The loss of touch hurts so much
My beating heart shudders; feels crushed
Beside each other but alone in the room
Silence outside; feeling gloom
Screaming inside; dreading doom
Tears flow in the dark
Wanting a tiny spark
Wishing you’d extend your hand
Though mine has been frozen in a far away land
Our hurting hearts have shifted apart
I dream to go back to the start
By Sheri Hall
Change over time; come and go
Stuck in your mind of what is no more
New and exciting or old but well tended
Some more important than others
Others harder to deal with than some
Relationships lost; relationships found
Unknown time for all to become unbound
Like a bouquet of flowers purchased for oneself
A loud concert to escape your thoughts
A movie, a walk, a glass of wine
Everyone has a journey to ease their own mind
Self care as unique as our grief
What you need I may not
What I want you don’t get
Self often gets ignored or no credit
But we know and some do get it
Comes in waves
Do we get up today?
Hides in the closet
Should we go find it?
Behind a tree lost in the forest
Sometimes we have to search for it
But it is always there; in many forms
For those with eyes to see; ears to hear
Forgiveness of one self
Important to stop the torture
Forgiveness of others
A necessary move to make
Forgiveness of the unknown, the guilt, the regret
A much harder step
To forgive is to move forward
A lesson
In letting go
Who is she; is she real or a figment of our imagination
Does she guide us; care for us or we her
Are we misguided in her protection
Do we realize our destruction
There is no going back, to simpler times
Greed has taken over; she is in chains
Is it too late to save her
Lighting a candle on a day; as a way to remember
Lighting a candle everyday; to feel their presence
The flickering light; we imagine their dance
The wicker going out a symbol of our loss
A thousands candles lit; a hundred memories lived
Through the light of the dancing wick
Folding a tiny blanket
over and over
Staring at a photo to try to remember
Lighting their candle you wish could stay lit forever
Rituals can feel healing
Rituals can be soothing
Rituals can become routines
Secrets they then become
Wanting not to explain why done
Up next # 27-31
Thank you for reading.
Namaste,
Sheri
Retreat within yourself to feel the hardest pain
Retreat to a sacred space to feel a spirits cosmic embrace
Retreat to a deserted island and escape the harsh reality
Retreat to your bed where you feel safe
Retreat if you can to heal in your own space
Thoughts, walks, smiles
Words, books, cries
Places, memories, lanes
Voices, touch, hurts
Life, dreams, death
Explore all before it ends
Gratefulness in pictures; gratitude for taking
Gratefulness in love; gratitude for not breaking
Gratefulness in silence; thoughts can be so loud
Gratefulness in time; having been spent well
Gratefulness for you; lessons never ending
Given freely; taken lightly
Touched gently; moved sweetly
Kissed softly; loved greatly
To Survive,
In our lungs, out our mouth
Breathe does not exist without the beat; the beat with out the breathe
Inhale the luxury of life
Exhale the torture of living
Up next #20-25
Thank you for reading,
Namaste, Sheri
Christening
Marriage
Funeral
Service
To rejoice
To love
To cherish
To remember
To dread
Or
Is an altar a business based on your feelings
Or
A need society has imposed
Fills your heart with a memory
Clears your head from thought
or
Floods your head with memory
Hurts your heart with thought
Sparkles in their eyes while a different kind shines in yours
Memories to be made while ones haunt you from before
Laughter becomes forgetfulness if only for a moment
A season can bring many things to light
A summer breeze drawing a calming breathe
A winter chill forcing us to hug tighter
A fragrant bloom making us smile
A falling leaf reminding us we all die
The dark part of you mind that you run from to find the light
The brightness that makes you cringe and want to hide in the dark
A light chat about the weather can turn into a dark chat about life
A dark sorrow shared can turn into a light weight lifted
Without one there can not be the other
Surrounds you; crushes you
Feels you; sympathises you
Feeds you; helps you
Loves to leave you patting themselves on the back
Helps the struggling; counsels the lost
Paid minimally; unappreciated by their boss
Government; society; a mixed up bunch of ethics
Want versus need gets ignored through greed
Community can mean so many different things
All becomes irrelevant; traveling into the wind
Thanks for reading,
Namaste,
Sheri
Up next 16,17 & 18
I want to share some thoughts on the grieving process and hope you will share your feelings and thoughts as well.
I have encountered many types of loss over the last ten years and as I am an analytical person I tend to look for similarities, differences and coincidences or circumstances in things.
