Grief

 

With the diagnosis of cancer, our world was forever changed. John may be gone, but he was not taken from us.  A loving Father in Heaven allows him to be an integral part of our family in very real ways.  It does not make this journey easy, but I am lifted and renewed by his love each day.

It has been nearly 7 years since my husband passed away. With 6 children ranging in age from 7-15 years old at the time, and having this new reality thrust upon me, I needed tools in order not to just survive, but for us to thrive.  The wisdom and examples of so many other Widows that God placed along my path have been a lifeline to me and assisted in so many of my Divine tutorials.  I wanted to share a few things that I did that helped me most in those first months and years as I am able to look back in hindsight.

5 things I did to help my grief

 

1 – State of mind – however I feel is ok

I knew some of what I would be facing when my husband was sick. We knew he was going to die. I had gone through the scenario in my mind and heart and could anticipate, with dread, some of how I would feel.  But many things about grief are hidden in the shadows and cannot be fully anticipated beforehand. I knew this as well.

Other people would come to me with their ideas of how I should feel and try to project that onto me.

Long before John died I made a decision. I made the decision that I was going to allow myself to feel.

I like to prepare, I like to know ahead of time.  I like to set my mind in how I’m going to act and respond. But there were really no guideposts from my past that I could draw upon to accurately make any kind of plan for this.

Leading up to his death and through his illness, however, I did learn one thing.

Other people would come to me with their ideas of how I should feel and try to project that onto me.

I had heard comments in the past regarding other Widows, such as;

“It’s been [blank] years, isn’t she over it yet?”

Or people approaching me with gentleness and trepidation, fearing I would dissolve into tears at any moment.  Still, others would come and speak to me in very hushed tones, somehow thinking that having a normal everyday conversation was now inappropriate.  I experienced shocked looks on peoples faces if I happened to be having a pretty good day and was jovial and laughing.

So I made the decision. I took charge and gave myself permission.

I told myself however you feel is ok.

I had heard that the first year was the hardest so I took off all the boundaries that I might inflict upon my feelings, my actions, and behaviors and said I could act upon how I felt for one year.

• If I felt exhausted just as soon as I had gotten the kids out the door to school, then it was completely ok to go to bed and sleep. Grief is exhausting!  I did this. Through the first year, I slept a lot during the day. One hidden secret of widowhood is your nighttime sleep gets really disrupted and off track. Allowing myself to sleep during the day helped me to have the emotional and physical energy to live and to grieve. It’s hard work. I also had some very special experiences feeling my husband near during these quiet times.  I love my family, but a second close is my bed.
• If I felt like crying I could cry. I didn’t and couldn’t schedule grief it comes at its own time.  You can’t predict when the waves of grief come. I could cry where ever I was and that was ok. I could cry in front of my kids, it wasn’t going to destroy them. In fact, kids learn best by watching your example. If I gave myself permission to grieve my husband, they would then have permission to grieve their Dad.

I often cried my way through the aisles at the grocery store, at doctor’s offices, and just about anyplace. And rather than try and stifle it, and not let others see, or beat myself up about it later, I told myself it was ok, and it was.

• If I felt like laughing and was full of energy, that was ok too.  I could be happy. I am happy. As human beings, we experience every emotion.  Just because we are widows, one emotion does not govern us.

My “prepare and plan ahead” little self couldn’t even begin to know all the things I would face in grieving the loss of my best friend, my dearest love and eternal companion.  I had to let those things come and needed permission to FEEL them.

It is really the best piece of advice I can give, and the most important thing you can do for yourself when grieving.

I told myself however you feel is ok.

2 – 15 minutes of sunlight

While I gave myself permission to fully feel every kind of emotion, I knew I didn’t want to dwell or get stuck in one emotion either.  I knew I would feel down, a lack of motivation, and crushing sorrow. Feeling those emotions is ok, getting stuck in those emotions is not.  I knew I needed to do something every day to help my thoughts be uplifted and to have my body be aiding that lift.

I didn’t have it in me to exercise like I had normally done. So I set a goal for something I could do even on my worst day. I could get outside into the sunlight for 15 minutes a day.

Many days I would grumble and try to fill that space with other things, telling myself it really wouldn’t provide that much of a benefit. But, I had set this as one of the ‘no excuses’ part of my day.

One of my fears with being widowed is that I would shrink into a hole and become so consumed with grief that I wouldn’t recognize myself. How could I raise my children the way John and I had planned if I was like that?

