Peace in Our Hearts - December 25, 2012

My wish to everyone is that this day brings some form of peace to your hearts, and either joy for the day today, or the knowledge that joy will someday slowly creep back into your hearts again.  My hope is that we can all embrace our loved ones here on earth, and that our spirits will be joined with those no longer with us on this tangible earth. 

To Erik, my love of my life, I miss you so much, but know you are here with us, as always.  My love and blessings to everyone...Mary Ann

Always Remembering



The house is decorated, and we have our "Erik candles" out.  The first Christmas without Erik, I was trying to decide what to do as a memorium for him, and couldn't come up with something I liked.  I knew immediately that I wanted it to be something concrete, and that I would buy twelve of whatever it was, and give them to twelve people who were closest to Erik, mostly family members.  It seemed like the logical thing to do would be to get ornaments, but I remember I couldn't find the exact thing I wanted.  I kept looking for Celtic crosses or some sort of angel, something like that.  I was just getting frustrated, and was in a store which sold a lot of ornaments and other gifts like that, when I spotted these ornaments sitting on a shelf.  They were glass ornaments, some gold, some silver, and some clear, with just a simple bit of glitter and small stones arranged garland style on the ornament.  Then, when I looked closer, I saw that they were candle holders, for just little votive candles at the top.  I was so excited, I knew immediately they were just what I wanted.  The other thing...

Getting Through Christmas

Christmas is almost here!  Every day I go through, working hard and feeling determined that I should be able to have an "almost normal" Christmas this year.  It definitely feels better this year, my third without Erik.  The balance is shifting, with more thought and emotion spent on positive preparations, more thought given to presents, more thought of how to spend the day.

We are going to follow the advice this year of  "breaking with tradition" to make the day easier and less (hopefully) bittersweet.  I had often read this advice regarding how to spend holidays after the loss of a loved one.  It can be extreme, such as one man I know who takes a cruise at Christmas since the death of his wife after many years of marriage.  Or it can be simpler, such as eating out instead of a family dinner, or skipping a certain party, etc.  My son and I have decided to stay home with my grandchildren and make a turkey dinner at our house.  This is a big change, since we have always spent holidays with the extended family, recent years at my sister's. 

In keeping with my goal of being encouraging for others, I was thinking of the differences between my first Christmas and this third one.  For the first one, even though it was eleven months after Erik died, I was someone who could not even pretend to want to participate in the holiday.  We stayed home that year as well, but it was a necessity, not a choice.  That first year I had to leave the house while my son and grandchildren decorated the tree, this year I went out and bought new lights, and shared in the decorating.  The first year I bought a few gifts I felt were essential, this year I have tried to buy as many as I could afford and include a few surprises for people.  The first year I cursed every Christmas carol I had to hear, this year I am going to a concert.

Now the irony of this, is that while I am more able to participate in the holiday, the more I am thinking of Erik and the past.  It seems as if I have opened the floodgate of memories, now that I am stronger and better able to do so.  It's as if there is a constant slide show going on in my brain, constantly flashing pictures from the past.  Erik and his brother opening gifts, Erik falling asleep with his new Ernie in his arms, Erik in his little red PJ's and almost white hair sitting under the tree.

But still this is progress.  And when I start to waver, I cling to my mission of living for the both of us.  If I start to weaken, I think of how he couldn't stay, and how I owe it to him to be happy for both of us.  And finally, I remember that he is right here with me anyway, more than usual, in this spirit of family, tradition, and memory.  How could it be any other way?

When The World Doesn't Make Sense

 

 

My thoughts, prayers, and heart are with the families in Connecticut.  I have watched like everyone else as the news reports have come in since Friday morning, in horror and disbelief.  I have been unable to think of anything to write here that would be worth saying or in any way helpful.

 

The magnitude of the shock and sadness that was born that morning for so many is almost beyond comprehension.  The combination of such complete innocence and richness in life represented by the beautiful children in that school with the sheer violence and insanity of the actions of one person jolts us into disbelief, confusion, and fear.  How could this happen?  This one question has probably been asked in one form or another constantly since Friday morning.

 

But worse than that, is the question of how these families will survive such heartbreak and sorrow. 

 

I don't know.  I really don't know.  I know that they will survive,...

