You have cancer.... "I’m sorry. I didn’t get it."

Dear every cancer patient I ever took care of, I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

This thought has been weighing heavy on my heart since my diagnosis. I’ve worked in oncology nearly my entire adult life. I started rooming and scheduling patients, then worked as a nursing assistant through school, and finally as a nurse in both the inpatient and outpatient settings. I prided myself in connecting with my patients and helping them manage their cancer and everything that comes with it. I really thought I got it- I really thought I knew what it felt like to go through this journey. I didn’t.

I didn’t get what it felt like to actually hear the words. I’ve been in on countless diagnoses conversations and even had to give the news myself on plenty of occasions, but being the person the doctor is talking about is surreal. You were trying to listen to the details and pay attention, but really you just wanted to keep a straight face for as long as it took to maybe ask one appropriate question and get the heck out of there fast. You probably went home and broke down under the weight of what you had just been told. You probably sat in silence and disbelief for hours until you had to go pretend everything was fine at work or wherever because you didn’t have any details yet and wanted to keep it private still. You probably didn’t even know where to start and your mind went straight to very dark places. That day was the worst. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how hard the waiting is. It’s literally the worst part. The diagnosis process takes forever. The different consults, the biopsies, the exams and procedures… and the scans. Ugh, the scans. You were going through the motions trying to stay positive- but at that point, you had no idea what you were dealing with and the unknown was terrifying. Knowing the cancer is there and knowing you’re not doing anything to treat is yet is an awful, helpless feeling. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how awkward it was to tell other people the news. You didn’t know what to say. They didn’t know what to say. No one knew what to say- but there was some relief when the word started to spread. It may have been overwhelming to reply to all the calls and messages- and to get used to others knowing such personal information, but this nasty secret you’d been keeping was finally out and your support system was growing. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how much you hung on to every word I said to you. You replayed it in your mind a hundred times. Did I really mean this or that… you wondered if you understood. You called me again to make sure. And maybe another time because your friend asked “well, what about _____”. You asked your other nurses to see if you got the same answer. Please know we are happy to take a million calls a day with the same questions until you can make sense of it. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how much you googled. I told you not to do it. You did it, a lot- and so did I. Searching for information, hope, stories like yours, reassurance. It was impossible not to. My new stance is to just know what a good source is when you google. I’ll help you learn to filter the information. And I promise to give you more information, because I know how much you crave it. It’s not realistic to think you will have the willpower to not search at all (at least it wasn’t for me). I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get what it felt like to get the sad looks all the time. Walking down the hall at work or seeing someone for the first time after finding out. You got the head tilt with a soft “how are you?” You quickly got together your rehearsed “Doing pretty good, tired but hanging in there”generic response. Don’t get me wrong, I know you appreciated all the well wishes and concern- but it sure took a little while to get used to the pity. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get what really goes on at all those “other appointments”. I knew what to tell you to expect at your oncology appointments- but all the different types of scans, radiation, operating room, procedural areas- I didn’t really know what went on behind the scenes there and what to tell you. I should’ve known more about the whole picture. I should’ve been able to warn you that there was an hour wait after a dose of medication before you could actually have a scan. I should’ve been able to tell you what you can and can’t eat or drink before a certain procedure or that some treatments require going every single day. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how weird it felt to be called “brave”. It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot, yeah it kind of made you feel good- but you still didn’t really understand why people would call you this. Sure you were getting through it fine (most days), but it’s not like you had a choice. I’m getting treatment because I have to- doesn’t really make me feel like much of a hero. