Honoring Grief

Today I sit with an overwhelming sadness, and tears streaming down my face.  I have to go to work in a little while and quite frankly I don't want to.  I want to sit here and honor this grief; and the sadness I feel as a result.  There's a tightness in my chest from the grief I feel, a tightness so heavy it steals my breath.  Damn, I'm grieving hard. 

Last night I came home from work and saw something black in my back yard on the edge of the forest.  I wondered what it was when I saw it, and my brain started in overdrive.  Intuitively I knew. I immediately told myself it couldn't be and walked inside my house.  I said the usual hellos to everyone and proceeded to the kitchen to start unloading my groceries.  After saying hello to my love, he went right into telling me I wasn't going to be happy.  Again, intuitively I knew.  "We have a dead crow in our yard."  My heart sunk.  Immediate sadness.

I walked out back and stood there looking at my spirit animal.  I felt a deep sadness and the tears began.  I placed my hands on my heart and told the bird I loved him.  And I was sorry.  I'm not sure what I was sorry for, I guess I was sorry he died.  My chest tightened and the tears flowed.  I came back inside and my love gave me a comforting embrace.  I'm grateful he understood.  A beloved family member had died and I'm so deeply sad.

This morning I find myself standing on the back deck starting at him.  I've cried a lot and have felt a deep sadness and grief.  The same sadness and grief I have felt when someone I love has passed on.  I want to honor Crow and his life, but quite frankly I don't know how.  Part of me, wants to wrap him up and give him a burial.  The other voice inside me says honor him through art.  But how?  So, I will sit with that for a little bit and allow the answers to come. 

Late night writings

"Changing" Acrylic painting,
© 2018 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

Inspiration.  Do you ever notice when yours comes?  Do you pay attention to this quiet voice that gives us big ideas or do you ignore it because the timing is inconvenient?  For me the answers are yes, yes, and yes.  I have found that the voice of inspiration comes when I least expect it... in the shower, walking in the woods, in the middle of the night, when I'm driving down the road, observing other artist's work, looking at the wonders of nature, observing bright, bold colors, listening to music, and sometimes in the middle of a conversation.  Lately my ideas and inspiration have come during the night.  I'll awake from a sound sleep and have all of these ideas in my head.  I then feel this sense of urgency to hurry and write them down.  I have been known to ignore them, because it's the middle of the night and well... I'm sleeping and I'm tired.  I've learned though, that most of the time when you ignore that little voice, the inspiration goes away and doesn't return until the next big idea.  Try as I might, I can never conjure up the inspiration or feelings that were invoked at the time inspiration spoke to me.

Lately my inspiration has been coupled with my emotional content and what I'm processing internally.  Time weighs heavy on my heart and on my mind.  When your staring Father Time in the face wondering when the clock will stop ticking, it definitely raises all kinds of uncertainty and a level of emotions I can't place into words.  That's my current story right now.  It's not an easy story to tell, because right now there is a vulnerability that comes with an authentic raw emotion that cuts to my core, leaving my heart aching and a sickness in my belly.  I have wrestled with myself internally and went back and forth about sharing my feelings.  I feel very vulnerable and emotionally raw.  That's my truth and my story.  The wrestling is over.  I've decided to share it because it's healing for me.  A couple weeks ago, in the middle of the night, inspiration called and I had no choice but to listen.  This time it was about my dear momma.

I've been called to write about her a few times over the years.  She's a very influential part of who I am as a woman and as a mother.  In December, I was awakened from a very powerful dream, with the same sense of urgency to record my thoughts and feelings.  I still carry my dream message with me, because I lovingly talked with my mother the day after the dream.  December was a really stressful month.  At the beginning of the month, my dear mother was hospitalized for several days, on 12/13 we experienced the anniversary of 9 years without my brother Jon, and on 12/15 my husband said goodbye to his brother.  It was a really tough month in our family.  My dream came the night before my brother's anniversary and it was so powerful.  In my dream, my soul openly spoke to my mother with a pure love I've never experienced before.  I have grieved the loss of my brother, HARD, for the first few years after he died and thankfully now when the anniversary of his death arrives, it's an honored space more than a sad, grief space.  I take the time to honor his life and what he meant to me while he was here.  For my mother, it's a lot different.  I don't pretend to know what she goes through as a mother losing her son, and when I think about it, the feelings almost break me.  In the dream, I shared that pain with her, and in that moment I could feel the tremendous pain of her heavy loss and it was unimaginable.  During that moment of love, we sat and openly talked with one another sharing our love for one another.  When I awoke from the dream I was crying.  I felt the need to write it down, and realized I had a few things I needed to say to my dear mom.  Instead of popping out of bed to quickly write it down, I trusted myself to remember what I needed to say to her.  For some reason, I didn't fear losing it, quite possibly because it was so powerful and the emotions I felt were quite deep.

