch Website article, “Normal Reactions to Loss: The Mourning Process.” It’s hard to believe now, the day will come when you are aware of the progress you have made and have hope for the future.  “You will be different,” the article notes, “and a ‘healed scar’ will be where the rawness once was.” So take the time you need – minutes, hours, days – to reconcile your grief and create a new life.

Coyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

Harriet Hodgson, BS, MA,  has been an independent journalist for 30 years.  She is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors, the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling.

Harriet was on the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart, discussing Recovery from Grief with hosts Dr. Gloria and Dr. Heidi Horsley.  To hear this show, go to the following link:

www.voiceamericapd.com/health/010157/horsley042309.mp3

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The pub topic came up during a family dinner at a French restaurant.  We were reminiscing about a trip we and our younger daughter had taken to London and the Isle of Man.  I told the story about calling the hotel desk clerk to report the lack of air conditioning and his reply, “It hasn’t worked for 10 years.”  The story sent my daughter into gales of laughter and I laughed with her.

I had ordered scallops, stir fried vegetables, and a glass of white wine.  As I sipped the wine, savored the food, and swapped stories with my daughter, I thought to myself, “This feels so good.”  Our waiter, who had been hovering in the background, asked if I wanted another glass of wine.

“I’m thinking about it,” I replied.  He moved away discreetly and our story-telling continued.

“Mom said we could walk to the Victoria and Albert Museum from our hotel,” my daughter recalled.  “She didn’t tell me it was four miles down and four miles back.  It’s a shock to realize your mother is in better condition than you are!”  We laughed so hard I thought we might be asked to leave.

The waiter approached again.  “Another glass of wine?” he asked.  I said I was still thinking.  The stories continued all through dinner.  My husband joined the story telling and we talked about our British and Manx heritage.  As the waiter cleared our dishes he asked, “Another glass of wine?”

“Still thinking,” I said, and patted his hand.  We ordered coffee and I decided to skip dessert.  But when the waiter brought my coffee he also brought Crème Brule.  “This is for you,” he said with a smile.  I was very surprised and thanked him.  Why had he given me a free dessert?

Maybe he thought the “still thinking” reply was a running joke.  Seeing family members enjoy one another may have given him pleasure.  I didn’t know the reason behind his gesture, but knew I hadn’t laughed like this in two years.  Thanks to lots of grief work, I was feeling good again, raising my grandchildren and living a new life.  The time had come to honor my deceased loved ones in a special way and I created Action Memorials©, a process of identifying the deceased person’s positive traits and weaving them into daily life.

My daughter had a marvelous sense of humor, so I decided to laugh more.  My father-in-law was an ethical person, so I pledged to stand up for ethics.  My brother loved to read, so I promised myself more recreational reading time.  My former son-in-law loved nature, so I vowed to observe it more closely.  Action Memorials have changed my life.

First, they shifted my thinking from negative to positive and continue to do this.  Second, they link me with my loved ones every day.  I often think about that wonderful dinner because it was a turning point in my grief journey.  Powerful as grief had been, it was no longer powerful enough to quell the joy of belly laughs and Crème Brule.

Harriet Hodgson, BS, MA,  has been an independent journalist for 30 years.  She is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors, the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling.  She writes for www.ezinearticles.com and has Expert Author and Platinum status.  A prolific writer, Hodgson is the author of hundreds of Internet and print articles and 27 books.

All of Hodgson’s writing comes from experience and her recent work focuses on grief.  She is the author of Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief, an Amazon book, written with Lois Krahn, MD, Chair of the Department of Psychiatry at Mayo Clinic, in Scottsdale, Arizona, USA.

Hodgson is also the author of Writing to Recover: The Journey from Loss and Grief to a New Life, published by Centering Corporation in Omaha, Nebraska, a nationally-known grief resource center.  Centering Corporation has also published the Writing to Recover Journal, which contains 100 writing prompts, and the Writing to Recover Affirmations Calendar, a collection of nature photos and life affirmations.

A popular speaker, Hodgson has given presentations at Alzheimer’s, hospice, and public health conferences.  She has appeared on more than 160 radio talk shows, including CBS Radio, WCCO Radio and “Coping With Caregiving,” an Internet-only radio program broadcast worldwide.  Hodgson has also appeared on dozens of television programs/stations, including CNN.

Her work is cited in Something About the Author, Who’s Who of American Women, Who’s Who in America, Contemporary Authors, and the next edition of World Who’s Who of Women.    Hodgson is a GRG – grandparent raising grandchildren – and lives in Rochester, MN with her husband John and her twin grandchildren.  For more information on this busy author and grandmother go to www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet was on the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart, discussing Recovery from Grief with hosts Dr. Gloria and Dr. Heidi Horsley.  To hear this show, go to the following link:

www.voiceamericapd.com/health/010157/horsley042309.mp3

The post Does Grief End? Belly Laughs and Crème Brule appeared first on Open to Hope.

Thanks to life experience, grief research, and my writing career, I understood her description. But I did not understand it fully until four of my loved ones died within nine months. The pain of these losses was searing. Listening to my inner voice, or soul, helped me to cope.

For two years I was in close touch with my inner voice. Then it started to fade. Clearly, I needed to recharge my spirit. How could I do it? As I usually do, I researched the topic. People have different names for their inner voice. Some refer to it as God within them. Others call it the soul or inner voice. Still others call it intuition.

Claudette Rowley, MSW, CPPS, describes intuition in her article, “Five Pathways to Your Inner Voice,” published on he Metavoice Website. She thinks gut feelings contain a wealth of information. “Remember, your intuition is never wrong,” she notes, “although your interpretation of it may be incorrect.” When intuition calls, Rowley says you should trust it.

I also read an article by Sharon Kelly West, RN, published in the April 2009 issue of “The Forum,” the printed newsletter of the Association for Death Education and Counseling. Her article, ‘”Sharon, do you know who we are?'” is about cultural awareness in end-of-life nursing. According to West, three principles are essential to culturally appropriate nursing care: look, listen, and feel.

These principles may be applied to grief and I started with the first one. I looked at my relationship with each deceased family member. There were good things, bad things, and things I wished I could change. Next, I listened to my inner voice and it was hard. My days were always busy, but now that I am raising my teenage grandchildren, they are super busy. I had to schedule quiet time, erase extra thoughts from my mind, and focus on one.

Last, I moved on to feelings. Thinking about feelings and memories made me see that pain caused me to lose contact with my inner voice. I had been through so much pain and didn’t want any more. But painful feelings may help us see life more clearly, according to Bettyclare Moffatt, author of “Soulwork: Clearing the Mind, Opening the Heart, Replenishing the Spirit.

Moffatt tells a story about visiting her cousin’s husband in the hospital. He was recovering from surgery and in pain, so he asked her for a massage. She massaged the non-surgical side of his body and an emotional connection flowed between them. Moffatt left the hospital, got into her car, “and cried old numb, hurt places within me back to life.” Pain made her feel totally alive.

Carol Staudacher writes about recovering from grief in “A Time to Grieve: Meditations for Healing After the Death of a Loved One.” “We cannot discover or heal by the use of minds alone,” she says. “The brain must follow the heart at a respectful distance.” I am doing this. Each day I stop for a few minutes, quiet my thoughts, and listen to my inner voice. I am alive and this day is mine!

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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After my daughter died in February of 2007 my husband and I looked for ways to remember her. We did the usual things — had a memorial service, told stories, and gave money to the church. But we wanted to do more. How could we keep our daughter’s spirit alive?

The choir was designated as the recipient of our church donation. I had been a choir member for more than 20 years and thought the money would be used for sheet music. The Co-Director of Music had a better idea — a commissioned song in her memory. I loved this idea. Music has always been part of my life and I thought a choral piece would comfort and uplift others.

I have belonged to several church choirs and one community choir. Singing taught me about the power of music. The Relaxation Emporium Website published an article about this power, “Music: A Powerful Relaxation Tool,” by Duane Shinn. While music therapy is not new, Shinn says the healing power of music is just starting to be understood. “How many times have you turned to music to uplift you even further in happy times, or sought the comfort of music when melancholy strikes?” he asks.

Some music provokes sad emotions, yet listening to it can still be a pleasure. Ben Koen makes this point in “The Problem of Negative Emotions,” published on the Ohio State University School of Music Website. His article cites some of the current research about sad music and responses to it. “How music can evoke a pleasant-sad emotional response and why people would seek a sad emotion in music is not totally resolved,” concludes Koen.

