Tag: Grief

Kendall’s Reflections on Losing Her Mom (7 Years Later)

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Kendall’s Reflections on Losing Her Mom (7 Years Later)

December is one of my most favorite months of the year. I LOVE the holiday season. It has also become one of the most challenging months for me. As many of you know, my mother passed away a while ago. December 7th marks seven years since her passing. Every year I feel something different. Sometimes there is a peace I experience with her being gone. Some years I feel angry. This year, I feel… alone. 

My mom did not believe in being a best friend to her daughters. She believed in making us tough. She wanted us to chase after everything and anything we wanted and she never wanted us to settle. Rosemary Barnett was not perfect. But she was my mom- and that’s perfect for me. I was sometimes scared to tell her things because I was worried about letting her down. Her expectations for us were pretty gosh darn high. Looking back, I am glad for it. She made me have a backbone. She encouraged me to live my life on my terms- even when other people might not like it. Mom used to say that if you change your mind just because someone else has a problem or issue with what you are saying or doing, how you can be certain of what you stand for or what it is you truly want. And she would say it all in that tone. You know what I am talking about, right? The tone that intimidates and comforts us all at once. It’s the tone of mothers.

When you experience the loss of a loved one, the emotions are all over the place. Everyone experiences grief differently. At the time of her passing, I wasn’t really able to grieve. I had to hold it together. Everyone (not just me) had lost someone; a wife, a daughter, a friend, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a coworker, etc. My grief was also slower to appear. The realization of her not being here has hit me hard. It hit me hard when I married my husband. It hits me hard when I realize she will never meet her grandchildren. It’s almost unbearable to think too much about. She spent so much time shopping for the babies of her friends and family. She loved it. Like, LOVED it. She was an excellent gift giver (something I have not inherited). Grammy Rosemary will never get to shop for her grandbabies. That thought is a true kick in my gut.

Since having baby Rosemary, I have missed having a consistent and maternal woman in my life. The truth is, no one can take her place. Honestly I am not sure I would let anyone try. I miss her no nonsense attitude telling me to toughen up. I miss her tickling me with her toes. I miss the way she would give Bella the last of her yogurt (I can assure you Bella misses this too and to this day still goes ape sh*$ when she sees us eating yogurt- thanks for that, mom). I miss having someone to ask questions too or recall things about life when we were little. She had a knack for remembering everything. This was very helpful unless she was pulling something out of the mental filing cabinet against me!! Haha. 

I am not much like my mom. I look like her. I sound like her. But I am nowhere near as strong as she was. I am nowhere near as even tempered with people as she was. Her kindness was known to everybody from her coworkers and family to the grocery store checkout clerk at the local Safeway. Having to tell people that she had passed is also what kept me pretty hardened with my grief. A few days after she had passed, she missed an eye appointment. She had seen Dr. Peck for years. He knew her and his staff knew her. Having to call and explain this to the receptionist turned into one of the hardest moments of my life. Telling my family we had let her go was excruciating. Telling her best friend, Joan, was so painful my throat hurt from holding back tears. Yet, telling Dr. Peck’s receptionist became one of the hardest moments for me when this poor woman broke down into tears… this is a woman that, sure, knew my mom but didn’t even know her as well as others. That’s when I knew my mom left an impression. 

As I have grown our family, I have missed her. The truth is, it’s lonely not to have your mom to talk to. In the past year, that’s the grief emotion I have felt most: lonely. I am lonesome without my mom. I could really use her right now. I also really want to care for her. I wish I could give her all the grandbaby snuggles and kisses. I wish I could cook for her. I wish I could do something for her- the way she did everything for me. 

The last feeling I want to talk about with grief is shame. Sometimes, I feel shame. I feel a little bit of shame in that it took us so long to really connect. It’s not all my fault, but I do feel bad and naive for thinking that we had all the time in the world. I also feel deep shame in wondering if I made her proud. How vain is that? Yet, it’s what I want to know most and will never get an answer to. There was a lot left unfinished for not just us but for her. She was on the cusp of doing so many things- she had plans! And I feel shame that I couldn’t help her do those things or live out those things more when she was alive. Again, thinking you have all the time in the world is normal but not always true. 

To honor my mom best, I try my hardest to make Christmas a jolly time for my family. While I don’t have the talent for gift giving (or wrapping for that matter) that she did, I do know how to make the spirit of the season burst from the seams of my house just like she did. I am different from her. But I am who I am because of her. For that, I am thankful.

Shari: Processing Family Moving Across the Country (Again!)

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Shari: Processing Family Moving Across the Country (Again!)

The irony of my blog this week was that it was supposed to be a reflection post about when my oldest brother moved his family to Ohio. I was going to write about how I have made the most out of visiting them and how I am finally at peace with having a chunk of my immediate family across the country. Fast forward, and now my other brother (I only have two brothers/siblings) is building a custom home in Tennessee which should be completed in early 2022 and I once again have to process my brother’s family moving out of Washington State and across the country. I’d like to say it isn’t as traumatizing as it was the first time but that would be a lie. Although I am not as shocked by the move… I am still sad. 