Over the years, I have spoken with individuals who have lost a sibling and I've read books on grief and this particular loss.  In my own research and in the pages I read, a lot of siblings shared they felt neglected by their parents after their sibling died.  When holidays would come, they expressed the same type of experiences...  Instead of celebrating life and a joyous time of togetherness during the holiday/birthday/etc, the parents focused on the death of their child and that they weren't there to celebrate with them.  For a lot of children who have lost a sibling, there can be a sense of survivor's guilt with irrational thoughts and feelings that come as a result of this tremendous loss.  Thankfully, I have NEVER had to experience those feelings.  I absolutely went through survivor's guilt, but it was part of my grieving process, not because my mother, or father for that matter, caused the feelings.  In my dream, I felt my mother's broken heart and her feelings of loss.  Her heart was whole and full of love prior to Jon's death, and after this tremendous loss she felt incomplete, broken, and her heart was missing the other half.

In my dream, the purity and power of her love was clearly communicated to me.  Her soul spoke so lovingly to mine, sharing that Jon and I were the true loves of her life, and with him gone, her heart felt incomplete.  As I share this, I can feel her pain and her love simultaneously.  It immediately brings me to tears and makes my heart ache.  My soul so beautifully expressed my understanding, and how loved I felt by her despite her burden of grief.  In my dream I thanked her for her love and for always making me feel wanted, despite missing the other part of her heart.  This dream was such a gift to my heart, healing in its own way.  The next day, (my brother's anniversary) I called and thanked her for her gift of unconditional love, for allowing me to be the love of her life, and for always loving me just as I am, nothing more or less.  We cried together and expressed our love for one another.  That moment, in dream and in our phone conversation, will be something I will hold in my heart forever.

A couple weeks ago, after being asleep for a little while, I was suddenly wide awake.  During the day, I had some pretty terrible news about my mother's health and I was processing everything before drifting off to sleep.  When I awoke, I was really groggy and quite tired.  Emotionally I was spent.  I really wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, pushing my ideas and thoughts to the side, forgetting that I had been woken by the voice of inspiration.  I can't lie, I contemplated it for a few minutes, and then told her to go away that I was tired, and I really didn't want to deal with the emotional content of her inspiration.  Somewhere deep inside me there was this voice... "If you don't go write it down and write it out, you will regret it."  Then like a flood, these ideas, thoughts, feelings, and MEMORIES had come to me in that moment and quite frankly, I didn't want to forget them.  Begrudgingly I got up.  I went to my studio, and started writing in my journal.  For 2 hours, I wrote.  I remembered things, I hadn't remembered and saw things from a different set of lenses.  A new pair of glasses.  My heart hurt and my body shook from my sobs, but there I sat writing until I couldn't write anymore.  When I finished writing and my tears stopped flowing, I felt so much better.  I saw things differently.  I also had this sense of "Knowing" that wasn't there before.

I have a Rumi journal that has his beautiful quotes on each page.  In the silent hours of the night, I scribbled on the pages of my journal about love, beauty, and childhood.  I wrote about motherhood and the blessings of love that I have received.  Perfectly aligned with my late night writings were these 4 Rumi quotes: "Love is a cloud that scatters pearls."  "God created your wings not to be dormant.  As long as you are alive you must try more and more to use your wings to show you're alive."  "Thankfulness brings you to the place where the Beloved lives."  "You think because you understand "one" you must also understand "two," because one and one make two.  But you must also understand "and."   Each quote, magically aligned for a deeper knowing and sense of gratitude that I had listened to the voice inside me, calling to scribble on my pages.

