The Importance of a Life: Remembering and Grief at the Holidays

When I worked in home hospice I spent most of my visits with family sitting or standing beside a hospital bed.  In the bed, lay a beloved person who, not infrequently, would die within the next couple of days or even couple of hours.  Sometimes this was my first visit.  Many times the patient was so weakened and near death that they were barely responsive.  Sometimes their breathing was ragged and we all knew that any breath could be their last.  Anxiety often ran high.  We are not accustomed to people dying at home, and we are not much accustomed to death.

I felt daunted.  The role of 'social worker' tugged at my insecurities - What could I do to help when there was so little time left?  What resources did I have to offer?  Wasn't I really a nuisance, distracting from the moments they all had left together?  What did I have of my self to offer?

*********************

A client recently said to me that the majority of Christmas is about nostalgia.

Long, dark and starry nights, the smell of a wood fire, Christmas carols and lights, cookies baking, if we are lucky - snow...family events that seem to change imperceptibly from one year to the next, even the stories and movies we know - like A Christmas Story - the story itself is as nostalgic as our memory of watching it and cackling when Ralphie's dad says "Frag-ee-lay."

*************************

Many of my clients and many people I know grieve more deeply at this time of year.  The nostalgia of the season makes the absence of the person or people you love different - maybe you feel lonelier.  Maybe you even feel destitute.  In this grief, much of what you feel is separate from the rest of the world, who seems to be connected to one another and also clueless to the pain and grief that haunt the shadowland of the season.

Yet I also know that many people who aren't grieving are not clueless.  This doesn't give the rest of us the credit we deserve.  We feel inadequate or uncertain (like I did by the bedside of hospice patients in the first year or so of my work).  So we 'non-grievers' might not say anything to our neighbor who lost a son, or our friend who lost her mother.  We might think things like, "Maybe it will upset him if I bring it up."  Or, "She lost her mom a few years ago, she's probably moved on."  Or, "I just don't know what to say."

A client recently share this with me:

******************

Working in hospice was a great gift to me for so many reasons.  One of them was that it forced me to do things that were really difficult and which I felt totally scared to do.  One of those things was stand by the bedside of a dying human being.  Maybe it was a dying dad, with his college-age daughter and a collection of neighbors and friends around him because he had no other family.  What I learned, was to ask about a life.  Tell me stories about your dad, I would say.  Tell me how you all became friends, I would ask the friends.  I would learn a little about the person who was dying and I would ask for even more stories - "It sounds like he never met a stranger," I would observe.  "It sounds like you all had some amazing vacations together."

I came to believe this did two things...one, was provide comfort and meaning to the family.  It's called Life Review in hospice terms and telling stories from our lives means that what we did and who we are matters.  This person made an impact.  The world is different and better (hopefully) because this person lived.  When we face the death of someone we love, there is no end to the comfort we get in knowing this.  It doesn't take the pain away, but it fortifies us a little.  Two, I believe that the dying person could hear these stories too.  I believe it would do something good for me, if I was dying, to hear good stories from my life and know that the people I loved were sharing in these stories.  I believe that knowing our lives have meaning might help us die peacefully.

*******************

Dying of a disease and dying suddenly elicit a different texture of grief from family and friends, but it is all still grief.  If you know someone who is grieving and you have a special story about the person who died, I encourage you to share that story with the grieving person, maybe, especially, at this time of year.

******************

I found out unexpectedly this year that my third grade teacher, Ann Birmingham, died in 2015.  I'd been looking to connect with her on facebook - just thinking about what an influence she'd been on me and thinking I'd let her know.  What I found out is that I was three years too late - and she was a young woman in her 60s, so this was particularly surprising and sad news.

If I would have been able to talk to her, I would have said this:  "Mrs. Birmingham!  Hello!  Do you remember me?  I was in your third grade class in 1980-1981.  I thought you were so glamorous!  You always had manicured, dark red nails and you wore Jordache jeans and sometimes you wore black and I didn't know any ladies who wore black when I was a kid.  You quoted Saturday Night Live - Roseanne Roseanna Danna, and said "Nevermind" in a singsong, goofy voice like Gilda Radner.  And when you got mad at the class, sometimes you would turn to me and wink, as if I were included on a joke with you and you weren't mad at me at all.  I also remember when I wrote my friend, Jenny Nielson a note that said, "Mrs. Birmingham is in a bad mood today!  I wonder if she is on her p."  (That was our code word for period - how scandalous.)  And you confiscated that note and you never said a word about it and I thought I was going to get in a lot of trouble because it felt so disrespectful to you.  I remember you treated me like a 'grown up.'  You encouraged me to read books that were challenging - even a Wrinkle in Time and The Hobbit, which were for much older kids.  You were one of the first women I knew who didn't seem to fit a mold.  I looked up to you and I know you were a big part of my ongoing love of school.  Thank you."

