Memory and Tears/Bereavement

It's Guest Friday here at Enter the Between, and you  know what that means.

Here's Dorothy Ann Skarles.

###

Memory and Tears

Timothy k. Hamilton

The question asked today in the bereavement group is to encourage talking. The moderator does not want anyone to keep their feelings hidden within themselves. Saying, 'I'm fine' when you are not, is taking a risk of coming down with a serious illness. The need to be with others, talking about a loved one, is the fastest way to a healthy recovery.
"The tears that come, are for healing," says our leader.  She looks at the faces in the room and spots me.  "Dorothy, how was your week? What did you do?"

I mentally straighten by backbone and say, "I can't stop crying. The dog, that my husband and grandson rescued, jumps on the bed, and I start to cry. I put on these gold earrings, my husband gave me, and I start to cry. I never know when a thought or something will hit to make me feel so sad my eyes fill with tears."

Another woman says, "I've been a widow for almost five years, and I still cry. Anything can bring it on. Sometimes I look in the mirror at myself and feel sad. I have the impression I'm now living in a box all by myself without a man, alone without my husband and I cry."

"Well, I'm a man, and I cry," another bereavement group member says.  "Sometimes even at work when I think Debbie should be bring my lunch. The guys tell me to toughen up, a man doesn't cry."  He shakes his head.  "They don't understand."

As I listen, I know I am not alone, and I can relate to the stories of others.  At the ending of my second year without my husband, I am beginning to believe mourning is as swift and unexpected as some memories. They arise together from left field as I once again recall my husband's words to my grandson four years ago about the abused dog he found. "Put the dog in the backyard. Your grandmother needs a dog."

The combination of those words, and remembering how sweet and kind my husband was to the animals he knew I cared for, instantly brings more mourning tears rolling down my cheeks. I am hoping for the healing process to begin as I write.

daskarles©2011

###

Thanks, Dorothy.



Do Dogs Feel Grief? Coping Together

Anxious223

Dorothy Skarles continues her series on Bereavement, Memoir, and Expressing Oneself in Writing with a post about Dogs and Grief.

Welcome friend.

### 

Do Dogs Feel Grief? 

Throughout the world many dedicated people own pets.

The bereavement group is no exception.

"I don’t think dogs grieve," one woman said when the subject of grief for the family dog came up during a bereavement session.

"I disagree," cried another.  "When my spouse died, our dog was as sad as any human being. He even looked as if he had tears in his eyes, and I just knew he was suffering."

She was trying to dispel any misconception in the group that family pets didn’t feel grief, and a man agreed with her.

"Well, I think dogs show sorrow in different ways," he said. "My two Chihuahua’s kept running into the bedroom, sniffing and looking for my fiancé. They ran up the steps we had to get on the bed and sniffed her billow where she died, and just laid there."

A new widow joined in. "I had to put my dog in the spare bedroom and lock the door. He didn’t want to leave my husband. She cried all the time the medics were there.  Sometimes, I am so sad I feel comfortable crying while talking to my dog about my husband. She puts her paws on my lap and we cry together. We are a support twosome for each other."

"My dog Angel," I said, getting in on the conversation, "wouldn’t sleep in her own bed, but slept on my husbands bed for a whole month. She roamed the house everyday looking for him. She didn’t even eat her food. I had to coax her to eat."

joanneteh_32

The dictionary says, a dog is remarkable for its intelligence and its attachment to man.

Even Senator George Graham said a eulogy on the dog.

"Gentlemen of the Jury: The one, absolute, unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog."

And as for me, I have always had a dog. I even told my husband when he asked me to marry him that if he loved me, he would have to love my dog. Then after forty years of having many different four-legged barking pets, and the last dog died, I told my husband, "That’s it! No more dogs for me."

But than my grandson rescued an abused dog and brought her to the house, and his grandfather said, "Put her in the back yard, your grandmother needs a dog." So that’s how I got my ten-month-old Jack Russel / Pit Bull, not a pedigree but a thoroughbred mongrel.  My grandson named her angel, and now she and I cope together.

###

Thanks Dorothy.

Memoir/Bereavement/Are You a Couch Potato?



Viterxo13

On this Guest Friday, Dorothy Skarles shares a note she received from her brother-in-law that relates to all memoir writers.

To this, she adds another installment in Dash Off a Memory, Create a Memoir, by revisiting a subject she knows well--Bereavement.

Welcome Dorothy

###



Steve Rhodes

This morning, my brother-in-law sent me this little note, and since I feel the sentiment goes well with all memoir writers, I want to share it with you. 