"Blue", Mixed Media Nature Mandala
© 2017 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

My momma...  What best describes this woman I call Mother?  Is it grace or beauty?  Is it pure love and loyalty?  Is it strength and fire?  Is it tenderness?  Is it thoughtful and kind?  Is it protective and fierce?  I'd say all of these are perfect descriptions of the woman I have the honor to call mom.  A few months ago, if you had asked me what my greatest loss in life had been, I would have told you, hands down, my brother.  Now staring at the possibility of losing my mother, without really knowing when, and on a much more rapid time table, I can easily say... her.  She will be my greatest loss.  I haven't even felt her loss yet and I can say without a doubt this will be my greatest loss.  She is my beginning.  The roots in my tree.  And what do you do when your tree has been uprooted?

42 years ago, I was a little "seedling" in the tree of life called my mother, or as I like to call her... mommy or momma.  She has lovingly guided me throughout my life and really placed a solid foundation for me as a woman.  Any words I use, will be inadequate for describing my gratitude and love for this dear woman.  She is pure love and embodies it in her core.  My descriptive words of love barely scratch the surface of who she is and my love for her.  From the time, she knew she was pregnant with me, she loved me.  She did what she could to protect me, and cared for me with a love so deep I can feel it in my core.  Throughout childhood into adulthood, she has been a fierce lioness protecting me, her cub.  She has been a strong and fierce, a force to be reckoned with.  God help you, if you did anything to hurt Jon or I.  These days, it is I that protects her.  And quite honestly, my actions pale in comparison to hers.  Her love has always been flawless and gentle, unconditional and forgiving.  She was a good teacher of love, friendship, and how to be a good mother.  Her teachings showed me taught me to stand on my own feet as a woman.  She made sure to give me the tools I would need to be successful in this life.  I could go on and on... but you get my point.

So now here I am, looking at my time with this incredible woman.  Life is short, and her time is being
shortened by cancer.  It makes me feel all the feels.  Some would ask for healing and would beg Father time for more time, but that's not where I am in my journey.  I accept that this is where I am and where she is.  I surrender to this process, knowing I can't control it.  The only thing I can do is love her fiercely and support her decisions as she rides the last wave.  I have appreciated every second I have had with her.  She has loved me with a depth I am inadequate in describing and even father time can't take that from me because love is eternally infinite.

"Acceptance" Acrylic painting
© 2016 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels

Unexpected Turns and the act of surrendering

How do you start each year?  Do you set a list of goals you want to accomplish?  Do you say a few New Year's resolutions and then develop a plan to take action?  After listing goals and resolutions, do you go full speed ahead then find that by the end of January you are exhausted and slowly start to relinquish your goals and resolutions?  This was definitely my story for many years.  I never really gave up completely on my goals and resolutions, but through reflection I could see patterns of behavior and my story as it played out.  I would work really hard at what I set out to accomplish, but then after a few weeks I realize I would start to lose ground on completion and the energy I used to tackle these new goals, would fade.  Then I would start to feel bad.  Really bad.  My inner critic would start yelling words like... "You failed.  Why can't you complete this?  What's wrong with you?"  That voice can be so brutally daunting, unforgiving, and relentless.

Then something magical happened.  A few years ago, my good friend, Brian Burrell, had a Facebook post stating his approach to the new year was letting a word choose him.  He credited his business coach, Christine Kane, for guiding him with this approach and shared a link regarding this remarkable, intuitive approach to the new year.  I followed the link, read her post, and thought, "what do I have to lose?"  So, I gave it a try...  My life and world was forever changed.  This new approach did exactly what her blog post said it would (Click on her name and it will take you to the blog post) it took the "should" out of my goals, called me out, and allowed me to create change within myself while honoring the space I was in at the time.  For the last few years, the words that have chosen me are Trust, Acceptance, and Surrender.  Powerful words that have a way of shaping us and molding us into something else.  At the end of 2017, I felt that Surrender wanted to stay with me and it had more to teach me.  As a result, I chose to listen and follow the path Surrender has for me.

Life has many unexpected turns that have the ability to crack me open and allow break through to happen, if I allow it, through the act of surrendering.  Over the years, I have noticed several opportunities for this level of awakening and transformation.  There have been times when I allowed change and transformation to occur, but usually never at a full surrender.  My ego still wanted me to be in control and as a result I would resist or try to manipulate the situation so I could feel "in control".  Do you know that saying, "what we resist, will persist?"  So, surrender and I are doing this elaborate dance with one another.  She leads and I'm trying my best to surrender control and follow.  In 2017, I saw some changes within myself as a result of my new friend, Surrender, and thankfully I have been able to recognize when she shows up to teach me something new.  

