Today you are a newborn and you are starting fresh! Draw a baby. Draw brainstorm bubbles above “your “head. Write about what it may be like to start fresh. Releasing anxiety and hesitancy. Brainstorm central themes in your life. Just let it happen. Be willing to be a beginner every single morning. – Meister Eckhart…
Tag: grief
SOME PORTRAITS OF GRIEF.
For me, it is impossible to quantify grief. To qualify it. To define it. It comes as a surprise. It comes as a wave. It comes suddenly. Or it comes on slow. It can feel like nostalgia, anger, sadness, gratitude, drowning. It can be triggered. It can be low grade. It can be reassuring. It can…
In place of death there was light.
I am preparing myself to draw my mother’s “death mask” from the photo my son took after she passed on November 8, 2008. I have been preparing for awhile. I know the process will be an important and necessary one for me personally. I think about it often. It’s not about needing to work on something…
I thought my achy body was grief but perhaps it is birth.
Journal entry December 26, 2015 The surprise Christmas release by LCD Soundsystem epitomizes my achy-boned, sentimental, full of love and nostalgia, time to transition Christmas. I both celebrate and honor and am in awe that this was the first Christmas without both my kids in the same room or even the same town. I want to…
A letter to my father, 3 years later, at our favorite table.
Dear Pappa, Sitting at our table at Lions Gate Hospital Cafeteria. — Three years later now… you died on October 25. How can this be real? You and Mamma seemingly immortal. Yet- — I would love to break down- my heart feels too big for my chest cavity. I want to curl inward. There was…
When grief is like a wave crashing on shore…
I attended an event last night at the Vancouver Public Library. I am so glad I went alone, for not only could I soak in the event itself (as I am passionate about this case), but I could really sit in my personal grief. This was the room I sat in with my Mom as…
Self-imposed exile- let it go, let it go.o
Curled up in my chair in self-imposed exile. Wrapped in old knits. Loving less interaction. Loving not working on my to-do’s. Happy to be doing less. Should I worry and fret? Feel guilty? No. Nah. Let it go. Let it all go. So fatigued- let it go. Heavy grief dreams these days- let them go. Dreamt about…
I know in my heart though, this is healthy grieving. I am processing.
I dreamt of my parents last night. On awakening, I was drenched in that deep sweat of walking through symbolic dream time. My mother passed away November 8, 2008 and my father October 25, 2012, but in this dream my mother was still alive as Dad was nearing death. I was in my parents’ home…
Contemplating death, loss, hope, acceptance…
Release Leap of faith Acceptance Peace Honorary Karin Roar Life rough on the seas Sacrifice Mother father daughter love Death Release Hope Promise Defence Loss Rose Thorn Thorsen Memorial Cycle Allowance Honor New beginnings Immortal Bud Blossom Farewell Dedicated to my mother Karin September 17, 1936 – November 8, 2008 and my father Roar August…
Grief hits me when I least suspect it, with a solitary evening walk…
All of a sudden, all I want to do is organize mom’s closet, as she lies on the bed and chats with me, the parrot cuddling her hand, Tobey on the floor below, with Grey Gardens on in the background. Grief hits me when I least suspect it, with a solitary evening walk, letting the dog…
Sunday morning visit with my mother.
It’s Sunday morning. I’ve been up awhile. Dog is walked. Pot of coffee almost gone. Parrot loud. Rest of the household asleep. Making pancakes. On Sundays, with Corrie on in the background, I make pancakes and visit with my mom. She’s there with me and we can talk freely about all the wonderful trivial things…
I thought I was holding on to this ONE life I knew. #journal
I thought I was holding on to this ONE life I knew. My heart feeling the weight of having died a thousand deaths. I thought I was the tree, whose roots dug so deep, So deep that it was surely invincible. I thought I was the tree that houses the egg, the chick. Providing a…
Losing heart… Fix or accept?
So— things haven’t gone as planned. It’s not working out as I hoped. My mom’s shattered dove and pot above tell the story. When they broke, I cried. I cried yesterday— alot. Broken-heartened, dis-heartened… But I found myself surrounded by love and support from my kids (Anna and Julian) and together we dug deep into our…
I could hear her heart stop.
I could hear her heart slow then stop. Then she flew. She flew straight down to San Francisco. She flew straight to her mother and aunts. She became everything.
Saying goodbye to the life of Riley.
Riley aka Mr. O’Riley 1998-2014 My beautiful cat, Riley, passed away peacefully on January 1, 2014. He wound down slowly all last year and passed away surrounded by love and his favorite people. He loved the outdoors, so we placed him in the earth in a beautiful spot. [Special thank you to Darcy for…
The darkness is not always there. But the mask slips at times. #journal
I’ve been trying to write a post for days. And those that know me know that it’s unusual for me to have to pause in the process. But I have become stuck. There’s a pain in the chest that reminds me to pay attention, to try to figure it out. My journal- usually filled with…
A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.
