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Bibliografische Details

Titel: Good Grief: A Companion to Change and Loss
Verlag: BalboaPress
Erscheinungsjahr: 2016
Sprache: Englisch
ISBN-10: 1504350294
ISBN-13: 9781504350297
Einband: paperback
Zustand: Very Good
Gewicht: 150 Gramm

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Inhaltsangabe

Grief can be your best friend, or your worst enemy. Whether we are grieving for a loved one or for a time in our lives that has passed, each loss we face brings with it an element of change. Our abilities to step out of the old and adjust to the new can often be held back by our fear of these changes, preventing us from defining a new, positive pathway. Whatever your loss, and however you are adjusting to it, this book can help you move forward into a state of acceptance. Whether you keep it by your bedside, in your desk, or tucked into a bag, Good Grief is the little voice telling you that you can do it, and that you are not alone.

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Good Grief

A Companion to Change and Loss

By Dipti Tait

Balboa Press

1 Saying Goodbye To My Mother, 1, 
2 The Adjustment Period, 11, 
3 The Seven Stages Of Grief, 17, 
4 Write Your Emotions Out Of Your Head, 21, 
5 Lonely In A Crowded Room, 27, 
6 After Death There Is Growth, 31, 
7 Saying Goodbye To My Father, 37, 
8 Saying Goodbye To Myself, 43, 
9 The After Shock, 49, 
10 Guilt Is The Bad Cop, 53, 
11 Sadness Is Like A Sickness, 57, 
12 Denial And Acceptance, 61, 
13 Anger Increases Our Strength, 63, 
14 The Stress Bucket, 69, 
15 The Three Ps, 75, 
16 The Imagined Lemon, 79, 
17 Moving Into Emotional Intelligence, 83, 
18 The No/Yes Principle, 87, 
19 The Onward Journey, 93, 
Notes To Self, 98,

CHAPTER 1

SAYING GOODBYE TO MY MOTHER

The night-nurse gently shook me awake and softly said, 'It's time.' I nodded, slightly groggily, allowing the enormity of those two little words to sink in. I took a deep breath in and sat up, my eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. The room was a familiar one: it was my mother's bedroom. The one she had slept in since I was five years old. She had slept alone for the past 15 years, my mum was widowed – she had lost her husband, my darling dad, to cancer. I had also been there with him as he passed away, which made me feel like quite the expert at saying good bye to a parent, but in this case, past experience doesn't seem to be much consolation.

I walked over to my mother's bed on the other side of the room and looked down at her tiny sleeping frame. She was breathing, gently, but very deeply. Her breathing had changed ever so slightly from when I kissed her goodnight several hours before. I felt very contemplative as I thought about letting my mother go. I also thought about myself as a daughter. In a few moments, I would also have to let go of the idea that I am a daughter.

My thoughts were gently brought back into the present moment by Comfort, which unbelievably, yet ironically was the name of the Marie Curie nurse who stood by my side. She held my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze and asked if I was 'ready'. I paused for a moment deliberating this interesting choice of word. I decided it was a good word. If she had asked me if I was 'fine' or 'alright', this would have been odd, but for me to prepare for what was about to happen, of course I had to be 'ready'.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat and squeezed my tears back into their tear ducts. I looked up and flashed her a brave smile. 'Yes,' I nodded, 'How much time have we got?' I managed to whisper. She cocked her head as if to indicate not very much. I asked if I had enough time to light some candles and burn some incense. She understood and urged me to be as quick as I could.

I stepped away and kissed my mother's ever so slightly furrowed forehead. It was very soft and warm and I knew that it wouldn't be much longer before the warmth subsided.

In the next room, I collected the candles and the incense burner and this momentary distance allowed me to compose and prepare myself for what was about to happen. Reality was fast looming and smacking into me like a train on a track. The time had come to finally say goodbye. My mum was actually leaving me. This was the moment I had been dreading, but not quite believing.

My mother had been given the diagnosis of terminal liver cancer over 18 months previously. She was a hugely optimistic person, and did not want to hear any talk of her life expectancy, so we did not find out 'how long she had left'. Because of this uncertainty, I'm not sure I had taken the 'terminal' part of the illness seriously until this actual moment, as I lit one scented tea-light after another. I quickly filled the room with candlelight, and as the woody vanilla aroma swirled around the room, it created a calm, relaxing and meditative atmosphere. I put her soft mantras on in the background and came back to hold my mother's hand. I closed my eyes and for the first time said a 'real' prayer, to a 'real' god. Unlike my agnostic father, my mother had held traditional Hindu beliefs of god, reincarnation, the soul and karma, and it felt right for me to step into her belief system in this moment to be in the same thought space as her. I silently asked god for her guides, angels and loved ones in spirit to come and get her when she was ready and I informed them that I was ready to facilitate her soul liberate itself from the physical world and her dying body. I wanted the ambience to be just right, just how she would have wanted and expected it.

The room was silent, apart from the soft music playing, beautifully peaceful and calm and there was an air of expectancy. I held my face close to my mother's cheek and could feel her ebbing breath against my own tear-stained cheek. Her breath was still warm and smelt slightly of minty mouthwash.

I closed my eyes and knew that it was time to say goodbye. I told her in my mind over and over how much I loved her. I was sorry for everything I needed to be sorry for, and I loved her, and I would miss her; the children loved her, they would miss her; and I hoped her soul's onward journey would be peaceful; and I loved her, and I really loved her, and I was sorry. After a few minutes of this nonsensical giddy repetition, my instincts dictated that I lift my head to kiss her, and as I did, she took her final breath of air and then exhaled very slowly almost like she had a slow puncture. I watched her brow instantly un- furrow and every muscle in her face relax. Her expression was peaceful, and she appeared to have an ethereal glow about her. Her fingers uncurled out of my grip and it was over, that was it, she had gone.

No drama, no bells and whistles, nothing. Just an empty shell left behind. My mother was no longer inside her body.

Comfort squeezed my hand again, which was still clutching on to my mother's limp soulless hand and then stepped outside the room, leaving me alone with my disbelief and my mother's lifeless body. I just stared at her blankly immobilised and frozen. My emotions and breath seemed to have also escaped me. I was helpless, numb, empty and hollow. I felt like I had also left my body and I somehow became a detached observer floating over this extremely surreal tableau. I continued to silently stare at this body that only a few moments ago contained my own mother. The body that, as I remembered from my father's passing, would be cooling down rapidly, and would only take a few minutes to turn to cold stone.

I placed a soft kiss goodbye on her smooth forehead, knowing that this would be the last warm kiss I would be able to feel and allowed the tears to flow. But suddenly, they had all dried up as if I had in that moment also turned to stone.

The first realisation that went through my mind was 'I am an orphan.' I cannot describe easily the sudden feeling of loneliness and desperate isolation that came over me, but this feeling triggered a distant memory and I was instantly transported back into my childhood.

I was alone, in the dark, bobbing around; maybe even spinning ... It was hard to tell. I was in a space with no obvious boundaries. I may have even been floating, or sinking – there was no point of reference. It was very dark, pitch black. It almost felt as if I had turned my vision around to stare inside my own brain and witness my own thoughts flickering on and off in the distance. Like when you have...

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