A Farewell to my friend Tom and his dad.....

As I mentioned in a previous post, my friend Tom died from brain cancer last December, the day after Christmas.  One thing I didn't mention -- because it hadn't happened yet -- was that Tom's dad, who was also dealing with major health issues, died on January 11, 16 days after Tom. I'm sure that Tom's passing was the final straw for him.  Losing a parent is difficult enough, but I can't even imagine what losing a child must feel like.

And it was a month ago, June 26, that I made another trip to Bowling Green, to deliver some remarks at their joint graveside service.   Some people might wonder why families might wait so long to have a service -- my dad and my brother and I waited until July and August to do my mom's -- and I think that sometimes people just need some time and space and be in the right place emotionally before they can do it.  Plus it might take time to gather everyone together into the same space.  That was certainly the case with my family.

The service for Tom and his dad was wonderful.  It took place at Oak Grove Cemetery, which is located on the Bowling Green State University campus.  Interestingly enough, the cemetery has been there since the 1800s, and the university wound up growing around it.  All together, there were 17 of us there, which was the exact same number at my mom's memorial service four years prior.

 Since Tom and his dad were both military veterans, they had the honor of receiving a full "21 gun salute" from local members of the military.  And in spite of the family's fears that people wouldn't have much to say, it turned out that a number of us had *a lot* of good things to say about the two of them.  And it was just our luck that day -- in spite of the forecast calling for rain, the sun was out shining for the entirety of the event.

I still feel the absence of Tom and his dad to this day.  And since the Ellis family was there for me during my time of grief, I'm hoping I can do the same for them and return the favor.  Sometimes the best thing you can do for other people who are sad and grieving is simply by showing up and being there for them.

Sound Therapy for Grief

Can tuning into certain musical frequencies help you with your grief?  I certainly think it's plausible.  After the deaths in my family, I found myself drawn to the ones on YouTube at Meditative Mind, especially those in the 432 Hz range.  I've heard others say this particular frequency can be helpful when dealing with anxiety and sadness.  This particular one I found especially helpful and comforting whenever I found myself grieving:

 

 

Loss Through Music: "Hold Down the Fort"

Today has been one of those days where I've been feeling a little more sorrowful than usual.  It's funny how grief can do that to you, isn't it? Even after all this time, you're still dealing with it, and you always will, in some form.

 I recently heard this song by Chris Pureka and Andrea Gibson.  Andrea wrote the lyrics while she was fighting cancer, while Chris put Andrea's lyrics to music.  Chris recalls playing the song for Andrea while she was in hospice, right before she died.  You can read more of their incredible story here.  And even though the song is deeply personal, there is also something universal to the lyrics -- that while we miss our loved ones, their loss and being gone is only temporary.  Lyrics follow after the video link.

 

 Hold Down the Fort

“Hold down the fort, ‘cause I gotta go.
Light on the water will carry me somehow.
Don’t say goodbye, forever is not too far.
The other side’s just a stone’s throw
from love and you’ve got a great arm.
You’ve got a great arm.

You held the pen to my chest each hour you were writing.
You said, ‘Every good poem is hell and heaven fighting.’
But there’s no gates where I’m going—
I think that’s a good thing.
I want nothing kept out
if I’m losing my everything ‘cause

I had it
I had it
I had it all, I had you.

Prints on the window
Where you watched me come home.
I hear your footsteps on every winter’s first snow.
But this too shall future.
I’ll circle back honey.
When they lay me down,
I’ll hit the ground running
back to you.

I had it,
I had it,
I had it all, I had you.
I had it all, I had you.
I had it all, I had you."

Words to Ponder Over: Brené Brown

 I came across this article from Brené Brown, written in 2018:  "The Midlife Unraveling". 

"As it turns out, I was right about one thing—to call what happens at midlife “a crisis” is bullshit. A crisis is an intense, short-lived, acute, easily identifiable, and defining event that can be controlled and managed.

Midlife is not a crisis. Midlife is an unraveling.

By definition, you can’t control or manage an unraveling. You can’t cure the midlife unraveling with control any more than the acquisitions, accomplishments, and alpha-parenting of our thirties cured our deep longing for permission to slow down and be imperfect....

 If you look at each midlife “event” as a random, stand-alone struggle, you might be lured into believing you’re only up against a small constellation of “crises.” The truth is that the midlife unraveling is a series of painful nudges strung together by low-grade anxiety and depression, quiet desperation, and an insidious loss of control. By low-grade, quiet, and insidious, I mean it’s enough to make you crazy, but seldom enough for people on the outside to validate the struggle or offer you help and respite. It’s the dangerous kind of suffering—the kind that allows you to pretend that everything is OK."

Brown's words remind me of another essay I read some time ago -- I can't remember where or what exactly -- but the gist of the essay was that we spend the first half of our life acquiring assets, and we spend the second half losing them.  All the more reason for us to show kindness and compassion to one another, especially as we get older.