One of the best pieces of wisdom that I have heard came from my first and dear widow friend, Colleen.  Just weeks after Mark had passed away, she said,“I want to always live so that if Mark walked back through my front door he would recognize the family that he left.”  

This was so powerful to me, that 8 years later when I became a widow, this is one of those things that shaped my thoughts and the direction I took.

I needed to progress, and 15 minutes of sunlight a day….on my worst day was going to be my life preserver.

Each time I would leave the house and get out into the fresh air, take a look at the beauty in the world, and feel the sunlight on my face, it would inevitably lift me.  The disruption in my thoughts and emotions helped me to shift gears and feel new things.

My mind would wander as I walked and I often received precious truths of revelation to guide me. Sweet memories would come to my mind and wrap around me like a warm blanket. I would be distracted from myself enough to reflect on, and receive insights into how my kids were doing and how to help them.

Once I even had angels keep me from burning down the house. God recognized my efforts and even though I was fumbling along, doing my best to try and do day to day tasks, my brain wasn’t really working well. It was a day I was really trying to ‘be on top of things’. I had been rushing around the house picking up, starting laundry, making decisions and taking action to eat healthier. I almost talked myself out of going out, saying, ‘I’ll just do one more thing and then I’ll go.  Finally, I stopped and firmly told myself if I didn’t just go, I wouldn’t end up going at all. I left the house and made it down the street, when I clearly heard a voice tell me, “You left the eggs on.”

This was a particularly grumbly day and rather than be thankful, I replied to the voice. “Really? You see what a mess I am making of everything down here and rather than tell me more things, I could be AMAZING, you JUST barely keep me from burning my house down.”

I turned around, went home and found the pan, the eggs, and no water.  THEN I was humbled enough to apologize and thank God for the tiny miracle that saved my house. How horrible would that have been?

something I could do even on my worst day.

The peace, insight, renewing and beauty that filled me on these little mandatory walks I took filled and lifted me.  I would definitely have drifted to darker places that would have been harder to climb out of if I hadn’t done this, even on my worst days.

3 – Write it down

As John got sick, my mind and memory got fuzzier it felt like.  This terrified me. I had always had a really good memory and now, I couldn’t seem to hold on to those truths and mantras that were my lifeline in the tumult of the day-to-day.  The dawning, that I alone, would now be the keeper of the memories nearly crushed me. I was the only one who remembered the moments of our children’s births, our fun and loving moments in our marriage and home. Things my kids wouldn’t remember, and only John and I were there for.  The weight and loneliness of that hit me hard.

I grabbed some composition notebooks off of our ‘school supplies’ shelf and started writing. I needed to remember.  How many times in the scriptures is the counsel given, to remember? I felt the need for it desperately. I needed to remember and write as a record for my kids. I needed to remember, to bind and hold my dearest relationships close to me.  I needed to remember the revelation, miracles, actions, and eternal truths that were revealed to us. I needed to remember when I forgot the tiny and sometimes almost imperceptible interactions with heaven and with my husband.

I also needed somewhere to pour out all of the thoughts and feelings that were stirring feverously inside of me.

As I poured out my thoughts, my notebooks turned into something special.  I always have one with me. One in my purse, my church bag, my temple bag, a small pocket one in my temple dress, my car, my nightstand, in the kitchen….everywhere.

I would write and then at the top upper right-hand corner of the pages, I would label it.  These are the labels that eventually came. When I was needing a lift, insight, or reflection I could thumb back through my notebooks and easily find what I sought.

• Feelings

I wrote all my feelings. This was extremely cathartic and helpful in very real ways. As I just poured out my thoughts, the struggles I was facing and circumstances, by no effort of my own, things would become clear to me.  This is one of the compensating blessings God has given me. Solutions to problems would become apparent and issues I hadn’t really seen beneath the surface of everything else were clear as well. My objectives and true purpose came shining through.

• Memories

Being the keeper of the memories weighed on me and I didn’t want to forget or have my children forget. During John’s illness, death, and since then we have had many awesome experiences and miracles in our lives, I wrote them down. Even the ones my kids had and related to me. I wrote whatever memory from our lives came to my mind, in no order, I just wanted a record of them.  I started books about John with my kids. I told them whenever they had a memory of Dad or remembered something he used to say or do, even a small little one write it down. We had a decorative chest on a shelf and had a pen and sticky notes next to it. As memories would come, we would write them down and put it in the chest and then once a week take out the notes, talk about them, and add to them as our memories came back. It became a beautiful thing.