Weighted and achy heart today on Mother’s Day. Missing Mom is an expected constant in my life. But I am so blessed to have been loved so completely by her. The pain now is, therefore, beautiful. Revisiting some favorite photographs. A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for…
“Leaving behind in autumn’s advent…” My father’s last tax filings.
I filed my father’s taxes and submitted his will. All is done. All is wrapped up regarding both my mother and father’s paperwork. How very strange. There was no probate as my father died with no savings, no life insurance, no assets… but I am left massively rich, with a full heart and peaceful soul. Their…
My parents’ skeletonized forms… #Journal ramblings on the seabus…
March 4, 2013 I cannot help but see my parents’ skeletonized forms. It does not scare me. It fascinates. I am hyperly aware of Dad’s skeletal hands holding a pen. Mom’s sunken crevices in her skull as she applies makeup. It’s not grotesque. There is still the vibrant flesh of life covering, but it…
The umbilical cord. Mother-daughter journal series. PART 3: Because you are only a seed
AS I MOVE FORWARD INTO NEW CHAPTERS IN MY LIFE, I HAVE DECIDED THAT IT IS TIME TO FOCUS FULLY ON ME. (Hello, me!) IT IS FINALLY TIME TO PROCESS MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MY MOTHER AND ALL THE DELICIOUS, SCARY, INTERESTING, HEART-WARMING, DEEEEEEEEP EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS, BLOCKAGES, PATTERNS ETC. THAT COME UP. FULLY READY. EXCITED. —…
The umbilical cord. Mother-daughter journal series. PART 2: IDENTIFY THE FIRST MILESTONE
AS I MOVE FORWARD INTO NEW CHAPTERS IN MY LIFE, I HAVE DECIDED THAT IT IS TIME TO FOCUS FULLY ON ME. (Hello, me!) IT IS FINALLY TIME TO PROCESS MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MY MOTHER AND ALL THE DELICIOUS, SCARY, INTERESTING, HEART-WARMING, DEEEEEEEEP EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENTS, BLOCKAGES, PATTERNS ETC. THAT COME UP. FULLY READY. EXCITED. THE…
The darkening cathedral: processing the emotion of missing. #grief #saudade #journalexercise
I feel myself intertwined in the confusion of grief again. It’s caught up to me and it wants to attach itself to my muddled brain as I try to sift and mindmap my next steps and make necessary changes to achieve emotional and financial balance in my life. So as I am prone to do,…
Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens. #journalexercise
What does heaven mean to you? Write it out. Find a song that reflects your words. Play it over and over again until you are done writing. I miss my Mom. I miss my Dad. Just the simple every day. Watching Dad light his pipe. Eating Mom’s food. Making a fresh pot of coffee to…
These days when I dream of Dad, he is walking. #drawntogether #fatherdaughter
These days when I dream of Dad, he is walking. I also feel peaceful and protected. It feels very much like: I find myself mesmerized when I drive by sites of beauty and sentimentality. Yesterday afternoon, the trees glistened in the sun as I drove west on Hastings in Burnaby. Wet with raindrops, they were…
I miss the mundane to-do lists from my Dad. I miss the supply run. The putter of routine.
From Drawn Together: My every-second-day visits are full and busy. Fold the laundry, pack the clean cutlery and Tupperware into the cart, add the clean laundry to the pile, shove in the old envelopes, check if Roar needs any printouts, pack up the car with the dog and computer and journal and purse and sock…
Saudade: the emotion of missing. #grief
Saudade is a unique Portuguese word that has no immediate translation in English. Saudade describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. It often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing will never return. It’s related to the feelings of longing, yearning. Saudade is the…
Change. What does it mean to you? #journalexercise
Change. What does it mean to you? Write it out. Collect images that reflect your thoughts. Journal: Sometimes I long for stability and sameness. Change is the constant though. I have learned to not fight it, learned to embrace it, and go in the direction that feels right in the heart and in the mind….
A pencil box. Regarded with reverence.
UPDATE! OUR BOOK IS READY! Go to: DRAWN TOGETHER — My father’s last pencil box. It will remain untouched. It contains his favorite drawing tools like the black pencil crayon and his instant coffee spoon and his rolled up hand towel that he used to brush eraser bits away. I went into Staples today and…
Dad’s last day. #livinguntilwesaygoodbye
In keeping with Dad’s wishes, I documented our last day together. I came up early in the morning yesterday and spent some hours by myself with Dad before the rest of the family arrived for our daily vigil. I set up the space I had an intense need to offer some kind of guidance for…
Dad’s inner work… leaving one’s ‘self’ to enter nakedly with no agenda. #livinguntilwesaygoodbye
Dad is working. I can tell. Deep internal work. Letting go of his physical body. I haven’t seen his eyes today. They remain closed as he concentrates. His color good. He’s a strong motherfucker. We, the family, continue to putter around. Simply being a loving presence near the person, holding their hand, sending loving…