Life According to Gribble

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Tag: death

group of people attending burial

Scheduling a Funeral Sucks: Let Someone Help You

October 3, 2024 / / 0 Comments

When my husband passed away, I had to make a lot of difficult decisions. One of those decisions was when to hold the funeral. We lived in Utah at the time, but we were burying him in Washington state. The most sensible timing of events was a problem though.

I worked out the schedule by days of the week. Saturday was the funeral program in Utah. Sunday we rested. Monday we would rent the U-Haul and transport his casket to Washington. (It felt weird transporting a casket with my dead husband in a U-Haul, but that is what we did.) Tuesday evening the funeral home would unload his casket. Wednesday we would hold the burial.

Sound’s reasonable right? Well, what was left of my heart in the gaping hole in my chest dropped in my stomach when I looked at the calendar. The day of the burial was my husband’s 35th birthday. I frantically rearranged the schedule to no avail. Every time I thought it I had it worked out, a bad feeling overcame me. The only plan I felt peace with was the original one.

His family was less than enthused about the schedule. They all came over to “discuss” the situation. When I finally and simply stated, “I’m not changing the date,” one of his family members stormed out of my home, slamming the front door behind them. If there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s slamming doors.

I got up to give them a piece of my mind but stopped as soon as I got out the door. It would do no good to go after them. All I would accomplish is create more rifts in an already tense and difficult time. So what did I do? I balled my fists and walked back inside with a great deal of anger filling me.

They were wrong to storm out, but I realized later that I also bore some of the blame. I failed to fully explain my reasoning why I refused to change the date. I didn’t share the struggle I went through when solidifying the schedule. That burden was mine to bear, but looking back I should have been more forthcoming with my struggle.

Hindsight sucks because it doesn’t really account for the emotional and mental state of everyone in the situation. Objectivity is often clearer when looking back. I should have let them help me bear the burden of that problem. They could have asked why I chose that day. Maybe they did at one point. I don’t remember. All I do remember was both emotional and logical arguments for why the date impacted them. I could have given them the opportunity to understand, but I didn’t.

The moral of the story for me is it’s okay to share your burden when struggles come your way. Even if that sharing it just telling someone. Having an ally who understands can make a difference. Circumstances and emotions get in the way of rational thinking; however, perhaps the next time I am confronted with a difficult decision, I will confide my reasoning with those who are impacted.

man standing beside black steel fence

Keep Going in the Face of not Wanting to

September 16, 2024 / / 0 Comments

I sit here thinking about how tired I am of this world, or more specifically, my broken mind with in this world. I firmly believe I will no longer have to suffer (Read: deal with) the craziness of my mind in the next life. the intrusive thoughts have been plaguing me a great deal lately. Sometimes I wish I could quiet the horrible things my mind brings before my mental and emotional eyes. The dissonance is, I am a mother.

As a mother, I am an example. As an example, I set the bar on the capacity and capability of how to keep going. If I give up, so too might my children. They have scars just like I have scars. New scars will form and my children and I continue through life. What a depressing thought. But that’s the reality of life. I don’t want my children to give up. They have a better chance of finding healing as they are discovering the origins of some of their mental health challenges now. It’s taken 30+ years for me to get to where I am today from the time my mind really started showing me its craziness.

Ultimately, the point is, I don’t want to be here anymore, but I can’t go anywhere yet. I’m sure I’ll end up having a long life, but that just depresses me more. I want to be with my husband. The man who would hold me when I broke down until I was able to move forward again. I don’t have that support anymore. I can’t rely on my children to take up that role because it’s not their role to fill. They don’t need my broken self weighing down their own fragile concerns. And yet, I am both a burden and a comfort for them.

Ever since BJ died, my children often told me “don’t die” when I left the house. It started with my youngest and my older two have also repeated the command as well. They don’t do it as often as they used to, but they still get nervous when I’m gone too long or when they don’t know where I am.

