A Sacred Time For Old Grief and Good Memories

Kim Abbot   (Frank Kimball, Jr)  -Oct 1, 1943 –March 12, 1982

Today is the 30th anniversary of my first husband’s death in a horrible fire. Some of you already know our story, but others don’t.   He was very disabled by Multiple Sclerosis  and I was unable to get him out of the house.  I did get our then-four-year-old out and safely to a neighbor’s home. We had three children at the time, but thankfully, the older two were in school (I adopted a fourth as a single parent years later).  Kim’s death followed the loss of my brother, my father and my twenty-four year old nephew, only four months before.  We also lost most of our belongings, and our home was badly damaged by the fire, necessitating our moving around until we found a longer-term rental. We were without our home for about a year.

Naturally, we were all terribly bereaved. We had a lot of help over the years and I suffered from PTSD connected to anything about fires.  Thankfully, it is now very mild, but still present.  It was a pretty awful time for me and for my kids, the eldest of whom was nearly fourteen.   It was many years before I was able to call to mind and enjoy the memories of happier times that Kim and I had shared.  We had met as college students and during our early marriage, lived in San Francisco, which we loved, and then moved to CT where Kim had mostly grown up.

Over time, we processed our grief and the knife-like sharpness diminished, returning occasionally and unexpectedly, with a vengeance, but less often as the years passed.  Still there were triggers.

Most years, March 12th was a very difficult day for me.  I followed the cues of my kids, encouraging them to talk about their father and their feelings as the anniversary approached, but tried not burden them with my own feelings.  That is not to say that I didn’t express them, but was careful not to make the kids feel they needed to take care of me.  Finally (and I can’t pinpoint the exact time)  there were more silent tears than visible ones, as normal workday duties called and distracted me a bit.  March 12 was naturally noted and felt, but not dwelt upon.

Yesterday on Facebook, I posted that this 30th anniversary was coming up today.  I got a variety of kind and helpful responses.  My colleague, Deah Curry, PhD, coach and therapist,
http://thenohypementor.com/
 and

www.facebook.com/CreativeAlternativesCoach

www.facebook.com/NoHypeMentor   commented that such anniversaries are both bittersweet and sacred.  As usual, Deah made me think.  I had always acknowledged that it was an emotionally hard day. The bittersweet aspect was apparent in that I was/am proud of all I have come through and of my strong survival skills.  I am able now to remember Kim with smiles and to evoke the positive feelings that come when I think about the old days with him, and about our family experiences.  There are still tears sometimes, but I no longer view the past and our life together only through a veil of tears. I had just not thought much about the sacred aspects of such a milestone as the 30th anniversary of his death.

There are various cultural beliefs and practices around how to honor dead loved ones and ancestors.  Many cultures believe that deceased family members have the ability to look after, and to influence the well-being and fortune of their relatives. The belief is that the family never dies or ends. Family is something that exists in perpetuity.  Such cultures create rituals to ensure that the dead view the living in a positive manner and they honor their dead in this way, both as their filial duty, and in order to ask for special assistance and intercession.

I like that idea.  I can hear the disdain and see the smirks of  some very rational and intellectual people I know, but I don’t much care.  My family is undergoing a period of stress for a variety of reasons, and there are several of us with health issues right now. I find it comforting and fitting to think about Kim’s spirit as somehow being able to watch over us.  I imagine a lot of folks feel that way.

I wasn’t able to find any really unique and special way to commemorate Kim’s  life and death, but I did get up extra early today to have some time alone to reflect. Each year on this anniversary and those of the others of my family of origin, I light a memorial candle and say a prayer that comes from the religion of my background.  Some of the observant people in my family would be upset, I am sure, since Kim wasn’t of the same religion and because I have personalized and modified this prayer.  This morning, I sat and listened to the silence that is unusual here.  My older daughter is staying with us temporarily and my younger one lives here with her pre-schooler. I am remarried and my husband, Art, had the day off.  I deliberately woke before anyone else.   I brewed a cup of tea and as it steeped, I permitted the luxury of steeping myself in memories of Kim.  I wondered, too, what he might be like as a senior citizen, no doubt with grey or white hair and beard.  I thought about some of our adventures together. I thought about what a joyful and exuberant person he was before his illness and how passionate he was about life.  I thought about his dreams and his enormous intellectual curiosity.  I remembered the music he loved and could visualize him, listening to it with his whole spirit, whether Vivaldi, Bach, the Beatles or rock.  My very special quiet time was brief, but I enjoyed it and felt that I had indeed created a sacred time and space in which to think about Kim, whose life ended when he was thirty-eight years old.

I think he would be pleased about how I grew up, since in some ways, I hadn’t truly done that before his death. I wish he could have been there to see the kids grow up, as well, and to meet his only granddaughter.

I don’t live in the past.  The past has contributed to who I am now in a way that can’t be denied.

