SPRING IS HERE

When I decided to write about Grief, I wanted to create a platform and make this really personal, private and sad topic a little bit more of a casual one..My intention is never to make grief a lighter topic, but maybe just bring a little ease to it. Instead of crying in the dark, alone, hiding in a closet or in the car,  we can talk about it without shivering or tearing up. Or talk about grief with the shivers, chills and tears.

Last month, I wrote about a dear friend. (Cat named Lucky was so much more than just grieving a lost pet for me). The topic got dark and sad quickly and it guided me into the black forest of grief where I found my next inspiration and started writing about another very heavy and sad story. Whoa! I felt like Alice from “Alice in Wonderland” who falls into a rabbit hole. I had to take breaks, and walk away from my writing and take my dog Louis for a walk in the park near our house. While things were still looking pretty dead, trees showing their bare branches, grass still yellow or brown, still lots of brown leaves leftover from the fall,  I started noticing tiny signs of awakening. Only if you really get close to the tree branch, only at the very very tiny tips, can you see the green peaking. We had a few days of really warm and sunny days and few of the trees - maybe they like to rush into seasons like me -  burst into their spring blooms. And the geese and ducks…. Ohhh the geese and ducks… Yup, they are walking in pairs! 

They are looking at each other funny and  making sounds that they did not make a month ago when the temperature was barely in the 30’s… Ahhhh Spring! Mother nature at her best. Give and take another month we will see these couples waddling around the lake with their goslings and ducklings… Just today I watched 2 bunnies running around  the front yard. Oh dear! Please don’t build your nest in the backyard where Louis guards so seriously…

Did you know that with natural causes of mortality included, first-year ducks have a survival rate of only 30 percent to 50 percent (according to google)? First-year geese have a slightly higher survival rate of 50 percent to 70 percent. Numbers are about the same for the bunnies too…Animals are resilient and it seems they cope with what nature, and humans present to them. It is us humans who have the ability to think and feel struggle more severely especially if we lose an offspring. 

I watched my mother in-law weep for days after Dan. She would sit quietly at the dining room table and write thank you notes to the friends and family who attended Dan’s funeral. The tears would roll down her cheeks, quietly. Every once in a while she would take a deep breath, and you could hear the trembling of that breath…It was not Spring. Dan was one of six children and he was 40 when he died. 

My dearest father in-law, 20 some years after Dan’s passing, confessed that he couldn’t help himself and called his grandson Paul, “Dan” several times during a golf game. It’s OK Dad, Paul looks just like his father and you… it’s OK. My parents- in-laws lost a child. I don’t ever want to understand what they were feeling. 

Death is final and irreversible. Grief has different shapes and forms. It also has different categories. 

Losing a husband is different from losing a parent. Losing a husband is also very different from losing a child. Common denominator here is LOSS… but the level of grief, pain and sadness is VERY DIFFERENT. 

I get very sensitive when I am suggested to talk to someone who lost a child. What would I say to this person? : “I am sorry for your loss, I lost my husband” ? How is this sentence going to make the person who lost a child feel better? Maybe I should bring baked ziti to them when I go to express my condolences… Not funny! Yet, I somehow find myself in the middle of these types of situations all the time. 

Here is an example: 

This story is about a family who lost one of their 5 kids to a terrible car accident. Young man was 25 years old. I am not close friends with this family. We lived in the same town, some of our kids were either in the same grade or participated in joint activities in school.. When I found out about John’s death, I wrote a card to the family, sending condolences. And I never thought that I would be sitting at their kitchen table having dinner with them one random Saturday night last summer. 

Long story but let us just say, our mutual friends were visiting from far away and I got the invite. 

I questioned my decision about attending this dinner, thought about a lame excuse to decline, then I thought about my calling: GRIEF!  It seems I don’t look for the stories but the stories come and find me. It’s my calling and the universe is sending these rays to me. Message received and I must go to this gathering. 

