Words
None of us were given a script. I’m new in this role. While I’m figuring it out, each day it changes. I change. How is one “supposed to be?” Day by day, moment by moment. My sense is that the same holds for you. I know you may be experiencing your own grief. You are also holding me. How are you supposed to be as you hold me? We are all learning our way.
I have always been sensitive to words. Words can carry so much. What has been startling to me, is that certain words have been confusing to me. You may have noticed me questioning some people in their blog comments, “what do you mean?”, as I feel that I can interpret things differently than intended. I’ll share a few words that make me wonder.
Healing- a friend suggested that he thought I was “healing” well. To me, the “healing” connotes that one gets better. I question if I’ll ever get better having experienced losing Maya.
Bittersweet- I’ve heard this word repeatedly, as people talk of the work we’re doing. I trust their intention, yet for me, there’s nothing sweet about what we’ve experienced.
Getting through- similar to “healing”, I feel as if “I’m in it” and will be for life. Getting through to me infers, getting through to the other side.
Suicide- This word has such charge for me. I rarely use it when referring to Maya’s death. I likely need to do personal work here. My choice of words is that she “took her life”. Again, that’s my stuff.
Commit- A relatively new friend shared his experience with me. Years ago, he had tried to take his life and put the word “commit” in an interesting context. He said, “the only thing that is committed is if one still lives, then s/he gets ‘committed’ to a mental hospital.”
There are more, but I’ll stop for now. What I have loved is that we can talk. If what you say makes me curious, I will question. “What do you mean?” If it doesn’t sound or feel right to me, I hope that I can kindly let you know in a way that you can hear me. What I do not want is for people to tip-toe around, being afraid to say the wrong thing.
I remember recently, I teared up when someone was talking with me. They felt awful, as if they should not have said what they said. Tears are good. So is feeling, dialogue and questioning. My sense is that through lovingly communicating and being in this uncharted territory together, we can make positive change in the world. Please join me.
Video clip from a walk in the woods last week…just because.
Your video reminds me that sometimes words are not necessary. Your capacity to still see the beauty around you, makes me smile. Love and hugs!!
Elise – I understand. The idea of a grieving process and healing continues to be foreign to me as well. In a sense, healing connotes a wound that is now better, maybe not even visible to myself or others. That will never happen for me – I don’t want it to feel healed in that sense. The same for the other words you mentioned. The only way that I can understand these words for me, close to 5 years after our son took his life, is that I gulp a bit less, have an enhanced perspective, smile a bit more at the vivid memories and hope to publish my book with his words soon!
I look forward to reading it, Fran!
E.
I left out two important comments. First, I’ve thought a lot about post-traumatic stress and how it’s considered a disorder if it lasts more than a specified short time. For me, it’s not a disorder at all – it’s a continued loving, necessary response to our loss. Second, advocacy. Both you and I have found roads to help others. Would love to share sometime.
Thank you for letting us in and letting us know when a word, sentence or caring sentiment doesn’t quite resonate with your experience.Thank you for your graciousness in allowing us to be human and sometimes not saying the appropriate thing and still keeping us in your heart and with you every step of the way. We are all fumbling through with so much love in our hearts for you, Maya, Mathew, and Adin.
I love you dearly and want to know all that you experience the way you experience it
Elise, thank you for continuing to, so honestly and gracefully, let us in.
And, as always, love love and more love to you, Maya, Matthew and Adin.
We’re all in this together.
I loved that video of the forest. You live by…it is a beautiful place where the trees are many and the understory is beautiful and natural and flowering! Here in San Jose, CA we have no Nearby forest to walk through like that. It was beautiful and reminded me of all that we’ve lost in our industrialized Silicon Valley! Thanks for sharing Elise and this is one of your blessings to live in a beautiful place: new paltz, NY along with a wonderful healthy husband and son!
