Family
Angels Watching Over Me
Friday, August 20th, 2010 | Death of a loved one, Family, Healing after Loss, Healing from grief, Help for Widows, Losing a loved one, The healing power of Faith in Christ, Unshaken Faith in Trials | No Comments
Monday evening we had planned to go to a Marvin Goldstein concert that had been arranged just for widows and widowers and their families. I looked forward to it for months, and could hardly wait to listen to his beautiful music and to hear him tell the story of his life.
Life took a turn, however, on Monday afternoon. We were visiting my sister’s family at a cabin in the mountains above the Salt Lake Valley, and the cousins offered to teach my daughter, Meg, to ride a four-wheeler.
“Have fun – and be ’safety sallies,’” I called as they trooped down the cabin’s front steps. They left, joking and talking, and my sister and I settled down on the couches in the front room for a much-needed nap.
The next thing I heard was my sister’s voice saying, “Is she okay?”, and my nephew’s voice hesitating, “Um….no…”
I awoke to see him carrying Meg into the cabin, obviously injured and in shock.
He laid her on a recliner, my sister grabbed a towel and began tearing it into strips for bandages, and while we continued to assure Meg she would be okay, we began cleaning her wounds.
I began feeling light-headed. I’ve never been good around blood. But I was determined to stay present and to be a help, not a hindrance for Meg at this crucial time, so I sat on the floor as I attempted to wash the gravel out the palm of one of her hands, breathing deeply to keep the faintness away. We decided we’d better get her to emergency care immediately.
It seemed to take forever to drive her over the rocky roads to the nearest help in Park City, but thankfully the waiting room wasn’t too crowded, and soon we were ushered into the triage area.
As the doctors examined Meg, I became more and more relieved. No broken bones; no apparent internal injuries; no concussion – just a painful bump on her nose, a knee needing stitches and arms and hands in need of bandages for her ‘road rash’.
After the doctors made their decision and left the curtained area to get the supplies, Meg and I looked at each other, and I think we were both overcome at the same moment with the thought, “There were angels protecting you.” It was a deeply spiritual moment when we received that thought, and we knew it was true.
Later that night, Meg was lying in her bed resting when one of her cousins that had been riding an ATV behind her came to visit and see how she was doing, and he told me what he had seen from behind.
Meg had been following another cousin, who had turned to go down a hill. Meg turned too sharply, and the ATV lifted up on two wheels, then bounced down on the other two, and then completely flipped and rolled. It ended up right-side up – on top of Meg – who had landed face down in a ditch. The ATV wasn’t even touching her.
I know that for some reason, angels can’t – and don’t – prevent all tragedies. All of us who have lost any loved one are all too aware of that fact. Many of us know people who are para- or quadraplegics after incidents such as Meg’s. We were told Monday about a man whose ATV did the same thing as Meg’s – and he didn’t live.
Why was Meg spared? We may never know – but I can – and forever will express gratitude for those protecting angels, and for the answer to our prayer of that morning, asking for “protection in all that we do this day”.
As we strive to stay near to our Savior, He promises us, “For I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”*
As widows and widowers, and those who have suffered loss, even though our lives have not turned out as we would have hoped, I believe we can see evidence of that Heavenly help, and of those angels, in our daily lives. I believe they help us ward off despair, and whisper hope to our hearts. I believe they give us courage to go out just one more day and face the world. I know they give us strength to face the tragedies life brings our way. And, sometimes, for reasons we may never understand, I believe they perform miracles that help us see that truly, we are not alone on this journey, and that Heaven is only a prayer away.
May you more often see the influence of those angels that are “round about you”, and may you, too, feel to give thanks for that Heavenly help.
With a thankful heart,
Roslyn
*Doctrine and Covenants 84:88
Grieving on Memorial Day
Friday, May 28th, 2010 | Death of a loved one, Family, Friends, Grieving, Grieving during the Holidays, Healing after Loss, Healing from grief, Help for Widows, Losing a Spouse, Losing a loved one, Losing a parent, Loss of a loved one, Personal Care while Grieving, Service, The Healing Power of Service, Uncategorized | No Comments
Memorial Day Weekend. When we hear those words, we often think of a time to honor those who have given their lives in the service of our country. Those words also often conjure up images of picnics, campouts, gatherings with friends, and lots of food and fun.
Other pictures comes to mind, however: a woman, weeping as she kneels with a handful of flowers at the fresh grave of her husband; a man at the cemetery, standing by the marker bearing his wife’s name and wondering how he can go on. To these people, Memorial Day has a very different meaning.