The point is, I can’t be done yet and that depresses me. I’m so ready to be done. Unfortunately, my time to be with my husband and free of this broken mind is not yet. So here I am pouring my heart and brokenness out for everyone to see. Whether I want to or not, I can’t leave my children to figure it all out on their own. They deserve the opportunity to learn from their broken mother’s hard-won lessons.

I hope and pray those lessons will have them some grief in the future. When choosing between my mental battle with myself and my children, I chose my children. I know I’m supposed to choose life, but I don’t. I choose them no matter how great the pressure is. They are my reason for staying.

woman touch rainy glass

The Many Origins of Grief

August 15, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Death is often the first thing people in general think of in relation to grief. They would be wrong. The origins of grief come from a loss of something important, not just the death of something important.

An initiative designed to normalize and destigmatize grief called Speaking Grief stated:

Grief is a set of experiences that involves the perceived loss that someone has around a person, a situation, an event, a happening, that changes the way that they physically, emotionally, spiritually, react and respond to the world around them.

So, if we’re thinking about the way that we’re taught that grief is, we’re taught that it just involves a death event, a death of a loved one. But grief actually encompasses a series of losses, and a series of change, and has to do with how we integrate that change into our day-to-day functioning.

Alesia Alexander, LCSW, Grief, Loss, and Inclusion Consultant

The Other Sources

The phrase I would like to concentrate on is, “grief actually encompasses a series of losses”. Death is not the only origin of grief. Below is a list of other sources of grief. Please know that this is not an exhaustive list.

Miscarriage

While miscarriage is a form of death, it is one not always acknowledged as an origin of grief. I have experienced two miscarriages. The first experience occurred with my first pregnancy. It happened when I was 13 weeks along, but I didn’t really grieve with that one. That might sound awful, but I also had a deep understanding of how the body is learning to create a new life. It doesn’t always succeed the first time.

It was the second miscarriage that really got me. I was maybe six weeks along. While this may be a little graphic, I saw the little embryo on the toilet paper when I wiped. The tiny forming spine was surrounded by a small, clear sack with fluid in it.

I was crushed. Seeing the embryo brought a new level of loss to me. I’ve successfully carried three other children. Why would my body reject a harmless and amazing creation? Grief appeared, front and center. I lost my job because I shut down.

Miscarriage is most certainly an origin of grief. Those who experience it understand this in a deep way.

Divorce

Divorce is essentially the death of a relationship. If children are involved, the loss is more complicated. Both my sister and best friend have gone through this process. Emotional abuse was a heavy factor in both cases. Physical abuse, financial problems, and infidelity are additional examples of why couples divorce and grief is a companion to the hardships to follow.

Major Catastrophic Event

Major catastrophic events can be both natural and of a man-made variety—think the terrorist attack on 9/11. Catastrophes cause major physical and emotional damage. They also cause damage to a person’s mental health. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is one of the most common mental health disorders following tragic events. Losing the safety of home, the memories associated with photos and special possessions, important documents required for legal purposes, and so much more strips a person of their identity. Loss associated with major catastrophic events is a catalyst for grief to take hold.

Loss of Innocence

Not only can the loss of innocence refer to moving from one stage of life to another, but also the emotional of physical journey one could travel. Think of a road trip that ends with a broken-down car. Experiencing the need to be rescued brings a new understanding of helplessness.

Let’s look at another example. Think about a cancer survivor. They experienced the grief associated with their loss of health but are now in remission. The pain and fear associated with their battle with cancer has changed them in ways no other experience could. Their grief moves into one associated with their loss of innocence. They have the joy from beating the disease, but their worldview has changed completely.

Loss of Health

Alzheimer’s. Arthritis. Lou Gehrig’s disease. So many diseases erode the body, stealing the functions that used to come so easily. Grieving the loss of mobility to do something as simple as getting out of bed is natural. What about a person with a weakened immune system? They grieve the loss of where they can go to avoid common diseases that could be life threatening to them. Those examples are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to loss of health.

I’m not old, but neither am I young. My joints are starting to become arthritic. Flexibility, though never amazing, is decreasing. I can’t go on a trip without my medication. Stamina is no longer strong enough to get through a conference without missing a breakout or two to rest my body and brain. Thinking is occasionally not as easy as it once was.