By surrendering, I manifested a beautiful home with a dreamy art studio.  I have allowed love to reenter my life.  I've felt a love I've never experienced before with a partner that is fully committed, and as he puts it, "all in."  I've had some success with commissioned art pieces that have allowed for connections with people, connections that have contributed to my soul's evolution.  By surrendering fear, I have become part of an amazing group of women who are empowering, uplifting, and committed to their success in this life, as well as, the success of other women.  Surrender has allowed me to step into the light and be big, instead of cowering in the corner in an attempt to be small and hidden.  These steps led to conducting my first healing art workshops.  Surrendering has allowed me to say YES more often and listen to the voice inside me that guides the direction of my heart.  All of these lessons have given me a sense of empowerment, love and connections with my community while allowing me to serve myself and others on a deeper level.

As life would have it, there have been some unexpected turns and uncomfortable gifts.  Gifts that continue to shape and mold me, awaken me to a deeper sense of self, and free me from the bondage my ego likes to enslave me with.  My unexpected turns came in a few different forms and have allowed me to awaken to limiting beliefs I have encased my soul's growth with, limiting my abilities to manifest more in my life.  I realized recently, that although I call my challenges uncomfortable gifts and I see them positively as areas of opportunity for growth, I also had a limiting belief surrounding it.  This limiting belief states I need challenges in order to grow, which I realize is not true.  I can continually grow without having earth shattering change and challenges.

Over the last few months, we have dealt with the death of a loved one, my mom's deteriorating health with hospitalization, my mom having cancer again, and having to locate a different house to live in.  Grieving the loss of my yummy art studio.  All of these unexpected turns have hit my family at the same time and are equally difficult in their own way.  Surrender has really opened my eyes, called me out on my story, and allowed me the opportunity to grow.  I'm not sure where she's leading me, but I know I'm going to be okay.  I know that the Divine order of things is watching over me, supporting me in my journey, and will provide whatever I need at the moment of need.  I know I am loved and that this love is unconditional and infinite.  So, I take her hand and follow wherever she leads, surrendering to her process and will.  And it is here through surrendering, that I will blossom into my soul's evolution and what my heart desires.

Image 1: ©2015 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels "Letting Go"
Image 2: ©2016 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels "Transformation 3"
Image 3: ©2017 Toni Becker, Whimsical Jewels "Bloom"

Celebration of Life

Today I celebrate you.  I think of the time we had together, our conversations, the memories, and all the beautiful characteristics that made you,.... You.  I wish I could call you, hear your voice, and then sing or belt out the worst tune of happy birthday to you, but today singing into the energy of this world will have to do.  

Wow...  38 years.  What would you have been like now?  Would you be different?  Would be you the same?  Would you be a better version of who you were?  I like to think so.  I imagine you would be more settled in life, grounded in the man you were becoming.  I imagine you would still love with a strength and depth few will ever be able to reach.  I imagine you would hold those close to you, that have captured your heart.  I imagine you with the largest grin on your face, trying to make those around you smile too.  I imagine you still having a fierce loyalty to friends.  I imagine a lot of things about you, who you were then and who you were becoming.  When I think of all of this, it makes me miss you.  Miss that I won't have the opportunity to see what you would become or how your life would evolve and transform on this physical plane.  But I do see you, it's just a different view than in a physical form.  You are more radiant than what you were, a beauty that isn't defined by the shape of a body.  And that makes my heart beam and shine with an amazing love for you.







You, my brother, are missed and loved more than words can express in this short blurb.  When I think of the incredible life you had, in the short 31 years you were with us, I stand amazed.  The purity of your soul was beyond most.  The fire and zest you carried for the adventure of each day was inspiring.  The loyalty you had for those you loved was breathtaking.  Your valor made me beam with pride.  The way you looked out, for those you loved, made my heart fill with joy.  There's only one you and I'm glad I can say you were my brother, my friend, and my family.

happy birthday, Jon.  I love you.

Dancing with Grief

I think a lot.  Is it possible to think too much?  I guess at times too much thinking could be detrimental.  These last several weeks have been a time of deep reflection for me.  I have been reflecting on my actions, behaviors, thoughts, patterns and where I am headed....  A LOT.  When I say a lot I mean A LOT.  So this morning I had a general idea for my writing topic, however, there was another plan in place bigger than myself.