The Wonder, by Mary Ann Kirisits

The Wonder of the Wonder of Christmas

 

As I ponder the coming of Christmas,

The joy and the spirit to come,

I am amazed at the power of one word,

And the meaning it brings to us all.

 How is it this one day and word,

Evokes happiness, memories, and tears?

How is it this one day and word,

Stays steadfast for centuries and years?

 Perhaps, it’s the core of the day,

The birth of the Savior and Lord,

Perhaps it’s the history and time,

Of legacies and so many years.

 I think of the world so in awe,

Of a concept that never grows weary,

Of love for a God and love for all men,

In a life that is sometimes so dreary.

 I embrace the awe of the day,

That overcomes all distance and time,

Respected and revered no matter where,

And celebrated by all who believe....

 Perhaps it is true love of others,

Of family and friends and all men,

Perhaps it is heritage of customs held close,

To be practiced again and again.

 I wonder about all of these things,

Feeling grateful and renewed in my soul,

That so many spirits both earthly and gone,

Come together in joy as a whole.

 So as this day comes closer,

With planning and thoughts of good will,

My wonder is simple and joyous,

That love is the core of us still.

      By Mary Ann Kirisits

 

Back to Regular Life...Sometimes Happy, Sometimes Sad

 

It’s not always Erik’s fault

A while back, I was a little upset or depressed about some personal issues which had nothing to do with the fact that I was missing Erik.  I suddenly realized, in the aftermath of a notable tragedy such as the loss of a loved one, that most people will assume that any struggle or sadness you have is because of your grief or mourning.  So I allowed my dark humor to kick in, and if I chose to say to someone that I was upset or sad, I would quickly add…”and it’s not Erik’s fault!!...poor Erik, he’s not even here and he gets blamed for everything!”.

Now it seems that in a perfect world, anyone recovering from a suicide loss should somehow be blessed with a totally perfect life in every other way, so we could focus on our grieving.  Unfortunately, as we all know, (suicide survivors more than anyone), it is not a perfect world.  So, whatever shortcomings, challenges, or problems we faced before the loss of our loved one, will continue to be there afterwards as well.  The difference in this being, our ability to deal with them or how we react to them will be different.

I have found I have two different reactions to life challenges since I have experienced my survival process.  I think the more predominant one is that there aren’t very many things that really seem worth getting upset over.  At first, this was a very conscious reaction, and I had to guard against being impatient with people who were upset over something that in my mind was not worth the energy.  Initially, I had to be really careful not to just roll my eyes and say, “Are you kidding me?  What the heck would you do if your son died?”  I felt grateful that I at least realized in my head that just because I was extraordinarily sad, it didn’t mean that other people weren’t entitled to their own feelings of anxiety or sadness over what was going on in their lives. 

So I tried to flip this over in my brain, and be sure I was receptive to hearing others talk about their concerns or vent if they needed to.  I remember that at Thanksgiving time my cousin had told me that she was a little sad that it was the first Thanksgiving her daughter wouldn’t be there since she was going to her new in-laws.  I did notice that she said it, but was careful to commiserate with her.  A few weeks later, she apologized to me, saying she realized afterward that she was talking about missing her daughter because of going to the in-laws, when I would be missing Erik forever.  So I assured her that it was okay.  That just because I had an extreme situation on my hands, it didn’t mean that other people couldn’t be sad or worried about things in their lives.

Thinking back on this and how it has progressed for me, I think this may be a very specific thing that reinforces the “feeling different from others” that we talk about.  We are different and those around us can’t change their lives or fix ours.  They may sense or feel uncomfortable to talk to us about the normal everyday things people vent about or are upset about.  Initially, we may be truly unable to find the emotional energy to listen to other people or, sad to say, to care about their problems.  But I think the sooner we can find a balance to that, and welcome others to confide in us again, the better we will feel and the more connected we will feel to others. 

On the other hand, there are things I have had a much harder time “getting back” in my journey here.  For example, my favorite thing to do before Erik died was to buy gifts for others.  I thought it was fun, and it made me feel good.  People knew I like to do this, and often said “You buy the best presents.”.  The first year after Erik died, I figured that I just didn’t feel festive and it was normal to think of gift-giving as a less important event.

