grief – Barbara Heagy

Thank you, Samantha

Yesterday I spent several hours trying to work out my printer problems. I finally gave up and called the company HP Smart for technical support. The technician who I was hooked up with was called Samantha. Now, normally these calls can be hours long (which it was) and can be full of frustration and annoyance (which it wasn’t).

Because a variety of attempts to clear up my problem were needed, we both acknowledged that this was going to take a long time and some of the downloading processes were going to be very slow. We both settled in for the long haul.

For the next two or three hours, Samantha and I worked together to try and solve my problems. Meanwhile, we got to know each other as two human people with much in common. Even though we were separated by half a world (she was in India, I was in Canada), she seemed much younger than me (that’s an assumption), and we were two complete strangers, we connected.

She initiated the conversation and we quickly found out that we both had a love of writing, I a published author/a memoirist and she a daily journal writer and poet. We shared our losses in life of those close to us, including our beloved pets. We told stories about our loved ones. We shared our favourite poets and some of their work. We both love Mary Oliver. We laughed and cried and found common ground in our zest for life.

Slowly she helped me work out my printer problem and slowly we go to know each other as new friends. We both acknowledged that wouldn’t it be wonderful if we should meet some day face-to-face. When all was finally cleared and my printer was working again, it was time to say goodbye. “I’m having trouble saying goodbye,” she said. “Me, too,” I said. “Thank you for all you did for me and shared with me. You were wonderful.”

Will I ever talk with Samantha again? That would be unlikely for you know that when you call these companies, you are given a random agent, whoever is free at the time. But I am thankful for the time spent with Samantha. We had a very special connection.

Reach out to others. Despite distance and age and circumstances, we are all human. Thank you, Samantha. I enjoyed getting to know you. You made my day very special. In honour of you let me share your favourite Mary Oliver poem with others as you shared with me.

“When Death Comes.”

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

—Mary Oliver

Cracked Open

December 11, 2018, was the anniversary of Tom, my beloved husband’s death. Eight years ago, he passed away into another world. Facebook, my main social media site, has a feature that takes you back on your timeline with each passing day. You are able to see what you did and said on December 11 from 2008, 2009, and so on. I was able to trace my life for the weeks and days preceding Tom’s death. I could see all the things that were happening and my comments on them, and I couldn’t help but think over and over again, If I only knew that one week later, three days later, Tom would be dead. It put a very different perspective on life for me. We just never know, do we, what life will bring. It reminded me even more to live each day fully, with zest. This is the main theme of my book, our story, in 10 – A Story of Love, Life, and Loss that I published after Tom’s death. His death and the grief over the subsequent years has taught me much about living a full life.

Grief has softened me. Not at first. First I felt raw and torn, laid open like a jagged wound. But with time that has healed and in the opening of that wound, deep in my gut, I have come to recognize a soft, vulnerable place. And I mean I physically feel it that way. There used to be a hole, a place where the pain of losing Tom and never having him in my life again sat like a dark cavern. It has been replaced. Now there is a fullness filling that empty hole, a soft spot, almost like the yolk inside an egg. It sits in the same place, never forgetting, but always accepting. Tom’s death took away a piece of my soul, but left behind a soft, accepting centre of love and gratitude. It may be delicate, but it’s not weak. In its softness is strength, courage, empathy. It’s pliable, secure, and forgiving.

Reading Mark Nepo’s , The Book of Awakening, I came across this passage. He seems to know about that soft spot within that comes after deep pain. He writes:

“It leads me to say that if you are unhappy or in pain, nothing will remove those surfaces. But acceptance and a strong heart will crack them like a shell, exposing a soft thing waiting to take form. It glows. I think it is the one spirit we all share.”

Grief has cracked me open, and because I was able to look and experience it full in the face, it has left behind a soft jewel in the centre of my soul.

Writing for Healing – A Response Poem to Rumi

Back in June, I attended a writing workshop with Kat McNichol called “Writing for Healing” in Eden Mills. As one of the quick writing prompts, I wrote a poem Not Me. It was written in response to the poet Rumi’s poem Not Here.

