Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~From a headstone in Ireland
It’s been two months since my dad passed away and some days it feels like a lifetime and in other ways it feels just like yesterday. No one is ever prepared for grief. It just arrives and you have to figure out how to deal with it (or not).
The other day I attended a gentle yoga class. It was a perfect class for this grieving mind and body. I have noticed that my body has been responding to my personal grief as much as my heart and mind. Gentle exercise like yoga and pilates feel the best for me these days. I know that my body is responding to an aching heart right now and so I need to take extra care of myself.
At the end of class I was relaxing in savasana and without even thinking about it, I just started crying. It wasn't huge sobbing tears but they were constant, unstoppable tears rolling down the sides of my cheeks into my ears and hair. I just let it happen. It was so cleansing. I have had my share of tears on many days since my dad died but for some reason this was a new type of relief. I got up from class and went about the rest of my day. It was almost like that was the natural part of my relaxation and meditation. No judgment, just accepting the here and now.
I have been exploring the different stages of grief and have decided I have been through many of them and back again. Here is what I have discovered about each stage within my own journey.
Stage 1: Denial
I told Mike the other day that I wish it was two months ago and that I could relive my final hours with my dad. Even though it was a tough time I was there with my dad, holding his hand and talking to him. Those final hours with him were hard but I think many of these days without him have been even harder. I was wishing for a false reality knowing quite well that this would never happen again. In some ways denying my fathers death and wishing to relive my final moments with him over and over again sound so much better then trying to figure out how to live without him here on earth.
Stage 2: Anger
This one has been easy to pinpoint. The first few weeks after my dad’s death I wanted to punch every single person in the face that I saw smoking a cigarette. We took a short trip about two weeks after my dad’s death to St. Augustine for a quite get-a-way for the family. We had this awesome balcony over looking the Atlantic and the moment we stepped out on the balcony we were surrounded by cigarette smokers. It completely ruined my Zen and it reminded me even more of my father's death. He smoked for over 60 years and although there was not an autopsy anyone could determine that this was the underlying cause of his death.
I wanted to shout from the balcony," Please put out your f#%ing cigarettes, I just lost my dad to smoking you a#$holes!" Of course this passive aggressive Midwesterner didn't say it but was screaming it in her head. Noticed that even in my head I was courteous and asked "please." These are the times I wish I was a quick talking New Yorker and said what I really felt.
I kept saying to Mike, " I hate smokers." He said something that put my anger in perspective. He explained that if I hated all smokers then that meant I hated my dad, as he was a smoker. This made my heart sink. Of course I didn't hate my dad, I LOVE my dad. So instead I determined that I don't hate smokers, I dislike the addiction. I normally try not to say the word hate in general so I think dislike is better and again, it is the addiction that I do not like.
Stage 3: Bargaining
This one goes back to my dads smoking. I have thought many times, "What if my dad didn't smoke, then he would still be alive." Like I am the Nostradamus of health. Anything could have taken my dads life regardless of his smoking habit. We will never know so why speculate and impose more sadness and stress to the situation.
I also have been grappling with whether me moving to Florida made a difference. I wonder, "Would dad have lived longer if I had not moved away?" In some ways blaming myself for my dad's death. I know this is not the reason for my dad's passing but it is amazing how feelings of guilt creep up on you when you let them. Again, these are things that cannot be changed and are not the causes for the outcome but is it easy to get yourself wrapped into a tight, guilt-laden bundle.
Stage 4: Depression
I think this is the stage I have been caught in the most. The first week after my dad’s funeral I was deeply sad. I was tired, had no appetite, no drive to do what I normally did. I literally wanted to sit on the couch and do nothing. It took everything to get my family ready and myself in the morning. Going to teach classes and personal train clients were some of the greatest challenges for me. How was I to take care of others when I could barely take care of myself? In some sense it was easier to do that then to take care of myself. I could distract myself instead of dealing with the elephant in the room.
I'm still dealing with this aspect of taking care of myself. I feel selfish when I decide to take a walk on the beach instead of cleaning the house. Yet, walking on the beach, taking time to write down my feelings or simply reading a good book are things that soothe me.
Stage 5: Acceptance
I think I have seen glimpses of this stage. Giving myself time to cry, to be sad, and to be angry. Recognizing that I will never ever stop missing my dad, there will always be memories that bring both sadness and joy.
One of the greatest tools I have been using is focusing on my breath. The breath is essential to everyday living. What most do not understand is that we breathe without thinking but that we can take time to truly focus and think about the breathing process. Am I truly breathing to my utmost capacity? This has been key to helping me relax and take a step back to focus on my grief.
The two breathing techniques I have been using are very simple. The first is left nostril breathing. The theory is that the right side of your body is your energetic side and the left is your more calming side. Before bed at night I cover my right nostril and breathe about 20 times in and out of my left nostril. You can do the opposite when you need more energy (so breathe out of the right nostril - more likely in the morning or during the day when you feel sluggish).
The second technique is called 4-7-8 breathing. You inhale for 4 seconds, hold the breath for 7 seconds and exhale for 8 seconds. It sounds trickier than it really is so give it a shot. You do that for four cycles, no more than four cycles at a time. You can do this a few times throughout the day but it is also nice at night before bedtime. It really helps to calm the body and create clarity.
There are very few things in this life and world that we can control but our breath is actually one thing we can adjust. It takes very little time and it is amazing how much better we feel when we truly breathe.
I'm still plugging along these days, some are better then others but knowing I have love and support from my family, friends and ultimately myself are my stronghold. I know my dad is doing well wherever he may be - looking over us all and shining his love upon us everyday.