I think when people use the word “bittersweet”, the “sweet” part refers to your exceptionally lovely photos and memories of Maya.
dearest Elise,
how magical to see the mountain laurel …
I was away, and came back with a broken little toe (minor but annoying), so I have not gotten up to the cliffs, but it is wonderful to think of it there. Today more perfect weather, I’ll see if it is still blooming. It is all the more lovely for being a brief flowering .. like the ladyslipper orchids.
My new black raspberry plant is putting out huge berries! so magical, fruit that springs from a little brown root.
So many children passed me on the trip, and every time, I see Maya’s face, and think could we put the time back a year and have a different July.
love you and miss you, Leslie
Dear Elise,
I was at Omega this past weekend with my younger daughter, Leila and in May Hanna and I assisted with the Mothering and Daughtering Workshop. I think of you, Maya, your family and friends often, but especially when at Omega as it is there that Hanna and I had the great pleasure of meeting you and Maya when you were helpers at the Mothering and Daughtering Workshop we attended. I am posting here, now because I don’t really have the words. Words to tell you how sad I am for you, for your friends, family, all who knew Maya best, but also for those who only met her briefly but were touched by her and hoped to meet again, and for those who will not have the opportunity to be touched by Maya’s beautiful smile and friendly soul. So many other thoughts and words run through my head when I think of Maya and of your loss, but I find it so hard to express them so I just wanted you to know that I think of you and pray for you often and that you and Maya both touched our lives in wonderful ways. Your words here are amazing. Your strength, courage, pain, hope, all of it.
Thank you dear Rachel,
It means so much to me to hear from you, a mom from the intense Mothering Daughtering retreats that we shared. I’m glad that you are spending more time at Omega with your daughters. I know the feeling of having so many thoughts running through my head but finding it hard to find the right words to express them. I appreciate your thoughts and heartfelt words.
Sending love, E.
I am truly touched by this post Elise. You are so gracefully honest. I am glad to hear which words sting more than others. It helps me understand just a little bit and that little bit is huge.
You show us all a way through the woods and I thank you, deeply.
I have a great deal of appreciation for your response to certain phrases. I remember wincing when people told me things like, “It’s for the best.”
When our first son was stillborn. I had whole internal dialogues. Listen I wanted to say, look at the word. Stillborn. He was Born. Still.
Or “You’ll have another”.
Kid Gloves. Stumbling around my XXL grief.
I wished more people had said, I bet you miss him. I imagine you feel empty. I know it’s awful.
Something more direct and yet delicate.
I think we all come up short. I do. Even now. No Words.
All I can offer you dear Elise, is my thanks and my tears.
Love
Darcy
I am with you.
xox
Dear Elise,
Your words are so thought-full. I continue to honor your loving spirit for allowing us in.
Sending love,
Lilly
In reading this post, I was transported back in time. I recall leading the “Grief and Loss” chapel at Rowe Camp JHC in 2013. As a brand new social worker, I remember feeling so confident and proud about my presentation to the chapel community, which I had so carefully worded, so intentionally put together.
After my brief introduction, I quickly realized my words were not going to be the important ones of the evening. Slowly, thoughtfully, earnestly, the campers opened up and used their own vocabulary to bring the impossibly human feeling of grief into the room.I listened as the campers, in their own words, shared thoughts on the obtuseness of grief, the inexplicable nature of grief. Our longing for a road map, our distress at our own longing. In that space, we held each others meaning, and sat quietly with each other. In this space, I feel we also hold each others meaning, and quietly (although physically separate) sit with each other.
I join with you Elise, with everyone touched by Maya, with everyone moved by your words – how deeply they echo our own.
Thank you for sharing that precious chapel experience. And thank you for joining me, Katie.
I love you
Hi Elise,
I was away this week and am catching up now – a couple of weeks ago I went biking to Awosting and glided along past the mountain laurel in bloom everywhere – breathtaking! Thank you for that video. I am walking with you in spirit always,
Love,
Rabbi Jonathan