A Powerful Poem

This powerful poem,  Allowing Grace, by Judith E Prest  invited me to allow grace today.

I am dancing
balanced on the edge
between worlds,
memories telescoping
playing simultaneously
with dreams and reality
a festival of images

I accept death
inviting it as a beginning
I am watching my mother's illusions
collapse around her
piling high in the hospital bed
filling the space so she barely has room
I am watching her hang on,
hands clawed with arthritis,
frozen on the wheel of her life
grasping, seeking, resisting...

I sing lullabies in my head
I float above the room
out the window, between bare branches
follow the river of migrating blackbirds,
rise with the moon
dance with the wind

Somewhere the child I was is wailing
I grieve the loss of mother
accept that for now I am mothering her
and myself as well

I hold her hands
feel the bones so near the surface
sense her spirit not yet unbound
release my claim on her being
releasing with love
enduring, dreaming, dancing with spirit

I imagine heartbeats:  hers fainter, mine steady
all centered, aligned with the universe
praying for patience, praying for endurance
praying for the gift of
allowing grace.

bleoved on the earth:  150 poems of grief and gratitude

Flashlight of Gratitude

Frequently families I am journeying with in the dying process ask me, "How do you do this all the time?"
Often I respond by saying it is on honor to share such sacred time with people and to walk with them on holy ground.
Today I stumble upon a new answer.   In her book, Attitudes of Gratitude, M.J. Ryan quotes a friend who said, "Gratitude is like a flashlight.  If you go out in your yard at night and turn on a flashlight, you suddenly can see what's there.  It was always there, but you couldn't see it in the dark."
Spending time with people at the end of life is a flashlight of gratitude for me.  It shines light on the things that can easily go unnoticed: laughter shared with a friend, the sun sparkling on snow, a hug from my kid for no special reason, a meal shared with loved ones and an appetite to enjoy it,  the bird's song as an alarm clock, the freedom to move,  a smile from a stranger.
I am grateful for the work that I do, because it makes my life brighter.

Quote of the Day

A woman whose husband recently died said, "Don't mind me.  My brain is in the blender."  That perfectly describes  the cognitive impact of grief.

Denial has gotten a bad rap.  Elizabeth Kubler Ross did wonderful work in raising awareness about death and dying.  However, I think our cultural misunderstood her work to mean that denial is a bad thing that a person needs to move out of as quickly as possible.  By companioning people through the dying process, I have come to see denial as coping mechanism.  It is a wall of protection that people need until they no longer need it.  If we bulldoze the wall down in an effort to get people to except the harsh reality that they are not yet ready to face, then we leave them with no means of protection.  Rather than bulldozing through a person’s wall of denial I have found it is better to stand with them behind the wall giving them courage to take the wall down brick by brick as they are ready.

I like what Melody Beattie says about denial in her book, The Language of Letting Go.  She writes, “Denial is a protective device, a shock absorber for the soul.  It prevents us from acknowledging reality until we feel prepared to cope with that particular reality.  People can shout and scream the truth at us, but we will not see or hear it until we are ready.   We are sturdy yet fragile beings.  Sometimes, we need time to get prepared, time to ready ourselves to cope.  We do not let go of our need to deny by beating ourselves into acceptance; we let go of our need to deny by allowing ourselves to become safe and strong enough to cope with the truth.  We do this, when the time is right.  We will know what we need to know, when it is time to know it.”

The truth of the statement, “We will know what we need to know, when it is time to know it,” was played out in a woman who was living into the reality of her mother’s death.  Four months after her mother died she said to me,  “I think of her as being on vacation.”  She was expecting me to say, “Are you crazy?  Your mom is dead.”  I could literally see her relief when I said, “That is ok.  When you are ready to think differently you will.”  Six months later she is thinking differently.  The wall came down brick by brick and she is now using those bricks to rebuild a new life without her mom.

Smile at suffering

Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk writes these words that I found powerful, "Life is both dreadful and wonderful. How can I smile when I am filed with so much sorrow? It is natural-you need to smile to your sorrow because you are more than your sorrow."
That made me smile.

Dance with a limp

"You will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over he loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It is like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly-that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp." Anne Lamott

Dying to Know Bringing Death to Life

I recently came across a book that speaks of death and grief in a frank and refreshing way, Dying to Know Bringing Death to Life. Here are some quotes that jumped out at me.

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I have learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, talking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity." Gilda Radnaer

"Grief has no measure."

"Drive like a loved one is coming the other way. Someone's is"

"Ears are vey useful when a friend is grieving. You're not expected to have any answers. Just listen."

"If they are dying, they're about to lose everything: relationships, home, dignity, health, favorite books, sunday sleep-ins, beach holidays, wine, long walks, friends, going out to dinner, building bonfires, kisses, overseas trips, barbecued sausages, assets, reading bedtime stories, birthdays, all-time favorite album, children laughing, the smell of mown grass, breathing sea air, dodging rain showers, sunrises and sunsets, wind in the hair, coffee brewing, music and poetry. EVERYTHING. Expect them to be a bit grumpy from time to time."