Mari, first and foremost, my heart aches for the entirety that is losing your beloved step father. I am so sorry you have to face this again. You’ve captured grief so brilliantly here. Just last night I experienced an echo-sound of my own 5.5 year old grief baby simply because my husband and I were discussing what type of seat he needs to play guitar in our living room. I was whisked back to a horrible, tragic, shock of a death related to a stool we used to have. That death has been long “accepted” but I know now will never, ever, ever let me go. Mid-conversation panic set in right then and there. I was right back in that moment. What did I do to self soothe?
Hum. I learned 5.5 years ago that the vibration of humming helps your vagus nerve and parasympathetic nervous system kick in to calm down from a panic attack. I used the trick at the store, in an art show, in my bed, everywhere. And it still helps a little to this day. And it makes sense. The vibration of the cry, the moan, the argh, the grunted extended sigh, the makeshift laugh if we muster up the strength, and the Om. A built-in tool we don’t realize we use automatically. Unless we’re in deafening silence.
We try to convince ourselves that time heals our wounds because the prospect that it won’t is unbearable in the moment of our deepest grief. But the reality is, the scar is permanent and forever itchy and ugly. And that does not make for a very kind Hallmark card.
Take sweet care dear Mari. Hum if you can find the strength.
Hi Mari, thanks for your writing about such important and hard-to-look-at topics. I agree wholeheartedly with your perspective on this, though I think everyone commenting here would also rather it not be so. Though I have not lost a loved one, I am losing my hearing and gaining tinnitus, ringing in the ears, for which there is no cure. Hearing aids are not really a solution, but more like a helper. My sounds, at the moment, waft between quiet/solitude (although quiet for me can never be silence), the "grrrr" of aggravation, and a deep low moan-scream that communicates the pointlessness I feel sometimes. This life thing is harder than I ever dreamt.
I truly understand that grief is indeed expressed in noises. I sigh and growl a lot. Or hold my breath in my latest attempt not to cry (random crying jags hit me often… but my loved one just passed January 7th, in a rather sad/tragic way, so at the moment I’m writing this, it’s still very new & raw).
As someone considerably older than you, and I work with dying infants and children which I am honored to do as two of my sisters died tragically young, so I always knew what it was like to grow up with 2 people missing at the dinner table. I remember Kubler Ross's, then 4 stages of dying, so now it is 5, but there is so much research and testimonials out there now, that support as you say grief is not a linear process, and your irritability, based in anger, but the longer we live the more we realize that grief touches us all in and will waft, wane and suddenly renounce itself in and out of our lives, often unpredictably. There is also much back and forth regarding, closure, does it really happen, but there are markings, stages that encourage us to move forward. Grief is complicated.
I'm new here and wasn't aware about the loss of your stepfather. My father/best friend (clarification: my dad was my best friend) just passed about a month ago.
I am so sorry for your loss.
I am sorry for mine.
The silence really resonated with me. I haven't wanted to do much of anything as I feel like I'm resisting reentering the world and any semblance of normalcy. I've been quiet.
Besides for the quiet are these incessant and unrelenting songs that I keep singing in my head. Songs that my dad used to sing around the house. Song from my childhood that I used to sing--and my dad loving listening to me.
Thanks for your words and sharing with us. I hope I can do more of than myself soon. <3
Hi Mari, I have been a long time follower of your work and find a deep, soul connection with the way you view the world. Your words are like medicine to my overactive heart and brain. Recently, I experienced the loss of my life partner and have been dealing with the aftermath of loneliness and grief. I couldn’t believe you were starting a new path of grief at the same time. I want to thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts and feelings on the subject. I have been searching for help since the news reached me, from medical and mental health intensive care to finding ways to move my body through the pain to how to just be alive. I saw the advertisement of your retreat at the end of this newsletter and I knew it was meant to be. My partner was from India and a huge part of my healing has been trying to reconnect with the Ayurvedic practices that he taught me to maintain my chronic illness and lower my pain through yoga, meditation, and herbal remedies. Because of the nature of my life having a restart from him as my support system, I am currently unable to afford the costs of this retreat and the amenities. I am reaching out beyond my fears and shame to ask if you or Kripalu offer scholarships or financial aid opportunities for people who could really benefit from your retreats but can’t afford them. I would be so grateful for the opportunity to heal. I really need to find a best friend within myself right now.
