You Learn (Alanis Morissette)

This was *almost* my Eulogy for Eric; what was I thinking?!?  But, as soon as I decided not, I knew it would be a blog post... 🤷

Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Grieving But Were Afraid to Ask (some of you who remember the Sex book will understand my title - ha!):

~ People grieve differently; I have learned that my grief reflex is Snappishness.  So many S words:  shutting down, stoicism, need for solitude, spiraling.  Be patient with each other.  It's unknown territory.

~ The Five Stages of Grief are non-linear; in fact, I have cycled through four of them since I woke up this morning... 😢

~ Don't make decisions in the first 24-48 hours (instead, respond "Not Now"... "Let me get back to you"... "I need to think about that").

~ The flip side:  don't *ask* grieving people to make decisions in the first 24-48 hours.  We don't even know what day it is!

~ We are beyond grateful for the outpouring of love and support, knowing that every text, phone call, e-mail, etc. is well-intentioned and well-meaning.  Rev. Amy also taught me that we don't have to apologize for what we're doing or not doing; we can phrase it such that "thanks for understanding my need for space and time right now" (I know a lot of you have heard that from me the last three+ weeks... ❤)

~ We have learned that so many people say:  "What can we do?" or "What do you need?" and, not having experienced this tragedy before... we honestly don't *know* what we need.  I will say that receiving a text alerting you there are three grocery bags of your favorite Trader Joe's products at your doorstep is pretty d*mn perfect... as are friends whose vegan chili is better than my own... and an assortment of Yogi herbal Stress Relief/Calm/Sleep teas (which Chico and I are keeping in a large bowl on the kitchen island, to be brewed up as needed, day or night)... an offer to only listen, with an occasional mmm-hmm, while I scream the F-word for an hour... a long heartfelt handwritten letter... a checking-in text every few days with no expectation of a response... and the number of condolence/sympathy cards that have begun filling our mailbox to overflowing.  Don't wait to hear back from those grieving.  Follow your instinct.  To quote Yoda:  "Do…or do not. There is no try."

~ We have learned that Brain Fog is real, as the body treats grief as if it were trauma. 

~ We have learned that my husband's laugh and his cry sound the same; Joni was right:  "laughing and crying, you know it's the same release."

~ "Space and Grace", as my sister Mari quoted.  What a loving as well as lovely concept.  

I hope this doesn't come across like a tutorial but honestly, I am only *just* at the point where I can begin to talk about my son but, on other days, the thought of him makes my heart literally ache.

What I mainly want to say is that this has been a growth opportunity for *me*, in learning how to not only *receive* grief... but to serve/react/respond to grief, when it happens to one of my family members or friends in the future.  And it will.

SONG:  You Learn by Alanis Morissette

BOOK:  Being There for Someone in Grief - Essential Lessons for Supporting Someone Grieving from Death, Loss and Trauma by Marianna Cacciatore, Wayne Muller (Foreword)

POEM:  I’m Sorry For Your Loss by Donna Ashworth

When I say sorry for your loss

it may sound perfunctory

trite even

but what I mean is

I am sorry

that you wake in the night

gasping for breath

heart racing in agony.

I am sorry

that you will know a lifetime

of what-ifs and

could-have-beens.

I am sorry

that you ache

for one more minute with your love

knowing that it can never be.

When I say sorry for your loss

please know

my soul is reaching out to yours

in understanding

and trying very hard

to take away

just one little ounce of your pain.

QUOTE(S):  "Grief is a no-judgment zone.  Grief is unique to each person.  No one person grieves like another.  So often people don’t understand grief.  They tell us to move on or to get over it.  We even judge our own grief. When you’re in grief, you’re not broken.  Grief is a reflection of love." ~ David Kessler

“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.” ~ Dr. Elisabeth Kubler Ross

Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise (The Avett Brothers)

An interesting week, to put it mildly.  I was experiencing my own turmoil in various aspects of my life so, as well as turning inward to find the growth opportunity, I had some great conversations with a few dear friends and family members.  These days I find myself very scattered, unfocused, disorganized... which meant that the agenda items I was attempting to accomplish ended up with multiple mistakes, meaning that I spent more time correcting than I did accomplishing.  Yikes.

Also, over the last week, Sarah has been working with Colin on his listening skills, especially walking through their apartment complex, making sure he knows that the command of "red light" means STOP... immediately!  She is also teaching him about looking left-then-right-then-left-again, then holding her hand at a busy intersection before crossing, even in the parking lot.