For example when I first attended a bereavement group, after trying individual counselling (with four different counsellors- two women, two were men, neither helped, because in my mind, though they had been trained in psychology and counselling they clearly had never experienced a raw grief circumstance, I am basing this on their comment and reactions, anyways, at the bereavement group I met a lot, too many, parents that had lost children and babies of all ages to all sorts of circumstances, in the two years that I attended and I will never forget the first time I went. I shook the whole drive there, I cried the whole time being there, blubbering my way through my reason for going. I felt so comforted, in a morbid way I guess to hear their stories and know that I was not alone in my feelings. Fast forward to a few months in and I had gotten to know quite well a few of the moms and dads that regularly attended as well as listened to a few random people that came and went every week, ones son was killed by a drunk driver, ones child fell out a window, shocking and troubling to listen to, when you feel the pain in someone’s voice. But after listening to the ones that had older children die, I started to feel like maybe I was not deserving to feel the grief I was, after all some of these parents watched their kids suffer for months, some years with terminal illness, some were so in shock at their healthy 3 or 4 year old being suddenly diagnosed and dying immediately, it was so very heartbreaking. I was living in a bubble of other people’s pain and you know it was easier than focusing on my own pain. But I also remember feeling like, wow these people deserve to grieve more than me because of their loss being more prominent than my two month old dying.
As I lived through the fog of raw grief which in my opinion does not start until after the shock wears off, which can take a few weeks or months, for me it was almost six months when it hit me, when I allowed myself to re live what we went through in such a short time. And I was suddenly stuck in raw grief; I was back at that first meeting as a blubbering fool. I remember one of the dads telling me after a long rambling of me sobbing and saying what’s the point to life when this stuff happens, when there is so much suffering, I kept saying why, why. And he came to me after and said that his wife (who was not there that night) had said such similar things not long ago, they had been going a year before me so this was over a year into their loss and seven or so months into mine, I was sad to know that she felt the same but also in knowing my thoughts were not random, were not crazy, I felt comforted.
Then comes the realization of firsts, around a years’ time, the first Halloween, Christmas, Birthday. And this is when most people think that after the first you should be done grieving and moving on.
This is so wrong.
Grief is a struggle to live through and learn from without the judgment of others.
But you find yourself pretending you’re “better” because you don’t want them to think you’re stuck because unfortunately that is what some think. Because for example when their high school friend died in a tragic car accident they remember being really sad for a few months but after that first year it didn’t really affect them anymore and they relate this loss to your loss.
I too have lost many acquaintances and friends from high school, a few cousins and few close friends, and a few co- workers. It sucks, yes, it’s hard, yes, it’s sad, yes, you feel for their lost life, their family, but it’s not the same as when you lose your mom who is your best friend and she dies suddenly after fighting breast cancer. Or when your child of seventeen gets diagnose with terminal cancer, or any ones child dies, or when your spouse gets killed in an accident or when your best friend or sibling that you cannot live without suddenly dies. I am not saying these people have a right to grieve more, I just believe that their grief is very different than the other. It is very different when someone dies of old age then when someone dies tragically from suicide or murder or a genetic malformation but sometimes we lump loss together, and ‘sympathy lasts longer than grief’ but someone living with or through their grief will often tell you they do not want sympathy, they simply want to be allowed to grieve in their own time, they want to feel sad when they feel sad and they want not to be judged or ignored. It is a different type of grief it is still grief and I am not trying to dumb down one to the other, I just feel that those that think you should be ‘done grieving’ are the ones that have experienced only the preceding types, the ones where you feel sad for a short time, I think that is called empathy not grief.
I invite you to share your thoughts on grief.
Thanks for reading.
Namaste,
Sheri
Devastation shock loss
Confusion at it all
Tired thoughts only want rest
No one knows what is best
Stay silent send flowers
Condolences put to rest
Hard thoughts and unwillingness to feel blessed
Shame guilt anger grief
Bitterness bleeds
Hidden tears fake smiles
Uncomforting bothersome others
Faucets of the heart turned on high
While life continues to fly by
Sadness settles in a calm cold chill
Forever wanting to be still
No more thoughts
No more sleepless nights
No time to prove who is right
Struggling to continue while wanting to stop
Annoying hum of a ticking clock
Worlds turning never stops
Must continue whispers the voices
But at what cost
Sanity fairness vanity even
What is left of life’s dreary lessons?
Thanks for reading,
Namaste
I cannot believe you will soon be five.
You should be turning five that is.
It hurts to re-live that night five years ago, when you were born and all there is, was silence.
No beautiful wail escaped your body.
I shook in my own tears as I was expecting this moment, as if I knew it was to happen.
