So this is what "normal" grief feels like

      My mother died less than a month ago. She was 75 years old, she had been sick for many years, and she died in her sleep at hospice surrounded by family. Since she was my only parent (and I didn't have aunts or uncles or other adult family members with whom I was close), my mom was my life. Quite literally. My childhood was always just three of us--Mom and my sister and me.
      It's been eight years since my oldest daughter, Alicia, was killed. Right now I am grieving my mom and I miss her very much. But her passing has triggered immense grief pains for my Alicia. I wasn't expecting this but I believe it is due to the extreme contrast.
     The way Mom passed seemed so peaceful. Sad, of course, but it made sense in the big scheme of life. I can't help but be reminded how terribly unfair Alicia's death was. She was only 19. Mom was 75. Mom lived a full life. Not a perfect life, not a problem-free life. But there wasn't much Mom didn't get to experience.
      Mom also died relatively pain-free as far as I could tell. She had nurses surrounding her with pillows, blankets, medicine, and I don't think she was even conscious when she passed. If she was aware at all, then she could hear us telling her how much we love her and that it was okay if she wanted to go. We were holding her hand and thanking her for all she had done for us.
      My daughter was killed--she didn't "pass." She was brutally beaten. I reel when I imagine it. Sometimes I picture the terrible event in my mind--what it must have looked like, sounded like, felt like for her. I can't help it. It is torture for me but my mind goes there sometimes. I hope Alicia died quickly but I know she didn't die peacefully. I know she experienced pain and fear. Sometimes I like to think that adrenaline kicked in and she was shielded biologically. I like to believe that God took her soul before she was able to experience the horror and she was shielded spiritually. But the truth is, I just don't know.
     Losing Alicia caused me to experience "complicated grief." Now that Mom has passed, I am experiencing "normal grief." I almost feel guilty that I am not more upset about Mom but I know this is healthy. I have so much acceptance, knowing that my mom was ready and somewhat relieved since she was in pain for so many years. This experience has made me feel extra bad about Alicia's death. I am devastated about how extremely unfair it was for her.
     I'd like to believe Mom is with Alicia now. It is a beautiful thought. In fact, I had a vision of Alicia dressed in white with a huge smile on her face, lifting mom from her bed as she passed. Was it wishful thinking? Or was it a spiritual experience? I don't know but I am going to choose the latter.

Some of my creations

The Problem with Death...

     Almost everything in life is tolerable because of one word. Hope. Even the worst scenarios--poverty, divorce, illness, a missing loved one--contain some element of hope, no matter how small.
     Except death. No hope.
     Some may argue there is hope in death--hope that the person went to Heaven and that we will meet again one day. While I have faith that this is true, it doesn't help the NOW--the current world/life we have to live day in and day out.
     With the death of a child and/or sudden traumatic death, which I have experienced when Alicia was killed, the order of things is upside down and inside out. There is no way to put it all in order, to make sense of it, or to hope that there must be a REASON for all this.
     Quite frankly, I don't care what the reason is right at this moment. Even if it's all part of the biggest and most fantastic plan that God has, I don't care.
     He made me have feelings, a heart, and most importantly a motherly instinct and bond with my children.  To expect me to just rest on the faith that I will see my oldest daughter again "one day" and that her horrific death at age 19 was "for a reason" is unfathomable. To put it another way, it's UNREASONABLE.
     Today I went somewhere that I hadn't been in many years. It is a place that holds a lot of memories for our family. Alicia used to go to this place frequently. It brought back thoughts and feelings and roused some very uncomfortable frustration (bordering on anger) inside of me to think that all these people have so much and are doing so much and Alicia got short-changed, to put it mildly.
     How do I cope with those feelings? Do I comfort myself by saying she's in an even BETTER place now and one day I will join her? No, that brings little comfort because it is too conflicting. I have my youngest daughter here who still needs me and I have a life here on earth that needs to be lived out. To yearn to join Alicia is not healthy or productive for me.
     The irony and the paradoxes I have to face each day is simply indescribable. One minute I see people smiling, laughing, enjoying a lovely Florida spring day (myself included) and the next minute I am at the cemetery, changing the flowers at my daughter's grave site.
     I can't even fully enjoy the memory of Alicia. Not only is everything upside down, inside out, but it's also sideways. I have to look at things and think about things in my peripheral only. The second I allow myself to look straight at a photo of Alicia or to really FEEL a memory, relive it, or to picture Alicia standing in front of me now, a feeling comes over me that is so huge and overpowering, I must immediately halt what I am doing. Don't look, don't think, don't remember or the tidal wave will pull you under.
     I can love her, miss her, have memories of her (shrouded in mist) but I am not allowed to really feel her deep in my heart and soul. Even as I type these words, I see that they don't even break the surface of describing the enormous emotion this is.
     Hopelessness. It's the closest word to this feeling. That's in addition to all the other feelings of grief. Hopelessness. That is the problem with death.