I of course had an epiphany that I should use that as my life-metaphor for a while; rather than rushing headlong into potential problems, I would internally look left-then-right-then-left-again, especially where emotions are concerned.  What's the hurry?  Look how much time we have available to ourselves these days.  Use it as a commodity, and not a catastrophe.  Slow the f*ck down, Susan.  Better to delay my response than to say or do something I'd eventually need to back-pedal or retract.  I had a few occasions today in which to do just that, and the outcome was better than hoped for.  Colin became the Master and I the Grasshopper.  "The teacher appears when the lesson is ready to be learned", right?

I've also recalibrated a few other things in my life, beginning with TV.  I do love movies and series, but I've lately been using them to numb out, rather than escape.  Plus, every minute I spend in front of a screen, I am taking away from my primary love:  reading.  Vowed to turn that around and, over the course of the last few days, I am much calmer and more "here".

My sleep patterns have been really off too, because I am waking up earlier, eager to face the day (with a book), but then there's just so much of it (ha!).  My new end-of-evening routine, also instead of TV, is to turn the lights down low, stretch out on the guest room couch with Pandora, headphones (my new best friend!), and The Avett Brothers station (which has included James Taylor, Neil Young, The Rolling Stones, Coldplay, The Beatles, for about an hour (the Dar Williams station is great too).  I can then segue very easily into sleep in my own bed... hopefully by midnight.  Aaahhh!

What are some effective coping mechanisms for you?  How are you getting out of your own way (and head) to take better care of yourself, without falling down the rabbithole?

Of course, the news is full of gloom and doom, panic and pandemonium, chaos and crisis.  This essay by Mark Morford (my favorite SFGate-columnist-turned-yoga-instructor) popped up in my e-mail yesterday.  Perfect timing!

How to avoid the temptation to drown in fatalism? Learn to swim. You know, spiritually speaking.

You don’t have to ‘look on the bright side’ or ‘focus on the positive.' This is a myth, and often feels forced and childish, in denial of events and issues deeply in need of your passionate attention.

Just stop obsessing on the dark and the bleak. Stop fetishizing doom. Step back from the addictive abyss of incessant dread, and find some stillness.

Note that this does not give you license to numb out and refuse to read any media, engage in any essential discussions, form any opinions whatsoever because you deem yourself too precious and "sensitive." That's merely avoidance, vain self-importance disguised as humility. It''s also bullshit, just your ego being passive-aggressive with the gods. Your rejection of reality, of the harrowing vagaries and difficult beauties of the human condition, is of no service to anyone, particularly yourself.

It is also, of course, unwise to try and take it all on, to try and make sense of everything that's happening, slot it all into reasonable boxes of legitimacy. This way madness lies, along with a crushed spirit. It's also impossible. The gods wish to remind you: The karma of the world is not yours to solve. You gotta learn to navigate.

Here is the most difficult thing you can do, and also the simplest: Get strong and clear and calm – get your manic thoughts and doomsday-obsessed emotions out of the way of your innate divine intelligence – and then watch what emerges, spontaneously, from the innermost heart, your truest Self.

Hint: It ain’t gonna be cruelty. It ain’t gonna be violence. It ain’t gonna be MAGA or guns or racism. Nor, conversely, will it be all-day rainbow bunnies and perky 'it's all good' nonsense.

Sit. Fucking. Still. Get real.

It might not be comfortable. It won’t at all be easy. But it will look shockingly like love.

NR:  Beartown by Fredrik Backman (excellent novel by the author of A Man Called Ove... 💖 )

 

SONG:  Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise by The Avett Brothers

BOOK:  Life Is in the Transitions:  Mastering Change at Any Age by Bruce Feiler  (thanks to AmyB for the heads-up!) 

POEM(S):  it will all be messy for a little while longer by Maya Stein

“I feel a little rough around the edges,” I say to a friend on a video chat, because this is

how it is now. And she replies, “We all are,” though from where I’m standing she looks

beautiful, glowing, a midday California sun arrowing photogenically on her cheekbones,

so I tell her so. She says, “I like you in that blue hat” and “It’s so good to see your face,”

and I think about how much faster we’ve gotten with telling the truth. I hit “record”

again, say something about the latest harvest from our garden, about my mother’s

upcoming visit, and she says something about the date she’ll go on after her

appointment with the therapist. It will all be messy for a little while longer, but we don’t

say any of that. Instead, I pan the camera to a body of water and she says, “Where is

Scott Street?” and we say “I love you” and “Talk soon,” because this is how it is now, too.

