Skip navigation

Tag Archives: Sorrow

“Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.”

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion

broken heart

Grief is not a competition.  Sadness has no limit.  Physical or mental pain is not on a scale in comparison to any other individual.

Again and again, I am reminded that people who have not experienced what we have, feel that they are entitled to tell you how long, how much, or how valid your feelings are.  Can you tell me why I don’t like eggplant?  Can you tell me why I don’t like the color brown?  Of course not; we are individuals with a lifetime of experience and determination of our needs, likes, dislikes and depth of emotion and intuition.

Some people are very vocal about every ache and pain.  Others hide it in shame or fear.

You are entitled to your pain and grieving.  No matter how much time has passed, if you are still mourning, no one has the right to tell you to “get over it.”  Some heartaches never go away.

If you are in pain today, I hope you are sent healing.  If you are mourning, I hope that you find some comfort, or at least a hand to hold while you cry.  If you are feeling so alone in your sadness or grief, please know that anyone else who has actually experienced a great loss will never try to silence yours, but will understand that some wounds never heal.  

You are still putting one foot in front of another.  You are a survivor.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for stopping by.  I hope that you find comfort here.

In memory of Mom.

Advertisements

compassion

For some reason, in the last two weeks, a couple of people have made comments to me that it is amazing how quickly time has gone by, as it is almost a year since Mom passed, and I should be feeling better. People don’t know what to say, or how to make conversation, or are just really obtuse. I don’t want to call them stupid, but it might be time to change the batteries in their empathy chips when we turn the clocks back tonight.

I don’t count the days since my Mother has passed. I count long months, tears, memories and the knowledge that I am no one’s favorite. It has been ten months since my Mother passed and nine months since my Grandmother passed on. The period of time watching each of them deteriorating has chipped at my heart of glass and left sharp craggy edges.

I still weep copiously at the sight of my mother’s photos and I wonder when she comes to visit, as a spirit from the Light, if she will linger long enough to leave a message in my dreams.

People want grief to be defined and confined to some statute of limitations. Here is the thing that you need to remember: Grief is Messy. It does not care about times or decorum. It hits when it is most inconvenient or when anything special happens in your life. It makes you weep at the hole in your life without a Significant Other who loves you and thinks you are funny, witty and special.

Loss is a plant that never dies; it has deep roots, with periods of growing and waning, fresh bursts, and blossoms in its season, but can never be fully harvested.

People tell me not to be angry at G-d as it was His decision and his judgment. I am not; my mother was lucky to move to a better life out of her imprisoned body. However, I still miss my Mom.

I am very aware of how much time has passed and the dates on the calendar that mark holidays and other major occasions in our lives. When babies are born, I want to call her and share the news and the photos. As my father prepares to walk down the aisle as a proud Grandfather in two weeks’ time, we are well aware of her absence.

This is not a time of crossing X’s on a calendar counting down to some date of freedom. My mother’s spirit was set free and for her it was a joyous reunion with family long since gone. But, for me, I am chained to the date with full knowledge of what it means. The calendar is a masquerade of days. It is not a sign of moving forward; rather it is a measure of the time I have been looking back over my shoulder to see what is left behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for stopping by. It means more than you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If we we don’t allow people to communicate, we cannot assume that our version of the truth is necessarily the right one.
Be open to others’ pain with empathy, compassion, and kindness. Whether you are cruel, or supremely kind, neither one will ever be forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for stopping by! It means more than you know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
freshly-pressed-circle

Kindness Blog

Quotation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

View original post

rose kennedy quote pain is never gone
This is a see-saw life, not a balancing act. Each day is a new attempt to rise up to the challenges of daily living. Sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other is an act of brute strength.

There have been many challenges that tire me and have left their empty spaces and raw places in my heart. It would be wonderful if others could appreciate how hard it is to grieve for someone you love and that there is no time limit. For those who are grieving, and have, they do understand. For those who are most fortunate not to have to examine the most difficult part of the life cycle, do not take this time or another person for granted.

Losing my mother and grandmother four weeks apart was a double blow. Others just pretend it never happened or cannot understand the extent of the relationships I had with my mother and grandmother. Yet, I have been asked if I am all better. There are no parameters to the love I feel for my mother and grandmother, so how could I limit the grief and mourning to some preconceived notion of propriety? I had fifty years of experiences with my mother and grandmother, how could three months be enough time for grieving?

I think of my mother and grandmother every single day. A song, a photograph, a thought, a flower…… can suddenly bring tears to my eyes and I relive the loss again and again. This goodbye is permanent; my first instinct to call my mother or visit my grandmother means I have to remember that the door is closed, the bed is empty, the phone no longer rings.

grief is normal

The kindness of letting another cry, or acknowledge the depth of sorrow, is part of the elemental behavior that makes us human. We can extend it when we see someone like us, struggling to make it through the overwhelming losses. Pain recognizes pain.

When sadness threatens to overwhelm me, it is the conscious decision to commit an act of kindness that brings me back up again. Even in the simplicity of speaking to another, I am deciding to reveal myself. If he finds comfort in the telling of my own struggles, then it is a conscious listening and sharing on both of our parts. We welcome and make room for our stories with respect. Again, it is scary to take the first step, but if the other person responds, a weight is lifted.

Trying to instill ethics, values, courtesy and the awareness that we can alter another’s personal world, and the universe at large, is hoping that the germ of generosity and openness takes root in those whose lives we touch. Fear and mistrust is an unlearning of those ideals to which we hold dear. All it takes is one playground bully to push us to the ground and our fragile child-like strength shatters.

There is nothing random or small about an act of kindness. Empathy, and the desire to create a cycle of good and trust where hearts and minds have been broken, leaves the world a better place. We do not want to face the loss of someone we love, but the intention to comfort another is at the heart of a kindness we cannot repay. It is that intention that gives me hope through the highs and lows of the see-saw life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for stopping by! I appreciate it more than you know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
freshly-pressed-circle

%d bloggers like this: