Tag: grief recovery

I’ll Bet You Didn’t Know

I’ll bet you didn’t know that I’m a suicide survivor.

But first, I want to share a happy memory of my husband, Pablo. It’s fall, my favorite season. We lived in Metro Denver, CO, and often planned trips to visit some national parks nearby. This trip was to see the Grand Canyon during Thanksgiving week. But first, we stopped at Zion National Park.

The flaming red maples along the Riverside walk at Zion National Park in Utah stirred my desire to remember this day, 11/22/2007. I stopped to take this photo as Pablo continued walking. I wonder now what was going through his mind. What emotions were stirring? Did he enjoy the quiet grandeur as much as I did?

What prompted me to do this now?

Although my Substack publication is about grief, I don’t mention that suicide is a part of my grief. I’ve never written publicly about being a suicide survivor.

My husband, Pablo, took his own life a little over ten years ago in September 2014. I thought the different therapists I saw after his life ended, the suicide survivor group, and the more recent grief recovery coaching would have worked some miracle healing.

It didn’t.

There are no miracles in grief healing.

The healing process has been slow, often hindered by my choices of avoidance, stuffing down emotions, and allowing guilt to invade my thoughts.

But a few painful realizations and aha moments mark my journey stepping up the staircase of grief toward joy.

One of the aha moments was realizing that writing about my relationship with my husband and his suicide might help someone alter the course of their lives positively.

The synchronicities continue

I’m reading these two books because I am also on Substack. Paul Crenshaw’s book, This One Will Hurt You,  is for a Book Club with Jeannie Ewing, and I was led to buy A Year to Clear.

I’m reading Stephanie Bennett Vogt’s book because I’m starting another home decluttering. I didn’t realize how much clutter was still in my home and my heart. Today, I start Day 9 in A Year to Clear.

suicide survivorAs I start each essay in This One Will Hurt You, I experience an element of fear. Will this one hurt me the most? Or will it make me laugh, like Of Little Faith did? Fear or not, I move forward. Life can be challenging, but we choose how to meet those challenges.

And Pablo still reaches out

Today, he feels nearby.

As I was writing this post, I looked up at the clock on my computer and saw 10:23 a.m. Pablo was born on October 23rd, and this time catches my attention multiple times each week. Today, it feels like a message from the other side: Pablo is with me, telling me it’s okay to share our story.

Does your loved one reach out to you beyond the veil?

I’d love to hear your tender experiences in the comments.

How Keeping a Diary Helps Both You and Your Loved Ones

Journaling is beneficial for airing your feelings. It is a private musing where you can write anything your heart desires. I highly recommend it, but diaries are helpful, too.

How keeping a diary helps your grieving process.

The photo above shows three of the forty-five diaries my mother kept. Although they have been in my possession for almost two years, I began reading them yesterday, Saturday. On Friday, I started feeling extra sad about the ninth anniversary of my father’s death, and I wanted to read what Mom wrote in her diary on that day.

The three of us were together at the dinner table when Dad experienced extremely labored breathing. As he sought relief, he experienced dizziness and difficulty standing and walking. I physically supported him as well as I could while Mom called 911.

Each year at this time, I read my story of his death and the aftermath, My Father’s Love: You’re One of the Good Ones, remembering how grief has its ups and downs.

What did Mom’s diary reveal about her grief?

Mom was a very private person who kept her feelings close. Her diaries are filled with minutia about what she ate, who called, or who she saw at the local cafe in The Trading Post. Mom never spoke about that day, but her life was irreparably changed as she wrote, “Swede started gasping and died at 5:45 pm.”

Perhaps writing this helped her organize her life in an orderly fashion she could manage, just as the daily recitation of meals helped her close each day before heading up the stairs to bed.

She read her entries occasionally after finishing the last book she borrowed weekly from the library. She noted the book’s title in her diary when she finished it. In addition, she kept a running list of all the books she read to avoid re-reading one.

Mom was a voracious reader, finishing six a week.

When she noted something each day, it was important to her. That is how I saw that her loneliness and grief were gnawing away at her personal security. She recorded how many mice she had caught in traps or if she had seen a mouse. Finally, in desperation, she got some rat poison, and the mouse problem was resolved.

Next came plumbing problems, with a stopped-up upstairs bathroom sink and a toilet that quit functioning. The final blow was her inability to lift up the heavy cattle gate at the driveway entrance. She was good about asking local friends to help her, but she began to feel like a burden. Swede would have taken care of all those problems when he was alive, so it was no wonder that she called out to me for help.

“I can’t live alone anymore, Dawn!”

I responded as quickly as I could, coming to help with everyday problems and then bringing her home with me, where she remained until she fell six years later.

How could it have been easier for Mom?

Communication was almost nonexistent in my family. We talked about lightweight subjects unless it was current events or the bonehead play in the latest college football game.

It might have been different if I asked simple questions.

“What was the highlight of your week in your diary, Mom?”

She might have tried to avoid answering, but I could have creatively pursued a fuller reply. Of course, I can’t relive the past, but I can act differently in my other relationships.

I’ll continue reading Mom’s diary entries, remembering events, and feeling her spirit around me. I know she loves me and enjoys hearing my voice when I comment on a new discovery of her love.

Now, her diaries are helping me in my grief.

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