Time Spent with Loved Ones Is Never Long Enough

Dear Kim,

It's six years since you left this planet.  Today, November 14th.  It sounds selfish, but I'm grateful that it wasn't a week earlier, on my birthday.  It's still hard enough that it's so close.  I know many people lose loved ones on birthdays and holidays, or near them, which must make those days even more difficult than they already are.

Look at your smiling, happy face.  We all miss it so much.  We know you would want us to smile, laugh, live, and love, yet we are still struggling.  You touched so many lives - for the better, of course.  You had so many friends, who I am sure still love you and miss you terribly, like we in your family do, too.

I regret all the time we didn't spend together, because you were living far away, or because Dean and I were too tired to spend some Sundays when you lived here, etc.  I'm sorry for not letting you come out to dinner on Christmas Eve a couple of times with Dean's family because I was too worried about offending some who would be left out.  That was wrong of me.  No matter how much time we did have together, when someone is gone, you just wish for more.

I remember a lot of good times...

When you were around five years old, you and Juli dressed as Princess Leia and Han Solo, respectively.  I don't know if it was Halloween, or just for fun, but I wish I could find that photo right now.  Also around that time, you and I jumping in puddles during a rainstorm.  The three of us building forts in the living room, and going skiing (you and I taking turns going through each other's legs on a gentle hill at Alpine Valley).  The three of us girls and Mom all dressed in the same sundress (it was longer on you because you were small (they were stretchy on top and were one-size-fits-all)).  Me flying you like an airplane on my feet, and also flying you by one arm and one leg outside, too (you were always so fearless).

When you were around twelve years old, four of us in the family going to Austria.  You and I spending some time on our own, getting lost in Innsbruck, laughing with the waiter who laughed at you picking up half of a pizza to bite it, trying to get him to figure out which menu to give us (we only knew English well enough), singing songs (about pizza, arriving at the hotel, etc.) all around the town and laughing at Mum's funny jumping jacks/scissors walking/jumping move.  Then later, in our room, you singing your song from the musical you starred in.  I saw many of Juli's plays and musicals in later years, but I couldn't make it to that one of yours because I had no car.  You played Sleeping Beauty, but it was before cell phones and the preponderance of camcorders, so we have no record of it.

When you were around thirteen years old, all of us going to Jamaica, and you begging me to go to the beach, me being too lazy for sunscreen that day and getting burned, bright red, painful legs, and Mum putting aloe on them.

And then when you were an adult and moved back here again...

Laughing at your place on Sundays when your wonderful, silly Ethan was being so funny.  I worked hard cooking things for your special diet, so we could all eat together.  I cherish those Sundays.  There were too few of them.

Our time was all too brief, once you were back home.

I wish I could feel that carefree joy again.

Love,

Chris

Still Wanting to Find More Joy Again

funny moments

My husband found this the other day when going through some papers.  This is just a photo that I took the other day of a photo printed on our printer with a note that I wrote years ago. 

Somewhere there is a better copy of that photo, of course, but the important thing is the note that I wrote on it.  For five years I've been mis-remembering what the moment was of that photo.  I kept saying that that photo where Ethan (our nephew) and I were laughing so hard that we cried was when we were playing a Mario game where we kept knocking each other off a vine.

Now I see this note and realize that we were probably watching Ninjago and Ethan made that joke.  Back when he was five, we joked a lot about farts and burping, and it was great, silly fun.  

wanting more joy

I know that all of us who are grieving do have moments somewhat like this, at times, even since Ethan's mom (our sister) passed away over five years ago, but it's still hard to create moments of pure silliness and joy these days.  I wonder what the secret is to getting it back.  Our hearts were more pure, joyful, and less broken back then.  Can they be healed?

I keep feeling like it's my fault that I can't find ways to be happier.  We've had multiple important losses in recent years, and they've affected us.  We do all feel grateful about the loved ones we still have, keep trying to be busy, find things that bring us joy, and do work that is important to us.  But still, it's not the same, you know?

Happy Birthday Kim - Missing You Still

This is our late sister Kim, filled with joy about the snow when she came home for a visit one time.  I wish I could feel like that.