Who would compose the song in memory of our daughter? The Co-Director of Music contacted Elizabeth Alexander, a well-known Minnesota composer, and she emailed us several poems to consider for the lyrics. All of the poems were depressing. Alexander sent us several other poems, among them, “A Litany of Remembrance” by Roland B. Gittelsohn. The lyrics were perfect. Months passed, and we continued to do our grief work. Meantime, Alexander was doing her work, and finished the song sooner than expected.

Last night I heard it for the first time. The title, “We Remember Them,” is the poem’s refrain. Though the sight reading wasn’t perfect, the choir members heard the beauty and power of the song. Alexander has a dramatic key change at the end, a double forte place that sent chills down my spine. I thought to myself, “She nailed it.” Gittelsohn’s last line also nails it — “So long as we live, they too shall live, for they are now part of us . . .”

You may wish to honor your departed loved one with special music. A friend of mine had an organ concert at church in her husband’s memory, for example. If you decide to commission a song, relatives may willing to help with the cost. A family picnic and sing-along is another way to honor your loved one. Music lingers in our minds and helps us to remember loved ones. We can continue to sing their song.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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When you are in the throes of grief, you think you will never be happy again. Your world is a narrow, dark tunnel. You do not see any light, yet glimmers exist, and they are signs of healing. Watch for these signs, for they give you the courage to move forward with life.

Healing begins when you feel a real smile.

I did not smile after four loved ones died in the span of nine months. In fact, I forgot what a smile felt like. Then one day, I smiled a tentative smile, and it felt good. Bob Deits writes about recovering in his book, “Life After Loss.” He thinks “the first step on the path to renewed joy and vitality after a major loss is the most difficult of all.” Smiling was my fist step and it may be yours.

Healing begins with the first laugh.

There was nothing to laugh about, so I did not laugh for months. I used to be known for my sense of humor and one day I laughed spontaneously. Though it was a rusty laugh, it told me healing had begun. Laughter heals. Do not be afraid to laugh when you are grieving.

Healing begins when you forget about loss.

Grief was all I thought about. I could not escape it. Judy Tatelbaum details the grief process in “The Courage to Grieve.” “We can see we are moving closer to recovery from grief when the deceased is no longer our primary focus,” she writes. It takes longer to recover from multiple losses. Still, I continued to do my grief and do the things I loved — writing, reading, cooking. These activities gave me a break from grief. Be glad when you forget about loss for a moment. You are healing.

Healing begins when you start to see hope.

Multiple losses robbed me of a future. I could not imagine life without my loved ones. Because I had grieved before, read about grief, and written about it, I knew I had to watch for signs of hope. I found hope in a robin’s song, a baby’s laugh, buds on apple trees, and smiles on my grandchildren’s faces. Look for hope and you will find it.

Healing begins when you plan a new life.

After a loved one dies you have two options, give up on life or live it. I chose the second option and planned a new life. Planning this life took more than a year. Alan Wolfelt, PhD, writes about planning in his article, “Reconciliation.” The article lists reconciliation criteria. One criteria is “the capacity to organize and plan one’s life toward the future.”

Healing begins when you act on your life plan.

I am living my new life now. Does it contain any joy? The answer is a heartfelt yes. Keep doing your grief work and you will create a new life, too. Grief is work and so is life. Artist Grandma Moses described life in a few words, “Life is what we make it, always has been, always will be.” This is your truth, this is your healing.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

The post When Does Healing Begin? Watching For the Signs appeared first on Open to Hope.

The death of a child is a lifetime loss and parents never recover from it.  Instead, they learn to live with it.  A popular belief is that men don’t cry; they hold their feelings inside.  But my husband is not like that.  Our daughter’s sudden death at age 45 from the injuries she received in a car crash affected him the same way it affected me.  The shock stunned us.

I have seen him cry.

We cried together and took turns with our crying days.  When I was overcome with sorrow, he comforted me.? When he was overcome with sorrow, I comforted him.

After our daughter died, our former son-in-law moved in with our twin grandchildren. Nine months later, he was killed in another car crash – another time for tears.  Jeffrey A. Kottler writes about the effect of crying in The Language of Tears.  Crying aloud, according to Kottler, “not in self pity but in grief and pain,” is an invitation for others to cry.  My husband was not afraid to share his tears.

I have seen him care.

The death of our former son-in-law made our grandchildren orphans and us GRGs – grandparents raising grandchildren.  We didn’t expect to be raising teens in our 70s. Parenting teenagers takes energy and, in order to have this energy, we divided our duties.  I would take care of meals, the house, and teen schedules.  My husband (a retired physician), would take care of health problems, our daughter’s estate, and our grandchildren’s estate.

Later, when his grief was less raw, he told stories about the loved ones who died.  Some stories were funny, which is important to teens.  “Remind yourself of all the good times you had together,” advises Helen Fitzgerald, author of The Grieving Teen.  Telling happy stories is my husband’s way of showing he cares.

I have seen him accept pain.

The insurance company would continue to insure our daughter’s home if we checked her house regularly, and preferably daily.  We used to do this together, but the house was such a quiet and sorrowful place, I sobbed every time I walked in the door.  Though it caused him equal pain, my husband took over this task.  He accepted the pain of death and life without his daughter.  “It takes enormous courage to face pain directly and honestly,” Judy Tatelbaum writes in The Courage to Grieve.  The man I married has always been a man of courage.

I have seen him cope.

Since our daughter was an adult, she did not share financial information with us.  For the past two years, my husband has been searching for her assets: back wages, life insurance benefits, savings accounts, investments, and stock certificates.

To find these assets you need the skill of a private detective and the patience of Job.  The fact that my husband has these qualities was not a surprise.  “Bereaved people tend to grieve in the same manner as they conduct the rest of their lives,” notes Therese A. Rando, PhD in How to Go in Living When Someone You Love Dies. This is true of my husband.

I have seen him reconcile grief.

Our twin grandchildren were 15 years old when they moved in with us and are 17 years old now.  As time passes, our granddaughter looks more like her mother.  The resemblance is startling.  “I don’t know whether to smile or cry,” my husband said.  I feel the same way.  Though we have cried, we are comforted by this resemblance.  We are also comforted by our grandson’s resemblance to our daughter.

I have seen a father’s love.

Visiting our daughter’s grave does nothing for us.  We did not visit it last year and we will not visit it this year on Father’s Day.  Rather, we will honor our daughter’s memory by raising her children and loving them more each day.  We will do this together, just as we have done everything together during our 52 years of marriage.  I know my husband well, but watching him grieve taught me something new.  A father’s love for his child is stronger than death.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

Harriet Hodgson, BS, MA, has been an independent journalist for 30 years.  She is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors, the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling.  She writes for www.ezinearticles.com and has Expert Author and Platinum status.  A prolific writer, Hodgson is the author of hundreds of Internet and print articles and 27 books.

All of Hodgson?s writing comes from experience and her recent work focuses on grief. She is the author of Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief, an Amazon book, written with Lois Krahn, MD, Chair of the Department of Psychiatry at Mayo Clinic, in Scottsdale, Arizona, USA.

Hodgson is also the author of Writing to Recover: The Journey from Loss and Grief to a New Life, published by Centering Corporation in Omaha, Nebraska, a nationally-known grief resource center.  Centering Corporation has also published the Writing to Recover Journal, which contains 100 writing prompts, and the Writing to Recover Affirmations Calendar, a collection of nature photos and life affirmations.

A popular speaker, Hodgson has given presentations at Alzheimer’s, hospice, and public health conferences.  She has appeared on more than 160 radio talk shows, including CBS Radio, WCCO Radio and Coping With Caregiving, an Internet-only radio program broadcast worldwide.  Hodgson has also appeared on dozens of television programs/stations, including CNN.

Her work is cited in Something About the Author, Who’s Who of American Women, Who’s Who in America, Contemporary Authors, and the next edition of World Who’s Who of Women. Hodgson is a GRG – grandparent raising grandchildren – and lives in Rochester, MN with her husband John and her twin grandchildren.  For more information on this busy author and grandmother go to www.harriethodgson.com

The post A Wife Marvels at a Father’s Grief for His Daughter appeared first on Open to Hope.

