Tag Archives: grief

How Do You Say Goodbye Without Saying Goodbye?

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I wish there had been a funeral or a memorial service.  Something. Something ceremonial or commemorative.  I feel like maybe that was the plan at one point, but the way that everything unfolded was too unpredictable and bizarre.  I don’t think anyone knew how to handle it, or wanted to handle it, or wanted to really face what happened and how much was left unknown.

I think that there is something to be said for communal grieving.  Funerals are not something that anyone looks forward to or wants to attend, but there is something about the gathering of loved ones to help usher and acknowledge the end of ones life.  I remember my grandfather’s and grandmother’s and uncle’s and cousin’s husband’s and friend’s brother’s funeral all vividly. I don’t remember what I had for breakfast two days ago, but I can remember those days like they were yesterday.  They are significant and something I know now to never take for granted.

The thing about my ex boyfriend is that he had been missing for two months.  You can’t have a funeral or service when you don’t know if someone is dead or alive. You have to hope and pray and wait. And then when his body was found, it was so badly decomposed that it was shipped from coroner to coroner throughout the state, each one trying to determine the cause of death.  I don’t think any of us expected it to take so long and everyone was hoping to find out why he died.  To know for sure.  Maybe that would offer some closure. But alas, it came back unknown.  Almost 8 months after he was found and 10 months from when he died, his remains were finally released.  Perhaps there should have been a funeral then, but there wasn’t.  And it wasn’t my place to push.

My most vivid memory is the day after his body was found. I took the day off work and went to his mother’s house.  I sat with her as she made calls to friends and family and as she spoke with the local coroner about next steps.  We drank tea. We went for a walk and sat on a bench under the elm trees in a nearby park.  We shared stories with his grandfather, and we also sat in silence. So much silence.  Later in the evening, his aunt, uncle and cousin came by the house with dinner. We all sat out on the patio, trying to make sense of everything and watched the sun slowly slip below the horizon.  Spoke logically about next steps and reminisced on when he was a boy and all the things we’d wished for him.  I didn’t cry much that day. Perhaps the hours of crying the day before or the countless hours to come kept them at bay that day. Or perhaps it was too real.  I left feeling exhausted, but at peace.  It was nice to have the warm embrace of those that loved him and to share our sadness and confusion.

But that was the only time we gathered in his name.  Nothing formal was ever planned.  When his remains were released, they were divided among his family and his sister graciously offered me some as well.  So now I have this small packet of ashes to spread. And I don’t know what to do with him.  Selfishly, I want that damn ceremony with his friends and loved ones where we can laugh and cry and share stories until the wee hours of the morning.  But we don’t always get what we want.  And I suppose it’s fitting, since I never knew what to do with him when he was alive.  Makes sense I wouldn’t know what to do with him now.  Keep him close or let him go, free to dance on the wind and the waves.

I will never again take for granted the opportunity to grieve together.  To know what happened.  To have a large group of people that want to celebrate and mourn you and mark the end of your brilliant chapter on Earth.

And I don’t mean to sounds angry or resentful that he didn’t get a life celebration or memorial or funeral, I just mean to highlight how beneficial it is in the grieving process.  It helps to look it in the face, feel it in your bones and share the experience with others.  There is a reason you find these ceremonies in most cultures and civilizations across the globe and throughout the centuries. Major life events deserve to be acknowledged.  This was just too bizarre and too painful and unfolded in a way that made it easier to put off, and off, and off. And so the grieving has been long, and drawn out, and long.

sand

I normally tie my writing off with a nice little bow and “here is the takeaway”, but there really isn’t a nice bow on this.  It’s still not closed.  I still have his ashes on my shelf in a box that says Love, waiting to meet their final destination. Now where-oh-where do I take him?  Where-oh-where do I lay him to rest?  Where-oh-where do I choose to take my tiny piece of him and say goodbye, in my own to-be-determined ceremony of my own?

This is life.

Beautiful. Messy. Real.

Yours truly,

Miss Erin Terese

 

 

 

 

Unarmoring My Heart

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It wasn’t until the death of my ex-boyfriend that I realized how strongly I had been guarding my heart.

It should have been evident from my inability to find another partner, but I couldn’t see it. I had grieved the death of our relationship, the future we planned for ourselves, and his presence in my life…  But when I grew weary of mourning, I shut it down – and the remaining pieces that needed examining, laid quiet within me.

unarmored-heart

The past few months have been a blur for me.  From the moment I was notified of his disappearance, I felt it inside me – he was gone.  But with lack of a body and no evidence to support it concretely, I had hoped for the best and went through the motions of searching for him and discussing all the possible scenarios with his family.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have envisioned myself spending so much time with his mother and the conversations we have had.  She and I have been a support to one another in ways that words cannot begin to describe (but of course, I will try).  The stories we have shared with one another have shed light on parts of him that neither of us saw.  It has helped to connect the dots.  To answer unanswered questions. To see the man we both loved so dearly in a much broader sense.

