HelenzArt-life-musings

Tag: love

  • Seeing some light.

    This painting came into being in 2022, whilst waiting for my mother-in-law to transition from this Earthly world to some other state of being. Its part of a series I call the ‘Waiting Room’ and can be found on my art website.

    http://www.helenzart2021.com

    Yes, that’s how I see and feel the passing on of a bodied person is. A transformation of beingness from this bodied person, within which is a spirited soul, and the release of those Earthly ties to set a spirit free.

    I started feeling this when the overwhelming pain that Gavins’ death engulfed me with had begun to settle. Whilst sat in the moments of stillness, which come after the releasing of emotional energy through sobbing those copious tears with body wracking heaves, I felt those tugged threads of continued connection. Those heart strings that sing at the memories of his smile, the quiet laugh at a wry comment. His voice, that deepened from childhood to manhood yet always him. A felt knowing that physical presence was not all that he gave, that what was of essence within that body was still in existence. Still held in my own soul spirit, woven into my own fabric of existence, of beingness. So what was I to do with this awakening of connection.

    Like many humans, I began to look beyond the survival needs to ponder on purpose. When feeling purposeless seems to be a result of losing a loved one. Especially one that has been a central part of ones caring. What even is a purpose? Is it to simply be mother, daughter, wife, colleague, and friend, in many cases that is enough. Yet what if there is more to be found. A potential to see that whilst those are important, there is more to being those parts and roles that to be all, and yet none of those is to be more whole. What was to be done by me to bring my potential wholeness to the fore. To be a better version of this bodied person living fully now.

    That sudden loss was bringing the realisation that there is no future for certain. All could be lost in the blink of an eye. Gavin had achieved much in his 28 years, things that had allowed a fulfilling of some of his dreams, and I felt proud and grateful that my nurturing of him in those early years had been a purpose of mine. Where now to place that nurturing spirit that wells up from within. Where indeed!

  • Seeing through the darkness

    This is a recent painting of mine. When in the depths of grief, there often feels a lack of light. Yet the light is still there, remembered as the good times of laughter and love that we shared with our loved one, who has now transitioned to being elsewhere. The light glimmers and seems out of reach sometimes. Yet it only takes a moment to step into that darkness to see the light. To allow that light to fall on the shadow cast over the heart. Yes for a while it may seem as though that light of remembrances hurt and perhaps even deepens the shade. Yet when we hold those good times near, give ourselves permission to laugh or simply smile a little, cherish the memories that those loved ones have left as a legacy, the light will shine into those corners. Shift the grey to a brighter hue.

  • What does life look like after a loss?

    For me it pretty much looked the same though coloured by the emotions of the loss. We still needed to eat and keep clean. Chores to be done, bills to pay, dogs to walk and tend to. Work to go to, though with a phased return, offering the proviso that if I felt the need to take an unscheduled break I would. 

    Going back to work was actually easy, my closer coworkers had been told of my circumstances but there were others who didn’t know and even after afew weeks I was able to speak about it with out feeling overwhelmed. 

    It’s funny how we try to be tender with other people’s feelings at these times. To make it easier on them to deal with that knowledge of someone’s suffering. Yes, I would often go for a quick weep or deep breaths in the solitude of my car, that being my way to embrace the emotion and not deny it or save it for later. The return to everyday things can make us feel guilty too, perhaps. That we are carrying on as ‘normal’ and the grief and pain looses their grip a little. It’s OK to feel it. It’s survival.

    In that first 6 months I watched my hubby fall to pieces. Trying too hard to be ‘normal’ struggling to express his emotions. Saying yes to work when he ought to say ‘no’. His work asking to much anyway given the circumstances. I had to leave work a couple of times to go to support him as he tried to make sense of world so unfamiliar. It was heart wrenching to see him slumped on the stairs, purposeless and hurting. Yet all I could do was support. Let him know and hold space for him to feel all he was feeling. I felt deep down that I couldn’t rescue him from this. That all I could do was hold his hand as he found his own way to heal, walk his own path to safer ground. By my sharing and showing that grieving fully was OK, that I was willing to share our grief, together, with ugly sobs and snotty noses. That neither he nor I had to be strong and calm for the other, simply be there and hug.

    Why did I feel that to embrace all was the right way? It simply did feel right. A deep knowing that surfaced, and was going to bring support for me and those around me. If they couldn’t do it for themselves, I could show them how. 

    A serendipitous event then came my way. A reshuffle was happening at work, and redundancy was an option on the table. The payout would support my financial contributions to the household for a year, and so I took that chance. I would be able to support my hubby through his own stages of grief as well as begin my own explorations about purpose. that were starting to sift up. Percolating through the emotions and senses that our/my loss had shaken loose within.

  • Misuse of new learnings, being human.

    That’s the thing with being human, we learn new stuff and then apply it historically to events. 

    How does this apply to guilt? In my observations and conversations with my hubby over the last few days, the question of guilt relating to events of our sons death and the hospital visit prior to that my husband feels a guilt for taking him to emergency care at the hospital rather than calling an ambulance. On that night Gavin was in alot of pain around his back and shoulder. Unable to get comfortable and having trouble breathing and a rapid heart rate. He was usually able to recover his heart rate through experiences and techniques learned for endurance cycling. Yes, he was scared and between him and my hubby they chose to make their own way rather than potentially wait hours for a paramedic crew. So they made a choice given what they knew and supposed in those moments, a considered course of action. When Dave found Gavin dead, and paramedics turned up Dave was asked about the previous circumstances and here’s where the new information comes in. As paramedics they often get called to those sorts of scenarios and blood clots are usually seen as presenting with Gavins symptoms and that is communicated to the hospital for when they hand over the patient. Being human and a dad, Daves brain shifts and says, ‘I know this now’, and applies it to an event where he didn’t know it in the past. Hence he now feels guilty about taking Gavin for a hospital assessment that wasn’t fully considered or delivered. This is the human bit that makes a sweeping generalisation, as we happen to do over many things. One sour experience, can put us off trying something similar. 

    As a kid I felt guilty through experiences with my mother. Guilty that I wasn’t what she seemed to need of me. That became a guilt that I wasn’t worthy of anyone’s company or love even. It shaped a self perception and behaviours to people please and seek out validation from relationships with others.

    Guilt is often misplaced because we aren’t taught any other way, and self learning through experiences seems empirical proof until something else, other experiences, change that. My feelings of guilt around this loss and the grief is always that I should have done more to help Gavin through his depression, that he wouldn’t perhaps had medication and the one he was changed to, where blood clots could be a side effect. Yet as time has moved along I can accept that I used my own experiences with depression and self learning that until some one is ready to step into changes by themselves no one else can force a change in them. It could have been quite damaging to have continuously ‘nagged’ for him to ‘pull himself together ‘seek counselling’ etc. I would tell him that he had my support for what ever he needed to do, I always told him I loved him when ever we parted, as I did the night I dropped him home a day before he died.

    Atleast that’s one thing I don’t have to feel guilty of, I didn’t have ‘unfinished’ business. That’s often another big guilt tripper when a loved one or estranged loved one has passed. We can’t go back and change things, yet we can still say sorry, or speak our piece and bring a peace. They can hear us still!