Religion means different things to different people. When someone dies, it is common to turn to religion and spirituality for support. In 2007, four of my loved ones died in the span of nine months. I turned to my church and my inner self. Week after week, I sat quietly on the couch and thought about my loved ones and my life.

If you are grieving now, I urge you to do the same thing. Quiet is essential to recovery. You will not make any progress until you organize your thoughts, center (focus) them, and heed them.

Bettyclare Moffatt makes this point in her book, “Soulwork: Clearing the Mind, Opening the Heart, Replenishing the Spirit.” Listening involves self-searching, self-finding, and self-awareness, according to Moffatt. Doing these things leads us to the question, “How do I get to God?” Moffatt’s answer is to listen. When we listen intently, we are ready to let the “soul-self predominate.”

Once the soul-self predominates, Moffatt thinks we are ready to trust and listen to God. She says everyone has the spark of God inside them. This spark can become a transforming flame. “Listen!” she exclaims. “It is God in action in your life.”

Ever since my loved ones died, I have been listening intently to my soul. Of course, I asked myself lots of questions and most began with the word “why.” But I realized “why” questions were a waste of time. So I thought about the blessings in my life, healing steps I could take, and the future that awaited me.

Robert Bolton, PhD, would call this?reflective listening, a process he describes in his book, “People Skills: How to Assert Yourself, Listen to Others, and Resolve Conflicts.” Reflective listening can be talking to yourself, Bolton notes, and “it is important to listen carefully enough to yourself to arrive at a sound conclusion.”

But Bolton says many of us “scarcely listen” or run into roadblocks when we talk to ourselves. All is not lost. “More hopefully, you can reflect on the content and especially the feelings of your conversations to yourself.”? The conversations I had with myself helped me identify feelings and see where they might lead me. I found a new appreciation for the sacredness of life.

Each day is a spiritual day for me. Rabbi Harold S. Kushner discusses life’s tragedies in “When Bad Things Happen to Good People.” When tragedy strikes, he does not think it is punishment. Rather, he thinks bad things are part of the randomness of life. Instead of dwelling on tragedy, Kushner thinks we should ask ourselves what we are going to do about it.

After a loved one dies, you have two choice — give up on life or live if fully. I voted for life. I write grief articles and books to help others. The major focus of my life is my new mission, a sacred mission of raising my grandchildren. Seeing life as sacred may help you cope with loss. Listen to your soul. It will prod you, challenge you, and lead you to a new life. That is a miracle.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Focusing on Sacredness of Life May Help Those Grieving appeared first on Open to Hope.

A blank journal page or computer screen can be intimidating. But this thought did not enter my head after my daughter and father-in-law died the same weekend. Journaling was the only way I could cope. It helped me cope then and continued to help me when my brother died eight weeks later and when my former son-in-law died a few months after that.

Four losses in nine months made? journaling more important than ever. Bob Deits discusses journaling in his book, “Life After Loss.” Over time, you will see the importance of daily entries, he notes, and the emotional progress you are making. “The journal helps you stay in charge of your grief experience,” writes Deits.

This sentence is reason enough for journaling. The benefits of journaling are amazing. I learned about grief, clarified ideas, identified problems, worked on solutions, found ways to heal, set new goals, and created a new life. Journals end and I decided to end mine on the first anniversary of my daughter’s death. To my surprise, I started a new journal about the 18-month, 20-month, and two-year responses to grief.

Here are some excuses we often use to avoid journaling.

1. There isn’t enough time. You must make time for journaling. Think of your journal as a gift to yourself, a real, and often raw account of your loss and grief. Therese A. Rando, PhD, author of “How to Go on Living When Someone You Love Dies,” thinks mourners need to “give some form of expression to all of your feelings.” Journaling can be that expression.

2. I have to be a professional writer to benefit. Everyone has a story to tell and you are no exception. Writing your story makes you a writer. If your experience is like mine, journal entries will help you set new goals and create a new life. Even better, regular entries help you discover yourself and tailor your life accordingly.

3. Occasional writing is okay. Some journaling is better than none. Christina Baldwin cites the benefits of journaling in “One to One: Self-Understanding Through Journal Writing.” Baldwin says you will not always be comfortable with your journaling. As she explains, “The level at which you ask yourself questions and the responses which come to you are determined by what you are currently ready to know and deal with in writing.”

4. My writing has to be perfect. Scream if this idea pops into your head. Your journal can be messy, wrinkled, coffee-stained, illustrated with doodles, filled with lists, and language errors.

5. Journaling threatens my privacy. According to Kathleen Adams, MA, author of “Journal to the Self,” privacy is a major issue. You worry about people reading your journal without permission. While this is a legitimate concern, Adams says you may hide your journal, ask others to respect your privacy, and put a privacy statement on the first page. Your journal is an historical document — a snapshot of a specific time in your life — and you may want to store it in a safe deposit box.

Do not let these excuses, or others, stop you from journaling. Years from now, you will read your journals and say, “I’ve come a long way. I’m a survivor. I wrote my way to a new life.”

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

The post Grief Journaling: Don’t Let a Blank Page Scare You appeared first on Open to Hope.

Nobody expects multiple losses.  If and when they come the pain is unbearable.  ?Who should you grieve first?  How long will you grieve?  Will you ever be happy again?  You want to escape the pain, but it is this pain – a journey through darkness – that leads to healing.

Pat McNees makes this point in her book, “Dying: A Book of Comfort.”   McNees includes one of her own articles in the anthology, “Grief: The Only Way Out is Through.”  As she explains, “The work of grieving, and the only way to get through mourning, is to experience your feelings fully.”  In other words, you start where you are, in emotional pain.

I know about the pain of multiple losses.  In 2007 four loved ones – my daughter, father-in-law, brother, and former son-in-law – died within nine months.  My daughter and father-in-law died the same weekend.  Their obituaries were on the same page of the newspaper and I sobbed uncontrollably when I saw their photos.

My daughter’s death was the most painful because she was only 45 years old.  Accepting my father-in-law’s death at age 98 was easier because he had lived a good, long life.  I felt double grief about my brother’s death.  We had been estranged for 10 years and I not only mourned his passing, I mourned these lost years.  After my former son-in-law died my husband and I became instant GRGs, grandparents raising grandchildren.

“Who has the Worst Pain?”  Grief expert Andrea Gambill uses this question for the title of an article on the Good Grief Resources website.  No matter when death occurred or how it occurred, Gambill thinks the pain of grief is agony.  “Mourners feel the pain of grief in direct proportion to their perception of how important the loved one was in their life,” she says, “and that value is entirely subjective.”

Coping with multiple losses takes longer than coping with one. It will take months for you to understand the role each loved one played in your life.  This brings you back to pain.  To survive multiple losses, you need to accept the pain and give yourself permission to sob.  You also need to be on the alert for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Mayo Clinic details this disorder in a website article, “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

PTSD is an anxiety disorder, triggered by an extremely tragic event, according to Mayo. Symptoms include flashbacks, disturbing dreams, avoidance thinking, feeling emotionally numb, irritability and anger, self-destructive behavior, sleep problems, memory problems, lack of enjoyment, and hallucinations.  You may wish to get grief counseling if you have several of these symptoms.  Do not medicate yourself with alcohol or drugs; they make the pain worse.

Disregard any grief myths that you may hear.  Melinda Smith, MA, Ellen Jaffe-Gill, MA, and Jeanne Segal PhD cite some common myths in their article, “Coping With Grief and Loss.”  The myths:? 1) Ignoring pain makes it go away faster; 2) You must be strong all the time; 3) Lack of tears means you are not sorry and grieving; 4) Grief lasts about a year.  All of these myths are false.

I didn’t succumb to any of these myths.  Thanks to experience, I knew it was better to go with the pain.  Pain pushed me along the recovery path – gentle nudges at first, then stronger ones, then forceful pushes to a new life.  I planned this life and continue to fine-tune my plans.  The pain of multiple losses is like no other and you will get through this pain.  It is what you create from pain that really matters.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been an independent journalist for 30 years. She is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors, the Association of Health Care Journalists, and the Association for Death Education and Counseling. She is the author of “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD and available from Amazon.Centering Corporation in Omaha, Nebraska, a well-known and respected grief resource center, has published her 26th book, “Writing to Recover: The Journey from Loss and Grief to a New Life” The company has also published the “Writing to Recover Journal” and the “Writing to Recover Affirmations Calendar.”

