Survive Grief Again

 In November, Mom passed away at the age of 90 and I’ve been thinking a lot about grief, again. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her, except in my heart. 

It has now been five years since my husband went out to get gas for his truck. I never saw him again. I had casually said goodbye, and it ended up being so.

In the days and weeks and months---and now years---that followed, I was given a crash course in grief.  I was also given a front row seat to seeing love in action. Loving people willingly walked into the darkness with me and held my hand. I learned much during that time and in the years since. 

I don’t think Americans are comfortable with the thought of grief; we don’t want to look at it, we don’t know how to deal with it. And, to be more honest, I don’t think we realize that you don’t “deal” with grief at all---you just experience it. Grief is not really “manageable” ---it just IS.

I can hear you saying “Gee Sue, thanks for the tip! Survive grief by NOT managing it. Awesome. Very helpful.” I know it seems counter intuitive, we want to DO something, FIX it, stop it, control it. Make the pain and the soul numbing sadness GO AWAY.

But you can’t. And it won’t. Eventually, the pain either lessens, or we become more accustomed to it but I don’t know that it ever STOPS.  At five years in I’m still learning as I go. 

Hydrate. Cry. Repeat.

 

But I DO know how to survive the First Worsts, the first awful year following a loss. The best advice I can give you is to go ahead and GRIEVE. Let it in. Weep. Mourn. Find comfort in Ritual, even if you need to invent one for yourself. Don’t shut off your feelings and don’t let others---as well-meaning as they might be—try to shut your grief down. 

Grieving takes time. Lots of it. Everyone is different, don’t let anyone tell you that you need to “move on.” That’s probably just their blissful ignorance talking---they don’t know the hard truth that you know. You are moving through grief, tears and pain and sadness are a part of that process. Stay hydrated. Seriously—when all else fails, go drink a glass of water. It’s one tiny thing you can DO to make things better. And if it’s not “better”? Well, at least it didn’t make things worse. Some days, that itself is a victory.

Thoughts Then, Thoughts Now

 

Compiled from excerpts of past Garden Gate columns, by my friend and co-worker, Haze, during the week I was in no shape to write. Thanks Haze!

Life, like any garden, has seasons.

I often speak of the Circle of Life, of season’s coming and going, of the natural order of things. It seems to me, however, that there are parts of the whole Circle of Life thing that I’d really rather just not think about, except in distant theory.

That is until the theory becomes cruel fact and I must spend time thinking about the reality of Life’s circle. this week, My mom passed away...And I am suddenly a motherless child, in a cold world, weeping on the floor, wondering who will take care of me now?

When the unthinkable happens--- when I am changed in that horrible moment from who I was into who I now must be, when by circumstance I am remade into someone new-- I am full of broken places and sharp edges and I am made suddenly immune to heat or cold, or hunger or sleep. And yet in that awful place of finality, in that place of no second chances, no do-overs, no one more I love you, no last goodbye ---in that dark place there is still a light. 

I know that grief is not simple—that it is not only ONE BIG THING that overwhelms, I know that it will be a million little things that will crack us wide open all over again, time after time. I know that we have a long journey ahead and there is probably a lot left to learn about this process. But in the dark, there is light, and I can see it.

We push back against the darkness with light—Christmas lights, candle lights-- the light shared with those we love; the light commemorating those we have lost.

“...Reach so far in your sharing that you hold the sun in one hand, the stars in the other, and no one between is hungry...” (“In Dark December,” by Ralph Murre)

The simple beauty of those words, the truth and hope in them, are a candle all their own, a reminder to “Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle”-JM Barry.

If I am sad at times, then I will be happy in between those times. Even on this journey of grief, of missing someone so dear to me, I will count my blessings and I will call them happiness. I will stitch together happiness out of little pieces of delightful memories until it becomes a whole cloth and I will wear it.

I am starting my happiness collection today. I will number my blessings as the stars are numbered. There are so many signs of kindness from so many people, so much concern and care. The spirit, the traditions, and the memories will live, even though the physical being no longer does.  There is love, all around me….It goes on.

Oh, My Mom...

~ Remembering Nova ~

Nova Elaine Leathers Mullins
April 29, 1930 - November 7, 2020

Nova was born amid the Great Depression, the youngest child of Iola Elenore (Jenkins) and John Carrol Leathers. She transitioned 90 years later during a world-wide pandemic. The thing that matters most about her was not the tale at the end, or even the story of her beginning—but how she lived her “dash.” 

Nova’s zest, her love for life, for learning and teaching, her absolutely unquenchable spirit—these are the things that make us smile when we remember her. The youngest of six Leathers children--brothers Ed Carroll, Robert, Neel, Shirl and her sister, Elizabeth “Sue” (Davis).

Nova spent her childhood in Bird City, Kansas, riding her bike to deliver the newspaper. She often had to pedal faster to keep her dog Sailor from scrapping with the other town dogs. When it was time to do chores, one would have to go find her, because she would be tucked away in some cozy nook quietly lost in a book. 

Nova was a born teacher. She taught in both Kansas and later in Washington. She was drawn to the Randle area because, while she appreciated the beauty of the Kansas prairie, she wanted to live between the mountains and the ocean. One of her second-grade students suggested that Miss Leathers should really meet her “Uncle Woody”, and eventually, Nova and Willis Mullins were married in February of 1960. They had two daughters, Sue Ann (Sume) and Wilma Jean (Smale). 

When Wilma started kindergarten, Nova returned to full-time teaching at the Packwood Elementary School. She taught fifth grade for many years and remains famous for her insistence that her students master their ‘times’ tables. It wasn’t unusual for student after student, class after class, to be able to successfully complete 100 multiplication problems in under a minute. She also taught second and third grade; Nova loved the opportunity to teach her young students the joys of reading. “Seven-year old’s”, she would often say, “are magical.” 

Besides her love for teaching, Nova’s faith was one of her defining attributes. Her faith was deep--- personal, immediate, and abiding. Every Sunday she would fill her car with kids—often making multiple trips insuring that everyone who needed a ride to Sunday School got one. While Nova would never be known for her ability to carry a tune, you would never question her enthusiasm for worship. She rejoiced in the Lord, in all His works, and was certainly a member of the “Make a Joyful Noise” choir if there ever was one.

After she retired from teaching, Nova became a passionate gardener, declaring a full-on war on dandelions. Woe be to the yellow weed that dared to show its face in her yard! During retirement she logged many miles walking her dogs, volunteering for the Soup & Bread Brigade, attending exercise classes, donating to her favorite charities, and feeding the birds.

Nova was consistent at successfully spoiling her grandchildren, Jordan, Devin and Cameron Sume. She cheered at every single one of their sporting events. Nova also has three great-grands: John Shane, age two; Aiden Allen, nine months; and coming in February, yet another boy! 

Even as Alzheimer’s began to steal her from us, she never lost her love of family, her passion for song, her flirty nature, and her desire to do things “Right.” Nova flourished under the loving care she received and spent her final weeks recovering from hip surgery at the home of her daughter Wilma in Yakima, Washington. 

We will miss Nova greatly, but we rejoice with glad hearts that she is no longer tethered to an earthly body with its many frailties. We know Heaven is much the better to have her in it. 

“Well done, thy good and faithful servant!”