Loss of health happens to all of us in one way or another and grief will naturally walk as our companion when facing the loss.

Loss of the Unobtained

This grief origin is not often thought of when it comes to the subject, but it is vital all the same. Think about a couple who is infertile. It could be the woman or the man whose body will not allow the miracle of life to occur. They will both have to come to terms with something they never had. It is a loss of something that is unobtained.

Wishing to be married but unable to find their life partner. Working toward a goal that never comes. Discovering a specific talent you are working to develop is no longer possible. Navigating a career path that doesn’t lead to the right opportunities. There are so many reasons we grieve for things we don’t have.

Cindy Baldwin was one of the keynote speakers at a conference called Storymakers 2024. She has lived with cystic fibrosis for her entire life. Life is not easy. Her health is constantly difficult to navigate. I am sure just delivering a phenomenal speech in front of hundreds of conference goers was a challenge to say the least. It’s probably safe to say she grieves for a level of health she has never had.

Conclusion

Whether your grief is less extreme or life altering, you are still grieving. There is still hope to navigate your new state of being. Research more about grief and how others with a similar situation handle their grief. Support groups are a wonderful resource. The biggest takeaway is: Don’t Give Up. Small or large, you are worth the victories that come with your challenges.

black Fayorit typewriter with printer paper

A Note from Gribble: It’s About to Get More Personal

July 28, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Gribble here. My girl is embarking on a more personal journey, so I’ve added a new category in our posts! The category is “It’s Getting Personal”. I’m going to tell you the events of what she calls her “three years of hell” so you have a better understanding of the obstacles she navigated and still faces. Sympathy is not necessary or sought.

My girl’s life changed forever in 2016. The year began with a miscarriage and she lost her job due to the deep depression she experienced. Six months later, as she was just coming out of her funk, she unexpectedly lost her husband to a thrombotic embolism (a blood clot), leaving her to raise their three children (almost 12, 10, and 3) by herself.

Her uncle died one month later while she was trying to pack her house to move out of state. About a month and a half of homelessness followed while she moved her children and the cranky 10-year-old cat from one relative’s house to another. When she was finally able to procure permanent housing with her parents, she crashed down from survivor mode.

A very serious bout of clinical depression overtook her life when she exited survivor mode. Some family members discussed the need to have her admitted. They eventually decided that my girl’s children needed her presence more since their father was no longer there. I don’t know if that was what was best for the children, but that was the decision made.

Eight months after her uncle’s death, her husband’s grandmother died. A more specific diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) was added to her pre-existing conditions of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), intrusive thoughts, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and anxiety when she was able to emotionally get herself out of bed and to therapy.

Several months before the grandmother died and for two months following, my girl took care of her bedbound mother until her passing at the end of May 2017. Her mother was buried one week before her husband’s one-year anniversary.

Nine months later her cousin’s 21-year-old son died in a tragic car accident, two weeks later her daughter’s dog died, and about four months later her daughter’s 11-month-old kitten died. Her then 4-year-old was diagnosed with autism and therapy led to the discovery of my girl having Bi-Polar Disorder (BPD). She told me later that many things in her life, even prior to her husband’s death, made significantly more sense.

While she was not close to all of those who passed away, the fact that death loomed so close to home struck a nerve with each notification of loss and each step of her mental health journey.

Navigating life is tough. Please remember that this post is not meant to dredge up sympathy. It is simply meant to be informational. Her journey is changing, as is expected in life, and I feel it would be best for her to share that journey with all of you. Perhaps the growth and setbacks as she works through her grief, mental health, and spiritual travels will help someone else someday. I hope you find comfort or enlightenment in the posts.

If you choose to comment on a post, PLEASE BE KIND. Everyone deserves kindness in one aspect or another. Be that person who is kind, positive, and factual in your comments.

Now I need to get back to my place of safety before my girl’s puppy finds me. Happy reading!

orange white and black butterfly on green leaf
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Butterfly vs Phoenix – What’s the Most Accurate Symbol for Grief?

