My Site

Category: Thriving after Loss

  • Creating Flow and Ease

    Creating Flow and Ease

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    I mentioned in an earlier writing that I’ve heard the whispering of my longings since I was a little girl.

    I didn’t grow up in a space that encouraged me to listen to my own inner guidance.  I don’t even know if that was a part of the greater consciousness back then.  I do know that all of my life I’ve felt like I didn’t fit in.  I felt different than everyone else I met.  As a child I thought that meant that something was wrong with me.  I spent my life trying to figure out what that was, so I could be like everyone else.  It didn’t help that I grew up with a severe stutter that began when I was 8 years old.  I already knew that the stutter made me different than anyone in my classroom, as no one else had the same difficulty speaking. I spent most of my time trying not to get called on in class, and when I knew it was inevitable, I was busy running through my head alternative words for the letter sounds that gave me the most difficulty when speaking.  I was never present; I really had no concept of what it meant to be present in those days.

    And yet it was in those fleeting moments of whispered longing that I caught my first glimpse of presence, even though I wasn’t aware of it at the time.  There was a part of me that always knew that the life I am living now was possible, without even knowing what that was.

    Only by being present could my heart be heard above the stress of trying to be what I thought I was expected to be.

    I’ve recently been connecting the dots between all the times I heard my heart nudging me, letting me know that even though I was different, there was nothing wrong with me.  I remembered all of the times a younger version of myself was touched by a deeper ache to know myself, and let her take the lead.

    This was long before Leah was even a part of my life, long before I knew Dan, or thought about having children.  That strong yearning was laying the foundation for my future work.  Being different, and claiming my unique self, helped me to step into a body of work that was not a “popular” choice for an entrepreneur.  I was deeply called to do this work, and there was no decision.  I’ve often said that choosing not to follow my own grief journey in the way that I did would have been much easier that choosing to follow it. And the same is true of walking with others on their grief journeys.

    Saying yes to this calling has always felt like a choiceless choice, something that I have been preparing for my entire life, and something that is a deep and sacred honor.

    I did not look at options for what to do after corporate life and settle upon grief work as the ideal choice for a second career.  (yes, there is a little sarcasm in that last sentence)

    I’ve found that even though grief changed me, it also brought me back my true essence. Today I don’t think of myself as different, or even unique, I am merely me, the person I’ve always been.  The difference now is that I ‘ve fully stepped into the fullness of my being, and yes, I even love myself, all the parts of myself, even the parts that are not always easy to love.

    There have been many twists and turns in the course of my life that brough me from the little girl who lacked confidence, was unsure of her worth, and tried too hard to be someone she could never be, to the, woman that I am today.

    Today I get to live fully, I get to play, and connect with my family in a way that seemed elusive to me early on I my journey.  I am someone who has experienced great loss in my life, yes even the death of my teenaged daughter Leah over 21 years ago.

    What I know about how I met that grief is that I was already used to the uncomfortable and painful parts of trying to be someone I could never be.  This was different, yet is still carries the template of that experience.  When I was in early grief and feeling the deep loss of my daughter, I recognized what was necessary to first dive into that well of grief, and then come out of it with the resources I needed to continue to create a life worth living, even after the death of my daughter.

    Finding my own flow and ease was a long, hard, fought battle.

    A battle that I had to relinquish to allow the ease and flow into my life. Again, presence was fundamental to learning this lesson.  I’ve been on a journey with presence for over 25 years.  It took me a long time to learn to trust the present moment. And even after I did, there were times that I did not turn to it for one reason or another.

    As I turned more and more to presence as practice in my daily life, I learned to let go of holding on to the past, and trying to grasp the future.

    The more I became present, the more my life flowed and the more I experienced ease.

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  • Being Arya’s Baba (Part 1)

    Being Arya’s Baba (Part 1)

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    Ever since we knew we would be grandparents, our friends asked us what our grandparent name would be.  That’s something I never really contemplated for myself. If I were to be lucky enough to be a grandma, that name would be the best possible name my grandchild could call me.  Nonetheless, we played with names. Names like Grand-Dan and Grand-Nan felt playful, and in the end, we mostly referred to ourselves as Grandma and Grandpa when we were with her.

    Until she named us Baba, both of us are Baba.

