Young Widow Struggles to Keep Going

Suzy Aguilar writes, “My husband passed away on May 30, 2008 — yes 5 months ago.  I still feel numb and a big empty hole in my heart.  He was also my high school sweetheart.  I am 41, and he was 43 — we had 3 beautiful daughters, including a set of twins!  Reading these posts is making me realize I am not alone and only other widows can truly understand my pain, a pain nobody else will ever understand.  Thank you all for sharing your stories — it is making me see some light and realize that I am not going crazy!  I just wish at times I could be with him but I know my daughters need me - my oldest is 19 and the twins are 13 - they adore me so much, but I adored my husband so so much!”

Beverly Chantalle McManus, Grief & Loss Friend, responds: Suzy, first of all, thank you for sharing your experience with us.  You are not alone - you have entered a world where only those who are already here understand what you’re going through.  My own husband Steve died five years ago, also at age 43, and I want to let you know that it does get better.  Your daughters are fortunate to have such a brave woman as their mom, and how you walk your grief journey will help them as they grieve the loss of their beloved dad.

Sometimes for those suffering the intense pain that results when a spouse has died, it is helpful to know that what we are experiencing is normal, albeit extremely painful.  Especially initially, it is hard to believe, but it does help to know that ever so gradually, your memory and thought processes will return. That the hole that is where your heart once resided will eventually heal.  Yes, you will be able to get through this.

After Steve died, I felt like my brain was Swiss cheese for the longest time.  There were big holes in my memories, and total disconnects between memories and ideas, but gradually (and far more slowly than I wanted!), I began to feel like myself again.

There are of course unexpected tidal waves of emotion that wash away all else, but then eventually subside.  I have been told that these will continue throughout the rest of my life, although their frequency will diminish somewhat.  Looking back over the past few years, I can attest that it is true.  The memories remain, the loss remains, the tears remain, but the pain becomes easier to bear and gradually diminishes.

Something that isn’t really mentioned often is that grief work requires a substantial output of time and energy.  Grief doesn’t just “happen” on its own.

Sure, we can try to go about our lives, living as if there is not a gaping hole where our heart used to be, but eventually, the grief spills over, and can sometimes invade every corner of our lives.  Some of us try to avoid the grief, whether by being stoic, or, in some cases, by numbing the pain with alcohol, prescription medications or other substances, or even by becoming consumed by work or busy-ness.

What I’ve learned: Something that has really helped my healing process and that I continue to find very helpful is to schedule time every day to grieve — I know it sounds odd, but the grief takes place regardless of whether we schedule it or not, and this helps to keep it from leaking into every minute of every day. If I suddenly have a lump in my throat or feel like falling apart at an inopportune time, I can deal with it if I know that I’ll have some quiet time to think about Steve later.  In the grief workshops I attended, it was suggested that I designate a special, private, comfy chair in our house as the Grief Space - a  dedicated place to think about the loss, look through photo albums, write in my grief journal, re-read the sympathy cards, listen to music.  I have learned to really lean into the grief, the tears, and the loss, and to embrace all those feelings that are brought forward, rather than trying to dismiss them or shut them away because they are arising at inappropriate times.  It also really helps to talk about it, to acknowledge the empty chair at the table, the empty space in my life.

Last fall, I attended a creativity retreat up in the California wine country.  One of the exercises was to decide what we were willing to give up in order to welcome new energy and ideas into our lives.  I decided I was ready to give up the pain I’d been carrying.  I stretched out on the grass and let all the pain I’d been holding flow out of me and back into the earth, where we were told it could be transformed into something else.  In that instant, I felt immense relief, and felt more like myself than I had for months and months.  Of course the losses still hurt, but by releasing that burden of pain, it freed up so much energy for me to channel into more productive areas.  The joy I experienced with that new-found freedom made me decide to repeat the exercise on a regular basis.