When the poem was introduced to us by Kat, I had such a negative internal response that I decided I should just deal with it in a written response. The result, created in five minutes, showed me the level of anger and weariness I had in dealing with the grief of my deceased husband and love of my life.

Kat asked if she could publish the poem in her online newsletter. Check out the poems (Rumi’s original and mine) and other stories by clicking on the link below.
https://www.dreamerswriting.com/stories-poems/barbara-heagy/

And by the way — if you have a chance to take a workshop with Kat McNichol, do it! She’s a fabulous teacher. There is another ‘Writing for Healing’ workshop coming up in October. Check for details at www.dreamerswriting.com.

A Response Poem to Rumi’s Not Here

Not Me by Barbara Heagy

Oh, Rumi.
I do not want to hear this right now.
Don’t speak to me about bravery and sharp
compassion.
I have had howling hurt
And it sucks.

I have stood strong and full of courage.
“Turn and face the lions,” I said.
But the lions’ roaring pains my eardrums.
Their carnivorous breath makes me faint.
Their overpowering size tires me
As I pace the cage with them.

Copper and gold are not for me.
I have accumulated a treasure house of
such so-called riches.
Give me sun.
Give me breath.
God, give me pastrami.
Anything but more of your precious metals.

I am not half-hearted.
I am empty-hearted
Facing your sizzling ovens that shape the soul.

Empty-hearted, holding back,
I am now just well-enough and getting by.

Your challenge has depleted me,
Frozen my thoughts into debilitating ideas of
“I can do this.
This will be good for me.”

Well F’ you, Rumi.
I walk away from this challenge.
I’ve given at the office, thank you.

Congratulations on Word Award Nomination at The Word Guild Gala 2018

Well, the Good Grief People authors didn’t win the top prize last night at The Word Guild Word Awards Gala (we missed you, Alan) but we had a wonderful time meeting other authors and writers and hearing snippets of quality literature. We are proud to be declared a finalist in our category. One of our group did win a top award – congratulations to Glynis M. Belec for her win last night for her short script.

It was very special to have the group of us together. We got to know each other so well in the writing of our book and, even though we live in six different cities across Canada, we saw quite a bit of each other. To get us all together in one spot is a rarity and, therefore, I appreciated it all the more.

Just a couple of hours before I left for the gala, my phone rang. It was a woman from a funeral home in the area that had bought six of our books a year ago from me. If we need any more affirmation of the good things our book is doing for others on their grief paths, I got it. She raved about our book and ordered ten more Good Grief People books.

She told me they can’t keep the books on the shelf because people are finding it so helpful. She herself has found it to be so beneficial in understanding her own grief journey. She says it’s the perfect book in that it is not a ‘how-to’ book because those who are grieving already have enough on their plate without worrying whether they’re grieving properly or not. The short stories and poems are perfect for little snippets of comfort and hope given in small doses when needed.

I told her I was just getting ready to attend The Word Guild banquet today and that the book was short-listed for an award across Canada and she said she was not surprised.

It was wonderful to get such positive feedback. It was like getting an award. Thank you my Good Grief People author friends. We did it together.

Copies of Good Grief People can be ordered by messaging Barbara Heagy at barbaraheagy10@gmail.com or through local bookstores and retail outlets (The Bookshelf, Guelph; BookLore, Orangeville; Spa Wellness by Tamara, Guelph) or online at amazon.ca. They can also be ordered from any of the authors or through Angel House Publishing.

Life is Eternal, Love is Immortal

Yesterday my Snack ‘n Chat group that meets weekly had one of our potluck lunches. One of the women has been recently widowed after forty-seven years of marriage and she told us a beautiful story about the loss of her wedding ring in a local store shortly after her husband’s death and its miraculous recovery.

For two weeks after the loss of the ring, she returned to that store over and over again, asking in different departments and areas of the store if it had been found. No one had seen it.

