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Just Yesterday

Tomorrow is your birthday.  But just yesterday I could hear your voice, smell your hair, touch your skin.  It's been five years, but the pain still runs deep. So very, very deep.  

They say the pain changes with time.  It hasn't. But I have.  My coping skills are stronger.  I am stronger. I like to think I'm a better person with more compassion, more awareness of the world outside my own.  

But the pain runs deep.  So very, very deep. And the tears still fall, and I need to retreat from time to time to The Wailing Tent where I'm among sisters.  I suppose I always will.  

But most days the sun shines bright, and I am grateful.  Today is not one of those days, though.  I want to tell you happy birthday, but the words just won't come.  I know I'm a few hours early anyway, so maybe the words will come tomorrow.

It feels like yesterday that I could hear your voice, smell your hair, and touch your skin.  I wish it were yesterday.   

The Grief Literacy Test

Any griever will tell you that although we live in a highly advanced society, grief literacy in our country remains rooted in the dark ages.  And Nationwide's Super Bowl ad, still fresh in our cross hairs, serves as a sad reminder of grief illiteracy on a national scale.  

Following is a multiple choice Grief Literacy Test which reveals how much (or how little) one understands about grief.  Why is this test critical? Because we all play a direct role in each griever's ability to survive the journey. The more support one receives, the better they faire.  If a griever has little to no support, they may never recover from their devastating loss, resulting in millions of dollars in lost wages, loss of health, loss of family, and worse.  Wondering how your family and friends would score?  Pass this test on to them after taking it yourself. 

TEST DIRECTIONS:

For each question, choose one of the four choices that best describes how you would react in that situation.  When finished, add the numbers representing your answers together to see your grief literacy IQ score.

   

1.  Your coworker just lost a teenage daughter in a car accident.  What do you say to him?

1. Nothing.  I avoid him altogether.
2. I tell him to look at the bright side, they have other children and can always have more.
3. I awkwardly admit that I have no idea how he feels.
4. I just listen, offer lots of support, and hug frequently.

2.  Your neighbor recently lost her young son to an illness.  When should she return to normal?

1. By the time she returns to work.
2. Within 6 months.
3. After the first year.
4. Never.

3.  Your sister lost her husband last year, and still cries on occasion.  How do you react?

1. I avoid her altogether.
2. I get impatient, and tell her its time to move on.
3. I offer to set her up on a blind date or suggest she try on-line dating.
4. I offer tissue and a warm hug.

4.  Your neighbor recently lost her daughter to suicide, and her yard is overgrown.  What should you do?

1. Nothing.  It's her yard and she should get out of bed to take care of it.
2. The fresh air will be good for her, so I might hint that it's become an eyesore.
3. I might offer to help her, but I won't do it for her.
4. I gather up my garden gloves and tools and just get to work.  She won't have the energy to tend to her yard for a very long time, and I like the exercise.  

5.  Your friend lost a son to homicide two years ago, and the son's birthday is next week.  Will you acknowledge it?  

1. No.  His birthday doesn't mean anything to me.
2. No, because its been two years already.  
3. No.  I think its more important to distract my friend from thinking about it.
4. I'm aware that it is a painful time.  I'll give my friend a small token of remembrance, and offer a hug every chance I get.

6.  Your coworker's daughter just died of a drug overdose.  Should you say something?

1. No.  It was a drug overdose, so it doesn't matter.
2. No, because I'm too scared my daughter will do the same.
3. Maybe.  I feel bad, but don't know what to say so I will probably just mumble something about how tragic it is.
4. Yes.  I would tell her that I'm there for her, hug her frequently, and take personal time to research for possible resources that can help.

7.  The holidays are coming up, and your widowed uncle is feeling sentimental.  What are some ways you can help him?

1. There are no ways, so I will just leave him alone.  He is an old man anyway and will soon die too.
2. I avoid mentioning his wife out of fear that I might remind him that she is gone.
3. I don't mention his wife, but I do make him a batch of their favorite cookies.
4. I mention his wife a lot, give him every opportunity to talk about her, and offer him frequent hugs.  

8.  Your brother lost his wife.  You just lost your neighbor.  Are they the same?

1. I don't care that my brother lost his wife.  My neighbor was my best friend, and my pain is the only thing that counts right now.
2. My brother and his wife argued a lot, so I think my loss is worse.
3. If my loss feels this painful, his loss must be terrible too.
4. All losses should be respected and honored without judgement or comparison, for love and loss come in many forms.

9.  Do you think the closed Facebook groups for grievers are helpful?

1. No.  Those groups are nothing more than one big pity party.
2. I don't understand why those groups need to be closed, but I'm glad I don't have to listen to their sad stories.
3. I don't understand their purpose, but if they help then that could only be a good thing.
4. Those groups are wonderful because they offer a free, safe place for grievers to express their emotions, which is one of the first step towards healing.