"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead"

Hurt is hurt is hurt is hurt is hurt................

From Adele's "Someone Like You" ~

I wish nothing but the best for you, too

Don't forget me I beg

I remember you said

"Sometimes it lasts in love

But sometimes it hurts instead."

Sometimes it lasts in love

But sometimes it hurts instead,

Yeah.

You know how

The time flies

Only yesterday

It was the time of our lives

We were born and raised

In a summer haze

Bound by the surprise

Of our glory days

__________________________________

Isn't it interesting how sometimes love songs apply to grieving, as well?

Are the Holidays a "Difficult Time" for You?

People often ask me if I am sad this time of year. The answer is somewhat complicated.

I carry sadness with me every day. There is an "Alicia-shaped hole" in my heart, and there always will be. It's not a wound that anything or anyone can heal. Nothing makes it bigger or smaller--not even the Holidays.

However, this time of year does carry extra emotion.

I've always loved Christmas, like most people do. I still cherish all those memories of my childhood and the magic of playing in the snow, pictures with Santa, and making cookies with my mom and sister. I remember "buying" my mom a wallet for Christmas. I must have been 6 or 7. Mom picked it out, she gave me the money, and I went to the register and paid for it. Then I took it home to wrap it. I also remember getting beloved toys, like Barbies and Fisher Price Little People.

And then there are the memories of Christmas with my little girls. Those memories are bittersweet because of our loss. Thinking of those happy times --that will never be again-- really stings. But all of the love shines through even stronger and the memories become mostly sweet and very, very precious.

Of course, I still have my Alex here and she brings me joy daily. Our family still laughs and sings and shops and eats and decorates during the festive season. I still send out Christmas cards, although it's difficult not signing Alicia's name. Sometimes I still do sign *Angel Alicia*...But usually I don't because it's too sad.

I especially love the "giving." It brings me joy choosing special gifts for the special people in our lives. We still give to Toys for Tots every year and we're still grateful for all of our blessings. We still remember the real meaning of Christmas. I still pray, although it's very difficult for me to do so since I was mid-prayer when the police came to my door to deliver the horrible news on August 10....

It's difficult, of course, not being able to buy Alicia anything. Sometimes I do buy her something and then keep it here for her, like the set of Baz Luhrmann DVD's I got a few years ago. It's not the same, of course. And we buy her little things for her "spot," like flowers or little angels. It's terribly sad to have to visit her at the cemetery. There are no words to describe that emotion.

So, yes, it's a difficult time of year, I suppose. But I truly do enjoy the Holiday Season. I feel Alicia nearby and I think she would be very upset if she knew we weren't celebrating the birth of Jesus and carrying on all of our family traditions.

It Rained and the Mona Lisa Washed Away

It rained and the Mona Lisa washed away
The Venus de Milo crumbled and turned to clay
How could this beautiful work of art be gone, just gone?

There are no answers in the wind

No answers in my dreams

There are simply no answers

So it seems.

GRH 7-2007

Years (A Poem)

Years
Time plays no part
It can’t replace a permanent hole
In a grieving heart
This is no regular wound I feel
To grow together and to heal
I lost what I never owned
I mourn what never left me

Years
No number can represent
Love is an eternal circle
There is no beginning, there is no end
You have always been mine
And you never were

Years
The wind still blows
And no one knows
The sky still cries
The moon, a sigh
You have always been here
And you have always been gone

--Gwen

I Hope It Brings You Comfort (A Poem)

I hope it brings you comfort to know

No matter how far you fall and no matter how dark the night

The sun always finds you the next day.



I hope it brings you comfort to know

When you feel so utterly alone and different

Someone eventually comes along who knows what you're going though.



I hope it brings you comfort to know

You don't have to be strong when times are really tough

(No one should expect you to!)

But breathing and acceptance really helps to get you through.



I hope it brings you comfort to know

Anger is just fear and fear is just pain;

No one is perfect but we can all transcend through forgiveness.



I hope it bring you comfort to know

You don't need anyone to "fix" you;

The flaws you may perceive

Can be erased with a simple smile.



I hope it brings you comfort to know

That even when the worse thing you can imagine happens

God still gives you the ability to stand up straight

And continue to experience life.



I hope it brings you comfort to know

That life is wonderful and life is horrible

But we're all connected and we're all in it together.



I hope it brings you comfort to know

Angels are real, not just a story or an illusion,

They surround us, comfort us, and send us messages;

Love is endless and our spirits literally soar on.

--Gwen

I could tell you...

I could tell you who she was...the beauty, the intelligence, the ambition, the fiery soul, the funny girl, the spiritual soul...I could tell you all she left behind, all who cry for her...The grandmother who already had a father killed in front of her and now more sorrow...The sister (an "orphan" sister, in a sense) who now faces life as an only child...The father, step father, step mother who raised her with every ounce of their strength and time and patience and love... ALL the relatives, best friends, teachers, and so many more who loved her spirit and liveliness...