Again this week, she asked a young clerk if the ring happened to be under the cash area on a shelf perhaps. It wasn’t. My friend moved on to do more shopping and the young girl went to talk to one of her friends in the store. The next thing my friend heard was her name being called over the P.A. system. She was to return to the same counter again.

“Now, I don’t want to get your hopes up,” the young girl said. “We have found a wedding ring. It may not be yours. Security is bringing it to us.”

They all watched with anticipation as a uniformed guard approached. He stood before them and pulled out a clear plastic bag from his pocket. Inside was the wedding ring!

My friend was overjoyed and broke out in loud squeals and a mixture of tears and laughter. The clerks and guard all joined her causing a joyful ruckus that could be heard throughout the store.

Where had the ring been all this time? No one was sure but my friend’s persistence and prayers paid off.

We each shared stories that day about miraculous events after the loss of a loved one. One woman felt her deceased husband had visited her in the night leaving a kiss on her lips. Another spoke of a knock at a door, and her deceased father entered the room, fully clothed, in the flesh. She felt he had returned so she could say a final goodbye to him. I shared my story of a medium’s message of eternal love and gratitude from my beloved Tom.

I found it quite amazing that four women had four stories about miraculous events after the loss of a loved one. We tend to not talk of these things in our society. I believe there are more stories out there. It appears that our loved ones do go on and can send us signs and symbols from eternity. Love lives on.

Good Grief

We had a very successful book launch. Thank you to all who came out. Here is my speech:

The first thing I want to say is how honoured I have been to be a part of this very special book, Good Grief People. I knew none of these authors, except for a slight acquaintance with Donna Mann, until we began working on the manuscript last year. Glynis M. Belec, Carolyn Wilker, Ruth Smith Meyer, Donna Mann, and Alan Anderson, I now count you as best friends, my BFF’s, and I admire and respect you all so much. My friends have taught me much about death, dying, and the grief process.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about what ‘good grief’ is. And now that I see the book in its final form with all our stories and poems, I think I would have this to say about good grief.

Good grief is about bravery, sensitivity, acceptance, and a generous, fearless attitude to life.

Grief is much like falling in love – to do it well, we have to drop the barriers holding us back from fully stepping forward into it. Yes, it’s a powerful emotion, as powerful as love. But that’s what grief is – love. When we have loved deeply, we grieve deeply.

Good grief means facing the fear, the anger, and processing it in good faith. It’s about examining one’s life and finding new purpose and a new identity. It’s about a willingness to live and find a new you.

Like a woman in labour, who works with her body and mind to embrace the pain, to release it instead of fighting it and bottling it up, when I grieve well, I learn to ‘go with the flow’. These stories have taught me that I can birth myself into a new identity. It will be a world without you, a different world, but I will still be in it and will find my new life.

Grief is like a wounded athlete who learns to work through an injury, strengthening the other muscles and joints to heal an injury to regain our health and wholeness once again. Grief can be like an amputation, and when you think about it, losing someone dear to you is like losing a part of yourself. But even through that, we can learn to do things in a new way and go on.

Good grief is the fork in the road, and although we may hesitate, we choose to take it in good faith. It’s the willingness to continue the journey, a journey into the unknown.

Good grief is the willingness to accept the end of one story and move on to the next chapter or book. We all have our favourite books and stories that we just hate to see end. We stretch out the best parts, savour it, read it again slowly, or even stop reading because we can’t bear for it to be over. But it does come to an end. And then we move on to the next story, but not until we have placed that story in our ‘favourite books’ shelf for safe-keeping and re-reading. We know that we can return to it again and again, but we know too that it will never be the same as that first time experience.

I hope that our book, these stories, will help you find hope in the midst of despair, comfort from the pain, joy in the sadness, strength out of the weakness and acceptance in the midst of denial. They all sit on the same plate. We can learn to live with both.