10.  How well do you understand the grief journey?

1. I don't need to understand it.  Grief is a part of life, so what's the big deal?
2. I believe that it is a 5-stage journey, like they have taught for years.
3. I believe that every loss is different, and that each griever may experience different stages as they move through their journey.
4. I believe that every grief journey is as unique as one's fingerprint, no two are alike.  I believe that there is no right or wrong way to grieve, and that the journey sometimes feels like a never ending roller coaster on steroids.

11.  Do you think the National Grief & Hope Convention is worthwhile?

1. Absolutely not.  It's nothing more than a pity party and huge downer.
2. I don't know anything about it, but it must be pretty depressing.
3. Maybe.  I can't imagine that it would offer anything fun, but it it helps people, then that's good.
4. I'm thankful all those speakers will share their journeys of loss and hope so openly. It will be a beautiful and pivotal moment in the history of grief, and its wonderful that the convention is open to anyone who wants to attend!

SCORING:

If you scored 44:  You are grief literate, and make a wonderful role model for how to support grievers.

If you scored 30-43:  You don't fully understand the significant effects a devastating loss can have, but your compassion and open mind are a wonderful start.

If you scored below 30:  You are shamefully illiterate.  But there is hope for you.  Simply memorize the following three steps and apply to every griever you encounter.  

     STEP ONE:  Listen.  

     STEP TWO:  Hug.  

     STEP THREE:  Repeat.

The idea behind this Grief Literacy Test is not to prove someone else's illiteracy.  Rather, its an opportunity to examine where we can improve our own.  Only then, can we as a society update the old myths and stigmas that keep today's grief in the dark ages.  And that is the very first step towards bringing grief out of the dark and into the light now and for generations to come.

Don't Hate Nationwide for Airing Super Bowl Ad

It's true that Nationwide committed a serious faux pas by depicting a dead child in their marketing ad, and then airing it during the Super Bowl.  Although it justifiably elicited an outcry from grievers around the world, don't hate Nationwide.  Unfortunately, they are just a sad victim of the grief illiterate society we live in.

Yes, with today's advanced technology backed by millions of dollars set aside for marketing campaigns, one would think the Nationwide team would have chosen a different strategy for getting their message across.  So this morning I put on my professional Executive Director of the National Grief & Hope Convention voice and put in a call to VP & Chief Customer Advocate Jasmine Green.  

First, I must share that Ms. Green is truly a lovely lady who sadly understands grief firsthand.  Second, I didn't call to chide Nationwide for their poor choice in marketing campaigns.  My phone call was purposeful and straight to the point:  would Nationwide join us at the upcoming National Grief & Hope Convention to help raise grief literacy?  If world leaders such as Bernice King feel moved to help educate the public by sharing grief journeys on our stage, my hope is that Nationwide would right a wrong by at least attending the convention to help improve its own corporate grief literacy.

In our phone conversation, Ms. Green clarified that their mission was to raise awareness about child safety and accident prevention, and thus they stand by their choice to air such a controversial ad.  But in doing so, they touched on a very raw nerve by those grieving the loss of a child who couldn't be saved.  

Whether Nationwide will join us at the convention remains to be seen (Ms. Green assured me that my invitation would cross the desk of the CMO).  Whether they accept my offer or not, one unexpected benefit of such a gauche ad is that it unintentionally sheds light on just how delicate and complex the grief journey is.  And that could very well be the beginning of improved grief literacy.  Thanks Nationwide.  I'm on your side.  

Am I Cheating on My Grief When I Dance with Joy?

Dear friends,

As producer of the Grief Diaries Radio show, I was inspired to launch a second radio show that would allow us to unabashedly discuss the authentic side of womanhood. My first guest was a well established Passion Party consultant and our topic was how to bring fun back into our intimate lives.  

The hour flew by quickly, and the broadcast was over before we knew it. Afterwards, I reflected on how many times I had to mute my microphone so I could giggle like a schoolgirl at the

delicate discussion in which I was a willing participant.  But truth be told, as a grieving mother, I felt like I was "cheating" on my grief by allowing myself to have fun. After all, some of my endeavors focus on raising grief awareness. So was I doing us all a disservice by spending the hour enjoying myself?  Would others think I'm "healed" or I've "moved on" when they hear a hearty laugh coming from the same woman who is a member of The Wailing Tent?  Shame on me for having fun after losing my beloved child!  Or not....    

The truth is, we are not "cheating" on our grief when we feel something other than sorrow.  Allowing ourselves to feel joy helps to balance the sadness and recharge our batteries.  And my broadcast featuring….ahem….passion enhancement products, was absolutely divine and it felt GOOD to laugh again.  And it gave me hope for the future.  Yes, I "cheated" on my grief and had a one-night stand with joy.  And I plan to do it again.  

May the new year bring you moments of peace, comfort and yes, even joy.  

Can counseling really help a broken heart?