We Did Not Ask For This Room by Stephen King

We did not ask for this room,

       or this music;

       we were invited in.

Therefore,

because the dark surrounds us,

       let us turn our faces toward the light.

Let us endure hardship

       to be grateful for plenty.

We have been given pain

       to be astounded by joy.

We have been given life

       to deny death.

We did not ask for this room,

       or this music.

But because we are here,

       let us dance.

QUOTE:  "People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within.” ~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Just Like That (Rachel Bissex)

The article below is based on an obituary posted on WFDU-FM Ron Olesko’s blog site and used in the FolkWax e-zine with Ron's kind permission - my personal commentary follows...

Vic Heyman passed away on Tuesday (January 6), leaving the Folk community to mourn the loss of one of the most supportive individuals to have graced this international "family." To the thousands who knew Vic and his wife, they were only ever referred to as ‘Vic and Reba’ – one and indivisible.

Committed folkies, they were SO much more than enthusiastic supporters. For a number of years they ran a very successful concert series in the Washington D.C. area, but their love of the music AND the people who make music took them to all corners of the globe. Vic and Reba attended every Folk Alliance conference as well as many regional events. Vic was a former board member of the Kerrville Folk Festival and they attended numerous festivals across the country each summer. Vic and Reba also wrote reviews for Sing Out! magazine.

While the foregoing could be described as their tangible public contribution, behind the scene, Vic and Reba became "parents" to numerous musicians in the Folk community. In nurturing these "children" they helped those artists gather the courage to go out on a stage and realize a dream. The through occurs that their encouragement, maybe, helped those artists write better songs. It has to be said that, in the Folk community, their support and endearing friendship was legendary.

Vic has been in poor health during the past year. Vic and Reba didn’t make Kerrville 2008, Vic was hospitalised at the time, but they attended Falcon Ridge a few weeks later and were at NERFA in November.

At this sad time, the Folk community sends its sincere condolences to Reba and "all’ her children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is hard to remember a time when I didn't know Vic and Reba Heyman - I first met them in February 1999 at the Albuquerque Folk Alliance. I was curious about this larger-than-life, dressed-alike husband-and-wife duo who everyone acknowledged and credited... and who even had special seats, front and center, in each major showcase room. I can't recall who introduced us, but we had a chance to chat multiple times over the course of the conference as, having similar taste in folk/acoustic performers, we found ourselves crossing paths quite frequently - at one point, I was in a Standing Room Only situation when Reba caught my eye and patted the empty seat next to her, motioning for me to join her (as I found out later, Vic was napping... :-)

We met again at the Kerrville Folk Festival in May of the same year... and again in July at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival - that was my only Kerrville experience, but for a while, I knew I could count on their delightful company twice a year (at FA and FRFF). Vic and Reba then began attending our South Florida Folk Festival, with which I was very involved... their visits at first for a week at a time, and then extending for two, three and now four-month intervals - what began as an acquaintance quickly blossomed into full-fledged friendship, as we met up for dinner (restaurants or my/others' homes), chatted on the phone and carpooled down to the (now-defunct) Main Street Cafe in Homestead (will never forget the time Vic brought his new GPS, which had us laughing the entire trip, because I could have driven that route blindfolded!).

Vic and Reba returned to Florida a few days before our John McCutcheon Labyrinth Cafe concert on December 13 and, upon spotting me, he said protectively, "don't hug me - I have a cold"... to which I replied, "too bad - I haven't seen you in six months and I'm hugging you anyway" - so glad I followed my intuition...

Vic had Parkinson's for 14 years, with his mobility becoming more limited in the time I knew them, segueing from cane to walker - he fell a few times the weekend before Christmas, was admitted to the hospital, all seemed fine... and then he took a turn for the worse. At that point, their four children visited over the course of the next week, sitting vigil by his hospice bedside - as I posted on Star Maker Machine last week, I stopped in for a visit, "brought them tangerines, stayed a few hours chatting and had an opportunity to say my goodbyes, staying strong while there and weeping all the way home"...