If you, like most of us, are just wishing the pain would end, please know that you are not alone — you will pull through.  Surround yourself with people you love, read poems and listen to music you enjoy, watch funny movies, walk in nature to restore your energies.  Consider writing a letter to yourself, expressing your well deserved pride in the progress you have made in the time since your spouse’s death.  Think about how much you have changed since that time.  It is amazing.

How are you carving out time and energy to deal with your grief work?  Do you run into any obstacles on the pathway?  I’d love to hear from you…

 

Beverly Chantalle McManus lives in Northern California with her two daughters, who have each now graduated from college. She is a bereavement facilitator and core team member of the Stepping Stones on your Grief Journey Workshops, and a frequent speaker and writer on the topic of loss and grief. In addition to grief support, she is also a marketing executive for professional services firms.

© 2008 Beverly Chantalle McManus

Sibling Survivor Guilt: What It Is, How It Works

By Bob Baugher, Ph.D. –

We know that guilt is a part of the human condition; and it is certainly part of most people’s bereavement process. If you experienced survivor guilt when your brother or sister died, join the crowd. Let’s look at some of the common types:

Being alive. Knowing that your brother or sister will never experience life again while you continue to live day after day may bring guilt feelings. You can’t understand why your sibling’s life was cut short and you continue to live.

Surpassing the age he/she was. Survivor guilt can be especially difficult when you reach and surpass the age to which your sibling lived. Every day you live beyond that date may somehow feel strange, unfair, or even a relief.

Using his/her things. For some bereaved siblings, using items that belonged to their deceased brother or sister brings comfort and produces feelings of closeness. Others report that using items brings feelings of unworthiness. When an item inevitably wears out or becomes unusable, you may feel badly that yet another piece of your brother or sister has faded from use. Other people may not understand this significance.

Doing things he/she never got a chance to do. This is a quite common source of survivor guilt and it becomes especially poignant when you see the look on your parents’ face that says, “I wish your brother/sister could have done this or been here for this.”

Experiencing pleasure. Here you are enjoying yourself at a party, on vacation, at the beach, the movies, or out to dinner and suddenly it hits you: “How can I be having fun like this when she can never do this again?” Friends may notice your sudden change of mood, but you may not want to tell them for fear of spoiling their fun.

Seeing your loved ones cry. One of the most difficult aspects of death is watching those around you grieve the loss and realizing there is not much you can do to ease their pain. You may have had the awkward experience of standing there and having the desire to say, “Hey, I’m still here!” You feel guilty for standing there, being alive, and realizing your existence has little effect on easing your loved ones grief.

Taking risks you shouldn’t. If you are or were a normal adolescent, you engaged in activities you knew were unsafe. However, because of your brother or sister’s death, you also know better than most of your friends that a young person can die and leave their family devastated. Yet, there you were, taking risks and feeling guilt as a result.

Feeling like it should have been you. This is another common one, especially when you are feeling down on yourself or when your parents have criticized you. If you are having thoughts such as these it is very important that you call a friend, a counselor, your parents, the crisis center, or some other person who can listen to you. These are thoughts that may indicate you are depressed

Not doing enough to keep his memory alive. Here you are going through the course of your day, when it hits you that you have not been thinking of him/her. Or you find that you aren’t remembering some of the ways he did things. Then you kick yourself for “forgetting”. Do you realize that you will never forget your brother or sister? One way to help with this guilt issue is to begin writing down all your memories. If you’re not a writer, then talk into a tape recorder. It’s a great way to ease this aspect of survivor guilt: stories are the way we best remember.

Before I get to the last type of survivor guilt, I want to offer some ways that you might ease some of your guilt:

1. Go back through the list and circle the ones that are relevant to you.

2. Find someone who will be a good listener and not judge you. Tell this person that you wish to talk about some guilt that you have been feeling around your brother/sister’s death. Most importantly tell this person that you want them to listen without trying to “fix” it, and without saying, “don’t feel guilt.” You simply want someone who will listen. There is something positive about “getting out” your guilt feelings and not letting them eat away at your insides.