Death Cafes

Last night I attended a ‘Death Café’ at a local downtown coffee shop. I had heard of them before and was intrigued. They are meant “to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives. A Death Cafe is a group directed discussion of death with no agenda, objectives or themes.” www.deathcafe.com

About 25-30 adults were gathered, all ages, in a back room of the coffee shop, seated at small tables in groups of six or less, which allowed for intimate, close talk. A local officiant, Christine Lafazanos, and her company “Woven Threads,” handcrafted ceremonies, hosted the event which she holds every two months for the public for free.

After a short introduction, with some basic guidelines, she handed the evening over to us. For the next two hours, we introduced ourselves, told the others why we were there, and discussed a large variety of issues about death, dying, and grief through casual conversation. On the table, was a small jar with short statements about death meant to initiate discussion. We shared stories and expressed our fears, grief, and questions. We all acknowledged that our society just doesn’t like talking about death.

It was refreshing to be able to meet with strangers and speak about such a dreaded topic which affects us all. After all, we all die. Why do we ignore it, and treat it with such fear? Why are we and our families so unprepared for it? How does it affect us in both the short and the long term? What can we do to help loved ones die? What can we do for ourselves and our own grief and suffering when we lose a loved one? How can we live better lives by acknowledging the inevitability of death?

Death. It’s a big issue. We had many questions. And I’m not so sure there were clear answers but it was refreshing and helpful to talk about it and apply it to our own lives. We can help each other.

Check out Christine Lafazanos at www.woven-threads.ca and www.facebook.com/WovenThreads.Celebrant for information about the next Death Café in the Guelph area.

Good Grief People Book Launch

COME HELP US CELEBRATE!

We invite all of you, family, friends, public, to come ‘Meet the Authors’ and join us for our GOOD GRIEF PEOPLE book launch on May 6th.

We have the lovely Aboyne Hall rented in the beautiful historical Wellington County Museum and Archives between Elora and Fergus, Ontario. Our plan is to have a short program of welcome and then lots of opportunity to meet all six authors and have your book signed if you would like.

We are very excited that our only male author, Alan Anderson, is travelling with his lovely wife, Terry, all the way from British Columbia to join us. (And it’s their 39th anniversary, too!)

And come hungry. We will have a luncheon and a door prize, too.

Can’t wait. So excited. Looking forward to seeing all of you.

Mark your calendar and bring a friend. We would LOVE to have you join us and help celebrate the official release of GOOD GRIEF PEOPLE.

Consider yourself officially invited!

Christmases Past

There are those who are facing difficult circumstances this holiday season. It’s not easy being surrounded by cheery music, glittering decorations, party-makers and celebration planners when you feel your world is falling apart. It all looks so joyful and we can’t help but feel isolated by the merriment that we’re not feeling ourselves. The whole world seems to be a part of some great coming event that we just don’t look forward to.

Six years ago today, just before Christmas, my husband Tom passed away and he was gone forever. That first Christmas I was numb. I hadn’t truly accepted the fact that Tom was no longer with me. I had bought gifts and stocking stuffers for him and he had bought gifts for others that were still arriving by parcel post and courier. I chose gifts for his family, wrapped them, and wrote personal notes on Tom’s behalf as if he had given them himself. The Christmas card I had bought for him said it all: “Life gives beautiful gifts. It gave me you. Merry Christmas (our last one).” In truth, the Christmas the year before had been our last one, but I wasn’t ready to accept that reality. Family helped me wade through the grief of that first Christmas with love and understanding as we celebrated together.

The next Christmas was actually harder to go through without him for he was no part of the preparations. For the first time since I had been with him, I wasn’t choosing a gift for him, I had no need to fill his stocking or buy a special Christmas card. Any gifts I bought for others were from me, not us. What I did do is light a memorial candle in his memory. It sat beside his framed photo on the mantel of the fireplace. With the help of family, I made it through that holiday season.

I continued to light a memorial candle each Christmas. He was still with us. Family celebrations continued to be a part of all my Christmases and stories and memories of Tom were always encouraged from family and friends. His memory lived on. Christmases got better.