July 6, 2024 / / 0 Comments

After my husband passed away, I went looking for support groups to help for coping with grief. Everywhere I turned I found the image of a butterfly. It was almost like the universal symbol of getting over a tragedy, and that bothered me.

I have always loved the butterfly (Gribble is a caterpillar after all). The butterfly is a beautiful symbol with a beautiful message. Unfortunately, the butterfly metaphor is simply too froo-froo for real life loss and tragedy. No, my froo-froo comment is not meant to hurt any creatures’ feelings, insect or otherwise.

The Phoenix

I prefer to think of the phoenix when it comes to this journey through tragedy and loss. The phoenix simply lives its life until one day flames burst from within to consume it completely. From its ashes rises an ugly little hatchling. But that hatchling will learn and grow and one day become an awe-inspiring phoenix again. 

Just like the phoenix, we too experience a fire that consumes us until we are nothing but a pile of useless and messy ash. The pain of loss isn’t something you can truly prepare for. Even those who know the end is coming still can’t fully prepare for the shock of that final goodbye—walking away from the empty, puppet-like body that first time.

The shock is like a lightning strike. We are instantly consumed by the burning fire of every nerve in our body prickling everywhere at once. Peacefully sleep in a safe cocoon while the flames lick at our souls with searing heat doesn’t work. We are forced to stand there in pain and suffer through every agonizing moment. The funeral, telling the rest of the family, wills, finances, living arrangements, etc. slap the bereaved in the face. When the burning eventually dies down, we are left in a very vulnerable state.

The Hard Work of a New Life

Nothing but the hard work of restarting our lives again exists. Well, except without the heart that was ripped from our chest like that unfortunate sacrificial slave in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. We don’t get to emerge with beautiful wings and fly off to peacefully live out the rest of our lives. Free to fly around, taunting innocent children holding silly nets.

We are left as a hatchling that doesn’t know what to do. How do you sweep up the messy ashes of our new beginning? If you’ve ever had to sweep up ashes in a fireplace, you will know that it takes a lot more than a broom and dustpan to clean up the mess. It’s a long drawn out process that gets everywhere before the world is set as close to right as possible.

Through that process, we have the opportunity to become as beautiful as the firebird we were with bold, vivid colors. The butterfly doesn’t pass through the heart wrenching pain of tragedy and loss. We are a phoenix whose end is as fiery and challenging as its beginning.

Gribble’s Perspective

Now you are probably wondering why Gribble, our friendly caterpillar, supports this distinction. We discussed the delicate topic at length before he explained his perspective beautifully saying:

“The Phoenix can have all the glory as a symbol of grief. My kind seek to inspire an innocent, loving hope for the future. At some point, those who are marred by the fiery scars of great loss will grow enough and heal enough and be confident enough to emerge from that moment of grief. They will finally be strong enough to show the world their flying colors. But grief never fully resolves. There are always moments when their inner phoenix flares up. It is at those moments when my fellow Lepidoptera and I will be right there with a fresh bottle of Aloe for our friend.”

Image Credit: Pexels

Why is this happening to me?

June 28, 2018 / / 0 Comments

I have had to turn to my faith more than a few times these past two years. It is by no means uncommon for us, as survivors, to have a crisis of faith. We face a little one-word question that puts us to the ultimate test of faith. Why? Why did they have to die? Why am I still here? Why did they leave me? Why don’t they get the chance at a full life?

The short answer is a simple and frustrating, “I don’t know.” The longer more specific answer relates to the story of Joseph in Egypt. Below is a brief (I promise this actually is brief compared to the full version found in the Bible) synopsis of the story.

Joseph was the youngest and most favored son of his father, Jacob. His older brothers were overwhelmingly jealous of the favor their father showed Joseph. They decided one day, when their jealous anger rose to a peak, they would to kill him. Before they murdered their brother, they saw a caravan of merchantmen traveling to Egypt. Why kill their brother when they could gain a profit by selling him as slave?