3. Next, focus on the positive. Tell your friend all the good things you’ve done since your sibling died. Don’t be modest. Omit the term “I should have” from your vocabulary because you can never fix the past. You can only work on the present.

4. Ask yourself the following question: “What would it take to forgive myself?” And do something to work on this.

Now, here’s the final category of survivor guilt:

Not living up to his/her standards. Someone said it well years ago, “The dead have it easy-we are reluctant to say bad things about them and, unlike us, they make no further mistakes in their life.” In other words, your brother/sister was a hard act to follow. So, you feel more guilt because you are not this ideal person. Your challenge is to live up to your own realistic standards and allow yourself to make mistakes.

A good method to follow the next time you make a “stupid” mistake is to say, “What would I say right now if my best friend made the exact same mistake?” And then say that exact thing to yourself. I challenge you to treat yourself as well as you would your best friend! Besides, I bet that’s what your brother/sister would want for you. Don’t you agree?

This article was originally published in The Compassionate Friends Magazine, “We Need Not Walk Alone,” Summer, 1998, p.15, 17.

How to Honor a Loved One Who Has Died

By Diana Doyle –

Until the year 2000, my life resembled a fairy tale.  I had a loving family, husband and an adorable two-year-old daughter.  Over the next three years, what seemed impossible back then, happened to me.

I lost three of the most important people in my life. My sister was killed in a car accident, leaving four little ones motherless; my mother was diagnosed and succumbed to ovarian cancer; and, most inconceivably, my previously healthy daughter, Savannah, died from a rare genetic disease.

Although each death was different, the tsunami of emotions was similar.  I felt like my life had become an out-of-control freight train.  Finding ways to honor the people that died helped me move forward in the grieving process.

Each relationship was different, so I honored each loved one differently. For my sister Tarnia, I planted a cherry tree that blooms with delicate blossoms around the anniversary of her death.  I also wrote detailed letters to her children, describing what she loved about them, her favorite perfume and other little tidbits that they’ll be desperate for in years to come.

For my beautiful mother Beverley, I bought a rose-covered photo frame and placed my favorite picture of her in it.  The photo reminds me of her spirit, and I smile whenever I look at it.  I wear something pretty for Mom on her anniversary and birthday, lighting a candle and placing a vase of roses next to her photo.

Savannah was the ultimate loss. We lost our future in many ways when she died.  Our daughter was cremated, which enabled us to create a special shelf in our family room where her urn sits alongside angel figurines, a rainbow candle we light and other presents friends have bestowed on us.

I wear a dainty, gold, heart-shaped locket designed to hold a bit of the ashes.  So, a small amount of what remains of Savannah’s earthly self is dangling over my heart every day.  I find the locket to be healing.

Every year on her birthday, we release balloons into the heavens.  Letting go of them symbolizes her freedom from her painful disease.  We also planted a climbing rose bush that displays an abundance of white flowers most of the year, reminding us of our beautiful little girl.  We do something on those days that she would’ve loved, like going to a fun park, or sitting in the sun reading one of her favorite books with our other daughter, Dempsey.

I still buy a birthday card for Savannah every year and write in it about how I feel and what is happening in our lives.  Our surviving daughter will one day be able to read them.

I have a book-in-progress about this journey that I hope to have published.  Writing it has been a healing experience; I believe that I am honoring someone I love when I help others survive their grief.

I’ve read many ways people honor those who have passed out of our lives–some make quilts from their loved ones’ clothes. Some ask friends to send them a letter with a memory about the loved one.  Some, like me, light candles and think of the happy memories that will always live on in our souls.

However, the most profound way to honor someone who has died is to live, not just exist, but to try new things like skydiving or chasing your dreams.  Perhaps you simply noticing the glisten of morning dew on the lawn, or listen to the sound of children laughing.  Take a moment to be alive, in memory of those who can’t!

I know all of these things make me feel the person who’s died is somehow still alive - it’s something I can control and makes those difficult times seem a little bit easier.