The post Multiple Losses: Start With the Pain appeared first on Open to Hope.

Recovering from multiple losses takes time, grief work, and years of self-examination. You do not recover from multiple losses, you learn to live with them. The process requires acceptance, reconciliation, and the creation of a new life. I have lived all of these things.

In February of 2007, my daughter died from the injuries she received in a car crash. Two days later, on the same weekend, my father-in-law succumbed to pneumonia. The deaths stunned me. I was still stunned eight weeks later when my brother died of cancer. Then, nine months later, my former son-in-law died from the injuries he received in a car crash.

When people hear my story, they say the same thing: “It’s unbelievable.” I have trouble believing it myself. Two years have passed since my daughter and father-in-law died. Soon I will mark the second anniversary of my brother’s death. My sense of humor has returned and I can tell stories about my loved ones without breaking down. But every once in a while, totally without warning, I start to cry.

Why do I cry? I have identified five reasons for the return of tears and some may be familiar to you.

1. Empty feeling. Kristi A. Dyer, MD, MS, FT writes about painful losses in an article, “Dealing with Sudden, Accidental and Traumatic Loss and Death,” on dyingabout.com. After these kinds of losses Dyer says the “family may be left feeling in a state of perpetual disarray.” Dyeer says family members may have a lingering sense of unease and be disorganized. Though two years have passed I continue to have an empty feeling.

2. Legal/financial responsibilities. One death creates a mountain of legal and financial paperwork. You may find overdue, unpaid bills for example. If one loss creates a mountain of paperwork, multiple losses create a mountain range. In her will, our daughter appointed my husband and me as guardians of her twins. After the twins’ father died we became their legal guardians and fiscal conservators. We manage their trust funds, their assets, and are required to file regular reports with the court. The paperwork is enough to make anyone cry.

3. Personal stuff. My computer is in our office and I use it daily. When I walk to my computer chair I see my daughter’s black purse — evidence of a life cut short. Though we should probably get rid of the purse my husband and I cannot do it. Sometimes my grandson wears his father’s belt and my granddaughter wears her mother’s jacket. Seeing these personal items, hearing them use my daughter’s expressions, make me choke up. How I wish my loved ones were here and could see the twins growing into handsome, responsible adults.

4. Time factor. According to “Coping with Multiple Deaths,” an article on the Facing Bereavement website, recovering from multiple losses “will take longer than just for one loss.” Mourners may have to postpone some activities, the article goes on to say. I postponed activities after each death. Interestingly, I grieved for my loved ones in the order they died. This was not a conscious decision, it just worked out that way.

5. New relationships. Forming new relationships with loved ones is part of the grief work of multiple losses. Therese A. Rando, PhD writes about grief work in her book, “How to Go on Living when Someone You Love Dies.” Accepting death is first on the grief work list. Forming a realistic view of departed loved ones comes next. I have happy and sad memories of my loved ones. Thankfully, I was able to reconcile these memories over time. “You develop a composite memory of him which you can retain,” notes Rando.

All of these points — forming new relationships, the time factor, seeing personal stuff, legal/financial responsibilities, coping with emptiness– can make you cry. But tears are a good thing. We cry because we loved someone and we can be proud of that. In time, our tears of sorrow become tears of joy.

Copyright 2009 by Harriet Hodgson

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We are trying to help the twins deal with their grief, move forward with life, and make new goals.  Clearing out our daughter’s house, the house she and the kids loved so much, has been a heartbreaking experience.  Our grandchildren packed some items and, after that, they didn’t want to go to the house.  Their home had been a happy place, a place filled with love and laughter.

Now it was a sad and lonely place and we had to sell it.

Months ago, rural towns in Southeastern Minnesota were hit by a tremendous flood. Many families lost everything they had and some were still living in government trailers. And so, instead of having an auction, my husband and I decided to donate the contents of our daughter’s home to Rushford Flood Relief.  We discussed the idea with our grandchildren and they approved it.

The contact organization was Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Spring Valley, Minnesota.  Packing items took us several months.  Items that were not designated for flood relief were donated to the Goodwill.  Last Saturday a huge rental truck pulled up in front of the house.  A smiling man with a white beard got out of the truck and introduced himself as the church Pastor.  “This is a sorrowful day for me,” I told him, “and I will cry.”  He understood completely.

Twenty-two church volunteers (youth group and adult members) had offered their help. The president of the congregation gave them loading instructions.  Before the loading began the group gathered together in a prayer circle.  The Pastor asked God to bless the volunteers and thanked our family for its generosity.  After the prayer I added, “Many of you know our story.  Our goal is to make something good from grief.”  Tears trickled down my cheeks as I voiced these words.

Many volunteers thanked us personally for what we were doing.  “There’s a lot of good stuff here,” one said.  “You’re going to help many people.”  The volunteers worked quickly and a “parade” of items went out the door: dining tables, coffee tables, straight chairs, wing chairs, lamps, television sets, computer work stations, dishes, pots and pans, bedding, porch furniture, and more.  Two hours later the truck was packed to the ceiling.

The Pastor locked the back hatch, got into the truck, and slowly pulled away.  I stood in front of the house and sobbed.  Though a few items were still on the floor and the garage wasn’t cleared yet, the last vestiges of our daughter’s daily life were gone.  The next day I received an email from the president of the congregation.

According to him, volunteering had given youth group members a better understanding of compassion and giving.  He went on to say that 10 new volunteers unloaded the truck when it reached Rushford.  Residents of the flooded communities gathered around the truck and took the furniture and labeled boxes they needed.  An hour later — just one hour — the truck was empty.

From the prayer circle, to meeting volunteers, to locking the back hatch, the day was a religious experience.  Giving to others made us feel better and we think it made our grandchildren feel better, too.  James Russell Lowell wrote about giving in the “Vision of Sir Launfal” and we hold his words in our hearts.  He wrote:

Not what we give, but what we share –

For the gift without the giver is bare;

Who gives himself with his alms feeds three –

Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.

Copyright 2008 by Harriet Hodgson http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a freelance nonfiction writer for 29 years.  She is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com

You will find a review of the book on the American Hospice Foundation Web site and the Health Ministries Association Web site.  Please visit Harriet’s Web site and learn more about this busy author and grandmother.

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I am still in shock at the death of my daughter, the 45-year-old mother of twins.  The shock of her death in a car crash will be with me forever.  Fortunately, I am blessed to have twin grandchildren and my new mission in life is caring for them.  My husband and I share this mission.

I know my grandchildren and they know me.  They know I love them, will care for them, and keep my promises.  Though they are living with their father my mind is filled with parenting thoughts about them.  Do you have enough lunch money?  Have your bus fees been paid?  What clothes do you need?

Somehow, while I am dealing with questions, legal procedures and financial ones, I must find hope.  It is not easy.  Every day I look for hope, for as a health writer, I know its spark can keep me going.  Where is my hope?

MY DAUGHTER WAS AN ORGAN DONOR.  After consulting with our grandchildren, my husband and I signed an agreement with Life Source to donate our daughter’s organs.  The Life Source representative called the next day.  “Your daughter saved three lives,” she said, “and because of her another will see.”
Knowing my daughter helped others gives me hope.

FRIENDS HAVE SHOWERED US WITH KINDNESS.  Because my husband and I are active in the community we have received cards from friends, people we barely know, and strangers.  Some of the comments on the cards make us cry, but we are still comforted by them.  The kindness of others gives me hope.

MEMORIALS IN MY DAUGHTER’S NAME GIVE ME HOPE.  At the end of our daughter’s obituary we suggested memorials to Mayo Clinic.  The memorials we received added up to a substantial donation to Mayo Clinic.  Helping Mayo Clinic to carry out its mission of medical practice, education and research gives me hope.

MY DAUGHTER IMPRINTED HER VALUES ON HER CHILDREN.  The twins started thinking about their mother’s values the moment she died.  “Even when Mom disciplined us she was never angry,” my grandson said.  “Mommy always tried to make people smile,” my granddaughter said.  The twins know their mother wanted them to go to college and we will make this dream come true — a mission that gives us hope.

THE SIGNS OF SPRING LIFT MY SPIRITS.  The piles of snow around our house are melting and I am starting to see green grass.  Next to the house, the birch trees show signs of budding.  I saw my first robin yesterday.  She (or he) sat on a tree near the house and sang for several minutes.  Spring gives me hope and I am looking forward to it.