This Memorial Day, are you (or is someone you know) grieving the loss of a loved one who is no longer with you? Are you still at the stage of grief where your emotions are unpredictable, you live with a perpetual ache in your heart, and you never know when the tears will suddenly surface again?
Memorial Day can be a hard day for those who’ve experienced loss. But there are things you can do to help make it through this weekend – and that will help you move on with life. Here are five tips to begin with:
First, grieve. Grieving is painful, unpredictable, and it can be a long process. No wonder people want to avoid it. However, grieving is part of the healing process, and if we refuse to work through our grief, we will never heal completely.
Allow yourself to grieve. Find a place where you can let the tears flow and the racking sobs descend. You will find that as you do, there is a cleansing and a renewal that takes their place.
Author Deanna Edwards tells of the young child who said about grief, “Tears are what God gave us to let the hurt out.” Admit that the void in your life hurts, and that it’s okay to hurt. As a wise man once said there would be something wrong if we didn’t hurt when a loved one dies. Take the time to grieve, and eventually, if you embrace the grieving process, it will bring renewal and peace.
Second, reach out and find a friend. Find someone you can talk to, who understands what you’re going through, and talk. Share your sorrows; share what helps you each get through hard times, and you’ll both come away stronger. Sometimes the very best gift we can be given when we are mourning is a listening ear, and understanding without judgment.
Third, write! Take out a pen and paper, find a quiet spot where you can be uninterrupted, and remember. Record the good things that came from your relationship with that loved one. Write what you appreciated about them. Write about some of your favorite memories with them. One day these memories will not be so fresh, and you will be grateful that you took the time now to create something you can look back on and find joy in remembering.
Fourth, get moving! When we are grieving, often the most appealing activity is no activity at all. It is so tempting to crawl into bed, pull the covers over one’s head, and retreat. But grieving is not just emotional work. It involves the whole body, and exercise helps move the process along more quickly. Walk, run, garden, get out the yoga CD and follow along – just do something to move your body and get the endorphins flowing. Movement will help banish the blues and help you to look at life from a much more positive perspective.
Finally, serve someone in memory of your loved one. Even if it is a very small thing, find something you can do for someone else to lift their burden. The old adage “It is better to give than to receive” is true – and how better to honor the memory of the one you loved than to do a kind deed in their memory. Einstein said, “The only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and learned how to give.” Many people have found that looking outside their own troubles, if only for a few minutes, and finding a way to give to someone else, truly has brought them comfort and happiness.
Make this Memorial Day memorable, by grieving when you need to; finding a friend to confide in; writing about your loved one; moving; and serving. As you do, you will find you make cherished memories yourself, and you will be further along on the path to healing, wholeness, and peace.
In Loving Memory . . .
Wednesday, May 26th, 2010 | Death of a loved one, Family, Grieving, Grieving during the Holidays, Healing after Loss, Healing from grief, Help for Widows, Losing a Spouse, Losing a loved one, Losing a parent, Loss of a loved one, Service, The Healing Power of Service, Unshaken Faith in Trials | No Comments
What will Memorial Day be like for you this year?
I know it will be very tender for me. Mom’s funeral was just last week, and I am still in that cocoon of early grief that I am not ready to emerge from. I find that it surrounds me with sweet memories, allows me frequent tears, and insulates me from feeling guilt for not being fully engaged in ‘regular life’ just yet.
I have heard people say this weekend is a depressing one for them. Too many memories, too many reminders that their loved one is no longer at their side. I can understand.
However, I have an invitation to extend. To bring a sweet moment to your weekend, rather than allowing your mourning to take over for the entire weekend, choose a time to find one way to honor your loved one.
It is one way for their influence to live on. If, because of our loved one, we are out in the world doing good in their memory, the world is still a better place because they lived.
Paul, instructing the saints in Galatia how to find their greatest happiness and peace offered the following counsel: “…by love serve one another.” We can do the same. Make a difference for someone else – create a bright spot in someone’s day; place a call to someone you know needs a lift; contact a humanitarian center and volunteer a couple of hours; deliver a handful of flowers to someone who is down. Your service can be done anonymously, or out in the open – you choose.
And do it in loving memory of your loved one.
Yes, they are gone – but we are still here, and I believe that we each have something good to give to the world. No matter how small our offering may seem, we need to give it – for the world’s sake, and for our own.
I think I’ve decided what I’m going to do. I am getting excited thinking that those who’ve gone beyond this life may be able to look down and smile that we are remembering them this way.
I know I’m going to look heavenward and whisper,
“This one’s for you!”