Originally, I thought I would share a little bit about myself, elaborate on my reflection post from the other day, expose myself a little more, and some of the things I have been working on in the last few years.  So, with that in mind, I started my day "searching for myself".  Have you ever done this?  I don't mean thinking to yourself...  "who am I" although some of us could stand to ponder on that a little bit.  What I mean is, I typed my name into the google search engine to see what would come up.  I do this from time to time just to see what's out there.

You know, I'm pretty famous.  I'm not really but it was a nice thought for a brief moment.  Anyway, there is a musician named Toni Becker who is.  That's not me.  I was a musician at much younger age...  playing the lovely tenor saxophone.  I survived my teenage years because of music, so I'm forever grateful for the healing power music has.  Anyway, back to my search.  When I searched my name, my brother's on line legacy account came up, listing his online condolences.   And then it hit me...  that was my topic.  Grief.  My experience with grief has led me down a road of awakening, a life of conscious living, and it has cracked me open in a time of serious personal revelation.

Grief.  She and I have danced together many times over the years.  Throughout the years, we have developed an understanding for one another and our dance has become less awkward.  Don't misinterpret that, less awkward does not mean less difficult.  I wish I didn't know her as well as I do, but I do.

I feel as a human being, grief is the hardest part of the journey.  Letting go and saying goodbye to someone we love so dearly is hard.  It's not something you "just get over".  You can't move through it quickly because if you do, she'll teach you something else.  And through the most difficult and darkest of circumstances, she still reveals a light that teaches compassion, love, patience and understanding.  Grief is not only hard for the person dancing with her.  Those that we love and share a connection with us, also go through their own experience watching our awkward dance.  Their dance can feel like helplessness, hopelessness, and frustration with us, and with themselves for not being able to "fix it" or take away our pain.

I've had a long history with grief and we've danced together for quite some time now.  It wasn't until the last few years of my life that I started to fully understand her, and our bodies began to move in sync with each other. I have learned I can not lead this dance but must follow.  She leads the dance and I then move myself in the direction that is needed to heal.  For me, learning this was necessary to recover from the loss I feel so deeply in my heart and soul.

Grief and I have had our first awkward dance at the tender age of four, when I lost my dear grandma Verna.  God, I loved her.  She was so beautiful and I loved her sweet lap.  Even as I sit here thinking of her, with tears in my eyes, I can feel her lap as I nestle into her neck,  I remember her with deep love and adoration.  I didn't even know what grief was then, how could I at the age of four?  I came to understand what loss was and I knew it was very painful.

Then a year later, my parents divorced.  When I look back on my childhood, my experiences, my feelings and how they translate to my current patterns, I realize how deep this pain was.  I have come to realize that due to this heavy loss in my life, I developed many belief systems that I have had to ponder on and release.  I'm still working on this.  

I entered the dance floor again at the age of 15.  My step-sister, Karen, developed cancer at a very young age (21) and died shortly after.  God, I loved her too.  We had some common interests and every moment I spent with her, I always came home wanting more time.  So, when she left this earthly plane, my heart broke.  I can remember sitting in my room, crying, wondering how this had happened.  No one really talked about grief in our household or what to do to make the dance less awkward.  I didn't know about the stages of grief or what to do to cope, but my soul did.  Somewhere in my being, I found the light in the midst of the darkness and engaged in healthy coping mechanisms to get through the dance.  My parents purchased a fish tank for me, which was one of the most relaxing activities I engaged in during this time of heavy loss.  I ran.  I cried.  I listened to music.  I played music.  Thank God for my tenor saxophone.

I entered the dance floor again, a few short years later, when my dear Uncle Bob died.  He was my dad's closest sibling and his best friend.  I spent quite a bit of  time in his house and loved him dearly. When I look back at how I handled this loss, I remember just pushing through it, because unfortunately that's what I learned to do, instead of dancing slowly.  I think this loss was buried someplace within me, definitely not a very good way to cope with loss.

A couple years later, I entered the dance floor again.  This time it wasn't a family member but instead a close friend.  We were young.  He was young.  Too young.  He was days from turning 21.  This death hit hard.  I couldn't even dance.  I remember laying in bed for a week not wanting to do anything but listen to music and cry.  My heart was broken and I didn't know what to do.  Roger, was such a beautiful human being.  He had a smile that held you captive, a free spirit that loved everyone, and a lot of fun to be around.  At this time, I was in nursing school and had started learning about the stages of grief, healthy coping mechanisms, and what it means to say goodbye.  All those tools couldn't prepare me for the loss I felt or soothe my bleeding heart.