I will try to find a way to share those anecdotes with her family.  Even three years later, I know that people still dearly miss their loved ones who've died. 

Sharing stories from a life, remembering the lives of people we've cared about and telling those stories is an act of connection.  I am connected to you, you are connected to me, we are connected to the past, the present and we are also connected to the future in ways that bring comfort and uncertainty.  We give a gift when we share a memory with a grieving person - the gift of a loving connection, sometimes arriving at the time that person needs it most. 

 

Taking (Guilt Free) Stock of My Goals - How I'm Doing Fighting Racism and Writing a Book

In the past year or so, there are two tangible, specific goals I've shared in my blog:  1) That I am working on a book about grief and 2) That I made a pledge through my church involvement to help end racism.

On these two goals, I give myself a C.  My inner school marm gets a lot of satisfaction out of giving grades.

So, I'll just get it out there - I have not finished the book, nor made much progress on it this year.  And while I feel I have taken some tangible steps in racial justice and equity work, I know I have more to do.  From a purely measurable outcomes assessment, this is where the C comes from.

However, because I talk with people all day most days about their hopes and longings and failures and goals (and other things too), I think that sharing both the outer process and the inner/emotional process (what I've learned) might be useful for some readers -  who in some of the long hours of darkness at this time of year, might also be taking stock of 2018.

First, the book:  In late 2017, I started writing a book about grief - anecdotes of my work in hospice and as a grief therapist, connecting it to my own life experiences. I've tried to illuminate what I've learned about bodies, inadequacy, selflessness, illness, despair, hope, and courage.  It's really difficult for a person like me who is more naturally drawn to writing poetry to write prose in such a long format.  I'm impatient.  I like to see a finished product, which is why both poetry and the blog can be so satisfying.  So, I attempted to do that with the book - creating small chapters in an A-Z format, i.e., A is for Afterlife, etc.

Yet, writing a book is big and cumbersome; it's easy to get bogged down even with short chapters.  And when I shared the 75 pages or so that I'd written with other writers or people who I admire for their brains and point of view, I think they liked it but they didn't have that 'click' we feel when we read something we can't put down and just want more of (of course this is the kind of book I want to write).  The general encouragement was - 'this is good - keep writing, but you might want to change the format as you go along - the A to Z might just be the hook to get you in to the meat of the book.'  (I thought 75 pages was pretty meaty).

And when I take the most objective look at the writing that I can...I agree!  In fact, in writing workshops, one typical saying is 'Kill Your Babies.'  Most writers and artists get ego- attached to some phrases, scenes, introductions, or whole pieces of writing; but sometimes you have to edit that stuff.  Get ride of it, change it, 'kill it.'  That A-Z format probably needs to go.

And as I wrote more and more, I set weekly goals for myself - pages to write.  And I began to find that  I resented the writing time.  That's a red flag for sure.  I find that if I am not doing something with some degree of joy, I probably should not be doing it.  But I wanted to understand myself honestly, if I were going to take a hiatus from the book project.

One of the inner lessons I've continued to learn this year is about limitations, boundaries, and bringing the right amount of reverence to the meaning of Time.  And here is the truth that I began to feel and accept more fully:

I am a single mom and I own and run my own business, which I try to do with care, integrity, and competence.  I am responsible for my home and to some degree, three human beings (including me) and a dog.  I like to have friends and spend time with them.  I like to exercise.  I like to try to do a little bit of volunteer work.  I like to pretend to try to date or at least 'put it out there' in the universe that I might like to date 'some day' (whatever that means, but you know...)

It would be realistic to see that I am already working toward goals that are important to me - raising good human beings, being a responsible, productive adult human myself.  And, I need to be humble in a good way and prioritize my time appropriately and in a way that fits my values.  Like all of us, I am at my best when balanced - responsible, ambitious, and also having fun and relaxing.