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how crazy this makes you. Like you literally wondered if you had lost every working brain cell. Especially when dealing with side effects or other symptoms. You could’ve had every side effect in the book from chemo or none at all and you’d still wonder if it’s really working the way it’s supposed to. You may just have had a headache, or a common cold, or a sore joint- but you were never certain it wasn’t related to your cancer and always wondered if it was a sign of progression, even when it made no sense. I hope you didn’t feel dismissed when you called me to ask about it and I said not to worry. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get why you were always suspicious. You couldn’t help but wonder if they all knew something you didn’t about your prognosis. We shared the percentages and stats with you – and that every cancer is different … but still- is there something more? Something they were protecting you from or just felt too bad to tell you? Logically, I know the answer to this but find myself with these feelings as well. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how confusing “options” really were. In some cases, there may be more than one choice. Whether this be physicians, medications, sequence of treatment, etc-  I would try my best to help you understand every angle, but more options many times just meant more confusion. You wanted to be involved in your own care- but the stress of too many options was sometimes too much. You begged me for my input and to tell you what I would do if it were me. I hated that question, but I hear you now. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how hard it is to accept help. Especially the moms. This just wasn’t something you’re used to doing- but you needed it. You felt shy about admitting that you’re not sure you could’ve gotten through the first few months without the extra food, gift cards, support, and other help you were given. You felt humbled at the outpouring and just only hoped you would’ve done the same for them. You still wonder if you said thank you enough or if you missed an opportunity to give back. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get the mood swings. One day you felt confident that you’d completely beat this with no problem; you felt like you could take over the world. And for no good reason, the next day you were just convinced yours was going to be one of those sad stories people tell their friends about. The moods snuck up on you without warning. Literally anything could’ve been a trigger. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get that when you said you were tired, you really meant so much more. Sure there are words like exhaustion and extreme fatigue- but there should really be a separate word just for cancer patients, because it’s crippling. Really. Some days you really wondered how you’d trudge forward. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how much time this really takes away from your life. I always used phrases like “Cancer is like getting another full time job” or “Life doesn’t stop for cancer” when trying to prep you for what you were about to embark on. But now they just seem like corny catch phrases. It completely took over, you had to stop doing things you love, you had to cancel plans, you had to miss out on things that were important to you. It just wasn’t in any plans- and that alone took a lot of mourning. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how strange it was to see your body changing so quickly. You stood there and looked at yourself in disbelief in the mirror. Maybe it was extreme swelling, maybe it was scars, maybe it was hair loss, maybe it was pounds melting away when you do everything in your power to eat as much as you can. It’s hard- your appearance is tied more closely to your identity than you’d like to admit and these were constant reminders of what you were up against. You just wanted to feel like yourself. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get that it hurts to be left out. People didn’t invite you to things anymore. People felt like they can’t complain or vent about every day annoyances to you anymore. People acted differently towards you and it hurt a bit. You certainly didn’t blame them- you had even done the same to others when traumatic life events happened—and no you didn’t want to go out for drinks anyway because you don’t feel good. But you needed normalcy. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get how much you worried about your kids. For this, I’m the most regretful. I should’ve talked to you more about them- and not just in terms of lifting restrictions or germs. You worried about how this was going to affect them. You worried about not being able to keep up with them or care for them properly on your bad days. You worried they’d be scarred and confused. You worried about leaving them. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get the guilt you felt. Especially to those who are married. You thought about how unfair it was that your spouse had to pick up so much slack- mentally to help keep you focused and calm, and physically at home pulling double weight with never-ending every day chores. You understood that everyone promises “in sickness and in health” when you get married- but you still felt like they didn’t deserve this. You felt thankful when your spouse would say “go get some rest and I’ll take care of the kids” but your heart hurt overhearing them play in the other room away from you- wondering if that was a glimpse into their future that didn’t have you in it. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.