These hopeful signs are helping to heal my grief.  I am also trying to make something good from grief, and writing articles is a way to do this.  Grief is a common bond that joins people together and makes us human.

Copyright 2007 by Harriet Hodgson http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a freelance nonfiction writer for 28 years.  She is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling.  Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD is available from http://www.amazon.com A five-star review of the book is posted on Amazon.  You will find other reviews on the American Hospice Foundation and Health Ministries Association Web sites.

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Remember, your grief stems from love, and you may find comfort in that. Holidays don’t erase your reasons for feeling sad and lonely, according to the National Mental Health Association, and “there is room for these feelings to be present.” So accept your feelings and, if you feel like crying, go ahead and do it.

Crying will help you to feel better. Here are some other ways you can help yourself.

BE REALISTIC. You don’t have to create a “perfect” holiday. Do you really need to knit sweaters for everyone? No. Do you really need to serve a six course meal? No. What you need to do is set realistic goals, get organized, and pace yourself. Rather than focusing on one day, the National Mental Health Association recommends focusing on “a season of holiday sentiment.”

ASK FOR HELP. You don’t need to do everything yourself. Family members and friends will be glad to help with planning, decorating, and cooking. One family member could bring a traditional dish, such as pumpkin pie. Another family member could provide linens and launder them afterwards. Your request for help makes others feel needed.

BUDGET. Finances can cause stress at any time, but they cause lots of stress during the holidays. Set a budget for gifts, decorations, and entertaining. Staying within your budget will make you feel better about the holidays and yourself. Your gifts don’t have to be new. Holiays are a perfect time to pass along family possessions – a flower vase, historic photo, or beloved book. Stick a short note about the item in with your gift.

EAT RIGHT. Because nutrition affects brain chemistry, you need to eat balanced meals during the holidays. Yummy as they look, pass up the candy and cookies that come your way. Choose lots of fruits and veggies from the buffet table and one dessert. Keeping a supply of healthy snacks on hand will also help you to eat right.

DRINK MODERATELY. Alcohol makes the holiday blues worse, according to the National Mental Health Association. Too much alcohol can cause you to say things you’ll regret later. If you drink alcohol, drink in moderation or skip it all together. Drink sparkling cider, non-alcoholic punch, or flavored water instead of alcohol.

GET ENOUGH SLEEP. You’ve probably thinking, “Yeah, right.” But you need sleep to survive the holidays. Getting enough sleep is hard to do with so many holiday events going on. However, you may be selective about what you attend, leave early, and get a good night’s sleep. Balance a late night with a short nap the next day.

LIGHT YOUR WAY. Vanerbilt University wellness experts say more people get depressed during the holidays than at any other time. Some of these people have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). If you live in a cold climate and the days are short you may wish to be evaluated for SAD. Phototherapy (intense lighting) is usualy recommended for those with SAD. Even if you don’ have SAD well lit rooms will lift your spirits.

EXERCISE. Daily physical activity is a proven way to cope with stress. Walk around town or the local mall and look at holiday decorations. Play catch with your kids or grandkids. Bundle up and go cross country skiing. A half hour of physical activity per day helps to chase the blues away.

BE CONCILATORY. According to www.MayoClinic.com family tensions may flare during the holidays if members are “thrust together for several days.” Holidays aren’t the time to settle family disputes, they’re a time for concilatory and kind behavior. Discuss family grievances at a later date.

HELP OTHERS. Holidays are associated with families and togetherness according to Jill RachBeisel, MD, Director of Community Psychiatry at the University of Maryland. But, due to the divorce rate and fragmented families, many don’t have this kind of holiay experience. Still, you may connect with a substitute family by volunteering a a senior center, reading to shut-ins, or tutoring children.

MAKE NEW MEMORIES. The memories you make during this holiday season may comfort you in the future. Take digital photos of holiday events and put them on a CD. Send copies of the CD to all family members. Every family has stories to tell and you may create new memories by tape recording some of these stories. You may also videotape holiday events.

SAVOR THE MOMENT. Though you are sorrowful, you’re alive, able to be with those you love and care about. Surround yourself with life: family members, dear friends, colorful flowers, a tail-wagging dog, and hobbies that make you happy. For every moment of life – even the sorrowful ones – is a miracle.

Copyright 2005 by Harriet Hodgson. To learn more about her work go to http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 27 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com The book is packed with Healing Steps – 114 in all – that lead readers to their own healing path.

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Relatives and friends rallied to help me.  Their support lasted for weeks and then it began to fade.  Psychotherapist Judy Tatelbaum writes about this response in “The Courage to Grieve.” People start to pull back, she explains, “as if the time for grieving were over and we were expected to resume our normal lives . . . ”

But my life is not normal.  Recovering from my daughter’s sudden death is the greatest challenge of my life.

Therese A. Rando, PhD writes about sudden death in her book, “How to Go on Living When Someone You Love Dies.”  With sudden death there is no chance to say goodbye, notes Rando.  “We wish that we could have known in order to say and do what we wanted to, we wish we were there for one brief moment with out loved one to tell him we loved him . . .”

The last time I saw my daughter she was laughing in the sunshine.  I wish I had told her I loved her.  Life goes on, however, and I am working on recovery.  How am I doing it?

I cry a lot.  Sometimes I know when I am going to cry and sometimes I don’t.  “Today was a day of tears,” I told my husband.  His reply:  “Good.”

I cut myself some slack.  If dinner is lousy, so be it.  If the laundry isn’t done, so be it.  If I miss a meeting, so be it.  This is my life and my grief.

I talk about my daughter.  When I’m speaking with relatives and friends I include stories about her.  Telling these stories keeps my daughter alive in my mind.  Her children love hearing the stories, too.

I write about grief.  In the last three months I have written a dozen articles about post-death grief.  Writing the articles helps me and I hope their content helps others.

I recheck constantly.  Are the car keys in my purse?  Did I lock the door?  Do I have enough money?  Rechecks like these help me to avoid mix-ups.

I walk for health.  Before my daughter died I walked at least 10,000 steps a day.  After she died I stopped walking.  But I have to take care of myself, so I am back on my walking program.  It feels good.

I laugh all I can.  My whacky New York humor may be the thing that gets me through grief. Jokes and one-liners are creeping back into my conversation.  Laughing with my husband brings me joy.
Laughing with my friends makes me feel whole again.

Copyright 2007 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a freelance nonfiction writer for 28 years.  She is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling.  Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com A five-star review of the book is posted on Amazon.  You will find more reviews on the American Hospice Foundation Web site (School Corner heading) and the Health Ministries Association Web site.

The post Recovering From My Daughter’s Sudden and Tragic Death appeared first on Open to Hope.

Every time I was with her I wanted to cry.

Anticipatory grief is a hard journey and nobody can take it for us. Some experts think anticipatory grief is worse than post-death grief because we’re always on alert, waiting for the end to come. Grieving people wear black arm bands in some cultures. I wish I was wearing an arm band when I saw a friend at the grocery store.

“Hi Harriet, how are you?” she asked. Had I been truthful I would have said I felt awful. But I didn’t say that I said, “Fine, how are you?” Why don’t we talk about anticipatory grief? There are lots of reasons.

– Most people have never heard the term, so we would have to stop and explain it.

– We fail to see the anticipatory grief in our lives or the power it has over us.

– If we shared our feelings we would break down and sob.

– Our family culture prevents us from being open with others.

– People may think we’re weak and lack “backbone.”

– Funny stories are what people want to hear, not sad ones.

– We’re afraid people will avoid us.

Some years ago our family was struck by one crisis after another. My husband and I became known as the sad news couple. Many people didn’t want to hear our news for fear they would catch it like a bad cold. In their minds anticipatory grief was a contagious disease.

But I’m a grandmother now, older, wiser, and more resilient. Life experience has given me the courage to say, “I’m having an anticipatory grief day.”

Chances are you’ve had anticipatory grief days, too. Maybe you’re grieving for a child with chronic illness, a job shift, moving out of the home you loved, your retirement date, a dying pet, or a parent in hospice. I hope you’ll learn from my experience and tell people you’re going through anticipatory grief.

We grieve because we care. Anticipatory grief shapes our lives, helps to define who we are, and who we were meant to be. Let’s talk about it.