I keep feeling shocked that she is gone.  People would be surprised that you can still feel shock about losing someone, even though next month it will be 5 years that she has been gone.  Mum isn't surprised that I feel this way, because she said she feels the same way.

I sometimes let my guard down, like when getting up in the middle of the night or just turning off all sound or devices during the afternoon, and I find myself in complete shock when I realize that she is gone.  I guess it will never stop shocking me, because she was so full of life and loving life.

I wanted to write more today, but I don't have time.  I just wanted to say - Happy Birthday, Kim - we love you!

Can We Find Joy Again?

I have no pictures of anyone up in our apartment.  I know that is strange, but it's only because I care too much.  If I see photos of loved ones we've lost (people or cats), I feel even sadder than I normally do.  If I see photos of loved ones who are still with us, I just worry about them and/or miss them.  I feel too much all the time, so I'm always trying to avoid feeling even more.  I avoid most dramas (TV or movies), too, for the same reason.  I'd rather watch something incredibly stupid than watch something that makes me feel more.

Sorry, I went off on a tangent.  Seeing my late sister Kim in the photos above just made me think about that whole topic.  

What I wanted to write about was a really good and joyful day that I had about a month ago.  I wish I could buy that joy in a bottle, and also I wish that it was not a harmful substance to ingest.  I'd pay whatever I could afford if I could feel that way again.

If a pill was not available, then I wish I could re-create whatever occurred in my body and mind that day in order for me to feel such joy.  I was out with my husband (which is always great) and we were picking up a few presents to give to Mum for a belated Mother's Day get-together.  I don't know what exactly it was about that day, but I truly haven't felt joy like that in quite a long time.  I felt silly, happy, and fun.  It was a really good few hours, while it lasted.

Joy has been fairly elusive for some of us since Kim passed away.  It's almost five years ago now.  It still hurts just as much.  We've also lost other important people and gone through other serious things.  All of these have put a damper on our ability to feel joy.  We talk about joy, long for it, and try to create it, but for the most part, it eludes us.

Maybe we are doing something wrong.  I don't know.  Maybe we just care too much about those we've lost.  We do try to enjoy life and do things we like to do, but life does feel flatter and more empty with them gone.

Don't get me wrong.  We have people we care about, and my husband and I are so grateful to have each other.  We love each other more and more as the years go by, and we do realize that we are lucky to have that.  Still, it doesn't erase our pain.

I guess I just wish that there was more of an answer to this whole grief thing, but like my husband said a few years ago, "I don't think there is an answer."  I think he is right.  It is just something you live with.  You try to work on doing things you feel passionate about, and enjoy the people who are here, but truly you are forever changed by the losses.

Maybe not everyone is like this.  We know some people who seem to have gone back to "normal" after losing Kim, but not me, my mum, my husband, and Kim's son.

I hope that talking about these things helps anyone who would read them someday.  Maybe if you feel the same types of things you can realize you are not alone.  When you have everyone telling you to "get on with your life," and you try, but the pain still lingers on, you will know there are others out here feeling the same way.

Sometimes Joy Can Quickly Turn to Sorrow

As I just posted here...

http://christinabambinaspositivityquotes.blogspot.com/2017/03/the-songs-of-cheerful-birds.html

...I was feeling somewhat joyful for a few moments today.  But then my gratitude for the simple things in life was marred by my thoughts of all of our dear loved ones who have passed, and how they can't be here to experience the same joy.

I know they are fine.  We who are left behind are the ones who are not fine.  

The joy I was feeling quickly turned to tears.  Maybe I'm just having an emotional day, and joy and sadness are two intense sides of the same coin, so both came readily to me today.

I need to learn how to hold on to joy for longer periods of time.  Not sure how to do that, but I keep trying.

There's Nothing More Precious Than a Spouse or Partner Who Really Listens

I'm not trying to brag - really, but I do have the best husband in the world.  He not only puts up with my craziness and my problems, but he actually listens to me and cares about me every day.  He continues to love me, despite my many flaws, and he just made my birthday so great, because he has listened to me for years and bothers to remember what I like.