I didn’t get that it never ends. Never. I used to tell you that cancer will be just a phase in your life. Just like high school or something- it seems like it drags on and on when you’re in it, but soon it’ll all be a memory. I’m sorry if this made you feel marginalized – it is not a phase. Yes, there are phases- the treatment won’t last forever, but you are changed now. The worrying won’t stop, the uncertainty won’t stop, the fear of recurrence or an awful end won’t stop. I hear that gets better- time will tell. And time is precious. I didn’t get it.

I do have to admit; I’ve probably had it a little easier than you to start off. I know the language, I know all the right people, I work where I get treatment so sure- it’s more convenient. I watched so many of you march through this terrible nightmare with a brave face and determination- without knowing one thing about cancer ahead of time, other than knowing you didn’t ever want to get it. You’ve always been my inspiration and I love each and every one of you. Nothing brings me more joy that when I see you reach your goals and slowly put yourself back together. I love when we get visits or notes from those of you who are several years out and doing great- it’s good for the oncology nurses’ soul. Even though healthcare workers don’t really know what it’s like to be you (well, us) it’s OK. Nobody does. I just hope that I was still able to give you a little guidance and strength to help you get through your cancer treatment. Even if I didn’t get it.

Love,
Lindsay, Oncology RN  

Dear every cancer patient I ever took care of, I’m sorry. 

I didn’t get it.

Posted on November 14, 2016

My Grief..... My Table

Grief Changes Relationships

Holding Hands with a dying person....

Title palliative care.... Doctor, Nurse, PSW, or Volunteer. In reality they are facilitators, coaches, a guide or caring friend. They offer kind, nonjudgmental support and guidance. They help people walk through some of the most difficult days of their life as they say good-bye to a loved one and/or the person who is dying.

Palliative Care people are unique individuals because...

They are willing to walk alongside another person in whatever journey they’re on without judging them, making them feel inadequate, trying to fix them, or trying to impact the outcome. When they are with someone, they open their hearts, offer unconditional support, and bring this person to a new level of experience with the meaning of love.... one to another.

As a Hospice Volunteer and Bereavement Counselor / Grief Group Facilitator, friends and family often ask "It must be hard." "How do you do it?"; "Are there secrets to not getting overly involved in their life?"...... This is my response.

"Yes it is hard.....  but there is a way of being and sharing with others that honors their individuality, plus it gives them the dignity and respect they deserve as they live their final days. This way of being also supports the caregiver(s) and family members as they say good-bye to their loved one." 

• Encourage people to trust their own intuition and judgement. Most already know the "right" action to be taken and lust need to believe in themselves that they can do what must be done. There is rarely a right or wrong way to be with a dying person. Just be yourself and do the best you can.

• Information and emotional overload abound during these times. Give people only as much information as they can handle. Don't show what you know by using medical terms or ten-syllable words. Keep answers short and to the point. Help them understand what is happening and what may be next. Dying is a normal process and it is often harder on the observer that the individual who is passing.     

• No one wants to make a wrong decision when someones life is ending. Family will often ask for your direction on what to do next.....  Decision making is theirs, so don't take their power away from them. Help them work through their options, emotions and feelings. The final decision is theirs to make. 

• Keeping my ego at bay.  As I arrive I visualize hanging my own ego up on a hanger. This is their journey, not mine. I take no power from them. I make no judgments on who they are, their beliefs or actions. I am not a surrogate decision maker. 

• We most often fail at things we do for the first time. (That is how we learn). Supporting a family member who is dying (if the first time) leaves lots of room for mistakes or new learning's. (Giving a needle; feeding; bathing or toileting.) Help them feel safe enough to fail; not to get it right the first time is O.K.. To be nervous about trying new things or having new responsibilities for their loved one are normal.

• Provide guidance and help with humility and thoughtfulness. Again, this is not your journey, it is theirs. LISTEN to their thoughts, fears and worry. Just listening is sometimes the greatest gift you can give. No judgement, no "other ways of seeing it" or imposing your values or beliefs..... Just listen.

On leaving their home or hospital you can get your ego back off the hanger and be on your way. 

So my response to questions from friends and family....

 " On arrival to their home, I place all of my daily trials and tribulations in an imaginary  box on the front seat of my car. This visit will be about them / not me. When I leave, I take my stuff out of the box and place theirs in the box..... until our next visit."

Bill can be reached at privatesessions@rogers.com

It didn't happen on your watch Doc.... It just happened....

A recent article I read spoke of the 2nd year of grieving.....
I have been in a dark hole the last few weeks, I was not just a grieving single mother. Tears, bad thoughts, withdrawal, extreme anger and sadness, loneliness....these emotions have surrounded me. It's all too easy to get lost in this, struggling round and round at the bottom of the whirlpool, with an overwhelming feeling that if I was religious or more spiritual, and believed totally that I would see him again, then it wouldn't be so bad......but I'm not.

Somewhere, deep within me, I knew I could crawl out of the sludge at the bottom of the hole eventually. I remembered the glimpses of hope I had in the first year of grief. I remembered my mantra of "joy and purpose". I remembered the self made promise that I would not allow myself to be worse in the second year of grief, like all the books say, yet here I was, drowning in the reality that my boy was gone. I felt like I had a small collection of friends that I let my guard down with, and I begged them not to think I was depressed just because I always cried with them. The rest of the time I wore my masks and became more reclusive.