I am sorry about your loss. This is so beautifully written; thank you for sharing. It reminds me of the movie Shadowlands where C.S. Lewis (played by Anthony Hopkins) loses his wife, Joy. He says, "the pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal." Grief is the price we pay for love...which is so hard, though it's also brought me a lot of comfort. I hope you find that comfort and joy, too, even as you grieve. So many hear and see you.
My sounds are wails, whines and wimpers. The long, loud wails only came twice since the death of my husband 6 weeks ago (44 days and yes, I'm counting). A wail that started without effort that led to a full embrace and engagement in the wail. We've all seen video of women (often if middle eastern cultures) wailing and now - I get it! Wimpering seems to take over as I drive the car - anywhere - a bit of a sting in the eyes and nose and then, there it is - the need to wimper - short bursts of choppy noises forced out and necessary. The whines - a simple high moan like an out of key sad sounding mantra....I've tried Om - just doesn't hit the right tones when I'm in need of a whine. i just got a card from a friend who said "Grief never ends, but it changes" - here's hoping that our sounds of grief change, evolve and continue to help us all through the worst experience of life.
I have nothing profound to share, I just really want to say thank you for writing this. The words you write are unique and honest and I appreciate them and that you put them out there in the world.
Yes, there is more than the 5 stages; after being a Hospice CNA for 6 years & assisting 1,000's go to their next journey, I approved loved ones to "making sounds" instead of words, even kick boxing their way out of it -to release it; I did. The "Bargaining" part is pleading to God/Higher Power not to take your loved one -that you will do ANYTHING to keep that from happening. Society needs to educate in schools how to handle grief-it's not taught, rather experienced as an alarming incident -ex: dying parent, school shootings, car accidents resulting in death, having to go to a funeral home & seeing dead friends/relatives. Our coping skills needs help for sure!! Helen Kubler-Ross help put it on the map, yes it needs an update, but it helped the ground work back in the 70's to now. Assisting Veterans cross over was my last 3 years; we had required reading "Dying Healed" by Debra Grassman. That helped me more than any other book to help me help them; especially the Viet Nam Vets (including my step-dad)=reveals why they are the way they are.
Thank you, Mari, for sharing this. I've always felt that you are a kindred spirit. I lost my dad in 2012 and I've never been able to connect with anyone about grief more than I have with your work. To me, grief sounds like screaming when I'm flustered and frustrated ("flustrated", as I called it when I was 19). I remember a specific instance in the couple weeks after my dad suddenly passed. I was 19 and trying to figure out what was wrong with our pool filter. My dad usually took care of that and my mom had no idea what to do. I was alone and I tried to take the cap off the filter. Upon doing so, a bunch of water shot up into the air and continued to pour out. The pump sounded distressed and I was so afraid that I messed it up, it would burst, or that it would break, that I screamed out, crying for my dad to help me. I didn't have the physical strength to twist the cap back on and I got so angry with myself for not being stronger or more independent. I called my grandma, but no answer. No one was home. I felt so alone. I panicked and panicked and wheezed and cried out loud. I finally took a deep breath and was able to muster the strength to fix the cap. I went back into the house and fell asleep. I was exhausted. For me, grief has been a series of those "flusterating" moments of not knowing what to do or not having the strength to do it while completely alone. I also felt like a failure for not having my father around to help. Now at almost 30, I can say I still have those moments where I'm transported back to 2012 and I feel like a 19 year old child crying out for help when she simply could not physically fix a problem she created. Those moments happen less frequently, but they are still there.
Thank you for sharing this deeply sad loss, and praying for you in this grief. I’m so sorry. Thank you for your kind heart to share and meet others where they are even in your grief.
Thank you for putting words to how I’ve been feeling since losing my dad 7 months ago. It’s unbelievably painful and the irritability was intense and unexpected. So sorry for your loss ❤️
We see you in it Mari <3 I love the idea of 5 million sounds of grief as a response to 'how are you'! I'll be doing this from now on.
Mostly I couldn't even articulate the names of the emotions I felt and it was exhausting to try, grief made me feel things I've never felt before and didn't even have language for. Instead, I bought myself one of those teeny 90's handbags (which are suddenly cool again?!) from the thrift store and I took my emotions and I made them into.... things. Tangible little fluffy oddities and flowery turd-shaped clay blobs and strange grey amoebas with red rhinestones. And each time I made one I put it in the handbag and I carried them around with me, so that I didn't have to let go of them or figure them out, but could know they were there. I like my emotions unnamed, material and within reaching distance at all times.