He can list my favorite colors and my favorite flowers.  He once knew, many years ago, when looking at a full-page print ad for a vintage jewelry auction, which one of the pieces of jewelry on the page I liked the best.  I was shocked that he knew it, but he just pays attention, so he knows my taste.  Not that we could buy any, but the fact that he knew what I liked just made me feel so great.

That's why yesterday he just gave me the perfect presents for my birthday.  He always does, and for Christmas, our anniversary, and Valentine's Day, too.  Of course, he writes a beautiful note in my cards, too, and usually he has to say "and I really mean it" after I read it, because I find it hard to believe that such a wonderful man can love dopey old me, after all these years.

He even knew, when I was taking a picture of one wrapped present up close, why I was doing it.  I said, "It's not about the present, but about art."  (I just liked the way they made the design on the wrapping paper.)  He said, "I knew that."  He just "gets" me, and it's a great feeling.

Even though we've always said that one of our songs is "Danny's Song" by Loggins and Messina (just the chorus part - "even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with ya' honey"), he's always managed to spoil me, at least according to my tastes.

So, the first things I opened were the biggest presents, because he knows I like to end on sparkly presents (which are small), so those go last.  Price means nothing, so even a super-cheap, sparkly bracelet makes a better ending (for me) than something expensive (or sentimental either - I mean, I am very sentimental, but for presents I have that sparkly ending that is necessary).

The first present was a Fart Blaster, from the movie Despicable Me.  Of course, that seems like a weird present for an adult woman, but Dean knew I really, really wanted one.  Our nephew has one, and it makes us all laugh.  It makes a nice variety of farting sounds and we like to sneak up behind each other and pull the trigger.  Dean said once that I'm like Ethan's younger sister, even though I'm his aunt.  We laugh at so many goofy things, and he's 8 now, and I'm still like 5 when I'm with him, so he's my big brother, just like Charlie and Lola, which is the next thing I got.

The Charlie and Lola DVDs.  Two seasons of it, at least.  I just like that show so much.  We first saw it when Ethan was watching it a few years ago, and I just love how silly and fun Lola is.  We even named one cat after her.  What's best about the show is that Lola's older brother is just so patient, kind, and caring with her, even when she's a bit (or a lot) annoying or mischievous (so Charlie is like Dean, when he is putting up with me, too).  I love their British accents, too.  It's so cute.

Ethan and our mom (his grandma) used to talk to each other with British accents and call each other Charlie and Lola when he would have sleepovers at her house and they were going to sleep.  I wish I had recordings of that, too, but those don't come on DVDs.  Darn it. 

Then there were the Stargate Atlantis DVDs, that I've wanted for years.  I love that show, except for parts that are too gross, where I look away, but mostly I love the humor in it (especially the Rodney McKay character), just like I love the humor in Stargate SG-1.  These shows can make me laugh, on some episodes, more than most sitcoms do.  But that's just when you know the characters and how they are, like with most shows.

Dean also gave me some bracelets from Michael's (the craft store).  They have had these beautiful crystal bracelets there for the last few years, from around now until around Christmas, and they only cost $4 each.  They are so sparkly and pretty (better than the photo shows), and I love the new ones he finds, and even to get more of the ones I already have (in case some get broken or scratched up).  Of course, Dean knows which ones I already have (he remembers all that - he has a good brain), but he knows I never mind having more, especially when something is so reasonably priced.

Actually, I did tell him to spend much less on me this year for my birthday.  He didn't really listen, and got me all of these nice things, but I told him that he really had better cut down from now on, because we can't afford it.  It's not like these things are super-expensive, for some people who buy "real" jewelry or designer stuff or give each other cars for presents and whatnot, but to me these things are all treasures.

Still, there is more.  Dean got me a Swarovski crystal bracelet and also he made me an amazing necklace (shown above - it's even prettier in person).  The necklace is made from a piece of quartz from the Star Trek warehouse.  Actually, it's a piece of a big chunk of quartz he bought from Paramount or somewhere.  It may have been used in an episode of Star Trek Enterprise, I think he said.  Anyway, Dean made the necklace himself, from that cool piece of quartz.  We both love Star Trek, by the way.  Matching set of geeks, we are.

