art, creativity, grief, loss, Love Lives On, moving forward, openness, Photograph by Ken Gehle, Photography, Products, transformation, widow
The last decade has involved quite a bit of figuring out who I am now. Any time we have a big loss in our lives we eventually come to this point: who am I now that my children are no longer at home, who am I now that I no longer work in my previous occupation, who am I now that now that I will not have my own biological children? The list is endless. The evolution of who I am today even after being widowed has had its twists and turns. Leaving a corporate job that no longer fit. Remarriage and figuring out the role of bonus mom. My children growing up and leaving home to live their own lives. Even my pottery avocation has shifted and evolved into a bigger part of my vocation. I’ve talked about vocation some before. These days I still lead the widow social support group but we’ve added a co-leader so it’s not all on me. I spend more time in the pottery studio than out of it (when there’s not a pandemic, that is). I’m finding a new balance and a new me. There is an equilibrium that, if you’d asked me 10 years ago, I would have told you I would likely never experience again. So how did I find that equilibrium? Interesting question to consider. There was no one technique that did the trick. I’ve had some great coaches and mentors. There has been some natural evolution in my work life (nothing is constant but change, as they say.) I’ve done values surveys to try to figure out what...
art, tool, transformation
I have a folder on my computer called, “Tools Laurie Uses.” My friend was a tech geek to say the least. She earned a Ph.D. in Information and Computer Science from Georgia Tech in 1987. Her dissertation was on fractals, for heaven’s sake. She was a pioneer for women in technology. That’s some pretty left-brained stuff to be sure. Laurie was also super creative. Rarely did we have a talk where she didn’t have knitting in her hands. Quilter, jewelry maker, writer, entrepreneur and more, she loved to dabble and try new creative pursuits at which she soon excelled. As you might imagine for a tech geek, Laurie was an early adopter of the iPhone and loved a good app. My son’s strongest memory of her was when she handed him her iPhone to play a game that was much more interesting than the solemn conversation the adults were having. Not to mention that the waiting room outside his dad’s ICU room was a stressful place to be. She knew what would help. Recently I came across a free app that marries photography, video and text to produce a mini online magazine that can be accessed from any browser. Steller has been a fun way to tell stories and I’m pretty sure she would have loved it. (The early adopter in her might have even known about it before me.) The first day I played with the app was the one month mark after Laurie’s death so she was fittingly the subject of my initial story. Story was our way into learning about each other: sharing what we gleaned from books we...
gratitude, grief, moving forward, transformation
I am so pleased to announce the re-launch of my website. It has been quite an effort over the last month to get to this point but such a joy to channel my creative efforts in this way. And now it is finally ready for the big reveal! An unexpected technical issue precipitated the need to make some changes to the site but it also offered me an opportunity to consider what I wanted it to be now. Basically, my website got sick and I had to take some time to nurse it back to health. It came through transformed. Sounds a lot like life, doesn’t it? My goal with this new website is to provide you with inspiration and make it easier to find ways of living forward after loss that work for you. I have tried to make it more visually appealing and a true reflection of my voice. I hope that comes across. One of the new features of the site is the ability to schedule a creative grief support session with me directly through the website. This also includes a new free 30 minute “Get to Know You” session if you aren’t sure what path you want to take. (Rest assured, I still answer the phone though.) I would like to thank some amazing people who helped me with this site: Rob Granholm over at IT Arsenal did all the back-end web stuff that was over my pay grade leaving me free to take on the creative aspects. Penny Treese designed my logo and loaned me a digital copy of her beautiful encaustic painting....
grief, grief as teacher, letting go, transformation
The Executive Director of Soaring Spirits International, Michele, posted three group photos of Camp Widow recently. She unknowingly illustrated an evolution of one of the widows in the room…me. In the first shot, I’m way in the back. I know I’m there but I’m hidden, or hiding. I mean come on, why in the world would I be in a room full of widows at the age of 44? In the next, I’m closer to the front: owning my experience, learning, growing, moving forward but still somewhat on the edges, tentative. In the last I’m standing shoulder to shoulder with Michele and we are smiling, genuinely smiling. I am transformed and transforming. Michele supports widowed people in a way that often leaves me in awe. Love is her superpower and it shows. By this point in my own evolution I have embraced my life the way it really is, not the way it was supposed to be. I experienced the worst pain of my life and lived. I’ve stepped all the way to the front now, no longer afraid to be seen. When I started my business as a grief support practitioner I imagined working with clients one-on-one and while I still do that I’ve found that my greatest rewards come from teaching and leading creative group sessions. Camp Widow has offered me the opportunity to lead groups several times and when they are over I have a sense of reward that was absent in my work life for many years. I have also had the opportunity to teach creative grief support practices to hospice workers, counselors and pastors...
grief, grief as teacher, loss, Motivational poster, openness, transformation
Would you think I had lost my mind if I said that our losses can result in favorable changes in our lives? Probably but that’s OK. I would have thought the same thing a few years ago. Now, however, I can see transformations that might not have happened without my losses. Here are just a few of the ways that I’m different: I worry less. I wish I could say not at all but I’m not immune to fear. My worst nightmare came true and amazingly…I survived. It was awful, I don’t want to relive it and if I could wave a magic wand to make it go away I would. But I now know I can survive. I’m much less willing to settle for aspects of life that are not feeding my soul, my career for instance. Grief gave me the courage to respond to a calling rather than merely having a job. I have closer relationships with old friends and have experienced the love and caring of new friends. Did some people fall away during this time in my life? Yes, but I understand how uncomfortable it can be to be with someone in grief or making changes in their life as they learn to live with their whole hearts again. I have compassion for them and wish them nothing but good. I understand that we are all connected. I have more empathy for the pain of others than I did before and a desire to support them as they find their way. I know that love lives on. I could go on really but I think...
animal totem, grief, grief as teacher, spiritual, transformation
Twenty-plus women walked in silence through a labyrinth. In their hands they carried burdens – stones of various sizes – representing something they wanted to let go of: anger, shame, resentment, an event that could not be changed. As one of the leaders of the Redefining Loss to Live Wholeheartedly retreat, I stood on the outside of the circle, moved at the meditation taking place. But this story is not about them. It’s about the transformation that happened for me in that moment. Grief has gifts for us if we let it teach us. It took some distance from the raw days of early loss to see that. It clarified my priorities. Grief asked the question, “Are you willing to be unsatisfied with your work now? Still?” As I watched the women walking their own path but supporting each other with silent compassion, I understood that I was finally living my calling: offering supportive care, teaching, using my creative talents. New friends and deepened relationships with existing friends is another unexpected blessing. The last woman waiting to enter the labyrinth is a new friend; someone brought to me by the work she did with my husband. Beyond her stands my co-leader for the retreat, an angel who cared for us during Ken’s illness and for me long after. We went through our independent grief journeys as empathetic witnesses for each other. Our conversations showed me that though our losses were different we experienced similar emotions. We could listen to each other in our grief with understanding and without comparing losses. As the three of us stood there within arm’s...
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