In my life, I am blessed to have friends from many different walks of life. Many of my friends are Jewish which we loving refer to as the MOT (Members of the tribe) and many are not. I am often asked about our ‘rules’, customs, traditions. I am always open to sharing what I know and when I don’t I try to find out. Heath and I talked a lot about our different traditions, the Mitzvah’s. Our most fun discussion was always food, and our food ‘restrictions’. I will save this for another time.

Arriving at this week I am very aware of the fact that is now more than 30 days (Sheloshim) since Heath passed. It is the period of time in Judaism where a mourner will start to go ‘back to normal’ life, professional and social activities with some limitations.

Very wise men long before our time put these principles of mourning in place for a reason. I struggle with Shiva, but understand its necessity as part of the process. Three days after Heath passed a friend came over to spend some time armed with shopping bags of fresh fruit, veggies, cheesecake (and wine). She knew I probably hadn’t been eating, which she would have been right. You need people to be around you. You can’t find the light through the darkness.

I had plans with friends for a day in Niagara for lunch, wine tasting and celebrations. Birthday, Anniversary and retirement. My friend lives in Vineland and I basically handed the plans to her and told her I would be driving our friends, but have no capacity to do any planning. She took care of all of it, and it was a great day. Food, wine, friendship, love and support. Who could ask for anything more.

This week it is back to work. Half days have now been moved back into full days. I am different. I am quieter. Like many of the millennials in my office, I spent the week with my ear buds in with my music doing my work. Even at our staff conference this week, I sat on my own, just being in my own space. Shared when I chose to, quiet when I didn’t.

I work at home on Fridays so I am in my space today, working and listening to music. made it through another week.

I want to reiterate again that where I work is a very special place on so many levels as I continue to discover. One department head who I have only met through email was introduced to me on Wednesday. He was so gracious as I helped him last year to get home to Atlanta in time for his father’s heart operation after he suffered a heart attack. (Irony not lost on me as I typed that). He was so kind and caring and asked if he could check in with me in a few days to see how I was doing. He did that today.

He also sent this poem. He said it helps him when he is struggling.

Refuse to Fall down

Refuse to fall down
If you cannot refuse to fall down,
refuse to stay down.

If you cannot refuse to stay down,
lift your heart toward heaven,

and like a hungry beggar,
ask that it be filled.

You may be pushed down.

You may be kept from rising.

But no one can keep you from lifting your heart
toward heaven only you.

It is in the middle of misery
that so much becomes clear.

The one who says nothing good
came of this, is not yet listening.

Clarissa Pinkola Estés, The Faithful Gardener: A Wise Tale About That Which Can Never Die

I wrote him back and said that the last lines are where I am right now.

The one who says nothing good
came of this, is not yet listening.

I am not yet listening, because I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that someone who was so good is gone.

Those are my lessons for today.

Live your best life,

Lisa

Someone described the grief process like waves – in the beginning the waves are high and they come fast and crash down over you. In time, like the tide the waves go in and out and they aren’t always crashing around you.

In keeping with this metaphor, I experienced what I would call a Tsunami. Two of them actually. Unlike a real tsunami, there was no warning, a blind spot. A trigger that I could not have expected, both times.

The first time was last Monday at work. An email came in from the staff trip team advising me that it was time to pay the deposit for the trip to Kenya. I opened up the email, read it all the way through to the point where I had to put my credit card in for the deposit. I couldn’t do it. I know I WILL do it, but I wasn’t ready.

My friend had sent me her daily check in text at that moment. It came at the right time and I was okay. Until I looked at my phone list. I didn’t see Heath’s name. Tsunami. It hit me that his name would move further down the list as time went on. I couldn’t stop the tears and just put my head down on my desk.

After some time, I started to take deep breaths and survived the wave. I am not going to lie, it was rough.

The second one happened Sunday night. I went to the movies. I love going to the movies. I think that escaping for a couple of hours into whatever genre of movie you enjoy is necessary and good for your health.

Popcorn, chocolate and freestyle pop in hand off I went to see Crazy Rich Asians. Opening scene when they arrive in Singapore is of the Marina Bay Sands Hotel.  When Heath and I were in Savannah we watched a show on Netflix called Amazing hotels, life beyond the lobby. They went behind the scenes of this hotel.

The movie was very enjoyable. Laughs, love, angst, all your typical Rom-Com ingredients. I love Rom-Com so that works for me. As the final scene ends, and the credits start to roll, Tsunami. That I was actually having a good time. I wasn’t going to be talking to Heath about seeing the hotel in the movie that we saw the show about. Tears. Couldn’t get up to leave the theatre.

I am very self aware and realize that this is normal. This is going to continue to happen. That is why they are called blind spots. We don’t know what we don’t know. Some days will be like Tsunamis and other days will be low tide. In time, there will be days where my feet don’t even touch the waves. I will wait for those days. For now, the waves are sill high and crashing over me.

Live your best life,

Lisa

Grief is a fingerprint. No two are the same. 

In my life I have lost all my grandparents and one friend Aviva. Now two friends. Not one of these passings is the same. The love I felt for my grandparents is different than the love for Aviva. The love for Heath is different than the one for Aviva.

Everyone has been saying that you go through “this” in your own time and in your own way. This I understand. For the past two weeks I have been having many meaningful conversations with many different people. Taking lessons from each one. At the end of day, when I am at home in my house I still want to just send Heath a message – U home? That would result in my phone ringing within seconds.

Yesterday I would have told him about the co-worker that made time in his day for a walk and talk coffee. His first words as we started walking, “Tell me about Heath”. For the next hour we spent talking about Heath, our friendship, hopes, plans. We talked about Kenya.

I talked the other day about time and how I am feeling about time. I can’t imagine today going to Kenya. But the trip is five months away. As hard as that is to even imagine, I will get on a plane and get to Kenya. We talked about how I could honour Heath in Kenya and share my experience with him in spirit since he will not be with me in the present. By my side, I believe he will be there, but I can’t feel that right now.

Today all I can think about is that he is not here. It pisses me off actually, since I know if he were here he would be helping me work out my feelings about this.

In the past three months I attended four funerals. After each one, we talked. We talked about the person, and he always had a helping thought to allow me to move through how I was feeling so that I could not ‘live in that space’ for too long.

Live in this space for too long. This is what I need to focus on. There is no textbook answer on how to live “in this space” as each person lives in it in their own way. Like a fingerprint, each one different.

That is all I have for today.

Live your best life,

Lisa

#Heathlessons