    We always know which one of us she was speaking to. If only one of us is there, she would ask, “Baba?” And we all knew she wanted to know where abouts of her other Baba.  Eventually she began calling us Baba-Na and Baba-Da, and our hearts swelled even more, if that was possible.

    Being with Arya is not something I can easily describe.  I now know why my grandparent friends used to tell me that I’d never fully understand what being a grandparent really meant until I experienced it for myself. To say I’m enthralled might be heading in the right direction.  I have the luxury of time to contemplate her hair, her hands, her feet, and marvel at their wonder.

    Sitting on the floor with her looking at her books, and her listening to her A Bs and watching her grasp new concepts is an extravagance that feeds my soul.

    Opening the door and being greeted by her huge smile, and a “Hi Baba!” and not moving until I pick her up almost brings me to tears every time. Yes, I love my role in her life and in Peter and his family’s life.

    I know that I was enthralled with my own children too, yet not having the same kind of responsibilities of life makes being a Baba feel indulgent.  The time I have to contemplate her being brings me pure joy.

    Take her hair for example, I’ve spent what seems like hours meditating on her hair.

    Its color, its texture, the curls, and the way it grows out of her head.  The way new layers start growing under the top layers.

    When I gaze upon her hair, I see colors I never knew existed. If someone were to describe her hair color to me, they may say it is blondish.  Yet blond doesn’t come close to the colors I see the dancing with each other to create colors not yet named. Colors light and dark, and in-between, gossamer colors that use light as their expression.

    Yes, I am completely in love.

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  • “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

    “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

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    What happens when your life is going along in a fine fashion, the way you envisioned your life going, no, the way you intentionally created it to be, and then something changes to seemingly spin you off the rails?

    “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans”

    This John Lennon lyric has come to mind often in my life, and revisited again recently.

    The month of May and June 2022 have been full; full of wonderful things, yet full enough to make me step back and take a deeper look at the structure of my life.  While at first glance there was a familiar feeling to the busyness, as I took a closer look, I found that underneath it all was a sense of calm and peace.  I did not feel the panic as I wondered what wasn’t working after I had seemingly carefully considered the structure of my life. (what I used to do until I got to this stage of flow)

    For part of that time, we were supporting Peter and his family with almost fulltime child care for Arya, our almost 2-yearold granddaughter.

    During this time we also had out of town guests, we got sick, (not covid) and our support was needed in additional ways.  Throughout all of this, I was very present, I was still doing the basic things I needed to do for myself, and for our business, and I had a chance to see how the life I created was working. (!!!)

    This year has been a year of further grounding and anchoring deeply listening to myself, and staying loyal to my soul.

    As a part of the move from Raleigh to St. Paul, I not only left behind stuff that no longer was needed, I also examined my resources for my business and relinquished everything that I thought I needed, yet when I put them into practice, discovered that I didn’t.

    Things that coaches I’ve worked with told me I needed to do to be successful, that didn’t feel aligned with my Truth. Things that I thought made me a failure if I didn’t figure out how to fit them into my work. And the judgment that I sometimes felt for myself for not conforming to what others told me would be sure success.  The thing is I tried a lot of those things, and none of them worked.  Why?

    Because they weren’t aligned with my values.

    There are so many strategies, formulas, and techniques that help to create a successful business. And just like there is no one perfect diet or food choices for everyone, there is no one formula for a successful entrepreneur.

    Many coaches wanted me to turn to something other than grief as my work.  Here are some of the things I was asked, or was told.

    “What made you choose grief as a focus?”  (I didn’t choose grief, it chose me)

    “Are you sure you want that to be your message?  Not many people are comfortable talking about grief?” (I know, and it’s so needed……)

    “You talk about gifts from your grief journey, and how you are living a full life, how is that even possible after such a devastating loss? If you tell that to your potential clients, they will think you are making false statements to get a sale.” (I can only speak from my own experience, and as I traveled my own grief journey, I was receiving gifts, the very gifts that allowed me to stay on my path, and yes eventually find meaning, purpose and joy again in my life.)