So, I gave my self permission to GO SLOW with the book.  I don't have to chuck it, but I changed my process and mindset.  I became respectful of my own time and energy.  It is not that I am saying 'I can't do it,' but I am allowing myself limits and boundaries.  As I heard in an Al-Anon meeting one time - 'it's not that I can't do it.  But if I can't do it without hurting myself, then it's not the right thing right now.'  I will trust that when the time is right for me, I will have the words, make the time, and experience the pleasure of that writing and I believe it will shine through in what I write.  And I can pick it up and write a few pages here or there whenever I want.

Now...on to the goal/my progress in helping to end racism.

Here are some things I have done:  I've had more conversations about race with more people across a variety of formats.  One on one conversations with white people and people of color.  People I've known for years and people I've just met.  I've introduced myself to people for the sole purpose of making these connections.  Some of these conversations - maybe half - have been with white people who seem to disagree with me about the state of race relations in our country and the need for equity.  I've communicated in social media and also in private emails.  My intent for my words and my listening are to be a part of a process of truth, justice, and hopefully peace.

I've made conscious choices to buy goods and services from businesses owned by people of color.

I've written publicly about my involvement in this issue.

I've written a letter to my local city council about hiring concerns.

My kids and I communicate about these issues on an almost daily basis - analyzing how we get our news, who tells us our information, and what biases we have that inform how and what we believe.

I have learned a few things about myself as I try to be part of something that feels dear. What I've learned is that I am not much of a warrior.  My primary drive is not rage or outrage. I have appreciation for some people's passion and rage.  To create change, I think anger is often needed.  To overcome injustice, anger is a necessary human emotion.  It's not that I don't get angry about injustice, I do.

What I've learned is that we all have innate gifts and skills that we use to navigate the world and one of mine is translation/communication.  I've also learned that my energy is best spent places where I feel effective and I feel effective in matters of racial equity when I use my words and whatever ability I have to translate so that people hear one another in different ways.  I hope, in ways that open minds and hearts.   Maybe this has to do with being a writer (most writers are observers as much or more than participants).   Maybe this has to do with being raised by parents who were civically minded but always worked within systems, rather than from the outside?  I am sure there are other influences.  I check myself...am I just staying in my comfort zone?  Am I afraid?   I'm sure that's some of it too.

Maybe it isn't particularly universal to write about my individual goals/ resolutions.  But I know that it is universal to assess where we are in different ways and in different facets of life.  (It strikes me that my time of life is particularly an assessing one - I see this in my clients from about 40 years old to 60).  Am I where I want to be in general?  Am I where I wanted or hoped to be a year ago.  So not only is it the time of year that is reflective, it is my time of life.

One thing that makes me feel sad is when clients say to me, "But I'm already at THIS (take your pick) stage of life and this is all I have to show for it!"  I wish I could take that away from them.  Whatever that self-flagellation and guilt is, it doesn't help because it discounts all the life experience that got you HERE.  Here might not be what you imagined, but it's YOUR LIFE.  Each day takes a different amount of courage to live, but sometimes it takes a lot of courage.  And what we do, even if it is folding laundry, uses both time and energy.

A client asked me recently what kind of therapy I do and it made me step back and think about it from a fresh mind.  I hadn't thought about that question in a while in quite that specific way.  Logotherapy is what Viktor Frankl named therapy that helps people create and understand the meaning of their particular life. I guess that's what I do.  I do that with myself too.  The meaning of my life (or yours) - to my way of thinking - isn't bestowed on me by God or forced on me by life circumstances.

We have life circumstances and we choose what the meaning is.  It's very powerful.  Making goals and pursuing them and seeing where they take you is part of making the meaning of your life.

In this weird time we live in where we have other people's achievements, vacations, jobs and lives marketing to us on social media, I think we do too much comparing 'where we are' to others. I always hope that my sharing my experiences - both hiccups and joys, will help normalize being human. 

A friend and mentor (I call her that not because we work in the same field but because she is just an AWESOME lady and that's another goal I aspire to) used to write me emails of encouragement as I worked on a rather fundraising project for church a number of years ago.  She'd always close with one final word, a word that strengthened my heart to take the next step forward.

Onward!