There is no doubt in my mind that I have a warped view of what it means to be around family. What do I mean by that? I think living so close to family growing up gave me a false reality of what classifies “normal” proximity to relatives. For example, most people don’t share a driveway with their grandparents and have 95% of their Aunts and Uncles living in the same state as them. As an adult, I now realize this but nonetheless, it wasn’t my reality as a child. I always dreamed of having my kids grow up with their cousins, weekly family dinners, and my parent’s house being a revolving door for homemade food and hugs (essentially, resembling my childhood). I never thought my sweet little nieces and nephews would be so far away and that a trip or two a year would have to suffice to see their faces and help them remember who their “favorite” auntie is. Don’t even get me started on how much I fiercely miss the bear hugs that only my oldest brother can perfectly give. Or the belly laughs that come from reminiscing on childhood memories that are blown out of proportion with your siblings while sitting around the dinner table. FaceTime, Zoom, or Duo are NOT the same no matter how hard you try. 

I am looking forward to trips to Nashville, potential family gatherings in the South, and for my brother to custom build his dream home for his family. It’s been an awesome process to witness my brother and sister-in-law work through all the exciting (and daunting) details of their new home. I love how excited they are to get to know their neighbors and their heart for the community and new hometown that they will now raise their family in. These are all admirable reasons to move and I cannot (and will not) fault them for that.

Ultimately nothing really prepares you for people (especially family) to leave your life in a proximity kind of way. However, I refuse to sugar coat it anymore than I already have. It sucks.

Kendall’s Reflections On Losing Her Mom

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Kendall’s Reflections On Losing Her Mom

Earlier this week marked six years since my mom has passed away. She passed away from complications of the flu. It was very sudden, very confusing, and very, very sad. It all started when she needed to be hospitalized because she was having problems breathing. The medical team determined that in order to stabilize her breathing she needed to be put in a medically induced coma so that they could take over and control her breathing functions. Before they put her under, I was able to tell her that I loved her and that I would talk to her soon. Cruelly, only one of those things was true; I never got to talk to her again. 

The week that she was hospitalized was chaotic. She was up, she was down, up again, and then down. I tried to continue on as normal as possible because I knew that if I didn’t there would be problems when she woke up; she would most likely have yelled at me for being dramatic, for everyone making a fuss, etc. When the doctor told us that her kidneys were shutting down, I began to understand that this wasn’t going to get better. In addition to that, her oxygen levels had never returned to normal. She still wasn’t able to breathe on her own. There was no miracle drug to give her. There was no miracle prayer to pray. We decided to let her go. She was read her last rites and the machines were turned off. While in her coma her body was rotated (I don’t remember why but I know there was a reason for it) and when the machines were turned off the nurses turned her so that she was face up towards us. They say she was gone before they even finished turning her. That, was that- I say that with the most sad and bitter of tones.

The days following her passing were a blur of getting things done. We managed to plan her funeral for 5 days later. During this time, I held it mostly together in front of everyone. I didn’t really have time to grieve. Over the next several months I managed to grieve in my own way… which I won’t discuss here because that’s a whole other can of tomatoes. It wasn’t until I met my husband about 10 months later that I managed to emotionally stabilize. He helped me find my anchor and let go of/process a lot of the heavy emotions I was harboring. 

My mom’s death made me wake up and pay better attention to my health. As you can imagine, living in the time of a pandemic has heightened these feelings. I am a firm believer of being vaccinated, wearing a mask to protect others just as much myself, and taking precautions set in place by my state seriously. For more in depth thoughts on the Coronavirus, please refer to my Dear Karens of Covid-19 post. Anyways, because of what happened to my mom, I am super vigilant when it comes to my health, my husband’s health, and my daughter’s health. I will do whatever is necessary to protect us. I will gladly down some gross tasting immune booster stuff if it means it may help. I will wear my mask in Costco even if I start to get claustrophobic. It was a super sobering event that has carried with me and will always be with me. I think of her every day. And I really, really miss her. I wasn’t ready to lose her, but it seems the universe had some other plan that I really don’t understand or like. 

Something else I often reflect on this time of year is the idea of grief. When my mom died I learned that everyone grieves super differently- and this is ok. I may not understand someone’s process but I know it’s normal to have different feelings about death. One of the most important takeaways I have from my mom passing is the notion of taking care of myself not just physically but emotionally as well. Putting me first wasn’t something I really did before that. I put the collective of work, family, friends, etc. before myself. That change was one of the most important of my life. We only get one life- we need to take care of it. There’s always an excuse of being busy or tired that can get in the way of being happy. I see people hiding behind these things instead of taking genuine care of themselves and it’s something I 100% relate to doing. My mom was a huge believer in living life on your own terms, living with the consequences both good and bad of those terms, and not shying away from moments that may challenge your current assumptions about something. And every day, I try to do that not just for her- but for myself and my family. Stay safe out there-

Guest Blogger Allyson: “Tie Dying for my Life”

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Guest Blogger Allyson: “Tie Dying for my Life”

If you told me 6 months ago that I would be spending my evenings tie dying clothing in a shower in the middle of a global pandemic, I would have looked at you like you were crazy – yet here we are.