However, the second year came and went, and I still really could not find enthusiasm in my heart or emotional energy to look for gifts or be creative in my giving ventures.  I felt really bad about it, and thought I was becoming a selfish person, which made me very unhappy with myself.  But, feelings we know are just feelings, and it is hard to change them.  I of course found ways to compensate for my “bad attitude” regarding presents, and I am assuming people weren’t running around saying, “boy, that Mary Ann doesn’t even care about presents anymore!”  I tried to get suggestions, or use gift certificates.  If I had to buy a baby gift, I would buy books in the book store so I didn’t have to go into the baby department of a store.

Now, as I am heading toward the end of my third year, I suddenly realized I am really thinking about gifts I might buy for others, and trying to make them thoughtful and meaningful.  And while looking for gifts, I seem to be more interested in ornaments and decorations as well.  We are making different plans for Christmas than the usual. 

This has just sort of snuck up on me.  It may be one of the things that really was simply helped by the passing of time.  Whatever the reason, I am glad it has.  It feels as if a little part of my old self has returned when I wasn’t looking, and it feels so good.

So apparently I have not morphed into an old lady Grinch, and have days of gift-giving left in me.  Such a little thing, but at Christmas more than ever, it’s the little things that count, right?

Unexpected Moments - Tsunamis for Our Hearts

I have touched on this before, but since it never ceases to surprise me, I wanted to write
about it again. Those darn surprise “moments”, when you are feeling pretty involved in
what’s going on, at peace, actually happy and enjoying yourself and then – whammo!!!
-you see or hear something and your heart leaps out of your chest and your throat feels
tight, and you remember your loved one was once here and now is gone.

 It is nearing on three years for me that Erik has been gone, and it still happens to me at the most
unexpected times and more importantly, for the most bizarre and unanticipated reasons.
This weekend, I was spending a wonderful evening with someone, had a great dinner,
and proceeded to go to the theatre, to see the movie, “Lincoln”. For some reason, I
had read or heard that the assassination was depicted and that it was startling, and was
nervous that it would upset me. As it turned out, it is not shown at all, it is revealed in a
different way, so the movie was fine and while very intense for other reasons, definitely
something I was so glad to see for many reasons.

However, as we all know, there are about 10 minutes of trailers shown before a movie,
and most of us walk in not having any idea of what the trailers will preview or depict.
So, as I watched the previews for upcoming movies, I was feeling very impressed
that there seemed to be an onslaught of very worthwhile and intriguing movies being
premiered in the near and distant future, and was sitting in the dark theatre in a totally
contented and optimistic mood, very happy.

Suddenly, on the screen, there was a vision of a father playing with his two young sons
on the beach, and the mother playing with a third son some distance away. As I was
watching the idyllic scene, I became aware that this was going to be a scene from a new
movie about a family’s experience in the tsunami that occurred in eastern Asia a number
of years ago.

So, before I could process this information and gather my wits about me, on the huge
screen with all of Hollywood’s realistic special effects, I watched this father’s face morph
from joy to horror, as he realizes something he cannot understand is happening, and
literally has his two precious young sons wrenched out of his arms, unable to hold onto
to them due to the force of the water. At the same time, the mother and other son who
managed to stay together, disappeared from his view. Then on the screen, there were
flashes of the family in dire life-threatening moments of thrashing water and attempting
to cling to objects or each other. I felt like someone was ripping my heart out.

I’m not sure how long this was on the screen…only several minutes I am sure. By the
end, I was in tears. I got to see the father find both of the boys again, and there is a line
where he tells him that his worst moment was the few seconds he felt he may not see
them again. For me, a knife in the heart, knife in the heart.

The trailer leaves you with the information that the movie is a true story of one family’s
experience in the tsunami, so you know that those boys you just saw on the screen did
survive, so that was something I guess.

Meanwhile, I am left with that phenomenon of - I am a mother who could not save her son,
and he was torn away from me, for very bad reasons.

It is such a heartache: remembering those times when he was happy and exuberant, full
of life, and belonged to me; when he was tired, and would crawl up on my lap at the end
of the day and snuggle; when he was older and still able to show affection or come to me for help; when he was in high school and literally “on top of his game”, as starter of his high school basketball
team.

And then, little by little, I could no longer hang on to him, help him, save him. Erik’s
departure was less sudden than a tsunami, as his mental health deteriorated and he very
gradually disappeared from the person I knew into his own torturous world of feeling
alone and like a failure.