Handling the Death of a Therapist

Susan from New York writes: My therapist died suddenly on Aug.18. I miss him so so so much because I used him for 22 years. Any suggestions on how to make myself feel better? I am so deeply saddened.

Dr. Gloria Horsley responds:

Dear Susan,

I am truly sorry to hear of the death of your therapist.  We sometimes forget that our therapists are only too human.  I too lost a therapist many years ago.  My therapist was guilty of malpractice but nevertheless, no longer being able to see him was a blow to me.  I felt that I had lost my best friend and confidant.  Not seeing him weekly for a listening ear and unconditional acceptance was a profound loss.

Over time, I came to realize that with his help I had come to terms with many issues in my life and was thus a much stronger and wiser person than I had imagined.  Give yourself time, have patience, and realize that after 22 years, you have had the best of your therapist’s help and experience.  You honor your therapist by going on and being the person that you are today.  Continue to reach out to friends, family, and your extended community for support and comfort during this time of loss.

Dr. Gloria

Bereaved Mother Feels Like She Can’t Go On

Donna asks for help: My son just died in a car accident last Thursday, Sept. 4, 2008. I don’t think I can do this. He was only 20 years old and still lived with us at home. We worked for the same company and rode to and from work every day. I have to go back to work this coming Monday and don’t know how I’m going to make the drive in without him. He was so beautiful to me. I can hardly look at pictures of him right now. All I can see is the image of him lying in his casket. God help me! I have wonderful friends, family and church supporting me and still I feel like I’m drowning. I can’t breathe. Someone tell me how to face tomorrow when I wake up again without him here. I can’t see how. Jarod was my heart and soul… Please help.

Dr. Gloria Horsley responds: Please have someone drive you to work and pick you up for a few days.  I know it will be a pain but you need and deserve the support.  It is also hell having that empty bedroom and closing your eyes only to see them in the coffin.  Things will ease over time and that last image will lessen.  That picture in your mind of your son in the coffin is a way for the mind to let us know that it is true and that he is gone.  We fight that loss with every fiber in our body and mind.  We go to sleep and wake up to the fact that it is not a dream but a reality.  They are really gone.  Hold on to the love and history that you still have for one another.  You had 20 wonderful years and as time goes on and the suffering eases your memories will shine.

Fondly, Dr. Gloria

Did I Make A Mistake Having an Only Child?

Question from Anne: My mother warned me not to have an only child. I guess I should have listened to her as my son died of cancer last year. Do you think she was right and that I made a mistake? How do I live with such a big mistake?

Dr. Bob Baugher responds: Thank you for your question. First off, my heart goes out to you as you cope with the death of your precious son. Grief is hard and a common grief reaction is guilt. One type of guilt is called “If-only Guilt” in which we go back in our mind and say, “If only I had (or hadn’t) done this…” Sound familiar? But at the time your son was growing, was it really a mistake for you to choose to have one child? And if your son could magically say something to you about your If-only Guilt, would he say something like the following?

“Mom, thank you for bringing me into this world. At the time you had me, you never dreamed I would die before you. Having only me was not a ‘mistake.’ It was, at the time, the best decision. So, can you forgive yourself and begin to let go of this guilt?”

What do you think, Ann? Does this sound what a loving son would say to his mother? I hope so.

Do Men Really Cry Less Than Women?

By Bob Baugher, Ph.D.

You are sitting in a church watching a sad scene: The funeral of your neighbor has just ended and the family members are filing past the casket, saying their last good-byes. As each departing person walks past your pew, you look at grimaced faces and agonized expressions.

By the time the 15^th person has passed, you begin to notice a trend: most of the women, but few of the men, have tears streaming down their face. What’s going on here? Are the men experiencing less sadness than the women? Are they holding back their tears? Or are they naturally less inclined to weep?

Believe it or not, relatively little research has been done on gender differences in crying behavior. One of the earliest studies by Jim Frey in 1984 asked 200 men and women to keep crying diaries for a month. Frey found that women reported more frequent crying episodes. He also found that 85% of the women and 73% of the men reported feeling better after crying (called “having a good cry.”)