Vic had a wicked sense of humor, an abiding-yet-innocent love for the ladies (he did give the best hugs)... and an unlimited spirit of generosity, especially concerning folk music. Reba will remain in Florida as scheduled, and we will do whatever we can to support and keep her company during this most difficult time - I've spoken to her on the phone quite a few times, and she knows I'm available, whatever her needs.

As Phyllis Barney, past-present of the Folk Alliance just posted to their list-serve:

"Please join me in thinking of our most wonderful folk angel Vic Heyman. He passed peacefully away tonight (Jan. 6), leaving behind his beloved wife and best friend Reba, their four children, and scores and hundreds of all the rest of us - touched by his light, his generosity, his love of life, and love of folk music. Tributes will come, and they certainly should. He was a tireless supporter of folk music, folk musicians, and Folk Alliance. But tonight, I just want to remember my dear friend."

I second the emotion - R.I.P. dear Vic (now seated in a comfy chair in that Great Song Circle in the Sky... :-)

SONG: Just Like That by Rachel Bissex (Rachel wrote this song about Vic and Reba... and Dar Williams covered it on Remembering Rachel, a tribute put together after Rachel's death, which Vic produced/assembled/publicized)...

BOOK: Death: The Final Stage of Growth by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

POEM: For Freedom by John O'Donohue

As a bird soars high
In the free holding of the wind,
Clear of the certainty of ground,
Opening the imagination of wings
Into the grace of emptiness
To fulfill new voyagings,
May your life awaken
To the call of its freedom.

As the ocean absolves itself
Of the expectation of land,
Approaching only
In the form of waves
That fill and pleat and fall
With such gradual elegance
As to make of the limit
A sonorous threshold
Whose music echoes back among
The give and strain of memory,
Thus may your heart know the patience
That can draw infinity from limitation.

As the embrace of the earth
Welcomes all we call death,
Taking deep into itself
The right solitude of a seed,
Allowing it time
To shed the grip of former form
And give way to a deeper generosity
That will one day send it forth,
A tree into springtime,
May all that holds you
Fall from its hungry ledge
Into the fecund surge of your heart.

QUOTE(S): "I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived." ~ Willa Cather

"Hope is grief's best music." ~ Author Unknown

"We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love." ~ Madame de Stael

True Colors (Cyndi Lauper)

I don't know how else to say this... so I'll just blurt it out - my co-worker J is dying. Three of us from the office just got back from visiting him in the hospital, where he's been for the last two weeks - his partner A called and told us they had moved him to the Hospice floor earlier today. From what I understand (I've only been working at this job for three months), J has had ongoing health problems but always seemed to find a way through it - even in my short time there, I've seen the effects and it's broken my heart... although I never really believed it would get this bad. Blood poisoning, liver and kidney problems and congestive heart failure conspired to make it impossible to recover - he went into a coma and the doctors have said the end could be two hours or two days.

He and I had an instant connection from the moment I moved into the cubicle next to his - we had a love of Oz and music in common and most days flew by, as we traded quips, movie lines and song lyrics. On the one-month annniversary of my job there, I came into work and found an e-mail in my inbox, titled Present for Susan - it was this picture (in full color, although the only one I seem to be able to find on the web is in black and white), sized to be wallpaper for my office desktop... and, amidst my shrieks of delight, he came around the corner to install it.

The week before he was sick enough to be admitted, he brought me a burned copy of an early, obscure Cyndi Lauper album (now CD), knowing I'd fall instantly in love, which I did - I'm going to order it from Amazon.com as soon as I publish this blog post, so I can have the liner notes and full-color photos. I also have two DVDs he loaned me, Judy Garland in The Harvey Girls and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (the Australian version, not the remake) - I will make a point to watch both this weekend, in his honor.

I had flowers sent to the hospital last week, a brightly-colored arrangement with a rainbow balloon attached - I dictated the card to read: J, you're not in Kansas anymore. Get Well Soon! He called us at the office to tell us how perfect it was - it was the last time I heard his voice. He had a gentle spirit and generous nature and wicked (in a good way) laugh, oh my! - I'll miss him dearly... <3

SONG: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper

BOOK: Death and Dying by Elisabeth Kubler Ross

POEM: Dirge without Music by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the
love,—
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not
approve.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the
world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

QUOTE: "The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning." ~ Ivy Baker Priest