It's not about the presents, but that my husband listens and cares so much.  He never complains or criticizes me, and just loves me all the time (no matter what).  We both try to be very good to each other all the time and say "thank you" for little things we each do around the house, etc.  It's just so nice and friendly around our house that it would make most people disgusted, maybe (his aunt used to jokingly complain about our sweetness), but it's how we like to be, for many years now.

He just knew so much this year that what I really needed were things that could make me feel happier, make me feel better - things we could watch together, things I could wear, things that would bring me continuing joy.  We've been through a lot, and he got me so many things that would help us to feel happier, like I've been saying that we need to do. 

I know this is probably all too personal, for those of you who don't know me, but I'm just talking about some fun shows that I like and about being grateful for the good in your life.  If you can find all of this in that special person in your life, you are truly blessed, so just realize it and be grateful every day, like I try to be.

I mean, even though we have grief, loss, and pain, if we have someone like this in our lives, we can make it through everything.

I'm also just trying to write about finding ways to have joy when we are grieving from loss (even losses that are several (or more) years ago and still causing us lingering pain).  My husband bought me things that he knew would make me feel happier to watch them, wear them, or play with them (like the Fart Blaster).  We need to find moments of joy and fun, to be able to live with the pain that is also inside of us. 

Grief Advice from a Zen Buddhist Nun

 

My husband recently got me a book by the people who make Prevention magazine.  I think the title is Prevention Happiness Now because that's what the inside page says.  I think he got it at the grocery store.  It says on the front of it "Display until December 19, 2015," so as of this writing, it would probably still be available somewhere.  I tried to find it for sale online, to put up a link, but couldn't find any.

 

Anyway, it's a pretty good book overall.  I liked a lot of it.  It had one chapter in it that was about a woman who lost the love of her life 14 years ago and then became a Zen Buddhist nun.  Her name is Sister Dang Nghiem, M.D.

 

Some things she had to say in this chapter were pretty good.  She said:

 

Breathing heals; time doesn't.

 

"It's a myth to say that time can heal.  Time cannot heal.  Breathing and mindfulness can.  [Long after a traumatic event happens to you,] a sight, a sound, a smell, a taste, a touch can trigger the complete stress response as though it's happening all over again.  What saved me was the mindfulness of breathing.  Sometimes I would lie down to breathe and put my hands on my belly to slow it down and anchor my body.  Through breathing, you learn to slow the stress response, the fight-flight-or-freeze response.  If you can do that when going through a very intense experience, the next time you recall that trauma, you will do so with more peace, mindfulness, and clarity."

 

You can cultivate joy even when you're hurting.

 

"It's been 14 years since John died.  I still miss him every day, but I have learned to cultivate joy and peace in each breath, even though I feel that pain.  You have to do them both at the same time.  It's like a garden:  You have to take care of the weeds, but you also have to plant flowers.  If you only weed, you'll be exhausted and lose hope.  And if you plant enough flowers, eventually there will be less room for all the weeds."

 

You can keep the dead alive.

 

"When a person dies and you lose all your joy, then it is like you are making sure that person is as dead as possible.  But you can learn to call on the spirit of that person for help and learn to see him or her around you.  When I see a purple flower, I remember that John loved purple flowers, and I smile.  That flower, in that moment, becomes him."

 

Her words helped me a lot.  I know that I've been guilty of losing most of my joy, since my sister died and we lost other very important people.  But I also have felt that presence of the loved ones and have even asked them for help.  I remember when my husband was having his heart surgery and I was so frightened and I prayed to all of our dear departed loved ones and told them that if they see Dean coming toward them (coming toward the light) to please tell him to go back, come back and fight to stay alive, come back to me because I need him so much.  I don't think he experienced any of that during his surgery, but I had to say it to them, just in case - make him come back to me.

 

I also have felt the presence of loved ones in ways I've mentioned before - in signs, in inspiration, etc.  I guess I have to work on feeling that even more, and also cultivating more joy in general.  I have been trying, but many days it's very hard, as some of you might really, really understand if you've experienced a major loss (or several, like we have).

 

I just hope these words (from the book) help you as they are helping me right now.

 

May love and peace be with you,

Christine