However, if we look closely at these numbers, we see that the proportion of people who feel no better (or even worse) are 1/7 of women and more than ¼ of males. So, the next time you begin to urge a bereaved person to have a “good cry,” think twice-especially if this person is male.

What is Crying Behavior?

In order to tackle the “who cries more” question, we need to ask some clarifying questions:

First, how do we define “crying behavior”? Think about it. When you cry, what most often happens? Refer to the scale below and see where you most often fall:

1.Chest or throat tightens, feeling moved to tears, but no evidence of tears

2. Eyes moisten

3. Tears well up, but do not fall

4. Tears well up, a few fall-beginning of facial crinkling

5. Tears well up, many fall-pronounced facial crinkling

6. Tears, some sobbing

7. Tears, much sobbing

8. Tears, sobbing, wailing

9. Tears, sobbing, wailing, screaming

10. All of the above and more

By looking at crying this way, we can see that answering questions on crying, including gender differences is complicated by how we define crying. Should it only count if we see clear evidence of tears (#3-10)?

Do men cry as often as women?

Frey’s one-month crying diary study found that 45% of the men and 6% of the women reported no emotional tears. However, this finding does not address whether men and women are differentially moved to tears (#1 in the scale above). In Adult Crying: A Biopsychosocial Approach, edited by Vingerhoets & Cornelius, researchers Marrie Bekker & Ad Vingerhoets have concluded that we presently do not know to what degree gender differences exist in the actual feeling of being moved to tears.  

 How do we really know men are less likely to cry emotional tears?

The funeral example appears to provide a logical answer: In our experiences with grief and loss, we observe more women than men moved to tears. However, our observations are limited because we do not know what goes on behind closed doors. Moreover, researchers who conduct surveys on self-reported behavior know that we humans often do one thing and say we do another.

It may be that men, largely because of societal attitudes toward male weeping, are reluctant to admit to researchers the true extent to which they cry. We have no idea what the dry-eyed men who walked past our pew did once they got home to the privacy of their own bedroom. It is entirely possible that they threw themselves on their bed and cried their eyes out.  

What else might contribute to fewer male tears?

First, we are not comfortable seeing men cry, and we let men know it. Think of how you felt when you were younger and saw your father or other male cry. For many children, the sight of a strong man in their life shedding tears is disconcerting. It may indicate that this man is not a strong as we thought he was. And little boys grow up remembering how important it is to not disappoint others by crying. When they do cry, they are often labeled ”crybaby,” “wimp,” “wuss,” or “wallowing in his grief.”  

Are there biological reasons for gender crying differences?

As with much of crying research, little has been done in this area. A 1997 study by Horsten (cited in the adult crying book) revealed that 45% of 2,018 women answered yes to the question, “Is your crying tendency dependent on the phase of your menstrual cycle?” However, the percentages varied widely across cultures with a low of 15% in China and a high of 69% in Australia.

Presently there are no studies that have clearly shown that hormonal differences in men, such as testosterone levels, are at all related to differences in any measure of crying behavior. It may be true that men are hard-wired to shed fewer tears-we just haven’t proven it yet.

What is a helpful way to respond when a man begins to cry?

I have given a popular workshop on crying at several bereavement conferences during the past few years. In the workshop, I take the participants through an important lesson on how to respond to a person who begins to cry in front of us. Here are some tips to keep in mind as you see the tears begin to flow:

1. At first, say and do nothing

2. As the crying continues, say to yourself, “Let him (or her) cry. Do nothing to interfere with the crying process.” This is critical. Even though you may be tempted to comfort, touch, hug, hold, back-pat, hand a tissue, or say, “There-there; it’s okay” it is best to let the crying person take the lead. If the person leans in to you certainly open your arms. However, do not try to pull the person any closer. Simply stand or sit there with them until their crying subsides. This non-interfering response is extremely difficult for most people, especially if the crier is a man. This step bears repeating: Do nothing to interfere with the crying process. Nothing.