Once the caravan reached Egypt, Joseph was then sold to a man named Potiphar, a captain of the guard to Pharaoh. Joseph worked hard and became Potiphar’s right hand man until Potiphar’s wife decided she wanted more from Joseph than he was willing to give. The wife grabbed Joseph’s coat when he literally ran from the house. Joseph shrugged it off and kept running. Of course the wife, having been rejected, decided to cry to her husband saying Joseph made advances toward her. Her proof was Joseph’s coat in her hands. Potiphar believed his wife and sent Joseph to prison.

While in prison, Joseph was yet again blessed for his work ethic and given the duty to oversee the prisoners in his ward. About this time, Pharaoh became angry at his chief butler and his chief baker. They were both placed in Joseph’s ward and experienced odd dreams on the same night. Joseph interpreted both dreams saying in three days the butler would be restored to his former position and the baker would be executed. True to Joseph’s interpretation, the butler was restored and the baker was significantly less fortunate.

Two years later, it was Pharaoh’s turn in the disturbing dreams department of dreamland. No one could interpret Pharaoh’s dreams. The butler spoke up and told Pharaoh about his experience with Joseph.

Pharaoh called for Joseph and demanded an interpretation of his dreams. Joseph explained that Pharaoh’s dreams were a warning. Though the next seven years would be plentiful, a great famine would strike all the lands of the Earth the following seven years. Joseph then suggested Pharaoh invest in a pretty comprehensive food storage program. Impressed, Pharaoh told him it was now Joseph’s job to create and oversee the aforementioned investment program…and have power over just about everything else except the throne.

The famine came as predicted seven years later and guess who made an appearance in Egypt two years into the famine? Yep, Joseph’s brothers. They didn’t realize who Joseph was at first, but don’t you worry, his brothers were graced with a pretty serious “Oh #&%@” moment.

Joseph could have done anything to them and no one would have faulted him; however, he chose a different path. He didn’t take them as his servants. He didn’t make them experience the sudden death round of the “how shall we play with brother today” game. He was happy to see his brothers. Joseph rejoiced! He told them not to be angry with themselves for selling him, because God sent him there to save many lives, including theirs.

This is where we bring ourselves back to the present. Whether you believe in God or not, bad things happen. It is an unfortunate fact of life we cannot escape. Joseph gained some understanding of why he was sent to Egypt when his brother’s showed up to purchase food, twenty-two years after they sold him to the caravan of merchantmen.

Just as Joseph lived in slavery and prison for so long, we also find ourselves in horrific places after the trauma of losing our loved ones. I won’t lie to you. Grief shows no mercy to anyone, and patience plainly sucks. Faith is all that will sustain us.

I still don’t have any specific answers why BJ had to die 11 days before his 35th birthday. All I have are speculations at this point. I take great comfort knowing that some day I will have the answers. It may or may not be in this lifetime, but I have faith the answers will come. You will also have the answers at some point. Don’t rush that moment. The Lord left us here for a reason. Looking too hard for answers we are ready or able to receive will only bring frustration and unhappiness. All we can do is take everything one day, one task, one moment at a time until we receive those answers.

Please remember you are far from alone in your journey. Faith, with all the other emotions we have swirling around our psyche, is not easy. Our goal should be to seek others who also struggle. Together we can help each other move forward in a positive and productive way.

You are loved more than you know!

Handcart Lessons

June 18, 2018 / / 1 Comment

Around March 2018, I was barely able to keep my head above the watery chaos of depression. My husband had suddenly passed away about a year and a half prior. My children were the only ones keeping me from letting myself go. They already lost their father. They needed their mother – not that I was much of a mother at the time. Granted, I was much better than I was the year prior, but I’ll go into the crippling effects of depression another time.

I thought back to an experience my nephew shared the prior year when he came home from a church sponsored event called Trek. Every few years my church organizes a pioneer journey for youth ages 12 through 18. The journey reenacts the pioneer experience during their trek west. Everyone dresses in pioneer garb. Youth are broken up into “families” with at least four children and one couple from the congregation serving as “Ma” and “Pa”. The youth pull loaded handcarts over 20 miles of difficult terrain in a three-day period.