Copyright 2005 by Harriet Hodgson. For more information on her work please go to www.harriethodgson.com.

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 26 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists. Her latest book, Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief, written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available on http://www.amazon.com. Hodgson is hard at work on her next book, Doctor in the House: An Inside Look at Medical Marriage.

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Every day of caregiving was a day of anticipatory grief. I worried about myself. If I felt this badly now, how would I feel after my mother died?

My mother had been a brilliant woman, known for her intellectual curiosity and quick wit. The brilliant woman became a forgetful woman who didn’t know the date, family members, or me. Worse, my mother lost the ability to manage money. Though she had little money left, she became an addictive spender, and I had to take her checkbook and charge cards away. The concept she had instilled in me, “Don’t spend more than you have,” was forgotten.

I grieved for her lost intelligence.

When I was growing up my mother used to model hair styles. In her later years – the demented years – her hair was uncombed, she looked disheveled, zippers were open, and she would put clothes on backwards. Since she couldn’t tell dirty laundry from clean, my mother often wore stained, wrinkled, and mismatched clothing. To put it bluntly, she looked like a bag lady.

I grieved for the striking woman she had been.

Dementia erased all traces of my mother’s personality. She didn’t smile, didn’t laugh, and didn’t find pleasure in anything. It took me a long time to realize I couldn’t make her happy. Though I took her to lunch regularly, cooked a gourmet dinner for her every Sunday, and included her in all family activities, Mom’s eyes were blank. She was gone.

I grieved for her lost personality.

During my school years, college years, and long after I married and had children, my mother and I had the same understanding, humorous relationship. We laughed constantly. Jokes aside, I knew I could rely on her if I was in trouble. Many of the things I had accomplished in life could be traced to my mother’s unwavering support. But dementia changed all that.

And so I grieved for myself.

Jo Horne, in her book “Helping an Aging Loved One,” describes caring for a mentally impaired person as “an unpredictable job.” There is no known cure for Alzheimer’s disease, Horne continues, so “each caregiver must deal with individual symptoms and progressions of the disease.” I learned to adjust my caregiving tactics to my mother’s changing needs.

With the help of nursing care staff, I convinced her to wear an identification bracelet. Mom agreed to wear it after she fell and broke her arm socket. The socket was so damanged that surgeons had to install an artificial socket in her shoulder. Mom wore the identification bracelet because she was afraid of falling again and being left on the sidewalk.

Like many people with dementia my mother became angry with me and with life. I told myself that I was dealing with disease, not the parent I had known. But I had to tell myself this over and over again because Mom would do things, like opening charge accounts, that made me angry. My mother and I never disagreed and now we disagreed all the time.

I changed the activities we shared together. According to www.alzinfo.org, “Planning structured individualized activities that involve and interest the person with Alzheimer’s may reduce many of the more disturbing behaviors.” To divert my mother’s anger I would change the subject or the activity. Activities that required tracking, such as movies, were replaced with passive activities, such as listening to the church choir.

My mother’s hearing became progressively worse and I had to change the way I communicated with her. Phone communcation became impossible and I had to accept this. When Mom and I were together I faced her when I spoke and patted her arm. I also shortened my sentences. Finally, my sentences were reduced to subjects and verbs.

Towards the end of her life, when Mom’s doctor transferred her to nursing care, she thought I had abandoned her and put her in a mental institution. This made me sad, but I found comfort in the fact that I had done everything I could for her. The anticipatory grief of dementia is extremely painful and I let myself feel this pain. As Mother Teresa once said, “I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love.” Ten years ago I wouldn’t have understood these words. I understand them now and still feel my mother’s love for me and my love for her.

Copyright 2006 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com
http://www.healthwriter.blogspot.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 27 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD is available from http://www.amazon.com A five-star review of the book is posted on Amazon. You will find another review on the American Hospice Foundation website under the “School Corner” heading.

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“Grief work includes the processes that a mourner needs to complete before resuming daily processes,” according to The National Cancer Institute. This grief work includes mentally separating from the person who has died, adjusting to a different life, and forming new relationships.

Those who are going though anticipatory grief have double work. While you’re grieving for your loved one you’re helping him or her with end of life tasks: completing forms, paying medical bills, checking legal documents, finding safe deposit box keys, distributing goods, and even home repairs. You may have to make decisions for a loved one who is no longer capable of making them.

Self-care should be on your work list, according to The Alzheimer’s Association. “Building in time for self-care is crucial,” according to the Association, and you need to recognize your physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. As you go about your anticipatory grief work remember to reward yourself. Take a day off. Have lunch with a friend. Buy the shirt that was on sale.

Family members can help you with your anticipatory grief work. Their involvement will not only lighten your load, it may prevent future discord. You’ll find a list of “Tasks of Anticipatory Grief for Families” on http://www.alzheimer-society.ca/grief2.htm.

Anticipatory grief work is tough stuff. Dividing this work into parts will make it easier: 1) Meeting your loved one’s needs and 2) Meeting your own needs. Just as a builder gathers materials for a construction project, you must gather materials for your anticipatory grief work. So roll up your sleeves and get going.

PREPARE YOURSELF MENTALLY. Decide how you’re going to act with your loved one. Mayo Clinic Chaplain Mary Johnson, in an article called “Interacting With a Terminally Ill Loved One,” thinks you should “let loved ones be loved ones.” Though you can’t be your loved one’s physician or counselor, you can be a good listener. Johnson says you can also “build on the strengths of the relationship that were in place before the health care crisis came about.”

LEARN ABOUT ANTICIPATORY GRIEF. Helen Fitzgerald, Training Director of the American Hospice Foundation, thinks it’s important to learn about grief “so you can identify what you are feeling and have some ideas on how to help yourself.” Hundreds of books have been written about grief, but few have been written about anticipatory grief. Check the Internet for anticipatory grief books and articles. Hospitals and hospices are also good sources of information.

FACE REALITY. Marin A. Humphrey, RN, MA, a psychiatric nurse and contributing author for “Loss & Anticipatory Grief,” by Therese Rando, PhD, says you need to face the reality of impending loss. Your reality may include saying goodbye to your loved one. “Goodbyes left unsaid, or not completed in a way that is satisfactory to the survivor, can be devastating to the grief experiences,” writes Humphrey.

BUILD A SUPPORT SYSTEM. This system may include health professionals, family members, friends in your religious community, and neighbors. Write their names, phone numbers, and email addresses in a small notebook and carry it with you. Put a list of these names and numbers next to the phone. Your local hospital may have bereavement support groups. Your religious community may have grief support groups as well.

SAFEGUARD DOCUMENTS. Anticipatory grief can be so stressful that you misplace things. Certainly,you don’t want to misplace medical documents, legal documents, or family papers. Keep these documents in a separate file drawer and copies of them in a safe deposit box. Your loved one may also give you written instructions for disbursing family possessions. You need to safeguard these documents as well.

MAKE ARRANGEMENTS. Your loved one may have special requests, such as which hymns to sing at the memorial service, special readings, and selected photos to display. Involve other family members in planning because they will probably have suggestions, too. Social Services may recommend prepaying funeral expenses. If you do this, file these receipts with the medical and legal documents.

THINK ABOUT A NEW LIFE. You never stop missing your loved one, according to The National Mental Health Association, but “the pain eases after a time and allows you to go on with your life.” Start to think about this life now. Donating to health organizations is one way to remember your loved one. You may purchase books about your loved one’s hobby for the public library. Some families have created patchwork quilts from their loved one’s garments.

Anticipatory grief work helps to prepare us for a new life. As Judith Viorst explains in “Necessary Losses,” loved ones who are gone still enrich our lives. Identifying with these loved ones helps us to see things more clearly. “By taking in the dead – by making them part of what we think, feel, love, want, do – we can both keep them with us and let them go.”

Copyright 2005 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 27 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com A five-star review of the book is also posted on Amazon.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Harriet_Hodgson

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You want to help your friend, but may not know how to go about it. Where do you start?

Helen Fitzgerald, Training Director of the American Hospice Foundation, thinks you start with preparation. You review your own grief experiences and how you felt at the time. You also become familiar with the grief process [including anticipatory grief]. “Helping a bereaved friend is hard work,” says Fitzgerald, so you need to pace yourself.

Now on to the “tried and true” suggestions.

