We don’t know what the journey ahead will require, as we walk behind the hospital gurney with our deceased loved one’s body on board, or when we are seated at the celebration of life surrounded by the support of a loving community, or as we stand at the grave site of a person whose life has been for years, or always, central to our own.
At first we’re kept busy engaging in the behaviors needed to take care of practical matters; sorting personal items and family heirlooms, filling insurance claims, tending to death certificates, health care bills, wills, car registrations, titles, and other legal matters. Or we are engaged in helping another family member struggling to fulfill this important practical role. If we are too young for those responsibilities, we go in and out of adapting to the absence of our loved one, often being distracted from the unreality of our loss.
Soon we return to our own lives, now without the presence of our significant
person. As adults, we begin to realize nothing can ever be as it was. Through the years, waves of grief rise and fall, sorrow and longings enter and dissolve away. Memories are triggered by sounds and smells, and a sense of déjà vu. Eventually, these incidents diminish in frequency and intensity. If we’re lucky we get to remember and appreciate the gift to our lives that our loved one was, and to some extent, still is.
If our loved one died young, as two of our children did, we look around for ways to honor them, to contribute to the world in ways they didn’t live long enough to do. Or in ways, if they were still here, they would do now. We use our loving energy to make something happen in their honor, exercising our co-destiny with them.
I remember after our son’s death at 31, my husband spent a summer training for and participating in the 500+ mile Texas AIDS bike ride. He and 1000 other riders raised money and awareness of the disease that took Ken’s life. Many of our family members Walked for the Cure in cities and towns all over the country, raising awareness and money for research for Breast Cancer, the disease our daughter Corinne died from.
I was reminded of this “take action to make the world better” approach to honoring a loved one when I saw the project my 28-year-old grandson Ethan initiated and put on his Facebook page. “Tri 4 Mom in Support of Shine Therapy” is a fundraiser in honor of his mother. It’s quite appropriate since when she was diagnosed at 40 with breast cancer she was preparing to run a triathlon and due to her treatments, she wasn’t able to do it. She died several years later when Ethan was 12. He will do the race for her and the non-profit that benefits from his supporters’ donations will be able to offer more Oncology massage, something that gave his mother much pleasure and relief as she underwent her treatments.
Seeing the response on Facebook from people who knew and loved Corinne, and from those who only knew her through Ethan, touched my heart. It brought joy and delight to have this reminder of her determination and courage and to see how like her he is.
Sheila
