Under the bowels of the dressing room sink, I discovered a half-completed painting, a sort of portrait of an unfinished life
It wasn’t the last evidence I’d find of a life interrupted. Nor the last grief trigger to cross my path.
I found Mom’s half-done crossword puzzles. Her hand-drawn plans for a circular driveway that was never poured. Dad’s sippy cup, half full, the day of his death. A harmonica he’d hoped to learn to play. I mourned for their loss of various pursuits. For their unfinished business.
I preserved the evidence – these things that triggered considerable sadness for me – like a detective at a crime scene. The things served as evidence of a robbery – the snatching away of two lives. Their fingerprints were all over them.
How can we cope with these land mines, these triggers, and handle the disposition of belongings? How can we hope to achieve a measure of healing while being showered with overwhelming emotion?
After eight years of slow but progressive work on cleaning out my parents’ home and grieving their loss, I saw four ways that helped me move to a happier place during the onslaught of grief triggers.
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To minimize the power of grief in our lives, we must face its complexities, even make appointments to mourn. Set aside time to grieve.
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We must give ourselves grief breaks. We cannot isolate ourselves and cry unceasingly and expect to get beyond our sorrow. Grief is exhausting. Rest. Return. Rest. Return.
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We must invite joy into our lives. God gives us all blessings. There is something to be happy about even after a loss. Celebrate finished business. Spend some time focusing on that joy.
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We must make plans. At first, grief ties us to the past and to the present, but eventually, we can look to the future. We make new plans. We forge new relationships. We take new jobs, buy new homes and adopt new ways of seeing ourselves and the world.
What did I do with Dad’s paint-by-number set? I set it aside, but later I discarded the dried-up colors and set aside one of my father’s finished pictures for the wall. I put the half-done one into a bin with other keepsakes, and I put the untouched one with my own painting materials. Maybe someday I’ll paint it.
As triggers hit me like meteors, I dealt with them individually. Each time. And eventually, I accepted that my parents were each given a time on this Earth to pursue their hopes and dreams. Their plans didn’t all come to reality, but the time for me to pursue my plans is still alive and well. They wouldn’t want anything short of my pursing life to its fullest. My life still includes them. I’m not done with grief. But I’m at peace and excited about the future.
What positive things do you embrace to minimize the power of grief triggers?
Copyright © 2019 by Toni Lepeska. All rights reserved. www.tonilepeska.com
Dear Toni,
I miss the stories my dad always told about family, Cayce, friends, his childhood. And then there are the stories I never heard or do not remember. So often questions arise that only he could answer. I grieve as I realize those answers died with him. I also love that I had him until he reached 93 — how lucky is that! My mom died at age 51. I treasure the love I felt for him and my mom. Thanks for your stories on grief.
Love, Betsy
He was a wealth of knowledge that is for sure. I was always amazed at his memory and stories. We always find things we wish we’d asked or written down. I hate it too that some things are gone. Thank you so much for reading, and please, let me know anytime on thought you’d have. Hugs.
Excellent tips, Toni. I always learn so much from you. 🙂
“As triggers hit me like meteors” is exactly the phase I’m in’
A recent widow’ after 44 years of a contented ‘ romantic ‘ days gone by type marriage’ these deep grief days are so full of reminders and triggers emphasizing my husband’s forever absence’ and making me weep and sob and feeling lost and not belonging in our friends’ and cousins’ couple world no more’
Very difficult indeed to adjust to this new reality of going on’ not being the other half of that loving couple anymore’ after having existed as a pair for all those years ‘
Laura
VA – I’m very sorry for your loss. Obviously you had a wonderful, loving bond. That is a long time to be married, so missing him would be like missing a hand. I’m so glad you are here. How long has it been since his death? Do you have any supportive children or friends?
Dearest Toni’ Thank You for your quick answer in your busy time’ and Thank You for your concern’
It’s been 5 months since my husband’s death’
Friends and relatives have not been that understanding’ though they’ve tried’ with their “cliche” words and the general type condolences ‘ specially their thinking is that since my husband was suffering from Parkinson for the last few years’ I should have anticipated his death and not have this tremendous continuous grief reaction’
My two grown sons try to comfort me’ but in their presence I pretend that I’m fine’ but when they leave I cry and sob in secret and in private not to worry them and add more concern in their daily responsibilities’
My true therapy has been reading and following yours and other Grief Blogs ‘ which do alleviate through various ways of explanations and through sharing other grievers stories my burden of grief and my transition to widowhood’ this new reality of not being a couple anymore ‘ not being a lovely pair anymore’
By faith and by God’s grace go I …
Laura
Your grief is so fresh, Laura. Of course you would be in much sorrow after a 44 year bond. My father had Parkinson’s, too, but died of a heart attack. Though he had this disease, his death was a shock, too. And my mother was terminally ill with COPD and I was her caregiver for 3 years but each day I lived as though she would die – “but not today,” and thus, I was devastated by her death, plus the bond of course. So don’t beat yourself up. We may anticipate loss but it is nothing like the reality. Your tears are healing, like a washing. I know I had to “wash” many many times. Allow yourself to grieve no matter what others say because of inexperience or ignorance or discomfort with your state of emotions. And I see you mention God’s grace – I know you know he is the BEST shoulder to cry on. You’ve got this. You are where you need to be.