When I received the news that his body had been found, it was as if the whole world stopped and came crashing in. There was a reckoning. Every thought and feeling and emotion that was left unaddressed came bubbling up and pouring out. I was unleashed.  Consumed by feelings of loss and regret, I knew I had to sit with it.  I had to allow it to surface and to acknowledge every tear and fear as it arose.  And I did. And I grieved the loss of him – heavily.

And it didn’t take long before the truth came to me and looked me square in the face: ever since our breakup, I have been dating with a guarded heart.

In some ways I had known it all along, but I hadn’t realized how strongly I had it guarded until that moment.  Yes, I have learned to embrace life and friendships and my passions in life with a kind of fierceness and unbridled sense of adventure that is easy for myself and others to see. How confusing then, for men who try to date me, when they can see how open my heart is for the rest of the world, and how armored it is for them.

How completely unfair of me to expect that I should find a patient and open-hearted Knight in Shining Armor to unlock the chains I placed, when I wasn’t even willing to hand them the key.

So now I must remove my armor.

In order to receive the love I so greatly desire to feel again, and to build the family I long to have, I must remove the barriers I have built, and allow space for love to enter again.  I must be willing to place my heart into hands that promise to hold it gently, and trust that it will be cared for and tended to, the same way I will tend to theirs.

And so begins the next chapter for me, of unarmoring my heart. Of learning to love again, unbridled, without fear of being broken.

I can only hope, and try one day at a time, to allow my tender-heartedness to be my greatest strength and not my weakness.  To remember that love is worth the risk and that it is always good to have it stretched open, even if it has to close back up for mending.  Like a beautiful flower, it can always bloom again.

Here’s to unraveling the chain, one link at a time!

Yours truly,

Miss Erin Terese

Grieve It and Let It Go.

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After receiving some very heartfelt comments on my last post and reflecting on my personal experience with grief, I would like to discuss the importance of grieving loss.  It took me twenty years to let go of a sorrow I had not dealt with properly. While trying to heal my broken heart from a failed relationship, I discovered I had not properly dealt with the death of my grandfather.  Here are a few words on what I learned:

Grieving loss is extremely vital in the healing process.  In order to move past the loss and approach life with passion, zest and a solid sense of self, we must address the loss we experience.  Whether the loss is the death of a loved one, the death of a marriage (AKA divorce) or a life altering illness (death of a planned future), we must face and acknowledge the loss and deal with all of the emotions that come with it.

Mourning and grieving affect people differently.  Some people cry. Some people argue.  Some people drink. Some people have sex. Some people shout from the Facebook Mountain Top!  While all of these things may help release tension in the moment, what is most effective long-term is taking time to think.  Time to reflect.  You need to uncover why you are so sad and lost.  Are you lonely?  Do you feel abandoned?  Are you afraid you will never be loved again?  Do you feel unworthy of love?  What do you really want out of life?  What would truly make you happy?  As you address these questions, you may need to dig back, way back, through your life to get to the root of the answers.  This is one of the reasons people often feel as if they are moving backward in the healing process; the feeling of being more lost and more lonely than before the healing process began.  This is totally normal. Really, it is!

Here is what is happening:  as you uncover why you feel a certain way about something, you are able to see how that has affected your life.  These deep seeded issues affect how we treat others, how we treat ourselves and how we view the world.  It is common to feel guilty that you didn’t recognize and address this earlier. If you find yourself holding on to guilt, you need to let it go.  Holding on to it benefits no one.  You need to forgive yourself.  Part of this process is apologizing to those you have wronged.  People may be receptive to your apology or they may not; and that is okay.  The point is that you are taking ownership over your choices. You are taking control over the direction of your life.

Now, if the person you have wronged is yourself, then issue a heartfelt apology to yourself.  Vow to make a change.  Promise yourself you will treat yourself better.  Forgive yourself and move forward.  Continue on the healing path and allow yourself as much time as you need.  Each person heals in their own time; there is no standard time frame.  The important thing is that you keep going until you are able to release all of the things that have been weighing you down and holding you back.

Reading this, hell, knowing this, will obviously not change things overnight.  The change starts with you.  You have to want more for yourself.  You have to be willing to take a hard look at your life and your choices.  But honestly, you are amazing.  You are.  If the world hasn’t acknowledged you for it, it’s only because you are still holding back.  You are amazing and you need to get comfortable with that fact.  Be your authentic self and tackle your issues.  I promise that if you move forward with the intent of living a life filled with love, passion and purpose, peace will find you.  Just keep moving.  Do not be discouraged by the length of time it takes.  This process will yield one of the greatest gifts you will ever receive: inner peace and a deep love for yourself.

Yours truly,

Erin Terese