Tag: 2018

  • How life is never the same following bereavement, but still, there is life …

    "... tonight in my kitchen 
    as summer rain finally fell 
    I listened to your playlist 
    sang my heart out 
    feet tapping 
    hips swaying 
    embracing the joy of life 
    thankful for what we had 
    and for all that is yet to be ..."

    I expect that everyone reading this will have been impacted by the loss of a loved one.  It’s a funny thing, bereavement, you never know how it will affect you and each time is different. The circumstances will be unique for both the person who has died and for you who lives on.  Experiencing bereavement as a young person will be very different to how you approach it as you get older.  And, of course, your relationship with the person will shape your response to both the process of dying and their ultimate death.   

    You may lose someone suddenly and the shock of it can rock you to the core.  You’ll probably regret all the things you never had chance to say; the things you planned to do together that never happened; the questions you always meant to ask but never found the right time or place.  I’ve lost count of how many people have said to me, over the years, to remember to tell people that you love them and to say the hard things before it’s too late.  It’s not easy advice to follow. 

    Then there are the anticipated losses: loved ones that have a terminal diagnosis.  You foolishly think you’ll be prepared and you brace yourself for the worse.  But no matter how much you think you’re ready to say goodbye, you won’t be.  Even when you know that letting go is the best thing for them, it’s still hard.  You grieve whilst they are dying and then you grieve again when death comes. 

    In my experience, you’ll be guided by them. When my dad was given a diagnosis of less than 6 months to live, he was very matter of fact about it, which meant I had to be as well.  Loving a person means you respect their wishes, no matter how much it goes against your gut instinct.  

    I’ve always believed that the best way to honour the dead, is to live your life to the full.  That’s what they would want for you, I’m sure.  That’s how I’ve tried to approach every bereavement I’ve experienced and it does help, particularly when you go through tough times.  It’s the best prompt there is to make the most of every day you have. 

    Figure of a woman in a yoga pose in front of the setting sun

    My best friend died from a rare cancer that she was determined to fight.  Even when she went into the hospice for what we all knew were her last days, she was sure she was there for respite only. She died when she was just 49 and it felt utterly tragic.  I didn’t think life would ever be the same and, true, in some ways it isn’t.  There’s a hole in my life that no one else can fill.  But lots of life carried on regardless, as it must.  We did have the opportunity to say the things we wanted to say, and I’ll always be grateful for that.  I’ll never forget the wisdom she bestowed, which has guided my days without her.  

    There are so many times I wish I could talk to her, but can’t.  There have been rare occasions, since she died, when I’ve felt her presence so keenly and even heard her voice.   At times that has brought me comfort, other times it’s given me a kick up the backside; always it makes me grateful for what we had. 

    I wrote this poem some years after Karen died. It was my way of telling her I was okay.  We’d listened to a lot of music together, danced and sang our way through many a favourite track. For a long time, I couldn’t listen to the music we shared; the fact that I was able to enjoy music again reminded me that healing does come, life does go on and you do recover parts of yourself that you feared you’d lost.  If recovery feels far from you right now, then be patient.  It will come in time. 

    Since you’ve been goneDownload

  • Vulnerability is a strength not a weakness …

    "... weakness
    is our backlight
    revealing the cracks
    by which we navigate

    I don’t want
    to live a lie
    my fault lines
    are battle scars
    I am proud to show ..."

    I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s noticed the massive culture shift in recent decades towards mental health.  It’s no longer a taboo subject.  In fact, I know a lot of people will say, “it’s all gone too far”, but I disagree.  

    It’s widely accepted these days that mental health is just as important as physical health.  But it wasn’t always that way.  I remember how my grandmother’s generation would talk in hushed tones about other women (always women!) who had “trouble with their nerves”.  I had no idea what they meant but I just knew, from their whispering, that it was something to hide, and about which never to speak. 

    I think, as a society, we regarded people with mental health issues as a tribe apart from the rest of us, which is ridiculous. We all have mental health which can fluctuate constantly; all the more reason I think to be aware of it and to tend to it in ourselves and others. 

    Whilst it has certainly been easier for my generation, some prejudice remains deep rooted.  I’ve been told countless times by work colleagues, managers, friends and family members, not to show weakness because others will exploit it.  I know they meant well and were undoubtedly looking out for me, but it never felt right.  

    stained glass window

    It’s taken me years to accept myself for who I am, worts and all.  I reached a point in life, probably around my 50’s, when something shifted in me.  I cared less about what other people thought and more about how I saw myself.  Instead of saying and doing what I thought others expected of me, I started to challenge the norm.  A lot of the time, I realised that my assumptions were unfounded.  People didn’t necessarily have those expectations at all.  Now, that was a revelation!  

    I gained more confidence to just be myself; choosing to embrace my authenticity as a superpower.   As I result, I genuinely believe I’ve gained wide respect, but not from everyone.  People have told me not to be so honest; called me out for oversharing on social media; sought to rein me in.  They said it was from a place of love, but I felt suffocated rather than protected.  Perhaps their intention and my response were both valid. 

    In the last decade, vulnerability has become quite the in-thing.  Brené Brown and her now growing catalogue of books has taken the world by storm.  Amen to that!  But she wasn’t the first by a long stretch.  I have long been a fan of Leonard Cohen and it was he, that largely misunderstood genius of a poet, who wrote in his song Ring Those Bells, “there are cracks in everything, that’s how the light gets in”.  I love that idea and will take it further … it’s two way.  The light shines in and emanates back out to the world.  The more we let in, the greater we shine.

    BacklightDownload