Grief called me to the dance floor again in 2002.  This wasn't a physical death, but instead a death of a relationship.  My husband at the time decided that he wanted to walk the journey of life alone, and to say I was devastated, would be an inadequate way to describe what I felt.  It was in that moment I came to understand grief doesn't call us to dance only at a time of physical death, but can call us to dance with any loss.  This experience really deepened my understanding of grief and started to help me see what all of us go through at a time of loss.  It's uncomfortable, awkward, soul wrenching, difficult and dark.  I learned that a lot of people in the world are numb and have a hard time with other people's pain.  I learned that any loss will cause grief.  I learned grief is a process that must be handled with care and allowed to happen in its own time, not forced, but instead handled with gentle understanding.  I did just that and vowed that what I learned I would hold on to and try to help others, so they didn't feel so alone.  Just as I was digging deep into my grief and processing my loss, my husband and I, came back together.

On 12/13/08, my life changed forever.  A night I will never forget.  A phone call at 1:07 am  on 12/14/08, bringing the news that caused a profound change within my soul.  "Jon is dead'" rings in my ears...  burning them actually.  If I could chose to NEVER hear those words, God I would.  The connection I had with my brother is something that I can never explain.  To know him was to love him and hate him.  He was beautiful, kind, charismatic, so intelligent, compassionate, strong, brave, lived with honor...  the list goes on and on.  He drove me crazy and I drove him crazy.  Under it all was a deep love.  A love that even death can't diminish.  If you want to read about my process and what I went through during that time, click on these links:   http://whimsicaljewels.blogspot.com/2008/12/angels-called-home.html  AND http://whimsicaljewels.blogspot.com/2008/12/o-troubled-soul.html

I think of my brother daily.  I loved him a great deal and when he died I couldn't imagine my life without him.  Even as I type those words, my eyes are welling up.  But time has passed and although I miss him, the pain that took my breath away so many years ago, no longer has the power to do that.  That doesn't mean I miss him any less, it just means I have moved through my grief.  So, after seeing Jon's on line legacy account I sat and read it.  Tears streaming down my face, remembering what a beautiful light the world lost, yet the heavens gained a bright shining star.  I'm so thankful for this little online treasure and reading how much my brother's life impacted so many.  (Thank you Tearé, I don't think I ever properly thanked you.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you for purchasing this.) Like I said...  to know him was to love him.  You'd get angry with him, utter hateful words as a result, but always go back to loving him because he was amazing.  For me, I couldn't imagine not having him by my side.  He was a soldier in the world and fought for those he loved with valor.  Did I tell you he was amazing?  :)

Jon taught me my greatest lessons.  When I said goodbye to him, I felt so lost.  I felt like I was missing parts of me that would never return.  Grief and I resisted our dance several times because it was too hard.  I couldn't dance.  I couldn't move.  My pain immobilized me.  Thankfully I was able to move forward and I invited her to dance.  I needed too.  I knew that I couldn't stand against the wall any longer and had to find someway to dance even if I didn't feel like it.  Through the most profound pain I have ever experienced, I found the light again.  I learned what it was like to lose someone you cared about so deeply and feel like there was no purpose in life.  I remember feeling that each day was a gift and so many people were squandering it away with meaningless shit.  They focused their attention on the most trivial things, all the while I wanted to scream...  "WAKE THE FUCK UP!"  I've lost the most important person in my life and here you are moving through life aimlessly bothering me with nonsense.  Jon was the greatest teacher and he continues to teach me.  This loss opened my sleeping eyes and helped me realize that love remains the same even after death, be thankful for each day, see people without judgement, love openly, be true to yourself, give your love freely despite how uncomfortable it feels, be kind, live with meaning, engage in deep discussions, choose your friends wisely, really this list goes on and on too.

My dance with grief, after losing Jon, was so awkward.  I couldn't stand, let alone follow her lead.  I learned with time that the sun continues to shine and the pain lessens.  I'll never stop missing him on this physical plane, but I realize he's still here.  I just have to be "awake" to see and feel him.  Awake and aware.  I'm thankful for his love and his visits.

