Grief on the First Mother’s Day Afterward

Grief on the first Mother’s Day afterward surprised me. I ignored it, forgot it, and didn’t face the fact that my mother passed away last year. It’s an example of how I’ve used denial in my grief. Mother’s Day was never a time I looked forward to for myself. So, I always focused on Mom.

But she isn’t here now. The last time I saw her was almost a year ago.

But before that, on October 15, 2020, Mom and I ate at one of our favorite seafood restaurants, Crazy Fish, in Lake Wales, Florida. It’s such a noisy place. We were excited to sit outside in the coolness. Perhaps we laughed about one of her stories before I took our selfie above.

What Woke Me Up?

My sister posted a picture on social media of the last time she and my brother-in-law hugged Mom. I commented, “Today it hit me… the first Mother’s Day without Mom.

Rather Than Sit with My Emotion

Since I was on my laptop, I automatically checked my email and was startled to find an email inviting me to use newspapers.com to see if Mom ever made it to the paper. I became lost down the rabbit hole of looking up every closely related woman in the newspapers. It was a fantastic avoidance tactic.

But I also learned new things about my mother, grandmothers, and aunts. Also, I was reminded how different married life was for women a generation older than me.

To find newspaper articles about your mother’s generation successfully, search for “Mrs.” and their husband’s name. Only one person in my family used her name, my Aunt Lila Roads. And it was clear how she was different. Aunt Lila entered the business world, where she sought employment in administrative roles. Most of my other relatives were homemakers, and their mentions were on the social pages, which was a perfect place for women in the Deep South. So, since Aunt Lila and Uncle Mick moved to the more progressive state of California, she ended up in the newspaper.

What did I learn about Mom?

There were many articles about her engagement and wedding, but what intrigued me the most was an inquiry sent to The Tampa Tribune’s Food section’s “Recipes: Lost and Found.” She asked for a coconut cake recipe with coconut milk. And I found the responses!

This is interesting because my Mom’s sister, Carolyn, and I have discussed the long-standing hunt for their mother’s famous coconut cake recipe. Is this it? I think it has the basic ingredients, but my grandmother always used fresh coconut, often from West Palm Beach, Florida. After all, that’s where her mother lived, along with her older sister. There would have been a lot of love in those coconuts.

The hours I spent searching for newspaper articles never resulted in tears. It kept my mind busy and opened up new realizations. It helped me celebrate the memory of my mother rather than mourn the loss of her touch. Sometimes it’s nice to take a break from the tears. So, I’m happy about that.

What About the Grief?

My grief feels like it’s in my face, especially right now with the reminder of Mother’s Day. While writing, I’ve taken many crying breaks. Letting the feelings flow out feels good, leaving room for the joy of happy memories.

And one truth exists for anyone mourning a loss. Ignoring or avoiding the deep feelings of grief are impediments to healing. And I want to heal.

What are Some Ways for You to Heal?

Writing your feelings down is a great way to get your grief moving. Choose a place where you feel safe to cry or even scream if that is what you need. Your path toward healing is uniquely you. There are no right or wrong ways to express grief.

Walk outside. Grief can make us feel isolated, so getting up and moving helps to lift your mood.

Deep breathing is always welcome.

Here is one of my favorite deep breathing methods.

    • Take a deep breath in, filling your lungs.
    • Take one more sip of air at the top of your breath.
    • Exhale with a big sigh, “Aaaaaaaaa,” as you release all the air.

I always feel better when I do any of these activities.

Here’s wishing you a peaceful weekend.

Sending you loving kindness,
Dawn

Dealing with Profound Sorrow

When dealing with profound sorrow, we notice anniversaries of the day they left our lives. It’s not something we easily ignore. Nor should we. This week I marked the first anniversary of my husband Wayne’s death.

This is Not Easy

Every event in our lives has the potential to help us understand ourselves better. I’m taking small steps forward in my grief, gently buoyed by the stream of my tears. Today’s step is a review of what I’ve learned in the last year.

The biggest lesson I learned was the importance of listening to my intuition.

I believe intuition is how God answers you when you pray. We pray for help. We pray for change. We pray for courage. But sometimes, when we pray, we ask questions. We understand that the end of life is inevitable for all of us, but we still ask why.

Although I believe that our time on Earth is predetermined, our choices can affect the number of times we stumble and fall along the way.

Forks in the Road

How do we move forward when approaching a fork in the road? Do we go right, left, or blaze a new trail through the woods? Those are our choices to make.