This wasn’t how 2020 was supposed to go. 

I was a creature of impeccable habit. I woke up at the same time, ate the same foods, worked the same job, wrote the same lists; I wore my militant discipline almost as a badge of honor, thwarting it over people to show them that you really could accomplish anything with the right amount of regulation and control. 

2019 brought me the devastating loss of my father. We knew it was coming; there was no medical hope or miracle in the world that could have saved him. Before he passed, I was spiraling. My methodical means of coping were no longer an option when I was faced with something so utterly out of my control. I couldn’t craft a thoughtful list of how to save a life. 

Some may argue that death shouldn’t bring you anything but sorrow and pain, but this pivotal moment in my life inspired me to break free from who I was before. If anything should motivate you to live your life (and I mean truly live it, not some imposter-of-an-existence that I was in), it should be the lesson that, as George Strait once said, “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.” Your life can get cut short in an instant, and I was not going to waste another moment of it not doing the things that brought me joy. I was going to travel, see the world, eat the food – anything and everything my dad would have wanted for me. Then the pandemic hit.

This wasn’t how 2020 was supposed to go.

I had grand plans for this year and in what felt like an instant, the world stopped. Work slowed, gyms closed, travel was not an option; then the depression and anxiety hit. I had just managed to start digging myself out of the deep hole I had been living in for the past couple of years with my renewed enthusiasm and zest for life, and here I was again; dangerously flirting with reuniting with it. I honestly didn’t even know what to do with myself, especially since I couldn’t even go back to my “normal” way of life. How does one plan their life anymore when there isn’t a plan? I didn’t have a handbook on how to navigate my life during a pandemic. 

At the root of it all, I had to remember what I promised myself I would – life is short and I cannot spend my days wishing I had taken the leap to do the things that make me happy. I needed a creative outlet, and what started as an activity to keep me busy at home turned into what I can lovingly call a small business. If you hadn’t gathered earlier, I am a meticulous, almost-robotic (at times) person, so the idea of trying something that I am not already an expert at completely frightened me. But, for the first time in a long time, I was excited about something, and I needed to keep that positive momentum going for my mental health and survival. People don’t always like to admit this, but I will – I value the opinions of other people (yup, I DO care what people think of me), so the notion of sharing this new venture with my community was a huge change for me to take – but I did it, because if I hadn’t, I would have regretted it.

You may call it tie dying, but I call it tie dying for my life. 

This wasn’t how 2020 was supposed to go.

But maybe –

This was exactly how 2020 was supposed to go.

You can find Allyson on Instagram at @upcycledstylefinds and on Etsy!

Allyson is a fabulous and fierce friend of Shari and Kendall. She went to WWU with them and is currently an active member of the Bellingham community. Allyson lives with her husband, Tyler, and precious pup, Luna. Kendall and Shari adore her because she is always quick with her wit and loving with her friends.

Shari On Unconventional Grief

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Shari On Unconventional Grief

Grief is described in the dictionary as “very great sadness, especially at the death of someone.”

What about another form of grief? Grief that feels socially unacceptable, grief that is defined as grieving the loss of someone still alive.  The term is relatively new to me but also so familiar, namingly ‘unconventional grief’. I argue that unconventional grief can simply be felt in normal everyday stages of life, especially when those stages come with unplanned, life altering, and dare I say, gut-wrenching changes.

** Before I tell you about what led me to my realization of how unconventional grief has manifested in my life, I want to acknowledge that sadness over the loss of a loved one is valid, heartbreaking, and painful.  If you have lost someone you love, my heart and soul sympathizes with you.  I am achingly aware that grief is ever evolving and never completely goes away.

My unconventional grief hit me hard at the age of 26 when my oldest brother informed me he was moving his family to Columbus, Ohio… 2,500 miles across the United States.  My heart sank, my pulse quickened, and I was torn between showing excitement at my brother’s new opportunity and the overwhelming sadness pouring out of me.  I pushed every emotion aside and toasted to my brother’s new adventure.  Later that evening when I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, I told myself to stop. I thought about all the people I knew with family in other states and I told myself to suck it up, be happy for my brother, plan trips to visit them, and deal with it. In the months to follow I did suppress all of those emotions and focused on my brother’s family and their upcoming move.  I helped them pack, I spent as much time with my little nieces and nephews as possible (see picture of me kissing my youngest niece), and I trained for a half marathon to distract myself/ try to deal with the pain I couldn’t control.

It wasn’t until years later that I finally acknowledged my legitimate grief during that season of life. What I wouldn’t do to go back and hug that 26 year old version of myself and tell her to allow herself to be sad and not to bottle it up.  

Now when I hear of friends or family that are grieving a change in their life or a loved one moving away or their children growing up too quickly, I am the first to tell them that their unconventional grief is acceptable, understandable, and normal.

What unconventional grief have you bottled up?  

Acknowledge it, allow yourself to be sad, cry, and simply feel it.

I promise the sadness will dissipate, you will find happiness again.