Throughout my pregnancy I was terrified something was wrong. It just didn’t feel right. Then it happened, first with excitement at your arrival then with shock as you were backwards folded in half turning blue on exit. The doctor and nurses worked so hard to get you to breathe as your dad held your hand begging you to try.
I was in my own shock; all was silent. I heard nothing, I only assumed you were dead. when the doctor told me they inserted a tube finally helping you to breathe but you needed to go immediately to the NICU, that I couldn’t see you. My mind could not wrap around what was happening or why. That was the hard beginning to your short beautiful life that has changed me forever. As a mother, as a human being who vows to live empathetically and compassionately helping others. I thank you for your time in my life my beautiful child.
I wish you a happy fifth birthday this Dec 30th wherever you are my sweet angel.
Love always and forever.
mom.
Where my mind goes as I drive, I think back to those long torturous drives that I had grown to detest, anticipating the anxiety that arose as I approached my destination. I have grown to hate the radio because of those long drives, angry at its insistence to play happy annoying songs, angry at its ignorance of my need to hear sad songs or silence because the music or talk it emits draws upon too many emotions that at the moment I cannot focus on. All I can focus on is my arrival at her side. I circle the building, over and over looking for free parking, I could park in cozy and safe underground parking but at fifteen dollars a day times forty two days so far is not realistic, so I circle, praying for someone to leave, desperate. Finally I find one a bit further away but I do not care. I need to get inside. I need to see her. I exit my car, often forgetting all that I will need for the day and eventually having to run back to get them. I run, my legs ache it feels as though I am not moving very fast, I push the doors open and begin my agonizingly painful walk down the long, white often empty corridor, trying to avoid the smells that surround me, wanting desperately to just magically appear at her side every morning; but having to endure this long routine of getting to her. I finally reach the room; I rush to scrub my hands, remove my rings, and sign my name on the visitor’s sheet although they should know who I am by now. I drop off the extra snacks I have brought for the kids of other families that visit in the adjoining family waiting room. I remember the first time I brought my other children here, in shock, not prepared for them to whine for food and having none. I did not want other new comers to have to feel that, I wanted to help. I wanted someone to help me. I felt so lost, so confused, so scared. Finally I get to her side, I see that they have been poking at her again; I hold back my tears as I stroke her beautiful little face, that is splattered with dried blood from their obvious failed attempts at finding useful arteries. Why. My mind so often wonders why. Why me, why her, why does this happen to anyone. I try to pick her up but it is so hard with all the tubes and IVs, so I lay my head on her tiny body, the body I grew inside my own, the body that grew unable to breathe on its own, the beautifully perfect on the outside but so broken on the inside body, that now has become mine as well. Broken; my heart is broken, my mind, now broken, unable to understand the jargon being spoken to me by doctors, specialists and surgeons. I am unable to function I just want to hold her and have everyone else shut their mouths. Stop talking to me; stop telling me to leave her so we can have a meeting about a future no one knows for sure. Stop making me drive all the way here every day, getting stuck in traffic wondering if when I get here will she be the same, will she still be there. The panic that has grown in me over these last few weeks is almost unbearable I say almost because I am still here. I just want to take her home; I just want her to be normal, to be able to breathe on her own, to not need multiple surgeries to fix the problems with her heart. I just want to stop feeling scared and sad. I often think back to all those times I knew something was wrong, all those appointments with my doctor where I could not stop crying nor could I explain why I was crying, I just knew something was wrong because of the morbid, guilty thought I often had was if I have a miscarriage that may be better. Then she came, it was traumatic to say the least. She was folded in half, I needed a caesarean but it was four in the morning and no anesthesiologist was on so I was supposed to wait till she got here, but I could not wait, not anymore, I was already two weeks late. I kept pushing, another thought that will leave me riddled with guilt, what if I just waited, what if I did this to you. So out she came, folded in half, not breathing and turning blue. The room went silent. Hours passed before someone came back to talk to us. I did not even know until months later that your dad was asked to hold your hand and talk to you as they tried to resuscitate you. A moment he is haunted by today. They told us you were being transferred to the neo natal intensive care unit at Children’s Hospital. They told us we should follow. They told us I would be admitted there. That they had to insert a tube so she could breathe but with an unknown amount of time without oxygen that she most likely had brain damage, there is even a name for it: asphyxiated birth- birth without oxygen. One of many new words I was forced to learn very unwillingly. That they would do what they could for her but that there were no guarantees. This was the first of many long, silent drives down to the hospital, to see my daughter that was born not breathing my daughter that we also later would find out was born with congenital heart disease: three holes in her heart, an abnormal trachea and needed a feeding tube. Her first surgery was when she was just 5 weeks old. But I knew none of this on that first drive. I was in shock, in denial, a part of me assumed that when we got down there, she`d be fine. The brain is funny that way. That was the first drive until 52 days later we made the last. We did not know it was the last of course, not until we got there and learned of the results from the latest scans, I did not know that was the beginning of my anxiety that surrounds driving now. We learn that the chance of you surviving, being so small and so fragile already, that the chance of surviving the surgery needed to fix you was slim if any chance of survival at all. We were told they would operate if we asked them to. But did we want to lose you on the operating table or in our arms. It is quite odd to have people speak to you this way, so matter of fact, about your child. That is going to die. They offered to move you to hospice but did not know if you would survive the transfer. So we held you, right there in the pediatric intensive care unit as they removed your tubes, always in the back of my mind was the thought -what if she breathes on her own, what if. A saying that will haunt me forever: what if. But you did not breathe on your own. Your dad and I held your amazing, precious little body until we could not. We walked silently back down that cold, white corridor for the last time and drove in silence for the last time that long treacherous drive home; never to see you again. Never able to drive again without thinking of the first, the last and the fifty lonely drives` in between trying desperately to see you.