May the light in my heart honor the light in yours,
Namaste
It’s been two months since my dad passed away and some days it feels like a lifetime and in other ways it feels just like yesterday. No one is ever prepared for grief. It just arrives and you have to figure out how to deal with it (or not).
The other day I attended a gentle yoga class. It was a perfect class for this grieving mind and body. I have noticed that my body has been responding to my personal grief as much as my heart and mind. Gentle exercise like yoga and pilates feel the best for me these days. I know that my body is responding to an aching heart right now and so I need to take extra care of myself.
At the end of class I was relaxing in savasana and without even thinking about it, I just started crying. It wasn't huge sobbing tears but they were constant, unstoppable tears rolling down the sides of my cheeks into my ears and hair. I just let it happen. It was so cleansing. I have had my share of tears on many days since my dad died but for some reason this was a new type of relief. I got up from class and went about the rest of my day. It was almost like that was the natural part of my relaxation and meditation. No judgment, just accepting the here and now.
I have been exploring the different stages of grief and have decided I have been through many of them and back again. Here is what I have discovered about each stage within my own journey.
Stage 1: Denial
I told Mike the other day that I wish it was two months ago and that I could relive my final hours with my dad. Even though it was a tough time I was there with my dad, holding his hand and talking to him. Those final hours with him were hard but I think many of these days without him have been even harder. I was wishing for a false reality knowing quite well that this would never happen again. In some ways denying my fathers death and wishing to relive my final moments with him over and over again sound so much better then trying to figure out how to live without him here on earth.
Stage 2: Anger
This one has been easy to pinpoint. The first few weeks after my dad’s death I wanted to punch every single person in the face that I saw smoking a cigarette. We took a short trip about two weeks after my dad’s death to St. Augustine for a quite get-a-way for the family. We had this awesome balcony over looking the Atlantic and the moment we stepped out on the balcony we were surrounded by cigarette smokers. It completely ruined my Zen and it reminded me even more of my father's death. He smoked for over 60 years and although there was not an autopsy anyone could determine that this was the underlying cause of his death.
I wanted to shout from the balcony," Please put out your f#%ing cigarettes, I just lost my dad to smoking you a#$holes!" Of course this passive aggressive Midwesterner didn't say it but was screaming it in her head. Noticed that even in my head I was courteous and asked "please." These are the times I wish I was a quick talking New Yorker and said what I really felt.
I kept saying to Mike, " I hate smokers." He said something that put my anger in perspective. He explained that if I hated all smokers then that meant I hated my dad, as he was a smoker. This made my heart sink. Of course I didn't hate my dad, I LOVE my dad. So instead I determined that I don't hate smokers, I dislike the addiction. I normally try not to say the word hate in general so I think dislike is better and again, it is the addiction that I do not like.
Stage 3: Bargaining
This one goes back to my dads smoking. I have thought many times, "What if my dad didn't smoke, then he would still be alive." Like I am the Nostradamus of health. Anything could have taken my dads life regardless of his smoking habit. We will never know so why speculate and impose more sadness and stress to the situation.
I also have been grappling with whether me moving to Florida made a difference. I wonder, "Would dad have lived longer if I had not moved away?" In some ways blaming myself for my dad's death. I know this is not the reason for my dad's passing but it is amazing how feelings of guilt creep up on you when you let them. Again, these are things that cannot be changed and are not the causes for the outcome but is it easy to get yourself wrapped into a tight, guilt-laden bundle.
Stage 4: Depression
I think this is the stage I have been caught in the most. The first week after my dad’s funeral I was deeply sad. I was tired, had no appetite, no drive to do what I normally did. I literally wanted to sit on the couch and do nothing. It took everything to get my family ready and myself in the morning. Going to teach classes and personal train clients were some of the greatest challenges for me. How was I to take care of others when I could barely take care of myself? In some sense it was easier to do that then to take care of myself. I could distract myself instead of dealing with the elephant in the room.
I'm still dealing with this aspect of taking care of myself. I feel selfish when I decide to take a walk on the beach instead of cleaning the house. Yet, walking on the beach, taking time to write down my feelings or simply reading a good book are things that soothe me.
Stage 5: Acceptance
I think I have seen glimpses of this stage. Giving myself time to cry, to be sad, and to be angry. Recognizing that I will never ever stop missing my dad, there will always be memories that bring both sadness and joy.
One of the greatest tools I have been using is focusing on my breath. The breath is essential to everyday living. What most do not understand is that we breathe without thinking but that we can take time to truly focus and think about the breathing process. Am I truly breathing to my utmost capacity? This has been key to helping me relax and take a step back to focus on my grief.
The two breathing techniques I have been using are very simple. The first is left nostril breathing. The theory is that the right side of your body is your energetic side and the left is your more calming side. Before bed at night I cover my right nostril and breathe about 20 times in and out of my left nostril. You can do the opposite when you need more energy (so breathe out of the right nostril - more likely in the morning or during the day when you feel sluggish).
The second technique is called 4-7-8 breathing. You inhale for 4 seconds, hold the breath for 7 seconds and exhale for 8 seconds. It sounds trickier than it really is so give it a shot. You do that for four cycles, no more than four cycles at a time. You can do this a few times throughout the day but it is also nice at night before bedtime. It really helps to calm the body and create clarity.
There are very few things in this life and world that we can control but our breath is actually one thing we can adjust. It takes very little time and it is amazing how much better we feel when we truly breathe.
I'm still plugging along these days, some are better then others but knowing I have love and support from my family, friends and ultimately myself are my stronghold. I know my dad is doing well wherever he may be - looking over us all and shining his love upon us everyday.
May the light in my heart honor the light in yours,
Namaste