Mari, first and foremost, my heart aches for the entirety that is losing your beloved step father. I am so sorry you have to face this again. You’ve captured grief so brilliantly here. Just last night I experienced an echo-sound of my own 5.5 year old grief baby simply because my husband and I were discussing what type of seat he needs to play guitar in our living room. I was whisked back to a horrible, tragic, shock of a death related to a stool we used to have. That death has been long “accepted” but I know now will never, ever, ever let me go. Mid-conversation panic set in right then and there. I was right back in that moment. What did I do to self soothe?
Hum. I learned 5.5 years ago that the vibration of humming helps your vagus nerve and parasympathetic nervous system kick in to calm down from a panic attack. I used the trick at the store, in an art show, in my bed, everywhere. And it still helps a little to this day. And it makes sense. The vibration of the cry, the moan, the argh, the grunted extended sigh, the makeshift laugh if we muster up the strength, and the Om. A built-in tool we don’t realize we use automatically. Unless we’re in deafening silence.
We try to convince ourselves that time heals our wounds because the prospect that it won’t is unbearable in the moment of our deepest grief. But the reality is, the scar is permanent and forever itchy and ugly. And that does not make for a very kind Hallmark card.
Take sweet care dear Mari. Hum if you can find the strength.
Hi Mari, thanks for your writing about such important and hard-to-look-at topics. I agree wholeheartedly with your perspective on this, though I think everyone commenting here would also rather it not be so. Though I have not lost a loved one, I am losing my hearing and gaining tinnitus, ringing in the ears, for which there is no cure. Hearing aids are not really a solution, but more like a helper. My sounds, at the moment, waft between quiet/solitude (although quiet for me can never be silence), the "grrrr" of aggravation, and a deep low moan-scream that communicates the pointlessness I feel sometimes. This life thing is harder than I ever dreamt.
I truly understand that grief is indeed expressed in noises. I sigh and growl a lot. Or hold my breath in my latest attempt not to cry (random crying jags hit me often… but my loved one just passed January 7th, in a rather sad/tragic way, so at the moment I’m writing this, it’s still very new & raw).
As someone considerably older than you, and I work with dying infants and children which I am honored to do as two of my sisters died tragically young, so I always knew what it was like to grow up with 2 people missing at the dinner table. I remember Kubler Ross's, then 4 stages of dying, so now it is 5, but there is so much research and testimonials out there now, that support as you say grief is not a linear process, and your irritability, based in anger, but the longer we live the more we realize that grief touches us all in and will waft, wane and suddenly renounce itself in and out of our lives, often unpredictably. There is also much back and forth regarding, closure, does it really happen, but there are markings, stages that encourage us to move forward. Grief is complicated.
Hey Mari,
I'm new here and wasn't aware about the loss of your stepfather. My father/best friend (clarification: my dad was my best friend) just passed about a month ago.
I am so sorry for your loss.
I am sorry for mine.
The silence really resonated with me. I haven't wanted to do much of anything as I feel like I'm resisting reentering the world and any semblance of normalcy. I've been quiet.
Besides for the quiet are these incessant and unrelenting songs that I keep singing in my head. Songs that my dad used to sing around the house. Song from my childhood that I used to sing--and my dad loving listening to me.
Thanks for your words and sharing with us. I hope I can do more of than myself soon. <3
Hi Mari, I have been a long time follower of your work and find a deep, soul connection with the way you view the world. Your words are like medicine to my overactive heart and brain. Recently, I experienced the loss of my life partner and have been dealing with the aftermath of loneliness and grief. I couldn’t believe you were starting a new path of grief at the same time. I want to thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts and feelings on the subject. I have been searching for help since the news reached me, from medical and mental health intensive care to finding ways to move my body through the pain to how to just be alive. I saw the advertisement of your retreat at the end of this newsletter and I knew it was meant to be. My partner was from India and a huge part of my healing has been trying to reconnect with the Ayurvedic practices that he taught me to maintain my chronic illness and lower my pain through yoga, meditation, and herbal remedies. Because of the nature of my life having a restart from him as my support system, I am currently unable to afford the costs of this retreat and the amenities. I am reaching out beyond my fears and shame to ask if you or Kripalu offer scholarships or financial aid opportunities for people who could really benefit from your retreats but can’t afford them. I would be so grateful for the opportunity to heal. I really need to find a best friend within myself right now.
I am sorry about your loss. This is so beautifully written; thank you for sharing. It reminds me of the movie Shadowlands where C.S. Lewis (played by Anthony Hopkins) loses his wife, Joy. He says, "the pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal." Grief is the price we pay for love...which is so hard, though it's also brought me a lot of comfort. I hope you find that comfort and joy, too, even as you grieve. So many hear and see you.