There is an Islamic saying that you tell  someone you meet who has just lost a loved one, “”May you be alive and may God’s blessings be on him or her who is deceased.”  While I would never, in a million years, want to relive what we went through thirty years ago today, I am glad to be alive and glad I created a sacred time and space today to send these wishes for blessings to Kim’s spirit.

Is It Normal to Grieve a Deceased Spouse When You Remarry?

    

 

      One thing I have learned from losing so many people (and pets) is that everything you feel is normal, for you.

 

      I have been remarried for over 15 yrs, after nearly 15 yrs before spent as a widow raising my kids (and adding a fourth child as a single adoptive parent).  My current husband is a wonderful person and the way in which we found each other, as well as the commonalities we found in each other were clearly (to us) decreed by destiny.

 

     Still, on the anniversary of the tragic, untimely death of my first husband who died in his 30′s, I often have a very bad day.  I remember him by lighting a candle and saying a prayer of remembrance that is the memorial ritual of my religion, even though he was of a different background.   I don’t follow all of the other traditions of my birth heritage, but this one I do.  Sometimes, though not often, I visit his grave and have some quiet moments there.  On holidays and special family occasions I sometimes find myself  overcome with sadness, thinking that my first husband is not there to share the moment, has missed so much of the lives of his children and has never known his granddaughter, the talented and bright teenaged daughter of our only biological son, my eldest.

 

     A cousin told me that it is not appropriate for me to visit Kim’s grave. I don’t know whether she meant she didn’t personally find it appropriate for someone who has remarried, or whether she felt there was a prohibition against this in our religion.  My culture is important to me and our holidays hold fond memories and special meaning for me, but I can’t pretend I am very observant in the faith of my forefathers and foremothers.  My cousin meant no harm when she said this, but she made me a little curious  about whether it was simply her opinion that what I did and the way I felt wasn’t appropriate, or if there is some law or rule in our faith that addresses this issue for widows and widows.  I can’t say I have ever bothered to find out because I know how I feel is “normal” for me and is ok.  In my life and through my work I have also known many other widows and widowers who still grieve a deceased spouse even when they are very happily and successfully remarried.

 

      I don’t live in the past and in the last decade have consciously worked quite hard on learning to live more and more in the moment.  That doesn’t alter the fact that I have a good memory and that there are many wonderful and vivid images and stories etched in my head that are very much a part of the person I have become.   I treasure these memories and don’t want to obliterate and forget them.   The life that I lived with my first husband created  precious and happy memories, in spite of the struggles we had with his illness the last few years of his life and the horrific way he died (in a fire) that caused me to suffer for years from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, much diminished now in severity, but still there.

 

      I cannot forget, and don’t want to forget, our time together at college, our first summer on Martha’s Vineyard and subsequent visits there, our life in San Francisco as young adults, the birth of our son, the adoptions of our other kids, our early years of parenting, the purchase of our first home together.  I will not forget our transition from the Haight Ashbury to the more traditional life we began in Connecticut, or all of the other small, commonplace, everyday events we lived through, as well as the momentious ones that fill pages of photo albums and that occupy space in my brain.

 

     When you are fortunate and blessed enough to find a new love after losing someone  through death or divorce, your new partner is getting a person who has been pounded and transformed by the waves of  loss and life.  Who you are is a composite of who you were and what you have  become as a direct result of all of your life experiences.  In most cases your perspectives have changed and your maturity, compassion and wisdom have deepened because of what you have endured.  Your new spouse also has a history.  You must accept each other and forge a new path together that doesn’t dwell on the past, but that recognizes and even honors it.  There is no place for jealousy in a healthy, committed relationship.  Some dictionary synonyms of the word “jealousy” are envy, resentment, covetousness, suspicion, wariness, watchfulness, mistrustfulness and these surely don’t sound to me like good characteristics on which to build a successful marriage or relationship.

        If your new spouse or partner is upset by your signs of grief for a deceased spouse, perhaps you can provide him or her with this article in order to open up an honest and heartfelt conversation about both of your feelings.  This may help your spouse or partner understand that love and grief are not really finite or easily explainable. Both love and grief make twists and turns, ebb and flow, even mutate. What you feel about your past is indeed normal for you and doesn’t diminish what you feel for, or your commitment to your present and your future.  I believe that when you truly love another you share in their joys and also in their suffering and that you feel and demonstrate  true compassion for them.

 

      Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddhist monk, teacher, poet, peace activist said,

             “We really have to understand the person we want to love. If our love is only a will to possess, it is not love. If we only think of ourselves, if we know only our own needs and ignore the needs of the other person, we cannot love.”

      

Are You Alone In A Dark Place After Loss of Your Spouse or Significant Other?

    

    

(Public domain-wikimedia commons)

     Here’s a little story for those of you who have lost a spouse or the person who was the light of your life.  It’s really my  story and you will need to shape and live your own version of it.  It’s my little holiday gift to you to give you some hope.  I can’t pretend I know exactly how you feel, but I can say I think I know some of what you are feeling because I have been in your shoes.