In loving memory,
Roslyn
P.S. Once you’ve completed your service, I invite you to my facebook page (search “SOLO – Getting It All Together”) to post what you did – remember you can do it anonymously if you wish – and let’s share what good was brought into the world in memory of those we are remembering!
“That’s what you hang onto . . .”
Monday, May 17th, 2010 | Death of a loved one, Family, Friends, Grieving, Healing after Loss, Losing a loved one, Losing a parent, Loss of a loved one, Service, Unshaken Faith in Trials | No Comments
Thursday was Mom’s funeral. What sweet memories have flooded my mind since that hour! At the viewing beforehand, people coming through the line told us of many ways Mom had influenced them for good, and of their love and respect for her. At the service, each of my siblings and I were able to take part in some way, and as each brother or sister spoke or sang or played I felt a wave of gratitude to be Mom’s daughter, and their sister, and that I am part of this loving family.
Each talk focused on the different ways Mom’s life blessed and lifted others, and how her example can help each of us make a difference for those around us. The thought came repeatedly to mind that we have no idea how much time we each have on this earth, and how fleeting time can be, and that if we are to be like Mom, we need to be focused on doing whatever good we can in the time that we have.
I remembered a poem I learned in my youth:
Do all the good you can
By all the means you can
In all the ways you can
For all the people you can
In whatever place you can.
Mom did. Wherever she went, she left a trail of goodness.
As the crowd left the flower-bedecked graveside, I stood next to my Uncle Wayne. My emotions were close to the surface, and I found it hard to speak. He noticed and said, “You know, you’ll find that one day, the pain leaves – and the beautiful memories come flooding in – and that’s what you hang onto.”
He is right. I didn’t even have to wait until the pain left. In spite of the ache in my heart, beautiful memories are flooding into my mind – and I am cherishing them.
Thanks for the memories, Mom. Thanks for a great life, well-lived. Thanks for raising me with the knowledge that this life isn’t the end, and that I will see you again. That future meeting will be an added incentive to live like you did, so I can be with you once more.
I love you Mom. You’ll ever be close to my thoughts.
Hanging on to the memories,
Roslyn
She is Gone
Friday, May 7th, 2010 | Death of a loved one, Family, Grieving, Losing a loved one, Losing a parent, Loss of a loved one, The Power of a Positive Outlook | No Comments
I walked downstairs tonight, and turned the corner to the room where Mom’s hospital bed used to be, and when I saw the empty space in the middle of the room, my heart felt like lead.
I guess it might be that way for a while until I get used to the fact that she isn’t here, and won’t be, ever again.
It was just three weeks ago that the doctors at the hospital sent her home for hospice care, and we knew our time with her would be brief. We had them put the bed in a large room where there would be room for friends and family to come see her and gather at her bedside – and they did. Cousins, children, grandchildren, and friends all came to see Mom, to tell her of the love they had for her, and of her great influence on their lives, and to wish her well.
Early in the days of her care here, a friend told me that there would be angels coming and going as her time in this mortal sphere was ending. I felt them. There was a sweet spirit about her and in our home during her stay here.
Early on, she was still able to communicate just a bit. She let me know she wanted to help me – and that she didn’t want to be a burden. I think of sweet things she did or said, hoping to help lighten the load she perceived I was carrying, and it reminded me of the things she had done her whole life long – always doing something to help someone else, never thinking of herself.
I think of times I would walk into the room to see if she wanted water, or food, or needed other care, and the sweet smile that lit up her face when she recognized me.
I think of the times a family member would call on the phone, and I’d hold the phone up to her ear, and watch as the things they said brought an attempt at a word, or a sigh, or a smile.
Then, as the days went on, that smile came less and less frequently, and the recognition faded, and the responses were limited to an occasional faint squeeze of a hand, or the slight lifting of an eyebrow.
The last day, it pained me to watch her breathing. I gave her the medication that was supposed to make it easier for her, but it was never easy to watch the irregular rise and fall of her chest. Then, I stepped out of the room for a few minutes, and when I returned, she had taken her last breath, and was gone.
Although there were challenges – difficult ones – in caring for Mom, I will always be grateful for those days that I had the chance to serve her. I was not perfect at it. I wish I had done better. But I learned lessons I could not have learned any other way – and I was convinced more than ever before that Mom was a beautiful soul, and that I want to do whatever it takes to arrive at the same place she is when my turn to leave this sphere comes.
Thank you, Mom. I love you. I’ll miss you.