My plan was to be very quiet, observant. I was hoping for a party, a backyard BBQ type of thing,it would have been much easier to exit stage left, or Irish goodbye out of there but turns out this was a much smaller and intimate event. The couple who were visiting, two additional guests, myself and our hosts Jenn and Peter. Peter answered the door when I got to their house and was genuinely happy to see me and gave me a big warm hug. Little strange,since we really were not close friends and I am still convinced the only reason I made the guest list is because Renate and Julius wanted to see me.  My eyes are searching for Jenn. She appeared in the kitchen about 10-15 minutes after I arrived. I am observing my hosts:  They both looked a bit aged, I see the dark circles under her eyes but as always she is very  put together: Hair tightly put in a ponytail, linen shift dress with applique around the neck and arms, straight out of Vineyard Vines catalog. She looks tense, but she always looks tense. Her strict upbringing, her perfect manners are engaged, maybe even on overdrive. You know how it goes: The weather, the water (this is a common Turkish saying about casual small talk). Next the big question:”How is the family, how are the kids?” - My antennas are up, I am - as I always do - reading the room, trying to catch the signals. I am mostly focused on Jenn. I intentionally left my phone in the car.  No showing kids’ photos. I can’t help myself, I am a proud mom. But there is a sad mom in the room who lost one of hers. I am thinking:” I am only staying for a few more minutes… 

The conversation did go to kids, it always does. Stories from when they were younger are always so fun to share. I noticed Jenn was opening up a bit. I see the veins in her neck, a sign of a bit of tension. Every once in a while there is a brief awkward pause. I decided right then, change of plans, I need to take the wheel and drive this conversation before it gets awkward.  

Let us talk about the grown ups: I started talking about my own journey a little. I talked about how difficult it was to raise three kids after my husband’s passing. I talked about my strong connection to my husband’s family, my Turkish family, my friends, my support mechanism, and how it takes a village…  The time has come and just past winter I  took my first solo vacation. I talked about my discovery of  Brenee Brown and her podcast. How I adopted a motto, wrote it on a postie-note about setting boundaries and respecting others boundaries…

I see the air around the dinner table lightening, smiles on faces are less tense, more genuine. 

I notice the porcelain crucifixion figurine hanging about the kitchen door, photos of the children on the walls done by a professional photography, I bit cheesy for my taste and it reminds me of the Christmas card analogy I make about the families despite all the problems they might be dealing with, how they look so good and coordinated in the Christmas card with their matching sweaters. The room is not so stuffy anymore. Jenn shared a few stories too. Talked about one daughter who she had a tough relationship with during her youth but due to some circumstances, “reasons” she called it, now their relationship is flourishing with love. 

How ironic is that the daughter she is referring to was friends with my daughter back in 8th grade. We once had to ask permission to give the daughter a faux leather bomber jacket for her birthday and got denied by none other than Jenn. 

Occasionally there were a few very smooth pivots: she either quickly  left the room or turned her back to busy herself, wiping away some tears…We never talked about the son who died. We exchanged some eye contact, some facial expressions, maybe a twitch but I felt a quiet exchange that took place between us. My thoughts were saying: “I am very very sorry, I hear and I see you are in pain.You are trying very hard to look, act like things are OK. Things are NOT OK. You are not in control. I wish you were able to stop pretending, you would feel much lighter and you can focus on healing”.

Jenn Made one comment. She said: “We as parents are here to make sure to keep our kids safe while we are raising them, helping them to be independent, self-sufficient grown ups, so we protect them when they are little. Once they fly off the nest they don’t necessarily live their life the way we want them to. We are no longer in control”. That is true! 

Let us conclude this episode with our nature topic just like in the beginning: 

Young birds leave the nest before they can fly. Birds are not taught to fly, rather they are simply pushed out of the nest and expected to work it out on their own, letting instinct take over.

Sometimes instinct leads the little bird down the wrong road, sometimes mommy and daddy birds don’t agree with  the road the little bird chooses, sometimes neither the choice or luck matters. Sometimes shit just happens.  

I did not bring Ziti to this house. I also politely observed while the dinner was being prepared, that neither the fridge nor the freezer had any casseroles…