Then I met someone new to grief. His wife has breast cancer and he had tears in his eyes telling me their story. I shared my story and tears in return. It was an odd moment, one shared by two strangers in the parallel universe of suffering. I thought no more of it until I received a card from him with the following amazing words:



"A good Doctor deals with the known-known's. A great Doctor deals with the known-unknown's, but no Doctor can deal with the unknown-unknown's. It didn't happen on your watch Doc, it just happened while you were on watch...."


                         



Yep, it just happened. There is no sense to be made of it. It wasn't my fault. I have to stop blaming myself, hating myself. I have to move on, if only at a crawling pace. The depth of grief represents the love we have for the one we've lost, and a parent's love is immeasurable. I'm struggling. I'm exhausted. I accept that. Like a pregnant woman who only sees the other pregnant women in the crowd, I am only seeing the death, loss and sadness around me, and there is plenty of that. I give everything I have to work and to my daughter and to grief. There is nothing left for anyone else, and there is nothing coming back for me. There has to be some way to make this pain better.

Note to Readers:
"There has to be some way to make this pain better." The pain will diminish; the thoughts will change from being focused "on the death" or "how he/she died" to "how he/she lived". Time will make this happen..... at the appropriate time.... you can not rush it; but it will happen.

“Live as if you were to die tomorrow....(Gandhi)

 “Live as if you were to die tomorrow.  
Learn as if you were to live forever.” 

In the midst of my sorrow I now realize this tragic loss taught me three important things.  

First, the worst things can happen to the best people for no obvious reason at all.  

Second, most people, even the ones you don’t think care, are genuinely good people who do care.

  

Third, just as it is difficult to see all the opportunities life gives you until you’re looking back, it is virtually impossible to fully understand certain life circumstances until they actually happen to you.

It’s a variation of this final point that I want to explore – 
Seven important life lessons almost everyone learns the hard way, (eventually).

1.  The people you lose remain a part of you.

Someday you will be faced with the reality of loss.  As life goes on, days rolling into nights, it will become clear that you never really stop missing someone special who’s gone, you just learn to live around the gaping hole of their absence.

When you lose someone you can’t imagine living without, your heart breaks wide open, and the bad news is you never completely get over the loss.  You will never forget them.  However, in a backwards way, this is also the good news.  They will live on in the warmth of your broken heart that doesn't fully heal back up, and you will continue to grow and experience life, even with your wound.  It’s like badly breaking an ankle that never heals perfectly, and that still hurts when you dance, but you dance anyway with a slight limp, and this limp just adds to the depth of your performance and the authenticity of your character.

2.  The pursuit of happiness is about finding meaning.

Pursuing happiness is not at all the same as being happy, which is a fleeting feeling dependent on momentary circumstances.  If the sun is shining, by all means bask in it.  Happy times are great and often fun-filled, but happy times pass, because time passes.  This is something we rarely grasp at first.

The lifelong pursuit of happiness, on the other hand, is more elusive; it’s not based on a particular outcome.  What you are really pursuing is meaning – living a meaningful life.  It starts with your “why.”  (Why are you doing what you’re doing with your life?)  When your “why” is meaningful, you are pursuing happiness.  There will be times when things go so wrong that you barely feel alive.  And there will also be times when you realize that being barely alive, on your own terms, is better than living a lifeless existence for eighty years on someone else’s terms.  The pursuit isn't all or nothing; it’s all AND nothing, with ups and downs and worthwhile lessons along the way.

In other words, happiness comes most easily when you know what you’re doing, believe in what you’re doing, and love what you’re doing (and who you’re doing it with), regardless of how things turn out.

3.  Seeking validation from others invalidates YOU.

Has the fear of rejection held you back?  Have you ever been so fearful of what others might think or say about you that it kept you from taking positive action?  I bet you’re shaking your head, “yes.”

It’s time to change your mindset…

Today, the only person you should try to be better than is the person you were yesterday.  Prove yourself to yourself, not others.  You are GOOD enough, SMART enough, FINE enough, and STRONG enough.  You don’t need other people to validate you; you are already valuable.

If someone says “no” to you, or if someone says something negative about you, that doesn’t change anything about YOU.  The words and opinions of others have no real bearing on your worth.  Certainly it can be helpful and desirable to make a good impression in certain situations, yet it’s not the end of the world when you are faced with rejection.