Yet, that last moment, that message that I had not been able to keep him in my arms, and
that it would never happen again, was a tsunami for my heart. All the emotions on that
father’s face in that split second when his sons are torn from him, the horror, the fear, the
disbelief, I felt that moment in my kitchen when that nice police detective quietly told me
my son was gone.

No one will make a movie of me, I am sure. For one thing, I am sadly aware that there
are so many other parents who have had to live through this, I am not unique. Also, I
am not a hero who saved my son. These are the tragedies that befall us in a quiet way,
sometimes behind closed doors, that we are expected to move forward from and then
continue on with our lives, which we all do.

 And while we are able to move forward and survive, and we are able to embrace joy and happiness again, there will always be, without warning, those darn “moments”. When we least expect them. Tsunami’s for our hearts.

I Am Not Gone

 

 

 

I am not gone

I remain here beside you

Just in a different form

Look for me in your heart

And there you will find me

in our love which forever lives on.

 

In those moments when you feel alone

Look for me in your thoughts

And there you will find me...

in sweet memories that burn strong.

 

Every time a tear

Forms in your beautiful eyes

Look up to the heavens

And there you will see me

Smiling down from God's glorious skies.

 

--By Injete Chesoni

On-line Support Forums

Family and friends, counselors, reading, ceremonials, crying, working, being able to laugh; there are so many strategies that helped me on the road to taking my life back, and being happy once more.

I also participated in an on-line forum and an in-person support group, both for suicide survivors. 

When I joined the Suicide Survivor Forum on line, I did not have any experience using forums, chat-rooms, or social media such as Facebook.  So initially, is was a bit of a struggle to go through the logistics of registering myself for the forum.  While I participated with a particular forum, I think I will do a sidebar of forum addresses so they are available, as some may be more appealing than others.   

The first thing I want to say about this forum is that it was very confidential and well monitored.  Some information is required for registration, and then

A Time to Grieve

I had planned on having a "page" to list books or articles that may be helpful to others, but there are so many of those availbable, changed my mind.  Rather, now and again I would like to share a title with a short description so you may consider if you would really like to purchase or obtain the book.

There is a beautiful book called:  A Time to Grieve...Meditations for Healing After the Death of a Loved One, by Carol Staudacher...

The awesome thing about this book is its format.  It is written as a daily meditation book, so that it is easy to pick up and flip through, finding a thought that matches your feelings for the day.  I found that and have mentioned that when I read "whole books", there was often a lot of narrative that wasn't particularly helpful, but worth it to me to weed out and keep looking for what was.  If you are not a reader by nature, I am sure this wouldn't be appealing to you.

However, this book presents snippets that can be literally read in about three to five minutes.  They are presented page by page, so again, it is simple to flip through and something that is meaningful to you at that moment may catch your eye.  The top of the page is a sentence which presents the core of the writing on that page.  Then there is an adage or proverb, then discussion of the topic, and at the bottom of the page, a meditation.

This is an excerpt from the book:
Some survivors try to think their way through grief.  That doesn't work.  Grief is a releasing process, a discovery process, a healing process.  We cannot release or discover or heal by the use of our minds alone.  The brain must follow the heart at a respectful distance.  It is our hearts that ache when a loved one dies.  It is our emotions that are most drastically affected.  Certainly the mind suffers, the mind recalls, the mind may plot and plan and wish, but it is the heart that will blaze the trail through the thicket of grief. ---from A Time to Grieve

Horizons

 

Life is eternal and love is immortal; And death is only a horizon, And a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight. - Rossiter W. Raymond

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

 I Did Not Die

 Do not stand at my grave and forever weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on the ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.

I am not there. I did not die.

 

Mary Elizabeth Frye



Counting Blessings

After my divorce, five years ago, I went through a period of very serious depression.  Divorcing after 31 years of marriage is not just breaking up a couple, it is the end of a whole lifetime.  My husband and I had a household together, two sons, two grandchildren, had been through the loss of three of our parents, and my in-laws were very much family to me. 

The first year afterwards I was living in an awful apartment with Erik, already watching Erik’s mental health spiral downward, and struggling with a new boss at my job.  I not only could barely get through each day because I was so sad, I was totally convinced that my entire life had been a huge mistake, and that I had nothing to show for my years of hard work, taking care of my family, and goals of being a good mother.

At some point on a particular day, I truly can’t remember how long afterward, I was reading...