BE DECISIVE. “One of the mistakes we make is asking people in deep grief how we can help them,” notes David Kessler, Director of Palliative Care for Citrus Valley Health Partners in the Los Angeles area. But your friend may be so lost in sorrow that he or she doesn’t know what is needed. Kessler’s solution is to “step in and help.”

BE PRACTICAL. Offer to help with daily tasks, such as watering plants, mailing a package, and buying pet food. You may also offer to grocery shop, baby-sit kids, make phone calls, and prepare meals. Appetite wanes when someone is grieving so if you prepare meals fix plain food and package small servings in freezer cartons or bags. Label all cartons.

BE AVAILABLE. Because your friend is stressed and preoccupied you will have to spell out the ground rules. “Call me before 8 a.m.” “Email me any time.” “I’ll be the car pool driver next week.” Write these things on a sticky note and put it on your friend’s refrigerator. Remind your friend of these arrangements.

BE ACCURATE. When you’re helping a grieving person it’s important to “use the correct language,” according to Helen Fitzgerald of the American Hospice Association. Fitzgerald says you should avoid the word “passed” when speaking of post-death grief and use the word “died.” With anticipatory grief you may use words such as “close to the end,” “near death,” and “dying.”

BE A LISTENER. The National Mental Health Association says you help a grieving person by encouraging them to talk about their feelings of loss. The gift of listening will help your friend to ventilate, identify feelings, and see things more clearly. Ask prompting questions to help your friend reminisce about his or her dying loved one. Your listening may also serve as a reality check.

BE PATIENT. It may take a long time for your friend to come to terms with reality and impending loss. That’s why the National Mental Health Association says you need to be patient. You may hear the same stories over and over again and that’s okay. Obviously your friend needs to tell these stories and he or she has chosen you.

BE ACCEPTING. Bettyclare Moffatt writes about accepting friends in her book, “Soulwork.” There was a time when Moffatt got caught up in a “pity party” and cried uncontrollably over her losses. Though Moffatt expected rejection from her friends their reaction was the opposite. “They took me just as I was,” Moffatt writes. You may do the same for your dear friend.

BE SOCIAL. Your friend may be in so much pain that he or she pulls back from social contacts. Isolation is no friend of grief. Social contacts help your friend to stay in touch with the world. Chances are your friend doesn’t want to keep all social contacts, but you can encourage him or her to keep a few. Arrange to attend events together and provide transportation.

BE HONEST. If you think your friend is depressed or needs professional help, be honest and say that. “Don’t hesitate to recommend professional help when you feel someone is experiencing too much pain to cope alone,” advises the National Mental Healh Association. You may offer to get information on support groups and bereavement counselors.

According to an old saying, “A friend in need is a friend in deed.” Your friend needs you now. Still, you need to be aware of your needs and take care of yourself. You want to be ready for the day when you and your friend swap stories, laugh at silly jokes, and celebrate life together.

Copyright 2005 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 27 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD is available from http://www.amazon.com A five-star review of the book is also posted on Amazon.

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You may have bouts of crying, for example, a symptom that upsets you and those around you. You may hold back your tears because you have to be strong for your loved one. All through the day you have a choked feeling in your throat. Holding back tears takes lots of energy and, before long, you’re exhausted.

You don’t talk publicly about your grief because you’re afraid of the reactions you’ll get. It takes courage to “grieve in a society that mistakenly values restraint,” according to Judy Tatelbaum, author of “The Courage to Grieve.” But if you’re going to heal you must face anticipatory grief and its symptoms. Your survival depends on this self-honesty.

ANTICIPATORY GRIEF SYMPTOMS ARE A BIG DEAL IF YOU HAVE THEM.

Just as reading about the flu differs from getting it, reading about anticipatory grief differs from experiencing it. Suddenly, anticipatory grief is personal and you can’t escape its symptoms. “What happened to my life?” you may ask.

Antiipatory grief happened and the symptoms include denial, mood swings, forgetfulness, disorganized and confused behavior, anger, depression, feeling disconneced and alone. You may have health symptoms, too, such as weight loss or gain, sleep problems, nervous behavior, and general fatigue.

Fatigue and the strain of handling symptoms can lead to depression. Keep in mind that depression isn’t the same as the blues. You may wish to talk with a physician to see if you’re depressed. Depression is treatable and new medications can get you over this hump.

EACH SYMPTOM IS POWERFUL.

The worst symptoms of all – anxiety and dread – illustrate this point. Robert Fulton, PhD and Robert Bendiksen, PhD discuss anxiety in their book, “Death & Identity.” You expect your loved one to die, they explain, but “exactly when it will take place is not known.”

The suspense is unbearable. If you feel this badly now, how will you feel when your loved one is gone?

Talking about feelings will help you to relieve anxiety. Instead of brooding alone, talk with a trusted friend. Your church and local hospital may have grief support groups. You may also get support from national associations, such as the Alzheimer’s Association.

THE INTENSITY OF THE SYMPTOMS VARIES.

Having the symptoms is bad enough, but these symptoms also vary in intensity. What a bummer. Your anticipatory grief symptoms are always present, interrupting thoughts, nagging at you, adding to your worry and sorrow. Like a roller coaster track, your emotions zig-zag up and down.

These may be your feelings, but identifying them is hard. Keeping a diary is one way to identify and track your feelings. Your partner and familily members may also be able to help you. When all is said and done, however, you must help yourself.

This is good time to draw upon your personality strengths. Use your intelligence, skills, and hobbies to your advantage. Prepare yourself for the variations in intensity because they’ll happen. You’ll also need to prepare yourself for a long haul.

THE TIME FACTOR GRINDS YOU DOWN.

Depending on your loved one’s illness, you may grieve for year, five years, 10 years, or more. The slow decline of a loved one is a heavy burden. Edward Myers, in his book “When Parents Die,” says this burden comes with special hardships. Myers compares a slow decline to an advancing glacier.

A sudden death hits you like an explosion, Myers explains, and sends you into shock, whereas a slow deline “arrives more like a glacier, massive and unstoppable, grinding you down.” Dealing with the symptoms of anticipatory grief gets harder with each passing day.

HELPING YOURSELF IS A BIG DEAL TOO.

One thing you can do is give yourself permission to cry. Tears are an emotional release, according to Jeffrey A. Kottler, author of “The Language of Tears.” He thinks crying brings people together. When you cry and share your story with others they share their stories with you.

You may compile a support list. Put contact names, phone numbers, and email addresses on your list. Add anticipatory grief “prescriptions” to your list, things like a daily walking group, half-day cooking class, or book club meeting.

Anticipatory grief symptoms are a big deal. Handling these symptoms is one of the best deals you’ll ever make with yourself. The things you learn today will brighten your tomorrows.

Copyright 2005 by Harriet Hodgson. To learn more about her work go to http://www.harriethodgson.com.

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 27 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com. A five-star review of the book is also posted on Amazon. The book is packed with Healing Steps – 114 in all – that lead readers to their own healing path.

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“Grief work includes the processes that a mourner needs to complete before resuming daily processes,” according to The National Cancer Institute. This grief work includes mentally separating from the person who has died, adjusting to a different life, and forming new relationships.

Those who are going though anticipatory grief have double work. While you’re grieving for your loved one you’re helping him or her with end of life tasks: completing forms, paying medical bills, checking legal documents, finding safe deposit box keys, distributing goods, and even home repairs. You may have to make decisions for a loved one who is no longer capable of making them.

Self-care should be on your work list, according to The Alzheimer’s Association. “Building in time for self-care is crucial,” according to the Association, and you need to recognize your physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. As you go about your anticipatory grief work remember to reward yourself. Take a day off. Have lunch with a friend. Buy the shirt that was on sale.

Family members can help you with your anticipatory grief work. Their involvement will not only lighten your load, it may prevent future discord. You’ll find a list of “Tasks of Anticipatory Grief for Families” on http://www.alzheimer-society.ca/grief2.htm.

Anticipatory grief work is tough stuff. Dividing this work into parts will make it easier: 1) Meeting your loved one’s needs and 2) Meeting your own needs. Just as a builder gathers materials for a construction project, you must gather materials for your anticipatory grief work. So roll up your sleeves and get going.