    “You can’t talk about meaning and purpose you have to illustrate it in your story. It needs to be grandiose and larger than life, you need to have glitzy programs that cost a lot of money, or your potential clients won’t see the value you bring.”  (no)

    About this time, I was beginning to see that most of the advice I was receiving was not in alignment with my own values, my own experience, and my own truth.

    I got really good at discerning for myself what is a good fit for me, and sometimes took a kernel of an idea from a coach and made it my own.  Perhaps that is what they had intended all along.

    Perhaps our coaches, teachers, and mentors are in service to us to help us to learn to be ourselves, unapologetically full of vibrant life.

    That, at least for me, is the life I wanted.  And I found a couple of coaches who helped me with that discernment process and gave me permission to listen to the longings of my own true heart.  Longings that have been whispering to me for most of my life.

    I was able to tend to the inner little child victim who has been a part of my life for so many years. She wanted to know “why me?  why do I have to be the one that……”

    I found that staying there kept me in a loop of doubt, kept me from fully experiencing my own wonder that I see reflected in Arya.

    Arya makes it simple for me to love myself, when in the past it hasn’t been easy, or even possible.

    I look at her and her own love for her self and feel sad for the little girl who experienced original grief at a young age, and lost her innocence without any support to find herself again for many years.  I know that all of the inner work I’ve done, and that I do is not only for myself, it’s also for my family, and for Arya, and now she is like a guru for me.

    As I look back on this recent busy time from where I am now, I can see that the basic structures I had in place for my own self-care,  (the non-negotiable stuff that I need to fill my energy reserves) and for our business, are in place, and do work.

    Were there other things that I would have scheduled if I had the additional time, maybe, yet I know myself well enough to know that trying too hard no longer gets the job done.

    I’ve created a flow that keeps me able to auto correct my course at any given time.

     

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  • Creating Community

    Creating Community

    One of the questions I find myself asking myself as well as my clients, is,

    How does your grief journey call you to a greater purpose?  Or

    Where is your grief journey calling you?

    These questions have been crucial in my own unfolding and transformation along the course of my grief journey.  Dan and I have found that connection with others has helped us to find meaning and purpose for ourselves.

    Over the course of the last 8 plus years we have created and hosted a Grief Meet-up and been a host table for The Dinner Party. Both of these endeavors were in pre-Covid times, and before we moved from Raleigh. We’ve also been a part of the Raleigh Death Café, as well as an End of Life Professionals networking group.

    In each of these initiatives, we’ve found that the community aspect of these groups have helped us, and all of the attendees think about grief differently than we did going into them.

    We were able to provide our insights into our own process, and facilitate conversations about our participant’s processes.  We gained as much from these conversations as our attendees told us they did.

    It is from this place that our latest venture is launching, our monthly webinar series,

    Changing the Conversation Around Grief.

    This series is a membership opportunity that will bring together grievers wherever they are in their grief journey.  We will do a live webinar via Zoom each month on a variety of topics, such as:

    • Why are we grief experts?
    • Why do we fear Grief and are reluctant to talk about it?
    • What is the cost to us if we do not express our grief?
    • Why is it important to feel our feelings?
    • What is the one question we are asked about grief?
    • Help find ways to grieve in alignment with our values
    • Having the awkward conversation with friends & family – How do you start the conversation?

    We will also invite guest into our conversations, people we have met along the way that we want you to know.  In addition to the monthly live webinars and access to the videos on our membership portal, we will host a private Facebook group to continue the conversation, this will be a safe space to share about your own grief journey if you would like, or witness a deeper conversation until you are ready to enter it yourself.

    From this place, Dan and I will be developing our first ever program together.

    Up until now we have each worked separately with our clients, and will continue to do so.  We are now being called to combine our wisdom to create a new offering.  We don’t know exactly with this will look like yet.  We do know that it will be created from the conversations we have in our community, and will meet the needs expressed there.

     

    To find out more about our community, and to join, click here.

    Or to schedule a call, click here.

     

     

     

  • Milestones and Holidays

    Milestones and Holidays

    Nothing can knock the wind out of our sails like the approach of a holiday or a milestone day.

    Even after over 21 years my daughter’s birthday can bring tears. Mother’s Day is bittersweet. The year-end holidays can bring sadness. All of these occasions also bring immense joy and celebration too. I didn’t come to this place easily.  It took attention to what I needed each year, along with the intention to listen to that guidance.

