
A few more thoughts on the grief workshop I attended this week… Grieving: Daughters Mourning Mothers
01 Wednesday May 2013

A few more thoughts on the grief workshop I attended this week… Grieving: Daughters Mourning Mothers
10 Sunday Mar 2013
Posted in Grieving, Helpful Resources, HomeReach, Hospice, Inspiration, Kobacker House, Life After Caregiving, Mom, Support system

This afternoon, HomeReach Hospice and Kobacker House held a non-denominational memorial service for the families of their patients who died between October and January. I’d had it on my calendar for over a month, having RSVP’d immediately when I received the invitation.
Well, beginning Friday, as I thought about my weekend plans, I felt as though I was forgetting something, but couldn’t think what it was. My daughter and I went to brunch this morning, and on the way back, she needed to stop and pick something up at her apartment. By chance, we passed North Broadway United Methodist Church and it must have been between services as there were a lot of people outside.
It hit me immediately – that was the location of the memorial service! I had completely forgotten about it and must have missed it. Once I got my wits about me, I remembered it was actually scheduled for 3pm, so I was fine. I firmly believe that whole experience was a God wink… there was a reason we had to stop at Jess’ place, which took us on a completely different route than we would have otherwise taken. Mama was sending a reminder from Heaven… “Aren’t you forgetting something??”
The service was just beautiful, and the church was almost full. The officiating chaplain, from HomeReach, was incredible. Every single word she said resonated with me. I couldn’t believe it – it was as though she was talking directly to me. I cried through the entire service, as did many around me. It was so heartfelt and honest and simple, yet with a depth greater than I can describe.
At the end of the service, they lit candles and read the names of the loved ones of all families in attendance. When your special person’s name was read, you stood and someone brought you a flower. It was done so tastefully; the next name was never read before the previous person/family had received their flower and been reseated. In essence, this created an individualized tribute for each person rather than just someone standing at the lectern reading a list of names.
I continue to be awed by the times I think I have it together – like today – and then find out how completely wrong I was. I had barely gotten inside the church before my eyes welled up and I felt that all too familiar lump in my throat. Tears continued steadily throughout the hour, and I realized at one point that I couldn’t watch other families receive their flowers because the look of grief on their faces was too much to bear.
It was a bit surreal to look around that large sanctuary, realizing that every person there was just like me – they had recently lost someone they loved, and they are trying to figure out life without that person that was such an integral part of them. None of us knew each other, yet we shared so much. Difficult to describe, but definitely like nothing I had ever experienced.
As I said, everything the chaplain talked about touched me, but a few things stood out. One of those things was the fact that the people we love are the fabric of our lives, and when they die, we find ourselves struggling to find our own identity. We don’t know who we are in this new life that doesn’t include them. That’s exactly how I feel, and hearing her say it out loud made me realize it’s not just me… it’s normal to feel this way.
We must remember that those of us left behind are an important part of our loved one’s legacy. It’s probably not by chance that a loss like this causes us to reexamine our priorities and our lives as a whole. What we’re doing. What we should be doing. What’s truly important, and what isn’t. The fact that life is short and we need to make the most of it. This experience has taught us things about ourselves that we never knew; those are the things we are meant to share with the world as we move forward.
Thank you, HomeReach, for all that you do on a daily basis, and for taking the time to continue caring for us well beyond the point in time when we leave the comforting compassion of Kobacker House.
15 Tuesday Jan 2013
Posted in Blogging, Caregivers.com, Grieving, HomeReach, Hospice, Kobacker House, Mom, Ruminations, Saying Goodbye
Today marks one month since Mom’s passing. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around that… I keep telling myself I should be feeling back to “normal” here any day now, but when I realize it’s just been ONE month, I think I understand why nothing feels remotely close to normal.
A friend put it in perspective today when she commented on how death leaves our sense of time in complete disarray. Was it last week or 20 years ago? As Elaine said, it’s “both eons and moments.” I can’t think of a more fitting way to describe how it feels.
Funny how God has a perfect way of communicating with us, often through other people. Last night, I began corresponding with a Caregivers reader and found we have quite a bit in common. She lost her mother a year and a half ago after having spent years as her caregiver. It hit home when she explained that a friend of hers who works with grief told her that daughters who are caregivers sometimes lose their identity when their mothers pass and in a way have to relearn who they are.
It makes perfect sense. This is something else I’ve been thinking about but haven’t been able to put into words. It’s not just that I don’t know what my new “normal” is… it’s also that I’m not sure who *I* am now that I’m no longer a caregiver. So much of my identity has been wrapped up in Mom for such a very long time – years and years. In hindsight, during 2012 in particular, dealing with the disease has literally consumed my mind.
And then suddenly, it stopped. Everything stopped.
I got an invitation today to visit a friend in Texas and it took a minute to grasp the fact that if I want to travel, I can – anytime and anywhere I want. It was a sobering realization. For so long, my first thought would have been, “Is Mom in a good enough place for me to feel comfortable going out of town? What if something happens?” It feels good to have that freedom again, but truth be told, I’d trade it in a second to have my mom back.
I’ve been thinking about grief counseling, and a friend is putting me in touch with women who led two different groups that she found very helpful when she lost her mother. Kobacker/HomeReach is another option; they will provide free counseling in a group setting or one on one for a full year. I don’t know if it’s too soon, if it’s the perfect time, or if I don’t need it at all. Will I somehow know when the time is right? Where is the instruction manual for all of this???
Is our situation unique because of the long illness and the complexity that comes from grieving over the course of years only to find out that this is a completely different, even more compelling sort of grief. Will anyone understand?
There’s no doubt about the fact that, emotionally, caregiving sucks the life out of you. BUT, on the flip side it also adds a richness to life that nothing else can – at least not in the same way. It’s such a dichotomy. Overwhelming challenges, overwhelming rewards.
Of course, it took all of this to lead me to my true passion. At long last, I know what I want to be when I grow up (well, maybe not specifically, but you get the idea). Just this week, I’ve had several people reach out to me based solely on my Caregivers writing and that has been so uplifting. I love that my circle is expanding and I’m beginning to make more contacts. There’s something very special about crossing paths with people who share my passion for caregiving and elder care and who want to try to help make this journey easier for those who will come after us. There is so much I want to do and so much I know I can do… The time is now.