The issue of "moving on" after loss is especially important to me. My stepson died on his 24th birthday, and I have found that my grief -- and that of his siblings and his father -- seems to come in waves. Sometimes it comes in laughing memories, sometimes in surprise when we see his unique expressions on the face of his 2-year-old daughter who was not yet born at the time of his death, sometimes in wracking spasms of sorrow and loss and, yes, anger.
Each of us grieves differently, together and alone. I think of it as moving through the process of grief, rather than moving beyond it.
This is just a sampling of the feedback, and my intention in sharing is that you take away some insights as well. I have often followed up on readers' perspectives -- back to that teacher/student angle. As with many of life's lessons, there's no singular path.
If we allow ourselves to be aware, we can find messages and meanings all around us. Some of the greatest wisdom can come from the most unlikely of places. That's why it's so important to listen -- to the external voices and the still, small voice within.
This week I learned that a favorite aunt passed away. She was the last remaining member of my mother's immediate family -- and the "end of the line" for that particular family unit. I've been reflecting on this a lot this past week as we await her memorial service. Our extended family will gather once again to pay our respects. It almost seems too soon to be doing this again.
But that's another way the teacher/student role comes in. And the wisdom that flows has nothing to do with chronological age. Wise souls come in many shapes and sizes. If we're open to it, we can often find wisdom in many places.
So, I'm encouraging you not to discount anyone who crosses your path. That parking lot attendant may have had just the life experience you're facing -- and come out the other side the better for it. Children can teach us a lot, too. Their wisdom comes unfiltered. And what about those amazing examples of unconditional love around us? Yes, I'm talking about those furry ones!
One of the biggest mistakes we make, in my opinion, is trying too hard. If we could learn to flow more freely, I'll bet we'd be pleasantly surprised at how many of the answers would come to us naturally. Until then, I'll encourage you to keep wearing both your teacher and student hats. We all have a lot to learn -- and we all have a lot to teach.
Linda Arnold, MBA, is a certified wellness instructor and Chairwoman/CEO of The Arnold Agency, a marketing communications firm specializing in advertising, public relations, government relations and interactive marketing. Reader comments may be directed to Linda Arnold, The Arnold Agency, 117 Summers St., Charleston, WV 25301, or e-mailed to livelifefu...@arnoldagency.com.
CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- One of my favorite parts of writing this column is the feedback I get from readers. I believe we all learn from each other, and I love the dialogue that's created when a column strikes a chord out there. The recent column on dealing with loss and the pressure to "move on" resulted in some wonderful nuggets I'd like to share.
Although my husband has been gone seven years now, I still think of him daily and still ache and cry for him. I don't think that will ever change. I think the only thing that will change is how I accept and deal with it, which has improved over time.I need to air a particularly annoying piece of advice people tend to offer. That is "he may be gone, but he will always be with you." Well, if he were still "with me," I would still feel a warm body in my bed holding me while I sleep. If he were still "with me," I would be enjoying one of his fantastic dinners. If he were still "with me," I would have someone to fix the many things around the house that break.What I find annoying, as you mentioned, are those who want to criticize how you deal with your loss. If I want to keep a photo wall of him, that's my business. If I want to talk about him, it's because I need to. If I can't remember his faults, unless I try hard, that's personal.I've lost two sons in the past five years (ages 23 and 34). Thanks for bringing this subject to the public. Speaking for most mothers who have lost a child, we just want our children remembered.As for moving on -- I don't know if there is an appropriate phrase. We have to go on -- there are other children or responsibilities that need taken care of. That doesn't mean that we get pleasure in doing them, but we force ourselves. After 2 1/2 years, I wake each morning thinking about something concerning one or both of my boys. I no longer sob uncontrollably, if that means moving on. But those are my waking thoughts every morning.There is no other grief like losing a child. I know. I've lost both parents, a younger brother, favorite aunt and mother-in-law. Most of us don't want others feeling sorry for us. We just want our child remembered.Our friends and church members don't know how to be around us -- or what to say. So often, nothing is said. And that hurts, too.The issue of "moving on" after loss is especially important to me. My stepson died on his 24th birthday, and I have found that my grief -- and that of his siblings and his father -- seems to come in waves. Sometimes it comes in laughing memories, sometimes in surprise when we see his unique expressions on the face of his 2-year-old daughter who was not yet born at the time of his death, sometimes in wracking spasms of sorrow and loss and, yes, anger.Each of us grieves differently, together and alone. I think of it as moving through the process of grief, rather than moving beyond it.This is just a sampling of the feedback, and my intention in sharing is that you take away some insights as well. I have often followed up on readers' perspectives -- back to that teacher/student angle. As with many of life's lessons, there's no singular path.
If we allow ourselves to be aware, we can find messages and meanings all around us. Some of the greatest wisdom can come from the most unlikely of places. That's why it's so important to listen -- to the external voices and the still, small voice within.
This week I learned that a favorite aunt passed away. She was the last remaining member of my mother's immediate family -- and the "end of the line" for that particular family unit. I've been reflecting on this a lot this past week as we await her memorial service. Our extended family will gather once again to pay our respects. It almost seems too soon to be doing this again.
But that's another way the teacher/student role comes in. And the wisdom that flows has nothing to do with chronological age. Wise souls come in many shapes and sizes. If we're open to it, we can often find wisdom in many places.
So, I'm encouraging you not to discount anyone who crosses your path. That parking lot attendant may have had just the life experience you're facing -- and come out the other side the better for it. Children can teach us a lot, too. Their wisdom comes unfiltered. And what about those amazing examples of unconditional love around us? Yes, I'm talking about those furry ones!
One of the biggest mistakes we make, in my opinion, is trying too hard. If we could learn to flow more freely, I'll bet we'd be pleasantly surprised at how many of the answers would come to us naturally. Until then, I'll encourage you to keep wearing both your teacher and student hats. We all have a lot to learn -- and we all have a lot to teach.
Linda Arnold, MBA, is a certified wellness instructor and Chairwoman/CEO of The Arnold Agency, a marketing communications firm specializing in advertising, public relations, government relations and interactive marketing. Reader comments may be directed to Linda Arnold, The Arnold Agency, 117 Summers St., Charleston, WV 25301, or e-mailed to livelifefu...@arnoldagency.com.
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