That is what I think of as I drive.
Thanks for reading
Namaste,
Sheri
Do your thoughts wander…. from one to the next, in odd fashion? Have you ever obsessed over the same thought over and over? Lost sleep over ‘too much thinking’ Cant turn your brain off. I think it is a trait that is innately human. We learn, we obsess, we overthink… When series of events cause us to overthink or overlap our thoughts, we get anxious or afraid at outcomes we cannot control, one wonders why we are so wired to worry about what we cannot control. perhaps sayings like: always stay positive or never give up, you are what you make of your self and maybe even you are what you eat. Cause us to grow up thinking we can control our outcomes or what happens to us. But often things happen that we do not want to and things do not happen that we do want to. That is life. We believe we can control situations as long as we follow steps a, b and c, unfortunately there are always unaccounted for endings, like the one we don’t want. In a way things happen to us that will teach us, where we can learn and grow but also serve as a reminder we are not in control and need to accept that and ultimately let go. If we can look at life as a journey, with probably more downs than ups, a journey where our overthinking will overlap our thoughts and intentions and that is ok. We maybe can enjoy the journey better in a way that we do not or have the need to be right or positive or as it should be. I am not a fan of the saying everything happens for a reason but I do believe that we are meant to learn what we can from things that happen that we did not want to. The greatest thing to learn from is death, loss and grief. How we learn to cope. To grow. To accept. These things take on so many forms for so many people. Some depression. Some become adventurists or less shy or more introvert as they ponder their own mortality, as inevitably it pops up when we lose someone. we tend to think about others around us dying or even ourselves. It is a scary train of thought that precedes the death of a loved one. It takes years to get over a loss although you never fully recover. I believe it takes us consciously accepting the fact that we do not or can not control the outcome of most things and therefore allow ourselves to be free from the guilt that also follows death. The what if? that haunts your thoughts’ There is no easy solution to grieving but to let it happen. Get lots of sleep, lots of water, long walks. fresh air, talk to friends, write in a journal, but most importantly stop obsessing that you could have done something differently, that its your fault. Because we are not gods, we do not control what happens as much as we try to believe or are raised to think we can/do.
Thanks for reading,
Namaste
Sheri
I see you’re sad. You are trying to hide it but I can see it. Others won’t, you are functioning as you should, but I see the slight differences. You used to laugh so freely now it’s forced; you dressed always over the occasion and easily looked the best, now you wear my favorite attire in time of raw grief, comfy clothes that are always ready to nap with you. I sense the change in you; you are quieter staying inside yourself protecting your heart. I see it because I know, I have been there. Your mind is reeling from the loss that it feels fuzzy sometimes confused or hard to make pointless conversation, not sure what to say so it stays silent. You become an observer. Watching life move on when you can’t. You don’t find things funny or silly it is too hard when you experience the certainty of life -that is death. Your appearance seems unnecessary, we hide behind hats; literally to cover our face; hide our sad. We assume people do not notice because we are out, we are functioning, we attempt to smile when need be. They don’t know we sleep more, eat less or less healthy because who cares right. But I see you’re sad. I feel your grief when I look in your eyes. I know your pain when you force a smile or conversation or simply walk away because you can’t take it. I know, I see it and I am sorry.
Thanks for reading,
Namaste,
Sheri
Written for my close friend because I see her pain but oddly enough do not know what to say or do knowing she needs to walk her own path through her grief.