I could describe what we lost, what the world lost. She's been taken away, she's gone. Yes, I have the photos and memories. But I can no longer look into my 19 year old daughter's eyes and see the baby/toddler/child reflecting from inside.



I could tell you that I feel her all around me. I smell her, sense her. I know her spirit lives on.



I could tell you all this--and so much more--and it would be true. But all I need to tell you is that she is my daughter, and I love her with all my heart. That is who I lost. She is my daughter and she is gone. That says it all.

91 not 19

They say she’s in a better place,

The angels see her smiling face,

But why can’t I?

They say that God tests the strong,

But in my heart this feels so wrong,

An endless sigh.

I can handle many things,

Like losing diamonds in my ring,

And facing those who turn away,

And chasing hours in my day.

But I can’t handle losing her,

Taken too soon from this world,

I miss her smile, her laugh, her hair,

I reach for her and she’s not there.

They say one day we all must leave,

Our spirits soar, I do believe,

But it would make more sense to me,

If she had left at 91—not 19.

That’s the way it’s supposed to be,

To leave the world at 91—not 19.

Yes, I have a very special dream,

That she had left at 91— not 19.

G

5/19/09

Healing with Humor (Thanks, Jerry Seinfeld!)

When life throws you the toughest challenges, when your heart feels so dark and heavy that the thought of laughter almost disgusts you, that is precisely the moment you need to turn to humor for healing.

In the first few days after my daughter's death, I thought I'd never be able to eat or sleep again, let alone laugh. When someone you love has died, the thought of laughing seems almost like a betrayal.

I did eat eventually and I did sleep eventually (with the help of prescription medicine). And I also laughed eventually. In fact, listening to stand-up comedy on the radio and watching sitcoms on tv is what got me through some of my saddest and loneliest moments, especially in the first year after my daughter died.

I've always loved comedy and our family has always been a big fan of sitcoms. Jerry Seinfeld has always been one of my favorite comedians. His humor has a way of making things seem lighter. Whether I am watching his show, reading his books, or watching his stand-up, I always smile and I always feel better.

Watching "Seinfeld" distracts me and takes my mind off of things. It helps that it isn't centered around family. Sometimes it is really hard for me to watch anything involving family, even if it is supposed to be funny. It's just too painful to be reminded of what I lost.

I also enjoy watching "Becker" and "Frasier." I find comfort in anything funny as long as the story lines don't remind me of anything painful.

Reading books about grief, writing about my feelings...all of that has helped me to heal. But I think humor has been the most helpful and the most comforting overall.

Description of Days

I categorized the most common phases I have been encountering along my journey of grief. Being able to define what I am going through enables me to better explain my state to others around me. The list also gives me a sense of direction so I can choose the best route to take to move toward healing. I hope that sharing this may help others in their grieving, also.

Description of Days

Anxiety Day - feeling nervous or scared, pacing, not resting, not sleeping well

Dark Day - bad dreams, bad memories, scary thoughts

Denial Day - feeling numb, not wanting to think about the tragedy or not being able to think about it, pushing people or thoughts away

Gratitude Day - feeling grateful for someone or something in your life, having something happen or receiving a gift that your thankful for, having someone reach out to you in a positive way, feeling blessed in general, appreciating what you have

Healing Day - taking time to be alone, resting, praying, lighting candles, cleansing yourself and your environment, trying to eat healthy, getting fresh air and exercise, expressing creativity

Heartache Day - feeling upset and feeling the physical symptoms of it

Light Day - feeling light, having some acceptance, seeing the Big Picture of the Universe, enjoying nature, getting a sense that your loved one who died is ok and that everything will be ok

Lonely Day - missing your loved one or just feeling alone in this tragedy

Remembrance Day - doing something in your loved one's honor at a certain time (birthday, date of death, holidays, or marking any period of time)

Rough Day - having to go somewhere you don’t want to go or do something you don’t want to do, feeling highly uncomfortable, feeling highly frustrated in people or misunderstood, getting your feelings hurt, feeling like nothing’s going right, feeling pressure, having too much to get done, seeing or hearing something that upsets you especially pertaining to our tragedy

Sad Day - crying, low energy, feeling sad or blue

Special Day - having a special experience, having something great or miraculous happen, seeing signs of your loved one's presence, getting little gifts from your loved one

Spiritual Day - connecting spiritually, thinking about God/Heaven/Angels, wondering what all this means on a spiritual level, contemplating where your loved one might be

Taking a Break Day - trying to have fun, not thinking about sad things, focusing on something good, looking forward to something, watching comedies, playing games, socializing, smiling, laughing

Why Day - questioning why this happened, feeling frustrated, mad, confused