Fast forward to 8/9/12.  Another HUGE loss.  Grief invited me to dance once again.  I didn't want to and I screamed at her to leave me the fuck alone.  My husband decided, again, that he wanted to continue on his journey ALONE.  Again, seriously?  How the hell could this be happening...  AGAIN?!?!?  I was so devastated.  I longed for my brother during this time.  He always knew what to say when I needed it the most.  This life situation was another great teacher of grief and just like losing my brother it has taken a lot of time to heal from this heavy loss.  Losing my marriage made me pause and examine my beliefs regarding love, relationships, family, communication, self-love, self-esteem and self-worth.  I have held myself under a microscope and examined every nook and cranny, trying to uncover beliefs that no longer serve me, discover myself again, and heal from this loss that shook my being.  I felt a veil of darkness, but forced myself to see the light.  I'd say life wants us to move quickly and "get through it" but that's not true.  Honestly, it's the people in life that want us to do that.  I've realized, once again, that people can't handle other people's pain.  It creates an uncomfortable stirring within themselves that leaves feelings like despair, hopelessness, helplessness, shame, guilt, anxiety, fear, sadness, anger and vulnerability.  I've sat on the other side of grief too, watching those I love flail about, writhing in discomfort and pain.  It's hard.  I've wanted to help but knew I couldn't...  it was their journey and process, something they had to go through and sit with.  My job was to provide love and non-judgement.  That's been hard too.  We humans are so quick to judge another person's journey.  I try not to and really work on it, and even though I work to not cast judgement, I still occasionally do.  Losing my family as I knew it, has been a really hard journey.  One that I am still navigating through but I'm dancing.  Letting go and learning to live differently has been a period of discovery, and trial and error.  Sometimes I've failed miserably but not without learning something.

Last October I went through another loss.  It was through the loss of Jon and my marriage, that I was able to navigate through my grief with a little more ease.  I was able to recognize the dance steps and although she was still in the lead, following the dance wasn't quite as hard.  Losing my step-father, Glenn, was unbelievably hard.  I had come to love him so much and his presence in my life.   I can remember sitting in the park with a deep sadness, a sadness I couldn't seem to shake.  I looked at my ex-husband and said aloud...  "I'm depressed.  I'm so unbelievably sad that Glenn isn't here."  Saying those words, acknowledging the stage of grief I was in, was so liberating.  That simple act broke me free and my healing process started.

Beyond my own grief, watching my mother go through another deep loss in her life, was much harder.  This last year, she has shown an amazing amount of strength.  Losing Jon, was the hardest thing she has ever been through and practically broke her.  Losing Glenn, is easily the second hardest thing she has been through, and as I've watched her this past year, I stand amazed at her strength and growth.

Grief, I hate and love the word simultaneously.  Weird, right?  I hate it because of the loss we go through and the grief we feel as a result.  I love it because sometimes what we are grieving was necessary in order to become more than we were prior to the grief.  I've learned that grief is an individual process.  It's important to be kind to yourself as you navigate through it and dance slowly but not too slowly because it's easy to get stuck in one place.  You know that heavy feeling in your feet when you're immobilized?  In order for healing to occur we need to continue to dance, but if by chance we get stuck, it's possible to get unstuck.  There's light in the midst of darkness.  Remember time heals all wounds.  I hate using a cliché but there are reasons they exist.  I promise you, time will go by and the pain will lessen.  The first year is the hardest.  Experiencing all the firsts without the person you love so dearly...  no words can describe what that's like.  Be patient with yourself.  Love yourself by not judging your process.  Find healthy coping mechanisms that will help you through the grief.  I have several that have helped me over the years...  Being outside in nature, music, art, writing, screaming at the universe, talking with supportive friends, biking, running, crying, crying, crying, did I say crying?  I have found that a physical release, is just as important if not more important to my process, as listening to music or any of the others on the list.  The endorphins that your body releases when doing something active is a natural way to make yourself feel better.  Love yourself.  Take the time you need to heal.

After I finished this post I thought it was pretty humorous that I chose to use the analogy of "dancing with grief."  I am introverted and shy, and although I love dancing, I hate doing it because I don't like the attention it brings.  Being the center of attention is so dreadful for me....  eyes on me, no thank you.  This made me laugh and realize I need to dance more, not with grief, but in a crowded room with the sweet sound of music as it fills the room.