“Well, no, I don’t specialize in grief specifically but with my many years of experience I’m confident I can help you,” said the counselor on the other end of the phone. It had been eighteen months since we lost our teenage daughter in a car accident, and my husband and I were caught in the black abyss of sadness and hopelessness. We were finally ready to wave the white flag and seek help.

Many well-meaning family and friends urged us to get counselling immediately after the accident, but I adamantly refused. I bristled at the very idea that someone would tell me how to grieve the loss of my beloved child. Worse, there was no way I wanted to be trapped in a group of crying mothers stuck in their own horrible grief. No, I would rather do it myself, for I didn’t want to be part of that club in the first place.

But over the coming months as reality sank in and the nightmare became permanent, we found ourselves on autopilot, barely staying afloat on the outside and dead on the inside. By design, men and women are wired differently. So as husband and wife, we were each caught in our own despair. We had nothing left to give each other, little alone our marriage.

By the time we realized we needed help processing our grief, we had fallen so deep into the black abyss that the simple task of finding a counselor, any counselor, felt utterly overwhelming. So I dug deep to muster what energy I could to google local counselors, and called the first number I saw.

And thus began an eighteen-month relationship with a counselor who knew absolutely nothing about grief. She was a lovely woman, and in looking back I’m sure she learned a great deal from us as her clients. But much to our dismay, we gained nothing from our appointments. At least we hadn’t gone backwards, I told myself, but the idea of trying to find a better counselor was simply too overwhelming. So we stayed where we were week after week for eighteen months.

And then tragedy struck once again.

Three years after losing our daughter, my forty-six year-old husband suffered a major stroke. He went from being a highly intelligent, well respected, vibrant man who managed multi-million dollar projects to an invalid wearing a hospital gown in the intensive care unit. He couldn’t walk, talk, read, or write. My beloved soul mate, my dear sweet husband, suffered a major embolic stroke in the left frontal lobe. Paralyzing the entire right side of his body, the damage also destroyed the Broca's region of his brain, the center of communication. He understood those around him, but he couldn’t speak at all. Nor could he read, write, or comprehend letters and numbers. Strangely enough, Brocas is his legal middle name.

We found ourselves facing a fresh, new black abyss, and we hadn’t even found our way out of the first one.

And then help arrived in the form of a neuropsychologist who made daily hospital rounds to the stroke unit. His specialty was supporting patients facing significant disabilities and helping them adapt to a new way of life. Now that my husband was trapped in a hospital bed, he could no longer bury his grief in eighty-hour work weeks. The neuropsychologist found himself doubly tasked with not only helping us adjust to our new life left in the wake of my husband's stroke, but assisting us in processing the profound, unresolved grief left in the wake of our daughter's death.

Dr. Ford was in his early fifties, about the same age as our prior counselor. He was tall and fit, and his short hair yielded to a stubborn childhood cowlick he never outgrew. His face was kind, his voice calm yet intelligent. My husband and I liked him immediately. And, to our collective surprise, Dr. Ford's specialty of helping stroke patients face a new life with severe disabilities wasn’t all that different from helping the bereaved face a new life without their loved one. And thus began a professional relationship in which we finally found the help needed to process our double sorrow.

It has now been over three years since my husband’s life-changing stroke, and six years since our daughter’s passing. Because of the plasticity of the human brain and its ability to rewire around dead tissue, my husband continues to improve beyond medical expectation. Through intense inpatient and then dedicated outpatient rehabilitation, he learned to walk again and use his right hand though he still can’t feel anything on his right side. His speech remains challenged, and he fatigues quite easily, preventing him from returning to gainful employment, and our family from returning to our former life.

We continue to see the neuropsychologist though the frequency changes depending upon our needs. As far as I see it, the life-changing stroke was actually a lifeline in disguise, for it brought a compassionate, intuitive, and highly skilled practitioner through the door of my husband’s hospital room and into our lives. And although Dr. Ford came because of the devastating stroke, his counseling proved to be the help we desperately needed to navigate our daughter's death.

I am not angry we spent eighteen months with a counselor who was unable to meet our needs. Actually, I admire her for taking us on in the first place. She didn’t harm us, and she did try her best to help us, and I am forever thankful. But I wish I had acknowledged sooner just how critically important it is to find the right care in our darkest hours.

When one suffers a heart attack, they call in a cardiologist. When one has a broken leg, they call in an orthopedist. So when one faces profound loss, a highly skilled and qualified practitioner to help navigate the way through, and eventually out of, the deep abyss of overwhelming grief is just as crucial.

With over 168,000 counselors available in the U.S. alone, there is no shortage from which to choose. If your counselor is unable to help you navigate a life-changing loss or challenge, don't be afraid to find another. Just as grief isn't one size fits all, neither is support.

Can a heart attack patient survive without a cardiologist? Yes, but the chances of surviving are much greater when under the care of a proper practitioner. And this is never more true than with the most critical of all wounds….that of a broken heart.