When dealing with profound sorrow, it might be time to sit at that fork in the road for a while. Then, even turn around and lovingly look behind us at other life choices, choosing to soothe ourselves by wrapping our arms in a self-hug when we believe we took the wrong path.

But was it the wrong path? Or was it simply one of two choices that return to the same place you are today? There were times when if I had listened to my intuition, the path would have been smoother.

There’s another thing I’ve learned about grief. It doesn’t follow a prescribed trajectory. It doesn’t have the same peaks and low spots as the last life sorrow. It can be so different for each person and each experience. It seems the reason is self-evident since every experience changes you.

I have finally learned there is wisdom in looking back and examining your choices, not by self-deprecating, but in understanding yourself better. How can we change if we do not question our lives?

An Exercise

So I invite you to look back on a defining sorrow in your life

How do you do that? You take out some paper and a pencil or a pen and start writing about it. Here’s a question to help you get started.

What did I feel when I first heard the news of their passing?

Write about this as long as you want; cry, scream, punch some pillows. Get it out onto the paper, and let it go.

Remember that the soul of your loved one is free. They are not unhappy because emotions are something that we feel in our bodies, and they no longer have a body. But I believe their love and care for you is never-ending.

Thank them for their love.

Feel that love.

Take it One Step Further

And then remember something they loved to do. Choose a happy moment that you remember. Perhaps they loved to hold their dog, take a nap, or walk in the woods and marvel at the wonders of nature.

I was thinking about when Wayne and I were in La Garita, Colorado. Wayne had permission to fish in a pond stocked with trout. He came home with a beautiful catch and asked for a photo before I made trout almandine. Then, he extended his arms to make the fish appear even more prominent. I laughed then and again now at the memory. It was so Wayne.

Returning to the here and now, I raised my coffee mug and said, “This one is for what you taught me. This one is for you, Wayne. I love you. Thank you for being in my life.”

When I finished my toast, I saw a cute little snowbird looking down at me from the gutter outside the window. And I thought that was a sign that Wayne was laughing too. Why? For native Floridians like Wayne and me, winter visitors from the North are called Snowbirds. But, unfortunately, they were not Wayne’s favorite Florida reality.

I hope this article gave you solace and eased your experience dealing with profound sorrow.

I invite you to signup for my newsletter, so you don’t miss future blogs.

With love and compassion,
Dawn

Live for the Moments

Live for the moments you can’t put into words. This sounds like a beautiful sentiment.

But what if you are feeling sadness? Do you want to live for those moments?

DO YOU AVOID YOUR GRIEF?

I’ll be the first to admit l have avoided grief. But this time, I’ve arranged a trip whose theme is grief.

I drove over 700 miles from my home in North Carolina to the Airbnb I’d reserved. My dog, Sugar, is with me. I like to blame her for all my stops, but it’s my fault. And I made a lot in the early hours of the trip. Then as I crossed the Florida state border, I became anxious to arrive before dark. So, I stopped less. The thought of driving through the traffic jams in Orlando spurred me on.

Alas, Waze still had to route me around town via SR 429, also known as the Western Beltway. This part of the beltway was in the planning stages during my twenty-three years living in West Orange County. Being a country girl, I was not excited about the inevitable development and influx of people the beltway would bring.

AN UNEXPECTED GRIEF TRIGGER

Tears welled as I drove through yet another highway construction project amid high-density housing projects as far as the eye can see.

This is not a moment I want to live for.

But it is part of the grief I want to embrace during my two weeks in Florida. With this example, I’m grieving for what might have been and for the idyllic, natural countryside of my youth.

WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO EMBRACE GRIEF?

My experience with grief and sorrow has taught me that it is much better to deal with it than stuff it down. Since I allow my tears to flow, they are usually short-lived.

I’m not schooled in advanced psychology, but I am a certified health coach. So, I understand the value of talking, writing, and journaling about sadness.

SPREADING MY HUSBAND’S ASHES

Wayne was close to many of his students. It started with me in his first-year teaching. We had a natural bond that I likened to a father-daughter relationship in my high school innocence. But each time there was a reunion, Wayne came, and we sat together, sharing memories and our current lives. Another student, Stuart McCutcheon, also found a special place in Wayne’s heart. They enjoyed fishing, hunting, and all the associated male bonding. So naturally, Wayne chose Stuart as his best man at our wedding.

After Wayne’s passing, I arranged to send his ashes to Stuart because I knew they would be well cared for. Within weeks, we discussed the best time to complete Wayne’s request for his final resting place.

