|
 |
 |
|
||||
|
||||||
|
by Mary Cook. She works on the ground crew for an air taxi company in Gustavus, Alaska, a community of 450 surrounded by Glacier Bay National Park. She also handles the mail, tends the town's only coffee house and serves as a hospice volunteer. |
Being Fully Open To Your Grief Is Hard Work
The day my fiancé fell to his death, it started to snow, just
like any November day, just like the bottom hadn't fallen out of
my world when he freefell off the roof. His body, when I found
it, was lightly covered with snow. It snowed almost every day
for the next four months, while I sat on the couch and watched
it pile up.
One morning, I shuffled downstairs and was startled to see a snowplow clearing my driveway and the bent back of a woman shoveling my walk. I dropped to my knees, crawled through the living room, and back upstairs so those good Samaritans would not see me. I was mortified. My first thought was, how would I ever repay them? I didn't have the strength to brush my hair let alone shovel someone's walk. Before Jon's death, I took pride in the fact that I rarely asked for help or favors. I defined myself by my competence and independence. So who was I if I was no longer capable and busy? How could I respect myself if all I did was sit on the couch everyday and watch the snow fall? Learning how to receive the love and support that came my way wasn't easy. Friends cooked for me and I cried because I couldn't even help them set the table. "I'm not usually this lazy," I wailed. Finally, my friend Kathy sat down with me and said, "Mary, cooking for you is not a chore. I love you and I want to do it. It makes me feel good to be able to do something for you." Over and over, I heard similar sentiments from the people who supported me during those dark days. One very wise man told me, "You are not doing nothing. Being fully open to your grief may be the hardest work you will ever do." I am not the person I once was, but in many ways I have changed for the better. The fabric of my life is now woven with gratitude and humility. I have been surprised to learn that there is incredible freedom that comes from facing one's worst fear and walking away whole. I believe there is strength in surrender. This essay is copyrighted material. No reproduction or excerpting is permitted without written consent of This I Believe, Inc. To read and hear other essays, and to submit your own,visit www.npr.org/thisibelieve |
|||||
|
||||||
| Paul W. Anderson, Ph.D. |
How Do You Fill In the Blanks?
When someone you know and/or love dies ____blanks______. That’s
right, you have to fill in the blanks they leave open.
I know; not an easy, favorite or fun thing to discuss. But, occassionally it is useful to give some thought to how to handle death. We all are sooner and later affected by death. It is a part of living. Some say death is the ultimate developmental task we face in this life. If we knew there is life after dearth, it wouldn’t be death. It would be a transition. Some people indeed do say it is a transition. That’s fine with me but it’s all guess work about what happens after a person stops breathing and the blood ceases to flow. Sure, our guesses, or what we may call “beliefs” are there and if you have some favorite ones, great. I hope they soften the pain of the losses death always brings. Perhaps they help you fill in the blanks. One way or the other, you still have to fill in the blanks. My father died December 16, 2005. He was 93 years old. When will your father die, or has that already happened? What shall I do with the old pictures and traces of his life? How do I live, now that I am orphaned, my mother having died four years ago? What shall we do with their wedding rings? Their treasures? There are other questions:
Dealing with the facts of life is not easy, especially the one fact of death. When it’s your turn to fill in blanks, be willing to accept all the help available to you. |
|||||
|
||||||
| from Parker Poems |
Winter came to me in November, Like a fight after a heavy meal. A cell phone call at the airport: She’s dying. It’s not real.
|
|||||
|
||||||
| by Various Contributors |
Was She A Smoker?
We all want to know, so why shouldn't we ask if Dana Reeves, who
recently died of lung cancer, smoked?
Lori Hope has a good answer for you. Read this excerpt from
her book, Modern Love: Figure It Out? Figure It Out? O.K., You Figure It Out! "In my next life I'm coming back as a man. I will have sex
with my wife and knock her up, and then in the hospital I will
watch while she figures out how to get the baby out of her. And
after my daughter is born, I will play with her when I'm in the
mood and stop when I'm not, and I won't get all psycho about it.
I will throw her up in the air super high and get her wound up
right before she's supposed to go to sleep, and then I will let
my wife, her mother, put her to bed."
|
|||||
 |
|
|||||