My sounds are wails, whines and wimpers. The long, loud wails only came twice since the death of my husband 6 weeks ago (44 days and yes, I'm counting). A wail that started without effort that led to a full embrace and engagement in the wail. We've all seen video of women (often if middle eastern cultures) wailing and now - I get it! Wimpering seems to take over as I drive the car - anywhere - a bit of a sting in the eyes and nose and then, there it is - the need to wimper - short bursts of choppy noises forced out and necessary. The whines - a simple high moan like an out of key sad sounding mantra....I've tried Om - just doesn't hit the right tones when I'm in need of a whine. i just got a card from a friend who said "Grief never ends, but it changes" - here's hoping that our sounds of grief change, evolve and continue to help us all through the worst experience of life.
I have nothing profound to share, I just really want to say thank you for writing this. The words you write are unique and honest and I appreciate them and that you put them out there in the world.
Yes, there is more than the 5 stages; after being a Hospice CNA for 6 years & assisting 1,000's go to their next journey, I approved loved ones to "making sounds" instead of words, even kick boxing their way out of it -to release it; I did. The "Bargaining" part is pleading to God/Higher Power not to take your loved one -that you will do ANYTHING to keep that from happening. Society needs to educate in schools how to handle grief-it's not taught, rather experienced as an alarming incident -ex: dying parent, school shootings, car accidents resulting in death, having to go to a funeral home & seeing dead friends/relatives. Our coping skills needs help for sure!! Helen Kubler-Ross help put it on the map, yes it needs an update, but it helped the ground work back in the 70's to now. Assisting Veterans cross over was my last 3 years; we had required reading "Dying Healed" by Debra Grassman. That helped me more than any other book to help me help them; especially the Viet Nam Vets (including my step-dad)=reveals why they are the way they are.
Thank you, Mari, for sharing this. I've always felt that you are a kindred spirit. I lost my dad in 2012 and I've never been able to connect with anyone about grief more than I have with your work. To me, grief sounds like screaming when I'm flustered and frustrated ("flustrated", as I called it when I was 19). I remember a specific instance in the couple weeks after my dad suddenly passed. I was 19 and trying to figure out what was wrong with our pool filter. My dad usually took care of that and my mom had no idea what to do. I was alone and I tried to take the cap off the filter. Upon doing so, a bunch of water shot up into the air and continued to pour out. The pump sounded distressed and I was so afraid that I messed it up, it would burst, or that it would break, that I screamed out, crying for my dad to help me. I didn't have the physical strength to twist the cap back on and I got so angry with myself for not being stronger or more independent. I called my grandma, but no answer. No one was home. I felt so alone. I panicked and panicked and wheezed and cried out loud. I finally took a deep breath and was able to muster the strength to fix the cap. I went back into the house and fell asleep. I was exhausted. For me, grief has been a series of those "flusterating" moments of not knowing what to do or not having the strength to do it while completely alone. I also felt like a failure for not having my father around to help. Now at almost 30, I can say I still have those moments where I'm transported back to 2012 and I feel like a 19 year old child crying out for help when she simply could not physically fix a problem she created. Those moments happen less frequently, but they are still there.
Thank you for sharing this deeply sad loss, and praying for you in this grief. I’m so sorry. Thank you for your kind heart to share and meet others where they are even in your grief.
Thank you for putting words to how I’ve been feeling since losing my dad 7 months ago. It’s unbelievably painful and the irritability was intense and unexpected. So sorry for your loss ❤️
Ah, Mari.. it's not so easy to find words also when I read this text about your loss. I will just send you a hug here, which would sound like "mmm".
Thank you for courageously taking a step to edit the belief construct and navigating grief with/for us.may you find more courage. Each day
We see you in it Mari <3 I love the idea of 5 million sounds of grief as a response to 'how are you'! I'll be doing this from now on.
Mostly I couldn't even articulate the names of the emotions I felt and it was exhausting to try, grief made me feel things I've never felt before and didn't even have language for. Instead, I bought myself one of those teeny 90's handbags (which are suddenly cool again?!) from the thrift store and I took my emotions and I made them into.... things. Tangible little fluffy oddities and flowery turd-shaped clay blobs and strange grey amoebas with red rhinestones. And each time I made one I put it in the handbag and I carried them around with me, so that I didn't have to let go of them or figure them out, but could know they were there. I like my emotions unnamed, material and within reaching distance at all times.