The Walk – Part Two
Thursday, April 29th, 2010 | Building Self-Confidence, Death of a loved one, Family, Goals, Grieving, Healing after Loss, Healing from grief, Help for Widows, Losing a Spouse, Moving On, Overcoming Disappointment, Personal Care while Grieving, Sudden loss, The Power of a Positive Outlook | No Comments
“I don’t know what lies ahead of me..”
So says Alan Christofferson, the main character in Richard Paul Evans’ new book, The Walk.
Does any one of us know what the future holds? I can think of so many times in my life when I had a plan all laid out for the next weeks, months, and even years – and then, in the blink of an eye, everything changes. A phone call; a chance meeting; a turn of events, and life is altered forever.
After Alan lost his wife, his business, and his home, he decided to walk across the country to the place furthest from where his dreams all died. As he stops each night, he writes in his journal. His entries are brief, but telling. One night he wrote, “We can be victims of circumstance or masters of our own fate…” and I thought, “How can you write that when you have just lost everything, through no fault of your own? How can you say you are the master of your fate?”
Then it hit me. Alan had learned what Viktor Frankl taught: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances – to choose one’s own way.”
The night his wife died, Alan’s journal entry read simply, “All is lost.”
Shortly thereafter, he sat in despair at the kitchen table with two bottles of pills, contemplating taking his own life. He could find no reason to live, and was ready to end it all quickly, when he heard, from somewhere, the words,
“Life is not yours to take.”
Then, he thought he heard the voice of his late wife, McKale, whisper, “Live.”
I believe that is what each of our loved ones would say were they able to communicate with us. Not to simply exist, but to live with purpose; to choose our own way.
Again from Frankl: “Man does not simply exist, but always decides what his existence will be, what he will become in the next moment.”
I believe we too can make that choice, and determine who we will be and what we will do with whatever circumstances we are presented.
There will be times we too will say, “I do not know what lies ahead of me,..” but in those times, we will also be able to say, “…but I do know what I want to become.”
That decision will change everything.
In God’s Hands
Monday, April 19th, 2010 | Death of a loved one, Family, Grieving, Help for Widows, Service, The healing power of Faith in Christ, Unshaken Faith in Trials | 3 Comments
During the first days after my husband drowned, I felt like I was plodding through life; surrounded by a cloud of confusion and grief, relying on God’s hands to carry me through each day. Only the knowledge that He was there, supporting me, helped me find hope in the future.
Three days ago my step-father called me.
“Ros, there’s something wrong with your mother.”
I stopped what I was doing and drove immediately over to their home, twenty minutes away.
I found Mom, age 88, in her recliner, head bowed, slowly rocking. I took her hand.
“Mom, it’s Ros…”
No response.
Dad told me she’d been like that for over six hours – not answering when he talked to her, not responding to anything he said or did.
My brother-in-law Brian arrived and we rushed her to the hospital, where they quickly took her back and began the assessment and testing process.
As the evening wore on, family members began to arrive at the hospital. The doctors took Mom away for a brain scan, and after diagnosing the results, the doctors called us together for a family meeting.
“Your mother has had a subdural hemorrhage, and the pressure it is putting on the brain is causing loss of function. We could do surgery to drain it, but due to her age and physical condition, she most likely wouldn’t survive the surgery. Without the surgery, because she can’t swallow and has lost so many other functions, she may live for ten days – maybe less. Your family needs to make some decisions.”
Dad began weeping, and the rest of us all looked at each other as the doctor left the room to give us time to discuss the options. We referred to Mom’s living will, and realized that if we were to honor her wishes, we would not put her through the surgery. We decided to do all we could to make her last days comfortable. Financially, a care center wasn’t really an option – so we chose to have her transferred to my home so I could help care for her while caring for my children who are still living at home.
We met with the Hospice team; those compassionate people who help make the end-of-life process as bearable as possible. Arrangements were made; the hospital bed was delivered, and soon the medical transport team arrived and brought Mom in on a gurney.
As I watched her being carried in, I wondered what the next days would hold. Would I be able to provide the care she needs? The aides will only be here for a few minutes each day, and other than that, Mom’s care is up to me. How will I handle it? What will it be like to care for her as she approaches the final curtain of death, and enters the next stage life?
I find I am apprehensive and unsure. Can I deal with death this closely? I have to trust that God will give me the strength to do what needs to be done.
Once again, my life journey is heading uphill. I pray for strength and courage as the ascent steepens, and as, once again, I take one plodding step after another into the darkness.