• Tell yourself your own truths

Truths are everywhere. You can learn from anything and God is eager to teach.  But as I’ve discussed earlier, for some reason when you are facing death and grief, the world starts telling you your truth in more brash ways than ever before.  I wasn’t going to let myself or my family be destroyed by other people trying to tell me my truths. , While most of the time, these comments come from a place of love and people trying to understand and reconcile my situation in their own minds, they almost always came from someone with no experience with the grief and situation I was experiencing.  So I started listening, I started watching and searching. I became a great collector of truths, my truths. Heavenly Father sends them all time if we pay attention. They are everywhere. And they are MY truths, just for me. I found them in priesthood blessing, personal thoughts, and prayer, in words of songs and books, and from others.

I pulled out notebooks and jotted them down. These were my truths.This is what was real. These are the guideposts and anchors that govern my life, thoughts, actions, and progression.

As I poured out my thoughts, my notebooks turned into something special.

Some of my truths are:

God is not destroying my family, he is creating an eternal

Death is not the end, it is a mere comma

True love stories never have endings

The roles of father and husband are eternal he still operates in that same capacity

John might be gone (physically) but he was not taken from us – he is still with us

I chose this

At the end of the day you can focus on what is tearing you apart, or what is holding you together

God only gives good gifts

 

 

I became a great collector of truths, mytruths.

• Letters to John

In life, John and I adored each other, like, we could not get enough of each other. On a typical day, we would rise and talk and enjoy each other. He would leave for work and often return 10 minutes later with a Diet Coke from the gas station for me and another round of kisses.  We would talk by phone on his way to work. He and I would call or text in between seeing his patients, often texting over 20-30 times a day, every day.

One time I remember driving in the car with my sister and my phone kept going off with text messages. She asked who kept texting me. I had been glancing at my phone at stop lights and did so again and grinned. “It’s John,”  I told her. Shocked, she exclaimed that we JUST left his office. And we had, only about 10 or so minutes previous. I just smiled back at her brimming with the love we shared and responded, “We kinda like each other.”

If I had any errands to run, somehow, my car always found a way to Sonic and then over to his office to drop off a slushie or a Dr. Pepper, which were about 20 minutes apart.  He would call me just before heading in to see his last patient so I would know he was almost coming home to us. Then we would often talk on his way home.

I understood that in his death I lost him physically, but I would often tell others, we should at least be allowed texting.  But true to the love we share, we did find a way to keep communicating with each other.

When I would long for the opportunity to talk to John. I would write to him instead. I would talk, just like he was sitting next to me. Tell him my sorrows, my longings, and wishes, my frustrations and problems. I would tell him how I loved him, I loved our life together, of things I was learning and things the kids were doing.  I would reach out to him with my whole soul. I treasure these letters, They are an important part of my grief and my continuing relationship with my husband. He hears, he knows and he sends me letters in return.

When I would long for the opportunity to talk to John. I would write to him instead.

• Postcards from Heaven

This is probably my favorite ‘tab’  to look for as I thumb through my notebooks. Postcards from Heaven.  These are the large and small things that come from heaven, just for me. They are the little things that God teaches me, they are the tiny and the mighty miracles that happen, they are small ways John lets me know he is here. They are priesthood blessings and answers to prayers.

One of my favorite talks and a divine truth that struck John and me with force when we heard it, is found in the talk by Henry B Eyring. In the talk, he describes how he was coming home late one night and happened to glance at his father in law working late on his farm for his family. He reflected on his goodness and his example. The spirit then told him, “I don’t give these experiences to you for you alone, write them down.”

He then relates how he has made that a habit in his life. Everyday writing the days’ events and trying to acknowledge God’s hand in his life that day.  This is one of those things that keeps me from being pulled down under the waves. It slices through the dark and negative thoughts.

I asked myself daily, How have you seen God’s hand in your life today?

Remembering that He is ever aware and wants to bless me has buoyed me up above the turbulent seas again and again.

John sends me messages all the time. I love him and he loves me deeply. That has not changed. We kinda like each other. We are the same people. We have always gone out of our way to do things for one another and to be a part of each others’ every day. We are the same people. I write down all the postcards I receive from him. I write when I hear a song and feel him tap me on the shoulder and say, “listen to this”.   I write down when I’m watching my son practice karate and feel him sitting next to me grinning widely watching his boy.  I write down when I’m stopped at a light and a white Trans Am turns left to the intersection and time slows a little and John waves and tells me ‘I’m Hot’.  I write down when I can’t figure out our daughter’s homework problem and tell him he has to help, and then the answer comes clearly to my mind. I write down when I’m asleep and am awakened by a hand brushing my hair off my forehead.