This Christmas will be the seventh one without Tom as a living presence. But he continues to be with us in our hearts and minds. Special decorations, food, drink, so many things still bring back memories of our lives together. We still share the stories and our fond memories of him. For us, he lives on, just in a new way.

The black grief of that first Christmas is gone but I continue to feel melancholy at times. How could I not? We had a great love. I will always love him. But life moves forward. There have been weddings and new births and grandchildren growing. Reaching out to others has helped. I have cried with those who miss their loved ones as they pass on and I have laughed with delight holding a newborn baby in my arms. We share our lives; the joy, the grief, the celebrations and the losses. I continue to live in hope and faith for all that life offers me.

I made it through that dark valley. I wasn’t afraid to feel the shock and the grief. I accepted all the dark feelings and let them run their course as the tears flowed and turmoil reigned. I reached out to family and friends for support, encouragement and even distraction. They helped me laugh again. I stayed an active participant in life by continuing to work, joining clubs and making new friends. I am stronger for having gone through it all, and can now reach out to others to help them through their difficult times. Together we can make it.

Stay hopeful. Stay strong. Better times are ahead. Believe that Christmas will once again be joyful for you. I wish you a Merry Christmas. Even if it doesn’t feel like it. It will.

A Butterfly Visitation

Yesterday, under blue skies and fluffy white clouds, our family attended a tree-planting ceremony put on by the local funeral home in honour of those who had passed away in the last year. For us it was our beloved Bill, father-in-law to my daughter and grandpa to my little grandsons.

The event couldn’t have been more perfect. Everything had been considered and was perfectly coordinated from the beautiful natural setting at the local conservation area, to the ample parking area and organized crew, to the large white tent set up with folding chairs and picnic tables under towering mature trees. A local choir and talented musicians provided beautiful heart-felt music and inspired speakers provided us with thoughtful messages.

One tree, symbolizing all of the over 300 trees that would be planted this season for our loved ones, was planted just outside the tent allowing us a visual reality of our loved one’s memorial tree.

As a final tribute to those who had passed, live Monarch butterflies were released by the planted tree. We were all invited to come up close and witness the event first hand. A hat box filled with the butterflies was placed on the grass and children and adults were encouraged to reach in, take out a butterfly and enjoy the experience of a living jewel in your hand before it took to the skies.

Butterflies have always been special to me and my second husband, Tom, who took me to the local butterfly conservatory for our first date. We released twelve live butterflies at our wedding five years later. On our first anniversary, Tom and I released one in our back yard to celebrate our love. Four years later, Tom passed away with terminal cancer. Since his passing, I have had several unique experiences with butterfly visitations. My family and I have acknowledged that perhaps these butterflies are Tom visiting us and we often say, “Hi Tom” when we experience these intimate encounters with these lovely creatures.

I was eager to get as close as I could to the butterflies but it was very crowded as over a hundred people encircled the box trying to get a glimpse. It took some time for me to get close enough to get some photos with my camera. Finally I was able to snap some pictures as smiling children and parents held living butterflies in their hands and then watched them as they flew up and over our heads into the sky.

One of the last butterflies to be released flew from a hand to a woman’s head beside me landing in her hair. Within seconds it made the short flight from her to me, settling on the crest of my ear where it decided it wanted to stay. For several minutes, the crowd around me marveled at this special moment as all the other butterflies had taken flight and were gone.

I decided to try and walk to my family’s picnic table to share this amazing experience with them. I didn’t know if the butterfly would still be there as I started to move. As I sat down at our picnic table it took a moment for my daughter and family to notice the beautiful orange and black ornament that was still in my hair. Liam called out, “Gramma, you have a butterfly in your hair.” We all laughed and I said, “I know. Say hi to your Grandpa Tom.”

The butterfly lingered for a lengthy period of time. We were able to get many pictures of this unique experience and share it with others around us. We actually finished our luncheon before the butterfly quietly left unannounced about 20 minutes later.

How special this moment was for my family and me. Thank you to Dods & McNair Funeral Home, Orangeville for making this special event even more memorable for us.