3. As the person continues to cry, say to yourself, “This is good. Let him cry as long as he wants. He won’t cry forever.” When someone we care for begins to cry, we feel empathy and feel that we need to somehow fix it or show caring gestures of comfort. It is your job to wait until the crying has subsided until you say anything or offer a tissue or comfort. If you must say anything, phrases such as, “Go ahead.” “It’s hard, isn’t it?” or “You miss her, don’t you?” could elicit even more tears.  

4. Remember the simple phrase, “You cry ‘til you’re dry.”

5. Respect individual differences. Some men and women in your life will not cry as others around them are weeping and wailing. Do not judge a person’s lack of tears as evidence of their degree of love, grief, strength, or character. You can’t change someone’s level of crying behavior.

 

Self-Evaluation

Let’s finish with some questions for you to consider:

• 1. What are my current triggers for crying?
• 2. What is my attitude toward my present level of crying?
• 3. Should I be exploring ways to cry more? Less?
• 4. Where is the best place for me to cry? The worst?
• 5. Am I ready to handle another person’s tears or lack of tears?

So, the next time you see the men file past you with dry eyes, look at them and say to yourself, “There’s a lot about crying, grief, and men that we still don’t know. So, who am I to judge?”

 

______________________________

Bob Baugher teaches at Highline Community College in Des Moines, WA. He can be reached at bbaugher@highline.edu. Do Men Really Cry Less Than Women? was originally published in Grief Magazine, May-June, 2001, p. 16-18.

Grieving Fathers & Parents Create Baby Loss Memorials

I Lost My Son In August, 2006

I LOST MY SON AUG. 8 2006. HE WAS MY ONLY CHILD. WE WERE VERY CLOSE. HE HAD JUST TURNED 38 WHEN HE DIED. I WAS PREPARING TO COMMITE SUICIDE BEFORE HE DIED BECAUSE I KNEW I COULD NOT LIVE WITHOUT HIM. BUT HE KNEW ME SO WELL THAT WHILE WE WERE STILL AT HOME HE MADE ME PROMISE I WOULD NOT KILL MYSELF. HE MADE ME PROMISE 4 TIMES.SO I WILL NEVER EVER BREAK MY PROMISE TO HIM. HE DIED OF CANCER AND I HAD TO PULL THE LIFE SUPPORT. HIS SOUL WAS ALREADY GONE BECAUSE WHEN I KISSED HIS FACE IT WAS COLD AND I COU LD NOT SHUT HIS EYES. THEY WERE HALF OPEN. I AM ALWAYS DEPRESSED AND CRY A LOT. I AM DEVESTATED.

CATHY

 

Dear Cathy,

We are so very sorry for your loss. We have posted your response on the blog, so it can help others who also experience such pain and loss by helping them know that they are not alone.
You might find it helpful to listen on Thursday mornings to the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart  You can find information about it and a link to it on the first page of http://www.thegriefblog.com  You might also find a number of past shows that can give you help and comfort at http://thegriefblog.com/grief-grieving-death-of-a-child/
Help and support can also be found through a Compassionate Friends Group in Your Area. For more information go to http://www.compassionatefriends.org/  You can find a local group as well as many valuable resources to help you along the way. Each member has experienced the death of a child and each has survived and grieved in his or her own way. With this group you do not have to walk this path alone. We encourage you to attend and we encourage you to seek help from a professional grief counselor to help you through the depression.
Blessings,
Drs. Gloria and Heidi Horsley
 

Reflections of a Bereaved Dad – Part 6 Conclusion by Patrick Malone CSE

So as it often does, once again, how we manage our grief becomes a matter of choice. I remember Rich Edler once said, “We cannot change what happened, but we do have a choice what we do about it. Grief is inevitable. Misery is optional.”

So here are some of our choices.

We can choose whether that videotape plays tragic memories…
or a remembrance of all the good things in a life that was too short. Read more

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