These writings in my many notebooks became my divine tutorials. My testimony, my sacred record.  They are the lessons, insights, and very anchors for my soul. I LOVE them. They are truly a treasure and a blessing to me.

4 – Get to fresh water, go to the temple 

“Cargo Ships in Portland, Oregon just sit there.  Portland is 100 miles from the ocean. To get there, they have to come up the Columbia River.

These ships have schedules to get from China to America and back.  They aren’t making drop-offs or picking anything up in Portland. So, why do they take the time to just sit in Portland harbors? Barnacles.

Barnacles attach themselves all over the ships when they are out in the ocean. These barnacles slow the speed at which the ships can move to their intended destination. You can’t just brush them off, or even scrape them off. Some barnacles can hold up to 5000 lbs. To remove them, a boat has to be taken out of the water and a jackhammer used to remove each one.

However, staying long enough in fresh water causes them to fall off.  Portland, Oregon has fresh water. They just have to take the time and stay long enough in fresh waters.

A wise ship Captain knows he has to make time to get to fresh water. He knows he will come out cleaner and faster.

Barnacles are found in our lives too.  They represent sin and cares of the world.  Freshwater represents the temple, scriptures, church, pondering, meditation,  etc.”

This story, taken from the speaker, Hank Smith, has always been a guiding lighthouse for our family.  I feel its effects so rapidly and completely that making time to get to my fresh water, the temple, is as necessary as drinking water.

In the temple, I get the unique experience to remove the constraints of the world that are blocking my vision and altering my perspective. I get to commune with the Holy Ghost, with God and my Savior, and with my husband.  How often have I gone to the temple clouded and wrapped in sorrows, sinking with the ‘truths’ the world has heaped on me about my situation? And then, I come away from the temple literally lightened. Uplifted and free from those incorrect views, I’ve been given a new view of my sacred purpose, the power to live that purpose. In the temple, I have the view from the mountaintops to help me when I’m making my way when I can’t see as clearly in the valleys.  I am reminded of God’s eternal plan of salvation, why I was sent to the earth, the covenants that bind me to him and my family, and the blessings, powers, and tool I’ve been given to journey toward him.

I firmly stand by the belief that the only way I am able to cope with the struggles and trials that have been entrusted to me in this life, is because I attend the temple often. The power there is real. Trials and grief have the ability to allow the greatest fog, or mists to descend upon us and I have found, the way to transcend above it and see the path more clearly is through communing with God.

This effect is so visible that my kids see it too.  One morning I had planned to attend the temple but as I was driving my young elementary children to school I was having second thoughts.  The kids asked what my plans were for that day and I told them I was going to go to the temple but then listed all of the things that I had to do and mentioned that maybe I wouldn’t go that day after all.  My youngest son, then seven, quickly urged me, “No Mom, you HAVE to get to fresh water.”

The urgency and strong desire in his voice caught me.  My time spent in that holy place changed me, it helped me. It was making me cleaner from the weight that pulled at me and made me faster in a sense. And it was visible and important to my children.

Attending the temple is another one of those ‘no excuses’ elements that I put in my life. I schedule the time and then it is unalterable, getting to fresh water is more important for me and for my family than many, many other things. We have missed many a game, practice, and activity as we’ve placed its value and importance in the proper place in our lives.

Now, 6 years after the incident in the car, my whole family gets the opportunity to attend the temple together.  It is a sacred and precious time for us and we guard that time fiercely. With much gratitude, we set the time to regularly attend the temple and get to fresh water.

5- Acknowledge grief effect on the body

One of the things for which I had no knowledge of and couldn’t anticipate was the effect grief would have physically on my body.  The extreme loss my spirit felt and being physically separated from my husband altered me. It was one of the hardest things for me to accept and deal with.  I knew I would miss John, I knew I would be overcome with sorrow and grief. But I thought I would be the same person going through that grief.  I was okay with the knowledge I would grieve him, but I had no idea I would also have to grieve me.