    One of the things that make holidays so difficult are the associative memories that come with them.

    Memories of Christmas tree shopping and decorating were so difficult for us that we did not put up a tree for over 15 years after the first 2 years. The first two years we tried to do things the way we always did, and the memories were too difficult. It brought all of us down, and we just wanted the holidays to be over.  We kept expecting to see Leah come bounding around the corner with her exuberance, and she wasn’t there.

    We started traveling during the holidays, visiting places we had never been before. A change of scenery helped to ease our tender hearts. We still missed her yet being in a place we hadn’t shared with her made space for us to breathe a little deeper.  So often in those first years it felt like we were holding our breath.

    Here are things that helped us, that may help you as well.

    • Change your traditions. No matter what holidays you celebrate, ask yourself what traditions are too painful right now; what new traditions can you do that will still honor your loved one? Ask this question each year because your needs may change from year to year.

     

    • As you anticipate milestone days, whether a birthday, or anniversaries of accidents and deaths, ask yourself what you need this year. Do you need to take time by yourself? Where? In nature, or at a special place to you and your loved one? Or do you need to be surrounded by friends and family.  There is no right answer, only you know what you need from year to year, and from milestone to milestone.

     

    • Make space for feelings to arise at each of these occasions. Even though you may have cultivated resources to meet your grief, the feelings at this time can be especially strong.  Allowing time to be with those feelings can help them move through.

     

    Holidays and milestone days remind us of the passage of time like nothing else does.

    We may wonder about how our lives would have been different if our loved one was still with us physically. Those musings have threatened to take me to a place of no return, to a place of wallowing in my loss, without wanting to find a way out. Yet each time I have found myself there, scrupulous devotion to my practices: Samyama, gratitude, self-care, and creativity always bring me back to myself.

    My grief journey has been about coming back to the self I didn’t even know I was missing. Everything I’ve gone through along the way is in service to that becoming.

    What practices or rituals help you come back to yourself?

     

     

     

  • Everyday Grief

    Everyday Grief

    One of the gifts of my grief journey was realizing that grief is a lifelong journey.

    That idea may have been peripheral before Leah died, yet as I navigated the months and years after she left us, I became much more aware of how grief affects our everyday lives.

    Before Leah died, I had experienced the grief of other loved ones passing, my grandparents, my parents, aunts and uncles; yet it was my daughter’s death that cracked me open. In order to make sense of my life after Leah died, I had to come to terms with grief in all forms as it showed up in my life.  It seemed as if the collective grief of a lifetime saw an opportunity to be seen through the fracture that was opened in my life as I came to terms with what it meant to create a meaningful life in the midst of the devastation I was feeling.

    I saw that all the experiences in my life that carried grief;

    • The times I didn’t get chosen for a team in school,
    • Not becoming a ballerina,
    • That job that I didn’t get that I thought would hold the answer to my future,
    • My loss of innocence after the sexual abuse I suffered as a child,
    • The loss of a natural childbirth with my first pregnancy,
    • The school I didn’t get to go to.

    All the of my life’s lost dreams lined up for attention.

    I had a choice to make. I could recognize that I now had an opportunity, a gift really, to meet these places that needed healing, or I could push them away and lock them up in the hopes of never having to experience the feelings that were clamoring for my attention.

    The second choice would have been the easier road.  I told my self that many times as I traveled the first path, the one that brought me face to face with everything that allowed me to climb out of the well of grief into the light. It hasn’t been an easy path, it has been, and continues to be, the most fulfilling experience of my life.

    I’ve often been told that I am courageous for facing my grief the way I do.

    I used to think that it wasn’t courage at all, that it was the only way I could make sense out of what seemed senseless, and I thought that grieving for my daughter would keep my connection to her strong.

    My grief journey did all of that and more, in ways I could not have fathomed all those years ago. I now know that grief is a sacred journey. One that reveals so many gifts, what I call blessings and grace, that teach us about living a life worth living.

    It is an alchemical journey that transforms.

    It has allowed me to hold sorrow and joy at the same time. It continues to call me into my best life.

     

     

  • Connections and Touch

    Connections and Touch

    “One day every that Leah touched will be gone.”