It’s great to receive positive feedback, but it simply doesn't always happen.  That’s OK though, because you know where you’re headed and you know your true worth does not depend on the judgment of others.  When you set out to make a true difference in life, there will be those who disagree with you, those who ignore you, and those who flat out reject your ideas and efforts.  Look beyond them, step confidently forward, do what must be done, and let them think what they will.

4.  Regret hurts far worse than fear.

When we give in to our fears, we have a harder time looking at ourselves in the mirror.  Sadly, very few of us escape learning this lesson firsthand.  If you have already experienced this a time or two, you know what you need to do.

It is only when we risk losing that we truly open the possibility to win.  Whether it is quitting your job to build a business, running a marathon, or traveling to unknown parts of the world, any worthy endeavor requires risk, struggle and sacrifice.  Some of these things may even terrify you, but ask yourself if these fears are stronger than the most powerful of fears, the fear of a wasted life?

If you've never lost your mind, you've never followed your heart.  It’s better to look back on life and say, “I can’t believe I did that,” than to look back and say, “I wish I did that.”  Don’t let time pass you by like a hand waving from a train you desperately want to be on.  Don’t spend the rest of your life thinking about why you didn't do what you can do right now.  Live your life.  Take risks.  Feel passion.  Discover love.  Run free.

5.  Life is too unpredictable for rigid expectations.

When you stop predicting and expecting things to be a certain way, you can appreciate them for what they are.  Ultimately you will realize that life’s greatest gifts are rarely wrapped the way you expected.

With a positive attitude and an open mind, you will find that life isn’t necessarily any easier or harder than you thought it was going to be; it’s just that “the easy” and “the hard” aren't exactly the way you had anticipated, and don’t always occur when you expect them to.  This isn’t a bad thing; it makes life interesting.

Ninety-nine percent of the time life delivers the experiences that are most helpful for your personal growth.  How do you know it’s the experience you need?  Because it’s the experience you’re having.  The only question is:  Will you embrace it and grow, or fight it and fade?

The key, of course, is to accept that not everything is meant to be.  When things don’t turn out how you expected, you have to seriously sit down with yourself and come to grips with the fact that you were wrong about it all along.  It was just an illusion that never really was what you thought it was.  It’s one of the most difficult realizations to accept, to realize that you feel a sense of loss, even though you never really had what you thought you had in the first place.

6.  When you try to run away, you end up running in place.

“Don’t think about eating that chocolate donut!”  What are you thinking about now?  Eating that chocolate donut, right?  When you focus on not thinking about something, you end up thinking about it.

The same philosophy holds true when it comes to freeing your mind from a negative past experience.  By persistently trying to move away from what you didn't like and don’t want, you are forced to think about it so much that you end up carrying it’s weight along with you.  But if you instead choose to focus your energy on moving toward something you do like and do want, you naturally leave the negative weight behind as you progress forward.

Bottom line:  Running away from your problems is a race you’ll never win.  Move TOWARDS something instead of AWAY.  Rather than trying to eliminate the negative, focus on creating something positive that just happens to replace the negative.

7.  Unanticipated hardships are inevitable and helpful.

Nobody in this world is going to blindside you and hit you as hard as life will.  Sometimes life will beat you to the ground and try to keep you there if you let it.  But it’s not about how hard life can hit you, it’s about how hard you can be hit while continuing to move forward.  That’s what true strength is, and that’s what winning the game of life is all about.

When you have a lot to cry and complain about, but you prefer to smile and take a step forward instead, you are growing stronger.  Work through your struggles and hardships.  Even when it feels like things are falling apart, they’re not.  Take control of your emotions before they take control of you.  Everything will fall into place eventually.  Until then, learn what you can, laugh often, live for the moments, and know that it’s all worthwhile in the end.

Afterthoughts

Gandhi once said, “Live as if you were to die tomorrow.  Learn as if you were to live forever.”  I love this quote.  There’s no doubt that every day is a gift, and the gift is an opportunity to live, to learn, and to grow.

Be a student of life.  Indulge in it and absorb all the knowledge you can, while you can.  You may have to loose some things to gain some things, and you may have to learn some things the hard way.  That’s OK.  All experiences are necessary.  The purpose of your life is to live it in full, to partake in it to the utmost, to reach out with an open mind and an honest heart for the newest and richest experience being offered.

written by Marc and Angel

We all have the power to "Leave Our Mark"

5,000 people sing "Clouds" to remember a young man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLhUS_QjcZY


5,000 people gather at Mall of America to sing "Clouds" in honor Zach Sobiech - the 17-year-old who, before passing away in May 2013 from osteosarcoma, wrote the Billboard Hot 100-charting single. 