Suddenly I was changed. The characteristics and makeup of who I am as a person were different.  I have always had a very, very good memory. My earliest memories were when I was 2 years old. My husband would joke and ask if I remembered coming through the birth canal. Yea, he thinks he’s funny.   But now, I couldn’t remember anything. I forgot words, big and little memories, so, so much. It was more than disconcerting.

I had signed up for this. I could learn how to navigate this new path and all of its obstacles as ME.  But I was lost at how to function in the body and mind of this new person. I think that is probably the phrase we are most familiar with when grievers try to express what they are feeling, that they just can’t function.  But we, having no idea, misinterpret this. I remember thinking upon hearing others say that in the past that they just couldn’t do the things they knew they should because they were so sad.

But that is NOT how it goes.  I have never tried so hard in my life to do the everyday things like I did before. But suddenly everything was hard, like really hard.  In my mind I liken it to a severe stroke victim, they know all the things to do, that they have always had the capacity to do. But now, suddenly they have to start at the beginning with baby steps again and have others help them and remind them with tasks that were fairly simple before.  That is hard. That was a blow to my spirit that stunned me.

I’ll share some examples of what this looks like with you.

Dinners – I went from being able to whip up meals in minutes for a family of 10 to standing dumbfounded in the kitchen struggling to think of even one thing people ate for dinner.  Words escaped me. I would put all of my energy focus on meal possibilities and have to end up asking my kids what people ate for dinner because suddenly the thoughts and memories were gone from me and I couldn’t call them back.  This was quite alarming.

Writing –  I had always considered myself good with words. I could explain myself well and eloquently if I do say so.  But now, even simple words and names of objects were just gone. I remember one episode where I was trying so hard to name an object and couldn’t think of what it was called.  I struggled and asked for help” You know those things, they’re citrus fruits, and grow in Florida. They are the shape of a ball (I couldn’t remember the word ‘circle’), People make juice out of them.”   My kids’ mouths went slack a little, “You mean an Orange?” Yes, yes it was an Orange. How could I possibly forget something so simple? Everyone forgets things, no big deal, right? Except this was happening with alarming frequency and with multiple words in every sentence.

New emotions that are different from before: Being down -crying – By the time you are an adult, you have a pretty good sense of yourself, your emotions, and how you react to things. But with the death of my husband, I was changed.  Emotional reactions uncommon for me to have in situations started popping up everywhere. If you are not a crier, you might cry….a lot, everywhere. Before this, I can count the number of times I’ve ugly cried in public. Now, I’ve ugly cried just about everywhere. And not just tears, all kinds of crazy emotional reactions that are foreign to the identity of who you know yourself to be, start popping up.

Physical pain – The effects grief can have on the physical body was something I wasn’t prepared for. In addition to those mentioned above, grief is very draining. I tired very quickly, think newborn baby. Grief can actually cause physical pain.

 

For the first little while, I fought against all these changes because it is not who I am.  This would add a whole new layer of anguish on my grief.  I would reprimand myself and try so hard to get back to the person I was before, she could handle all of these things so much better.  But that wasn’t working and fighting to fix something I couldn’t change wasn’t making it any better. So I had to do something really hard. I had to accept my new flaws and weakness instead of beat myself up for them or think they would go away.  In time some have improved, but not gone away completely. I’ve had to learn to be gentle with myself in a whole new way.  John was such a part of who I am that having him torn from me is like having some important appendage of my body taken. Of course, I’m not going to be able to walk without a limp with my ‘leg’ missing. Clinging to my Savior, Jesus Christ, and through the atonement, he offers me, His grace (the divine means of help or strength, given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ) fills in the gaps of my many failings, flaws, and weaknesses. It has helped me to rely more fully upon.

In the construction of our most precious religious buildings, the temple, great care is taken with how, when and the ground it is built on.  These buildings are meant to stand into the millennium.  Because that is the goal at the end and beginning of each day measurements are taken.  Anything that is found to have moved or settled is taken down and rebuilt.  So what is the lesson in this?  We cannot build our lives, ourselves on shaking ground.  This loss that we have experienced in the death of a spouse is not just shifting ground, it is a huge earthquake and there will be expected aftershocks.

No one expects a city to be rebuilt until the ground stops shaking. SO, be gentle with yourself. Don’t try to rebuild or make important decisions until there has been some time for the ground to stop shaking. Then you can begin to build. And build upon the sure foundation of Christ who has felt every joy and pain you have.  Like it has always been, your life, your path is individual and is to be guided by Christ and counseled with your spouse.  That doesn’t change.

Cindy Cloninger