A community of voices
Before anything else, I want to thank you for your generous response to my last blog- the poem I wrote which I dedicated to my son. Very many of you wrote to me, spoke to me, even one beautiful person ran across the road to hug me and another sent me exquisite flowers. Thank you so much.
When I see how much understanding there is and how nobody, not one person, tried to ‘make it better’ for me, I can’t tell you how heartened I am. There are so very many of us in our society, who are uncomfortable around grief, don’t know what to say, don’t know what to do, but you all did know and it helps me realise, that one step at a time we can build a grief literate, kinder, more courageous, inclusive and trusting culture around dying and grieving.
Giving and Receiving
I have been reflecting on giving and receiving. My website and blog were born out of love, an intention to extend my hand to those who grieve, to offer to walk alongside or sit beside them or to bear witness to their grief, so that perhaps, even for a few minutes, they could recognise that they were not alone and derive some comfort. And also, I hoped that through writing I might help to lift the taboo around death and grief, to name the frequently unnameable, by being authentic in the ups and downs of this territory. What has happened as I have offered connection, is that I have received connection. How did I not foresee that? – but I didn’t.
Using writing as a compass
So today, I am honoured that there are other voices than my own to share with you. The first Creatively Writing Through Loss group, completed a week or two back and for me, as well as being a little nerve racking, it was beautiful. I have found over these last years, that writing has served me well as a compass. When the landscape is grey and featureless above and below and all in all four directions, how can I know where I am? Without tears, flat and joyless, have I become a ghost of myself? So I write. I begin exactly where I am- “I don’t know what to write…I’m grey and featureless…The table cloth is blue with white polka dots…”, anything, to get a connection going between the inside and outside of me through my hand. And I don’t stop. Pretty soon there are words emerging, images, feelings, tears maybe, sometimes smiles as I remember. Sometimes to have written those words is enough. Sometimes I craft them into poems, prose – a blog.
I hope and trust, that through the online course, a friendship with writing began or developed, or to put it another way, writing became a tool in the toolbox for all those beautiful participants, each of them dealing with some form of loss. Below are some pieces of their writing.
Shared voices
In week 2, we looked at touch, and how, although our love and sense of relationship to the person who has died is not extinguished, the inability to touch them has gone forever. Here are two pieces of writing from Jacqueline Ogden.
Touch
I remember Dad’s hands – down inside his coffin. I looked in and saw them and they reassured me that it was him – as the pink satin and make-up did not.
And it is reassuring to me that I have the same hands. I have Dad’s hands: square, short-fingered, masculine and freckled.
These hands have done so much: babies, washing, cooking, writing and trying new skills, (rolling cigarettes, making love, drawing). Just as Dad’s hands did: suturing the stump of my hamster’s leg, babies, cooking, loving (no doubt). Oh! And playing Spanish guitar. Calling the waiter for the bill – I don’t know. Everything, everything: taking the hook out of a fish’s mouth, pulling up my blankets and soothing my brow.
I feel you still I feel you still. Clasping my own hands together, I touch yours. In a crowd, I sometimes see you- something about a way of moving, smilingly and confidently. I like my clothes worn, familiar, comfortable in them, I smell your closeness again. I taste you in lovingly and laboriously cooked custard and stewed fruit When I know I’m breaking our unspoken boundaries, I hear your voice and I feel you still..
There is a relationship we have with grief itself, not just the ones we are grieving. The following poem by Melinda Mott, came out of the question – what is grief today?
Today grief is in friendships newly found Explored, touched and tangible Grief is the longing And a journey Through the empty space To the memories floating In my mind In week 3 we looked at how beauty and pain can coexist and in week 4, we explored how it is to open ourselves to the presence of others in our grief. Here are Caroline Cormack's responses to the prompts I offered.
The Journey of My Heart is…
Wobbly, tentative after being cracked open to farewells.
Pummelled, wrenched yet love sends waves to help me float.
Turbulence and shifts within bring stillness, a freezing
As my heart withdraws into a shell of protection and peace.
Shut out unwanted words; no more bruising allowed until my heart has learnt to be.
No chance of steering things a different way,
Let fear ebb and flow as I learn we all have a death day.
How will my heart cope with the death days?
The words Love Always keep it pumping
As some steadiness and joy return.
I think it is this that I came for …
To hold a hand gently
To weep at farewells and empty chairs
To stand rooted in beauty and strength
Opening my heart to sad faces
To give a little of myself
To each one of my beloveds
To laugh and laugh again
To bow in awe to all I witness
To let go over and over
To Love
Sharing what we wrote in the sessions was an important part of the course, to let go of good and bad, to let go of inner censorship and criticism and to simply put our hearts, our pain, our experiences on the page. And look what emerged. All of the above pieces of writing were completed in 5 – 15 minutes. It was such a privilege to witness one another. If you would like to write with me, in a group or one to one, you would be most welcome. I hope to put another course together for the autumn but individual sessions can be arranged any time. Please be in touch.
Meanwhile enjoy the hands you hold, be surprised by your ability to laugh again and be awed by the beauty of life.
With Love
Nickie
I offer this blog entirely free of charge – a gift from my heart to your’s. Some of you have let me know you would like to gift me in return. Thank you – that touches and inspires me. If you wish, you can gift me and help my work become more sustainable, by buying me a coffee here
NEWS
Two big things to tell you.
Two new podcasts are now on the resources page. Find them here. Liz Scott (Inner Compass guide) and I had a couple of conversations, one about listening to someone who is dying and another about listening to their carer. Please do listen, use them, link people to them if you think they would find them useful and do please give me some feedback.
Retreat – Moving Forward with Loss and Grief
Quietude, replenishment, nourishment, beauty – big breath out. Sally Potter, retreat leader and Sandy from Dartmoor Larder, are an experienced double act, providing for the needs of every retreatant, with gentle generosity. I am honoured to have been asked to co-facilitate a retreat with them this autumn, which is focused on loss and grief. These come in many forms but all of them benefit from being held with love and understanding. The facilitation team will be completed by Emma Skilton. For more information go to my events page or to Sally’s website.