PREPARE YOURSELF MENTALLY. Decide how you’re going to act with your loved one. Mayo Clinic Chaplain Mary Johnson, in an article called “Interacting With a Terminally Ill Loved One,” thinks you should “let loved ones be loved ones.” Though you can’t be your loved one’s physician or counselor, you can be a good listener. Johnson says you can also “build on the strengths of the relationship that were in place before the health care crisis came about.”

LEARN ABOUT ANTICIPATORY GRIEF. Helen Fitzgerald, Training Director of the American Hospice Foundation, thinks it’s important to learn about grief “so you can identify what you are feeling and have some ideas on how to help yourself.” Hundreds of books have been written about grief, but few have been written about anticipatory grief. Check the Internet for anticipatory grief books and articles. Hospitals and hospices are also good sources of information.

FACE REALITY. Marin A. Humphrey, RN, MA, a psychiatric nurse and contributing author for “Loss & Anticipatory Grief,” by Therese Rando, PhD, says you need to face the reality of impending loss. Your reality may include saying goodbye to your loved one. “Goodbyes left unsaid, or not completed in a way that is satisfactory to the survivor, can be devastating to the grief experiences,” writes Humphrey.

BUILD A SUPPORT SYSTEM. This system may include health professionals, family members, friends in your religious community, and neighbors. Write their names, phone numbers, and email addresses in a small notebook and carry it with you. Put a list of these names and numbers next to the phone. Your local hospital may have bereavement support groups. Your religious community may have grief support groups as well.

SAFEGUARD DOCUMENTS. Anticipatory grief can be so stressful that you misplace things. Certainly,you don’t want to misplace medical documents, legal documents, or family papers. Keep these documents in a separate file drawer and copies of them in a safe deposit box. Your loved one may also give you written instructions for disbursing family possessions. You need to safeguard these documents as well.

MAKE ARRANGEMENTS. Your loved one may have special requests, such as which hymns to sing at the memorial service, special readings, and selected photos to display. Involve other family members in planning because they will probably have suggestions, too. Social Services may recommend prepaying funeral expenses. If you do this, file these receipts with the medical and legal documents.

THINK ABOUT A NEW LIFE. You never stop missing your loved one, according to The National Mental Health Association, but “the pain eases after a time and allows you to go on with your life.” Start to think about this life now. Donating to health organizations is one way to remember your loved one. You may purchase books about your loved one’s hobby for the public library. Some families have created patchwork quilts from their loved one’s garments.

Anticipatory grief work helps to prepare us for a new life. As Judith Viorst explains in “Necessary Losses,” loved ones who are gone still enrich our lives. Identifying with these loved ones helps us to see things more clearly. “By taking in the dead – by making them part of what we think, feel, love, want, do – we can both keep them with us and let them go.”

Copyright 2005 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 27 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com A five-star review of the book is also posted on Amazon.

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There were hand-written recipes, lots of newspaper and magazine clippings, and many duplicates. We threw out the duplicate recipes and saved family favorites – recipes that grandchildren and great grandchildren would enjoy. Reading the recipes brought back memories of family picnics, holiday dinners, and snacks Nana prepared for her three growing boys.

I typed the recipes (one per page) and compiled them in a three-ring notebook. The title of the book: “Favorite Recipes From Nana’s Recipe Boxes.” For the cover I used holiday stationery with a candy cane border. Each cover had a photo of Nana on it. To protect the recipes from splatters and drips I put them in plastic notebook sleeves. There were only 25 recipes so I didn’t index them. However, I did write a short introduction and it contained a story that is still clear in my mind.

Nana served Sunday dinner at 1 p.m. After one dinner she announced that supper would be cake and ice cream. I laughed because I thought Nana was kidding. But Nana, the only person I have ever known who would eat cold butter rolled in sugar, had a sweet tooth, and supper was just as advertised. We had huge bowls of French vanilla ice cream and hefty slices of yellow cake with Penuche frosting. What a memory.

Because the cook book was a glimpse of family history, I typed the recipes as Nana wrote them, including abbreviations such as “refrig” for refrigerator, and references to family members and friends. I grouped the pages into sets, put the pages in the notebooks, and tucked rubber spatulas inside. Then I wrapped the books in holiday paper and ribbon, and tied measuring spoons to each one.

So much love had gone into the cook books that I could hardly wait to give them to family members on Christmas morning. A few fancy gifts were exchanged , but my homemade gifts were the hit of the day. Family members told Nana stories as they paged through their cook books. If you are looking for a meaningful way to remember a loved one, think about compiling a memory cook book.

Your cook book will spark stories about the meals you have shared, and link the older generation with the younger. I didn’t have time to put more photos in the books, but a photo on each page would make the cook book extra special. Now you are probably wondering about the recipes. My favorite recipe is the one for fudge. Though I don’t make fudge, I love the ending. Here is the recipe, just as Nana wrote it so many years ago.

NANA’S FUDGE 1920

2 c. sugar

3/4 c. milk

2 sq. chocolate

1/2 t. salt

1 T. butter

1 t (teaspoon) vanilla
nuts

Mix and cook all ingredients except vanilla & nuts. When it boils up once lower the heat to a slow boil. After 5 min. begin testing for the soft ballstage (1/2 4sp. fudge in a saucer of ice water.)

When you can pick up a soft ball in 3 fingers it’s ready. Cook it 1 minute more. Remove from stove and cool completely before stirring. Add vanilla and nuts and beat until it looks [like] it’s glass and begins to set. Pour into a small square cake pan.

Cut when hard. (If it gets too hard add a few drops of cream at the end of beating.) Cut, enjoy. Save some for mother and dad. Be a good scout and clean up the kitchen afterwards.

Copyright 2006 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com
http://www.healthwriter.blogspot.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a nonfiction writer for 28 years and is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling. Before she became a health writer she was a food writer for the former “Rochester Magazine” in her hometown of Rochester, MN. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com. A five-star review of the book is posted on Amazon. You will find another review on the American Hospice Foundation website under the “School Corner” heading.

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Alice, a nurse and researcher, had belonged to club for many years. Members always looked forward to her papers. This year’s paper was supposed to be on a world leader, but the schedule changed after Alice had a physical exam and learned she had incurable cancer. She sent a touching resignation letter to the club and said she was in palliative care. How could we honor Alice’s life and cope with her impending death?

The president suggested honoring Alice’s life with poems and readings that represented her life. “It’s not a memorial service,” she explained. “This is a meeting to honor Alice.”

On the day Alice was supposed to give her paper club members read a variety of readings. One read from a biography about the world leader. Another read a poem about walking in honor of Alice’s daily walks. Alice loves movies and theater so another member updated us on forthcoming shows. Yet another member read a quote from a Scotch beer label, written by Robert Louis Stevenson. I read Robert Frost’s poem, “Take Something Like a Star” and excerpts from “The French Chef” by Julia Child in honor of Alice’s gourmet cooking.

Poem by poem, reading by reading, Alice’s life began to take shape. We could not portray her entire life in an afternoon, but we created a word picture of Alice. The most moving part of the meeting was the poem Alice asked to be read in her absence, “Wild Geese” by Pulitzer Prize winning poet Mary Oliver. The poem tells about the world offering itself to our imagination, calling to us like wild geese, “over and over announcing your place in the family of things.”

Each member received a copy of the poem Alice had chosen. At the end of the meeting members reminisced about Alice. My sister-in-law, an expert knitter, told a story about the sweater Alice had started knitting for her son some 30 years ago. Alice found the sweater, finished it with my sister-in-law’s help, and gave it to her grandson! Everyone laughed at the story and the meeting closed with happy thoughts of Alice.

After the meeting I realized club members had experienced anticipatory grief together and coped with it together. We continue to cope. Alice loved the idea of a meeting in her honor and she received copies of our readings. The Study Club is small, yet larger groups could have a similar meeting to honor an ill member. Readings could be published or emailed to members. “Wild Geese” hangs on the wall above my computer, a reminder of friendship, family, and Alice’s life.

Copyright 2006 by Harriet Hodgson

http://www.harriethodgson.com

http://www.healthwriter.blogspot.com

Harriet Hodgson has been a freelance nonfiction writer for 28 years. She is a member of the Association of Health Care Journalists and the Association for Death Education and Counseling. Her 24th book, “Smiling Through Your Tears: Anticipating Grief,” written with Lois Krahn, MD, is available from http://www.amazon.com. A five-star review of the book is posted on Amazon. Another review is posted on the American Hospice Foundation Website under the “School Corner” heading.

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