My nephew told me about an experience that had surprising effect on me. The final hill is always given to the ladies since many pioneer men didn’t make it to their destinations. That left the women to bear the burden of finishing the journey.

Every young man was sent to the top of the hill.  The young men were told they were not allowed to help the young women. They could only silently watch. My nephew said it was a powerfully emotional experience to watch the young women struggle up the steep hill. Being unable to help was like torture.

When the first handcart finally reached the top of the steep hill and crossed the line marking the end of their trek, the young women ran back to the hill. The girls were exhausted, but they couldn’t bear to let their sisters continue to struggle on their own. One by one each handcart finally reached the top of the hill.

There were no shouts of joyous accomplishment and applause when the last handcart made it to the end. No one shrugged their shoulders and asked when they could get their phones back. The young women hugged each other with love, grateful to have made it to the top. They were proud of their accomplishments on that journey, but humbled by the sheer determination it took.

Every young man stood with their hat reverently held in their hands. Some freely shed tears…I mean got sand in their eyes. They were emotionally hurt, proud of their sisters, and distressed in their limited role of watching; however, they felt the Holy Spirit testify of the greatness of the pioneer’s tragically earned achievements. I thought a great deal about that story for a long time.

My unexpected lesson hit me this past March. I was trying so hard to get my own handcart over rough terrain and my dear husband’s spirit was forced to watch, unable to help. What kind of special hell is that? And I was the one making that hell even more bitter. It certainly wasn’t on purpose, but it was true all the same. I had eyes on my husband for so long and didn’t see what I should have.

Everyone handles tragedy in different ways. The death of my husband just about broke me, but I decided I couldn’t cause him and my children any more pain than they already had to endure. I somehow found a way to pull myself back to the land of the living. It wasn’t an overnight change. A great deal of heartache, prayer, hard work, and tears went into the process of moving on.

Unfortunately, the process never truly ends. Good days and bad days still trade off custody. What matters is keeping my eye on the goal. Continuing to progress to the best of my ability. Some days it is all I can do to keep the handcart from slipping backward. Other days I make good headway. It’s a matter of not giving up.

I have learned we all need to keep our eye on the top of the hill. Every step gets us a little closer. Celebrate those small steps because they add up quickly. The strength we discover when we reach the top of the hill will be a powerful testimony of our love for those who can only watch.

Be kind to yourself and know that you are loved!

Welcome to Life According to Gribble!

June 4, 2018 / / 0 Comments

My name is Gribble! As you see in my handsome picture, I am a vintage 1980’s Lots-a Lots-a Leggggggs caterpillar who has seen better days. My girl adopted me when her mother brought me home for Christmas. I remember my girl was about as tall as me when she held me in her little arms. That was decades ago though.

My girl’s now grown into a woman who has also seen better days. Her name is Keani (pronounced K-on-E). She is a mother, widow, and is finally following her passion. Writing. Because I told her she has no other option. Being the wise woman she is, she gracefully accepted my not so subtle hint.

Why have I come to this extreme, you ask? (This is where you ask.) The past several years have been the most difficult of Keani’s life. My girl battled a great deal of clinical depression in 2015. 2016 made its début with a miscarriage, followed by the death of her husband, the death of her uncle, a move from Utah to Washington state, a period of homelessness, and a deeper view of the rabbit hole called depression. 2017 wasn’t much better with the death of her late husband’s grandmother and the death of her own mother. Then her cousin’s son was killed in a very tragic car accident in 2018.

Tragedy has a way of changing a person. The life lessons Keani learned during the painstakingly slow and frustrating process of “Moving On” were gained by prayer, soul-searching, hard work, and a lot of tears. I created this blog as an outlet for my girl to share her life lessons. Just like Keani, many individuals are trying to navigate the grief that comes with loss. Those things that have made such a difference in her recovery will be of use to others – maybe even you.

Don’t be confused though. This is my blog. She may be doing most of the sharing, but I will be supervising with expert precision. I am, after all, her oldest and longest friend.

Wow! This is one long post for a Gribble. Until next time!

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