Once again in God’s hands,
Roslyn
Goodbye, Grandma
Monday, May 4th, 2009 | Grieving | No Comments
Grandma slipped peacefully from this life into the next as she slept last night. When I saw the text on my phone this morning, “Call Don”, I knew what must have happened.
It has been a tender week. We heard Monday that she’d had a stroke and wasn’t expected to live many days. I immediately called each of my seven children, and the gathering began. They all wanted to talk to Grandma, to tell her how much she meant to them, and to thank her for the good she had brought into their life.
One daughter living in a nearby state caught a plane that afternoon; another drove hours with her husband to be there; the three living at home came all together; my daughter living on the East Coast, and too far along in her pregnancy to travel, got on her computer and we set up a web-cam session so she could visit with Grandma; and even my son serving a church mission in South America was able to call and talk to her.
That was the last time they were able to visit with her. As the week progressed, she wasn’t able to respond or communicate. She would lie quietly with her eyes closed, less and less a part of this world each day.
Each time I entered the home where she was being cared for, there was a son or daughter, grandson or granddaughter sitting on the couch next to the hospital bed that had been installed in the living room. Most often they were holding her hand or stroking her head, touching her and letting her know she was not alone.
She has been the ideal Grandma. I remember from the very first moment she heard I was expecting our first child, she started making baby quilts and receiving blankets. Whenever we would visit, we’d find her busy, either crocheting the intricate lacy edge on a blanket or bent over the quilt frames set up in her living room, stitch by stitch making something warm and wonderful to welcome our new arrival.
Once the babies began arriving, she began planning outings and events. Trips to the zoo were a favorite, with Grandma bringing homemade cookies to snack on as we herded the children from one exhibit to the next, always with a stroller in tow.
Picnics were another favorite of Grandma’s excursions. Up the canyon or in a park, Grandma always found places that children loved to explore. We’d take our picnic blanket and tablecloth, and she’d bring her big wicker picnic basket and spread a feast to tempt the children away from the swings and slides, if only for just a few minutes!
Christmas Eve dinner at Grandma’s was a tradition that we all loved. Complete with a visit from Santa with a huge bag of wrapped gifts, that is a memory full of warmth and light and happiness that we will forever cherish.
Museums, festivals, nature preserves; scenic drives and waterfalls, historical sites and community plays, Grandma found a way to share all of them with her grandchildren. And in sharing all of that, what she shared most, and what the children remember most, is her love.
They knew Grandma loved them. They loved going to Grandma’s. If ever there was a weekend with nothing planned at home, the common cry was, “Let’s go to Grandma’s!” Grandma had a toy box filled with treasures in her front closet, and Grandma had a cracker cupboard right at the children’s height. Grandma had a dog that loved to play fetch, and a big back yard with a huge old swing-set, and balls to throw and catch. And on the very best days, Grandma had all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, and the children would get to help her bake a batch and eat them with ice-cold milk from Grandma’s fridge.
Grandma. That word will always hold a special meaning to me because I watched her; and to Mom, it meant giving, and sacrifice, and concern, and, most of all, love.
I love you, Mom! I will miss you. And I will try hard to live the way you showed me to, so when it is my turn to leave this life, I can be with you once again.
You Never Know!
Monday, April 20th, 2009 | Healing after Loss | No Comments
“Mom, Jefferson fell out the third-story window and he’s at the hospital.”
I heard those words yesterday, and my heart stopped. (I remembered that window from my visit four months ago to my daughter’s apartment back East, and pictured little two-year-old Jefferson sitting by that window while we ate breakfast together.)
From that moment on the day was one emotional roller-coaster. Unable to phone, my daughter and her husband relied on texts to let us know how Jefferson was faring.
We immediately began praying, and as each update came through on the phone, we thanked God for yet another miracle.
No broken bones.
No head trauma.
No spinal cord injury.
Internal bleeding? Still checking.
He is in pain because he almost severed his tongue; and his back hurts – they assume he landed on his lower back.
After five hours of CAT scans, blood work and other tests, and a transfer to Children’s National Hospital, it was determined the only injuries are a tear in his liver, and his painful tongue.
My sister-in-law called me, and she said, “We never know what the next day will bring. We spend so much time wishing our child would do this or that differently, or being impatient with their messes, or looking forward to when they are older or more independent or less disobedient, that sometimes we forget to just love them. And that is what is really important, and it’s what we’ll remember when things like this happen. Am I loving him the best I can? Does he know of my love?”
It’s true. We never do know what the next day – or even the next hour – will bring.
So let’s love those around us the best we can, and thank God for the miracles – large and small – that He continues to send our way.
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