Long before Wayne’s cancer appeared, I initiated a difficult conversation. You know what I’m talking about, the discussion about funeral plans. Wayne was adamant about two things.

“I want to hear Amazing Grace at my memorial and spread my ashes from an airboat on Lake Kissimmee.”

The first request was carried out on March 25th, but Stuart wanted to arrange the second at the perfect moment. He chose November 19th for two reasons. First, it’s during duck hunting season, and second, it’s Wayne’s birthday.

SPREADING WAYNE’S ASHES

It was windy and cool when Sugar and I pulled into the Duck Camp. Stuart and I walked to the chairs encircling the huge firepit where many stories unwound with a can of beer or a glass of Jack Daniels. The container with Wayne’s ashes occupied one chair, and fellow hunter, Euwan and his girlfriend, Becci, sat nearby. Their airboat was moored a quarter-mile away on Lake Kissimmee.

We loaded up in Stuart’s pickup for the short drive to the lake. My face lit up when I saw the sturdy chair lashed to the deck of the airboat. Thankfully, I wouldn’t have to navigate the rungs to the usual high vantage spot. And Sugar would be easier to control, or so I thought.

Stuart called one more hunter, McCall, to join us in his camouflage bass boat. While we waited, Sugar explored the deck, curious about the tannic water and minnows along the edge. Suddenly, I heard a splash! Euwan quickly responded, pulling Sugar back onto the deck. She promptly jumped into my lap, shivering while soaking my jeans and sweatshirt. Although she shivered the entire time, her warm body shielded me from the brunt of the wind.

Stuart held onto the aluminum uprights behind my chair, Euwan turned the ignition, and the roar of the aircraft engine filled our ears. As we cleared the deck, Euwan cut the engine, McCall’s boat pulled up alongside, and Stuart lashed us together. This location is where Wayne started every hunting trip, full of anticipation. It was also the place he thanked God when they returned from one of his infamous fubar events. Stuart asked if I wanted to release Wayne’s ashes. I deferred. Although Wayne loved me dearly, I knew how close he was to Stuart. It was a beautiful ceremony, his ashes carried by the wind and the waves.

I KNEW WAYNE WAS WITH US

I experienced a few snafus too. Besides Sugar’s dip in the lake, I had a cell phone problem. Earlier, I tried to photograph the airboat at the dock. To my surprise, my phone screen was black, apparently inoperable. This was a critical moment, and I wanted to record it. I tried a few different tactics before giving up, assuming something terrible had happened to my iPhone.

After the ceremony, Euwan offered his hand as Sugar, and I stepped onto the sandy shore. He started the airboat as he and Becci waved their goodbyes. I let Sugar off-leash to explore the many trails left by odiferous lizards, her favorite prey. Next, McCall and I headed to a larger group of members of the Duck Club, gathered under the oak trees while Stuart walked out to a moored bass boat, retrieving two cold beers. Finally, we wanted to raise a toast to Wayne’s memory.

The reminisces started after brief introductions. Wayne was quite a storyteller, so many were familiar to me.

Still, I was concerned about my phone’s inoperability. So I sought the help of McCall. Then he realized the light level on my phone screen might be the culprit.

Wayne had a habit of accidentally dimming his phone screen, and Stuart or I would fix it. But, until that moment, it had never happened to me.

Wayne’s spirit dimmed my screen to tell me he was there. Perhaps he even gave Sugar a nudge. When I relayed my thoughts to McCall, a look of doubt immediately clouded his face. However, his disbelief didn’t fade my belief.

Since most of the gang was gathered together, I requested a photo. Everyone was happy to oblige. Then I heard the roar of airboats in the distance, and I switched to video mode. A random group of airboats flew by, indicating Wayne was with us. It reminded me of a Thunderbird flyover tribute. Finally, I captured Stuart on the dock, carrying our refreshments.

A Different Perspective

I felt sad and fully grieving when I started my trip down memory lane. The idea of living for the moments that can’t be put into words was clouded with tears. Now, as I write, I have a smile, proof that exploring grief helps dissipate it.

I’ve appropriately closed the book on the final chapter of my life with Wayne. However, beautiful moments replace sad ones, and there are new Wayne stories for sharing.

My heart is filled with love and compassion for you as you wander your path of grief.

Love,
Dawn

Finally, it seems appropriate to include a video of Wayne at the helm of his airboat. We had just completed an amazing ride around Lake Marion when I took this video of him parking in our boat slip.