September is always a difficult month for me – it’s the month my son was born and, so naturally, as I flip the calendar, my mind wanders to childhood birthday parties, back to school activities, all the things that go with being a parent. I never want to forget the milestone memories. Sometimes, however, in the ‘remembering,’ I start to teeter. This weekend, we attended a beautiful wedding in Malibu, an outdoor venue, two Jewish families, and I allowed the abundance of love and life to envelope me fully. I found myself reveling in the joy of the present tense. A string quartet played the Beatles’ “All You Need is Love,” and I thought to myself, “Well, you need a lot more than love these days, but that’s a pretty good start.” Life is not easy. The newlyweds have loving families, a world of friends, both are smart and successful, and yet – no one has a crystal ball to know what the future holds. The rabbi explained it quite eloquently and I listened to his every word. In the end, I knew that despite my enormous loss, I would happily recite my vows all over again, birth my babies, shower them with love and enough room to spread their wings, and then hope they would safely land wherever destiny and their dreams might intersect. It doesn’t always turn out the way we imagine. But this weekend, for 72 non-stop hours, I believed fully in the power of love to move mountains, solve the problems of the world, and conquer all. I’m going to stay here for awhile, in this “happily-ever-after” zone. It’s a beautiful rest stop, one that offers hope during a month that sometimes, knocks me to the ground…still. For anyone reading this blog who has suffered a loss, where is your rest stop? What soothes your spirit? We’d love to hear from you, learn from each other.
Grief takes many shapes. Grief is personal. Therefore, no one should criticize others for the manner in which they observe the anniversary of a loved one’s death. I have often thought about the inevitable day that is appointed unto every human on this earth. Rather than people standing around mourning my death, my wish is for people to celebrate life when my own time arrives. We all have our own faiths, or beliefs, which we respect.
Last week my mother’s church lost a precious 47-year old man. He cut the church lawn and went home for the evening. Later that night, he told his wife he was going to bed. The gentleman’s wife decided to retire to bed around 1:30 a.m. Approaching the bed, she noticed her husband leaning up on a pillow. It was discovered that the man sat straight up in bed, smiled, and fell backwards on the pillow. The smile never left his face, although the coroner estimated his death occurred around 12:30 a.m. The mortician stated he had never seen such a sweet smile on a deceased individual’s face before. He did not touch his face whatsoever. Even in death this individual touched another person’s life in a profound way. The consolation in this was that the gentleman saw the Lord when he graduated to his new life, or maybe a band of loved ones that had passed on before him filled his room to take him to his new home. We are told that we never die alone even if there is no one else physically in the room at the time of the death.
I have mourned the early loss of twins and many family members. The celebration is in remembering the good things in life and the joy that our loved ones brought into our own life. Sometimes we forget the bad things, and maybe that is God or nature’s way, whichever way you prefer to view it, of protecting our internal self – to remember only the good about them. After all, isn’t it better to remember the good rather than the bad? So, I say we should all commemorate the anniversary of our loved one’s passing into a new realm not with sadness, but with the joy that they brought into our lives. This honors their life.
That smile you are describing must have made his wife feel some measure of comfort, and highlights how fragile, yet how beautiful every minute of life is, Debra. I’ve been saying lately that the best way to honor someone’s life is to live fully ourselves, but at times I have to admit this is as easy as hugging a porcupine and trying not to get poked. I’m still battling so much sorrow, so much regret and guilt, amid a melange of other emotions. Your post is giving me strength today, just this one day, and that’s sometimes how we have to take this journey. One step at a time.
That is exactly what life is. . .one step at a time, one day at a time. To ponder the thought that “tomorrow never comes” means that we always live life in the present. We can look back and reminisce on the past. We can look back on our mistakes, but we should only do so to make our present day better.
Honor is truly living life to the fullest, as you have said. If we do not do so, we dishonor ourselves and our own ancestors who struggled in their own lives to birth generations so we can live. This is one way that I view the subject.
The key, I believe, is to discover who we are, why we were placed on this earth, and the purpose(s) of our life. Maybe the purpose was to stroke the tiny little hand and kiss the toes of a newborn baby. To bring life to that child that may one day become a physician who discovers the cure for diseases. Or maybe it is to hold the child and comfort them as they pass from this world into the next while holding our own tears back with everything that is within us. Finally, we can no longer hold the tears back as we say the last “I love you.”
We certainly do not have all the answers. To be honest, no parent should ever have to bury their child. But, while they were here on this earth they were the dancing ballerinas and little cowboys that played in the living room while we cooked or tried to figure out how to bottle up all of that energy for ourselves! But, they are a part of us. When we lose a child, a piece of our heart goes with them. There is no other feeling so devastating in the world and it feels as if the pain is endless. But, we take it one day at a time.
Hugging a porcupine and trying not to get poked is a perfect way to describe it at times. One day that porcupine will turn into a soft bunny as the pain begins to lessen. But, that will also come with time. No, we never forget those we lost, or will lose in the future. We have a lot of “what if’s” in our life, but the day will come when you let go of all regrets and guilt. You will know when the time is right. This certainly doesn’t happen over night. For now, mourn as you must; honor as you wish. Never stop living; never stop giving.
Debra, your words are getting me through today. I hit these weird bumps in the road, where one day is more tolerable than another. But you are reminding me here that we need to remember our purpose for living. Sometimes the best way to honor someone’s memory is to live fully in their place. This is harder when it’s your child, and every day is a struggle, but I’m making the attempt, sometimes on hands and knees. Thank you, Debra.