grief, living forward, shame, social justice, tool
I originally wrote this piece for the Creative Grief Studio and wanted to share it here as well. Post-election many people found themselves unexpectedly grieving over the outcome. As will happen, there was also judgement about the validity of that grief. Ironically, I saw examples within the widowed community. People who have been told - much to their anger - how to grieve were, in turn, telling others how to grieve, or not to grieve or to “get over it” after two days. Just stop. Trying to control the grief of others does not bring us together. Escaping the news of the recent U.S. election is difficult even for those outside of the country. This campaign season was particularly divisive and many now find themselves moved in unanticipated ways. Political events and changes can have unexpected meaning and the resulting grief and anxiety can be very real. No matter what outcome we may have thought to be “right” it’s important to let those who are struggling feel what they feel without shame. If you find yourself in a position to support others who may feel grief over these recent events here are a few tips to keep in mind: Remember that people are grieving. They are assessing a real situation and experiencing a real human process so they can find their agency, and figure out what steps to take next. Allow them to feel what they feel on their own timeline. Rushing someone through is not helpful, nor possible. Consider how the hierarchy of loss may be impacting their experience. Are others minimizing their experience because they perceive this...
anxiety, friends, grief, letting go, loss, memories, panic attack, prayer, spiritual, widow
“I’m going to come sit with you tomorrow. I’m good at hospitals,” she said. It was September 28, 2008, the night before my husband had major surgery to remove his cancer and his esophagus along with it. I’m not sure what I was thinking by not planning to have someone sit with me that day. Clearly, I wasn’t thinking at all. Thankfully, Laurie and the rest of my book club came to the rescue. Laurie arrived in the waiting room that morning and presented me with a cute book bag with giant polka dots of blue and green. It was filled with items I didn’t know I would need: tissues, water bottle, lip balm, lotion, hand sanitizer, a shawl for cold waiting rooms, a starter kit for knitting, a small spiral-bound notebook with pen and more. Others wandered in before work or after kids were seen off to school bearing hot drinks and cheer. Team Ken was formed. These women I had known for a decade or more by then made me laugh and forget why we were sitting in those uncomfortable straight back chairs in tight rows across from cartoonish prints that had us inexplicably looking out castle windows to other castles beyond. The distraction was complete until it became too late in the day and the surgery was taking too long for the news to be good. Some had to go; it was time to get kids from school and think about dinner. Our pastor arrived. I noticed the surgeon the second he walked through the door, his eyes on the ground, legs propelling him toward a...
art, creativity, grief, Kairos, landscape, living forward, memories, Photograph by Ken Gehle, Photograph by Tamara Beachum, Photography, widow
On August 25, 1916, President Woodrow Wilson signed the act creating the National Park Service. This year the parks will celebrate their centennial. The National Parks have been and continue to be important places for our family. We have made memories that will last a lifetime in these special places, some beautiful and some heart-wrenching. None of them would I trade. For me they are places of healing and joy. Ken and I took a rare solo vacation to Death Valley National Park for his 44th birthday. He and the kids spent time in Cades Cove of the Great Smokey National Park while I had to stay home to work. I have few regrets, that I didn’t go with them is one. We celebrated remission with a two week tour of Utah and Arizona. Ken made some of the most spectacular landscape photos of his career. We spent what would turn out to be our last family Spring Break at the Cumberland Island National Seashore. We had planned to do an RV trip to Yosemite the following summer. We scattered Ken’s ashes there instead. Half Dome is his monument. Glacier National Park was the first park I explored while learning how to live forward after such a devastating loss. Grand Teton was the amazing location of my second wedding when I found love again. My daughter spent three summers in neighboring Yellowstone National Park. She now lives in Grand Canyon National Park, just steps from the south rim. These places are precious to us. I think Ken’s love for the parks shines through in the images he created. I...
grief, loss, memories, Photograph by Ken Gehle, widow
Picture a giant warehouse stacked to the ceiling with boxes. Now imagine those boxes are filled with types of losses: divorce, death of a parent, bankruptcy, chronic illness, death of a spouse, pet loss, a child moving to another state, and more. What shelves do you put the losses on? Does pet loss go on a low shelf? That’s not so hard, right? Lost a job. So you just get another one. Simple right? Death of a spouse. Well, that one goes up toward the top. Death of a child…higher, much higher. This is the hierarchy of loss… and it’s not useful. Not only that, it’s hurtful. “Hard is not relative. Hard is hard.” ~ Ash Beckam We are often quick to compare our losses to those of others. Sometimes we minimize our own. Do I even have a right to grieve my loss if someone else has one that I consider worse? Sometimes we minimize another person’s loss. Do I get to decide whether or not you have a right to grieve - and for how long - if I believe my loss is worse? Where does all this leave us? The hierarchy is not only a tool of shame but its use can break relationships, even irreparably so. We live in relationship to our own losses. Those are the ones we feel deeply. We need to feel them to integrate the change that comes about as a result. But we don’t have to compare, instead we can empathize. About the time my husband died a friend was going through a divorce. If we had compared our losses,...
Creative Grief Tool, gratitude, Kairos, landscape, memories, National Parks, Photograph by Ken Gehle, Photograph by Tamara Beachum, Photography, prayer, quest, tool
“Let’s go to Death Valley,” he said. This was in response to my question about where we should go for my husband’s forty-fourth birthday and our first vacation away from our two small children in several years. I laughed, “No, really where do you want to go?” “Death Valley!” he grinned looking over the top of his glasses and that’s when I knew he was serious. Death Valley National Park is a place of odd beauty. Compared to what I perceived as the lush landscape of the Southeast, most of the vistas in Death Valley could best be described as simply, brown. To an inexperienced eye, such as mine, the ridiculously vivid blue sky was met only by tones of sepia. All the same, once Ken had convinced me to be there, I found it a place full of wonders I was eager to experience. We hiked and explored everywhere: salt flats, enormous sand dunes, a salt creek, abandoned mines, steep trails leading to surreal rock formations and even a ghost town. After days of exploring the park mostly at sunrise and sunset a curious thing happened, my eyes adjusted. One evening Ken set up for a shot in an area of the park known as the Artist’s Palette. Our trip was almost over. Faint hues of white, verdigris and deep red were visible on the range in front of us. As the sun approached the horizon behind us the colors of the arid earth began to reveal themselves. The mountainside was luminous with yellow, green, blue and even purple. The variety, there all along, was subdued and unappreciated...
ALAL on Facebook
ALAL on Pinterest
Tamara on LinkedIn
Follow on Twitter