    This thought haunted me in the early part of my grief journey. It felt like if I no longer had anything that Leah touched that our connection would be gone. I knew that this was not true. For example, I have her key ring with me keys. Her touch from it is long gone, but it was hers and it connects me to her.

    Things remind us of our loved ones; photos, clothing, objects that were special to them, or that they made for us. My fear was that if I no longer had anything of Leah’s that I would lose touch with her.

    Her room remained as she had left it for over 3 years.

    I couldn’t bear to even consider getting rid of her things; it seemed disloyal, it seemed invasive. Eventually, when I was ready to go through her things, I asked a friend who did not know Leah to help me. She was not grieving in the same way that a friend of hers, or mine would be grieving for her.

    It was not an easy task, going through her belongings, and deciding what to save and what to give away; yet it was made much easier doing it with someone who was not attached to her things like I was.  I kept a lot during that first time going through her things.  The next time I was faced with letting go of her things was several years later when we moved.  Moving from the house in which we lived when Leah was physically present was hard enough, letting go of more of her things seemed monumental.

    With each subsequent move I was able to release more of the material, physical things that I associated with having a connection with my daughter.  What I learned throughout that time is that while my physical connection with her was gone, she was still a part of my life in many other ways.

    As I tended to my grief, my connection with her spirit deepened.

    She would often visit me in other ways; in dreams, with a scent, with a memory, reminding me of her sense of humor, with a song. I came to see all of these little synchronicities as continuations of our relationship.

    All of the ways she connected with me were clear signs that she was still a part of my life, and  that she remains in my heart.

     

     

  • Grief is Not Contagious

    Grief is Not Contagious

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    “What is the unseen force that keeps people from wanting to engage (their own) grief and avoid those who are grieving?”

    (From Chapter 10, The Alchemy of Grief: Your Journey to Wholeness)

    The answer to this question is what keeps me motivated to help others engage in their feelings of grief, and be with the uncomfortable feelings they experience.

    Today, I am comfortable sharing my story, being vulnerable, and talking about how grief impacts my life. I’m still often surprised at the response I receive what I’m at speaking engagements, or at networking events with someone who doesn’t know my story.

    What I’ve also discovered is that most of us who are comfortable talking about grief have experienced it first hand.  We found ourselves right in the middle of our greatest fear.  We had a choice to either stay stuck or find a way through.

    Those of us who have found a way through wish we hadn’t had to. We too wish that our reality didn’t include finding a way to live without our loved one’s physical presence in it. And at the same time, we know that we have made a choice to meet our grief.

    We may each have our own reasons for doing that, such as:

    • Honoring our loved one,
    • Wanting to find out if there is more to life.
    • Wanting to be there for other children or family members who need us.
    • Not wanting to stay stuck in a place that doesn’t serve us

    To name a few.

    Many of these reasons overlap, and may become the lifelines that give us the hope and grace we need to continue on the path of climbing out of the deep well of grief.

    Each time we model how we are being with our feelings, and getting better at being uncomfortable, we show those who have no context for grief what is possible.

    On of the first times we did this after Leah dies was at a Remembrance Gathering we held for her on what would have been her 18th birthday, 6 months after she died.

    We invited her friends and ours to gather, remember, and share.  Our invitation was met with bewilderment, confusion, and many questions. No one knew what to expect, yet those who were able to quell their fears, out of respect for us, or to honor Leah were all surprised at the experience they had.  They called us brave, and innovative. They expressed their gratitude for inviting them. On that day we received confirmation that we are here to show others another way to meet grief.  Still, today, I receive messages from attendees who tell us how much that ceremony touched their lives.

    One of the many gifts of my grief journey is cultivating resources to meet grief when it occurs in my life.  When Leah died, I was ill equipped to meet grief, as many of us are when we meet unexpected, and/or sudden grief.  Now, when I experience grief, no matter where it arises, I give it the time and space it needs to move through, and be seen.  That is another passion of mine, to teach skills to help us have a place to start when we do find ourselves face to face with grief. Having the tools we need before we begin a task makes that task easier.

    I’d like to think the same is true of grief, and meeting our difficult feelings.

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  • Staying and Leaving

    Staying and Leaving

    All my life I had been fearful of endings.

    Endings meant I would have to change the way I did things.