     If you feel alone and in a dark place, this is for you.  If you feel there will be no joy ever again and when you open your eyes each day, you unwrap a world that seems bright and beautiful on the outside but inside of the box, is empty, quiet and sad, this is for you.  If you long to love again but don’t think it will happen or that you deserve it, this is for you. 

     I know (and have lived) a  story of hope, possibility, love, risk and action.

     There was a woman, a widow, a mother, who thought all of the best parts of her had dried up or run away.  She thought that her soul was filled with dark corners that had their own echoes which resounded in her ears and made her feel more alone and in a cave-like place than anyone should ever feel.  She tried to keep the corners illuminated with a kind of artificial, contrived light she was able to generate with enormous effort.  It tired her out so much to work at doing this.  She hoped that this light would somehow lead her gently out of her cave, but it didn’t for a long time.   The light kept leaking out through minute crevices and dimming.  There was never enough to allow her to navigate a path for herself.   She had too many people counting on her to lead them up toward the sky.  Her light would shine for them, but when they made their way to wherever they wanted or needed to go,  the illumination would always diminish for her, leaving her alone once more,  swaddled in her own despair and lonliness. At times she would catch a glimpse of a distant star perhaps showing her a path to follow, but she was too afraid and too devoid of hope.  She worried that if she emerged from her cave she would be leaving behind her lost loved one  and somehow that felt wrong.

     One day when she wasn’t expecting it, she met someone and dared to permit the crevices to be exposed and to begin to expand.  At first she covered her eyes and was fearful because she was so unused to the brightness and to the emerging feelings she had buried within.  She made up her mind to face them and to begin the work she needed to do to have a future, though she didn’t yet quite know what that work was.   Gradually it seemed that the sky began to descend till it was almost on top of her and she could actually touch it again.  She was surprised that she was no longer afraid.  Yet she was not fully aware of the journey upon which she had embarked, partly through her own choices and partly through the workings of destiny. It seemed to take on a momentum of its own.

     Slowly the corners of her soul smiled and the light filled them.  One unidentifyable moment arrived and she was able to find a familiar but forgotten place in her heart.  She knew then that it was ok to love again and that she would.  Her heart opened and expanded, making room for the new, but keeping the old safe and strong within her.  To this day, the light continues to fill her, even when she has difficult moments and allows the dark shadows to visit her.  She knows these moments from the life she used to live will always revisit.  They are part of who she is, but she has finally befriended them and can will them to rest peacefully when she must attend to the life she lives today. She knows there is no greater tribute to the one or ones she loved and lost than to go on to make her life meaningful. She has built a safe home for the memories.  She can share some of them, but some are hers alone.  They are no longer a torment to think about, but a gift to her, whether they bring laughter or tears.  The light has brought miracles to her, even before she knew she believed in them.

      Each of our relationships is unique and it is not helpful for anyone to assume they really understand what you are going through, as much as they may wish to.  There are no rules for losing and grieving.  Sometimes you have to make up the script as you go along.  Your script may include some things experienced by others, but it will be based on you and that unique relationship with the person or people you have lost.  The things most of us were taught about what to do and what not to do don’t work.   Often though, we must work at the job of completing our losses because they interfere with our going on to shape a new life.  Working at loss completion is pretty alien to our society.  Most people automatically assume that just the passage of time will heal us and that after a certain time, people are all right and can just put their losses and pain behind them.  It is true that death may end a physical relationship but the spiritual and emotional aspects of that relationship stay with us.

     There are also many other types of losses, aside from death that have a major impact on how we live.  Every loss, hurt and disappointment engenders feelings within us.  Every change we undergo creates responses.   People may be encouraged to use short-term fixes to “make their bad feelings go away”.  They may be told not to feel bad, to get control of themselves and to move on when they don’t know how to do that.  After a time they find that others don’t want to hear about their sadness and their feelings.  The difficult feelings get pushed back and tucked away, at least part of the time, causing their owners to retreat more and more into a state of aloneness and sometimes into behaviors that may harm themselves or others around them.   I am here to tell you that it is never too soon and it is never too late to address your grief and to move on to a place of resolution and completion.  I am here to tell you, as well, that miracles in life do happen if you permit your heart to open, but in order for that to occur you have to do the work of completing your grief first.  When you are heartbroken, your heart needs to be fixed just as much as a broken bone in your body would need attention.

     If you are someone who feels alone and in a dark place because you have lost your spouse or a significant other, or have experienced another type of painful loss in your life, I would like to help you. Your loss may have occurred in the past or more recently but if you are having a hard time functioning, it is probably time to take action.

Iris Arenson-Fuller is a Certified Professional Coach specializing in Life Stage, Family and Relationship Changes.  She has a great deal of experience with loss and bereavement of all types, including loss due to death and adoption-related loss issues.