 Zach Sobiech, a teen with cancer, called "Clouds." Zach and the song became a worldwide sensation, touching the hearts of millions. 

One year later 5,000 fans gathered at Mall Of America Largest Clouds

Choir to remember Zach, who passed away in May of 2013.

Give it some thought. 

If you knew your future was limited in time..... 

what could you do to leave this world a little better place?

Suggestions Welcomed:

Will my loved one communicate with me?

Studies have found 60+ percent of people who have had a loved one die (parent, spouse, child, or sibling) have felt their presence one or more times after their death. Some soon after and for a short period of time, while others said the experiences lasted on and off for several years.

40+ percent said they heard their loved one talking to them or singing their favorite song.

All bereaved replying said they found great comfort in these events, as it reinforced that their loved one was at peace and the spirit or essence of the person was still alive.

After the death of a loved one there are many different beliefs about how a deceased communicates with you to say..... 

"I am here with you and I'm O.K.". 

A cardinal is a representative of a loved one who has passed. When you see one, it means a loved one is visiting you. They have also been known to make an appearance during times of celebration or sadness.. 

Seeing a butterfly fluttering around you when normally there are none.
This ls your loved one saying "HELLO!"

Finding "Dimes" or "Quarters" around your house where they should not be  and their presence cannot  be explained. 

Strange light or shadow in the night, a picture frame moved, or an item falling off a flat surface. All have been reported by people after their loved one died.

Dreams are the biggest reported means of communication with a loved one. They interact by sharing stories, asking for guidance, or talking about a special event that has or will soon happen.

What ever you choose to believe please remember, the one who is grieving finds comfort in these happenings, it helps them travel their journey in a more peaceful way. They don't need "naysayers"...   they need someone to listen and acknowledge that these events have happened.  NOT to everyone who has lost a loved one, but some.

I

NOTES:

There are resources in most communities, you can also seek out your local volunteer bureau for a list of organizations that can assist you.

My Grief Journey….. How Do I know I am moving forward?

My Grief Journey…..

How Do I know I am moving forward?

As you travel on a grief journey it is often difficult to know (or believe) you are moving forward. 

There is no magic Grief Measuring Tape, no timeline to follow or a special day when you wake up and say “I've arrived, the journey is over!”.

For some the journey never starts; others say it was after the third month that it really got tough; and for others they share how the second year of their loss was the hardest.

Since the grief journey knows no order you will have moments or days when you feel and believe nothing has changed. You are still at the beginning of the journey.  A song, a smell, a gathering or a special anniversary / celebration can hit you without warning in the most difficult situations. This is normal, you are not going crazy; you are not weak…. 

IT IS NORMAL; YOU ARE NORMAL!

To travel back to where you were before grief showed up uninvited will not take as long. You move back to your last step quickly and keep moving on from there.

With small steps, living each day as best you can, the time will come when you will be able to turn around and see that "yes, I have traveled along the grief journey, I am still on it, but I have moved forward."

Here are some signs to look for that say "you are progressing":

• You don’t cry, choke or feel weak at the mention of your loved one’s name.
• Tears don’t always appear when you think of your loved one, or see their picture.
• Memories more often bring comfort or a smile, not pain and tears.
• You make plans with others or on your own knowing they don’t include your loved one any more.
• You realize your life has changed. You are someone different than when your loved one was with you; and you are O.K. with that.
• You realize and accept that you are still living, although your love one is not.
• The cause of death isn’t the emphasis anymore.
• You know in your heart that even though your loved one died, the love between you can never be destroyed. It will live on forever as will your memories of them.
• When your love for them is what you remember most.
• You wonder how your loved one would have handled it if you had died first… and smile.

There are no rules to a grief journey. Each of us starts as a result of the death of a loved one…. There the similarities end. Our paths may cross at times (but this is not a spectator sport) and we must (each of us) give grief the time and energy it requires so we can move on and live. 

NOTES:

There are resources in most communities, you can also seek out your local volunteer bureau for a list of organizations that can assist you.