    Endings were uncomfortable. I did everything I could to hold on to things for as long as I could.

    And then Leah died, and I experienced an ending that I couldn’t undo.

    It was an ending I hadn’t prepared for. It was my most profound lesson as my grief journey progressed; learning how to say good-bye to people, places, and things that were no longer a part of my life, or that I had outgrown.

    My grief journey opened me up to what was possible when I welcomed the initiation that I wrote about in an earlier blog, and in chapter 8 of my book. It was not a lesson that I learned easily, or that I wanted to learn. It was so much easier for me to hold on to the thing than to face the feelings, and then do the work necessary to say good-bye to things that no longer served me.

    Everywhere I lived I had boxes and boxes of stuff that I couldn’t get let go.

    Everywhere I lived was cluttered as I delayed decisions to go through the piles to release old stuff.

    Saying the ultimate good-bye to my daughter caused me to come face to face with my fear of endings.

    I was called to leave a job that was no longer in alignment with who I was becoming, or the life I was meant to live. I had to take a stand for myself and risk my perception of what may happen if I left that job.

    Our perceptions of what may happen can keep us stuck for a long time. Mine sure did.

    Saying yes to the initiation of Leah’s death was not an easy task. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. And it came with huge rewards.

    During our last move I let go of Leah’s school papers and report cards. I let go of wedding dresses, and baby clothes, and so much more. As I opened all of the boxes, all of the emotions that I hadn’t faced came pouring out. The good news is I now know how to meet those emotions.

    I gained a new understanding of endings. I felt lighter when I wasn’t carrying around years and years of old outdated stuff. I found that I had made space for new and wonderful things to enter my life, and that I had more energy for them.

    Endings are sad, even if they are welcome.

    It’s in learning to honor what we are letting go of that we receive the grace necessary to move forward and open our heart and lives for what is coming next.

    Imagine the image of a closed fist. If someone handed you a beautiful gift, when your fist was closed, you wouldn’t be able to receive it.  What if you opened your hand ready to receive the gift?

    My fear of endings was similar to having a closed fist. I spent so much time with my fists clenched and my body closed in around itself that I didn’t even see what was being offered. Now I can see what life has to offer me, I meet each day with an open heart.

    What a wonderful gift.

     

     

  • Grief As initiation

    Grief As initiation

    Rereading this chapter was interesting.

    It took me right back into the feelings that I had as I was beginning to find my voice in the middle of my grief journey.

    For years before Leah died, I had been working thorough childhood wounds. Leah’s death created a sense of urgency that I hadn’t felt before. What I realized is that all of those years I had been doing my inner work were laying the groundwork for the initiation of Leah’s death. When grief entered my life in this profound way, I was ready to make the changes, almost without thinking about them.

    Initiation is both the ending of one part of life, and the beginning of another.

    It is a rite of passage, and we can go through many initiations in our lifetime. I began to understand that the way I was moving through grief was an initiation each time I took a stand for myself, or spoke up for what I believed in. Losing Leah made the difference. Each time I was faced with a decision to speak up or stay silent, I was reminded that the cost of saying nothing was too great if I was to find the life I was meant to live.

    We often hear that in order to grow, we need to get passed our comfort zone.

    I was already out of my comfort zone as I tried to figure out how to live without Leah, and I had nothing to lose. That newfound urgency and the years of preparation were coming together to show me the way forward. Each time I heard myself take a stand for a belief, or set a clear boundary, I recognized that it was my grief journey that was giving me the courage of heart and the perseverance to be myself.

    All of this didn’t change my grief.

    It’s still there. It’s still strong but now I am empowered to meet it successfully.

    That is a distinction for me. Cultivating the resources to meet my grief allows me to be fully myself, which includes being with my feelings of grief when they arise.

    So often we think that if we resist our painful feelings long enough, they will go away, and we won’t have to feel them. Whenever we resist something, it persists. Our painful feelings don’t go away, they go underground, and wait for a crack in the surface of our lives to burst forth. And burst they do. Like a volcano erupting, our overwhelming feelings spew their wrath when we least expect it. And we crumble.

    When we develop and nurture tools to meet our grief in a way that makes sense to us, we are on a path back to ourselves. We are learning how to be who we were born to be.