Be who you are and say what you feel.

Because those who matter, don't mind,
and those who mind, don't matter.

So remember, if you have lost a loved one, you will feel better after writing about the loss and what troubles you.

To jumpstart your memoir, I present you with two questions:



By soumit

Are you a couch potato?

It's the sitting that puts on the pounds?

Have you let exercise go by the wayside?


Activity avoids the pounds.

Following are the reactions most commonly reported by surviving spouses in bereavement  groups.

• It takes all your energy to just cope with your new status in life--widowhood.
• Many things you knew you should do, you don't.  
• You have a difficult time reaching out for help.
• Even thoughts of staying healthy fall along the wayside.
• During the beginning of those first few months, walking for exercise slides to zero, and sitting or lying in bed continues off and on for weeks.
• You are in withdrawal, and your house becomes a mess.

One man in the bereavement group said that his daughter, who had come to take care of him, dropped one of his socks in the hallway, and neither of them picked it up. It got to the point where he wanted to see how long it stayed there before either of them put it back where it belonged.

by jekin the box

The trouble with that man's story is that I understand it. As I look around my living room, I see a week of rolled up newspapers, still unread and held together with rubber bands, stashed on my rocking chair. A telephone book lies on the floor, and several mysteries are strewn on the end table. My beautiful glass-top dining room table holds my lap top and piles of printed paper, along with three dictionaries.

I have to take charge and get off that couch!

And it would probably help if I thought of housecleaning as exercise to get rid of a couple of pounds.

Housework just might be my salvation in accepting my new life and giving me the motivation to stay healthy.

After all, housework is never done, is it?

daskarlesÓ2010

Twilight Times Books

Write About Your Feelings. It Helps.

It's guest Friday, and Dorothy Skarles is back to highlight a subject close to her heart.

Bereavement.

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, bereavement is a noun; a state or fact of being.  But in the post that follows, Dorothy turns it into a verb. 

By that I mean, Dorothy shares her emotional response to loss in a way that we can all understand. 

Bereavement is not orderly.  Bereavement is not predictable.  Yet it is universal in that it is a normal part of life.  And it hurts.
 
I commend Dorothy for picking up the pen once again and sharing her hurt and her loss.  I don't know if I could be that courageous.

Welcome Dorothy.

###  

Today, I am blogging on my widowhood, and trying to get myself in gear so I can begin to write again and follow the advice I give to memoir writers. "Write about your feelings.  It helps.”

It is said by many that "Life goes on."

But do they realize that death is also in life?

Death renders itself in shock, disbelief, bitterness, self-reproach, worry, regret, grief, tears, and heartbreak.  After years of a happy marriage, this is where my feelings now dwell.  A Christmas morning death from a heart attack was an end and a new beginning for me. 

By the G™

The passing of twelve months.  And then.  That first Christmas.  A great holiday escape from sadness and pain. A visit to my husband's relatives, whom I loved, would help to make everything all right and the sharp edge of suffering go away.

Trouble was, without knowing it, I had packed a pile of despair and grief into the suitcase to take with me.

The happy smiling faces and good cheer that surrounded me in the holiday only underscored the reality that I couldn't run away from my new marital status and my complete feeling of abandonment.

Now, one year later, the second year of my Christmas hurtle has arrived.  But this time, I am staying home to face my fears.  It may look like I want to die, but what's really me wants to live.

As I go through the rooms of the house, I feel love and comfort. 

It is the one thing that helps me live.

I have never taken down the Christmas decorations my husband put up. They are all so beautiful, it actually makes me feel good.

Oh, the instant tears still come, just like now as I write.  And I never know when I'll feel bad, or sad. 

But I know love surrounds me in those poinsettias, red bows, teddy bears, and the Santa standing by the fireplace with a cheery smile. It helps me remember the happy times with family, food, and laughter.

My learning to live as a widow is slow. 

About six months ago, I went to a bereavement group.  Both the men and women, I noticed, were in the same boat. They talked about their loved ones, how hard it is to cook and eat alone, problems in sleeping, or family members who don't seem to come over as often.

The group is now a source of great strength for me.  Each of us has gone through the same things, and it helps to know that no one is alone to face the future. The many problems may differ, but surprisingly, they are all the same.

By catchesthelight

So world, bring on this new beginning. 

The past is past, and year three is right around the corner.

Still, it makes me wonder how others who have lost a loved one make it.

Are there any answers?

(Photo credit: Bereavement Card,by exilibris)