I'm very ready for 2012 to be over. I'm not excited exactly, but I'm ready.
Looking back, I can decidedly say that 2011 and 2012 tie as the worst years of my life (but I'm only 20 so I'm not counting out any terrible years in the future). Either way, the passed 2 years have not been wonderful. Don't get me wrong, I spent some beautiful moments with my mom this year that I will cherish forever. But I wouldn't say I've had much fun that past 2 years. Not much fun at all really.
I've been keeping an Emotions Diary for the past few months, and let me tell you, my level of happiness/fun (on a scale from 0-10) never gets above 2. That's not very much positive emotion. I honestly can't remember the last time I actually had a care-free, fun moment. It probably was over 2 years ago.
I remember New Years Eve 2011. I had just finished my first semester at the Theatre School at DePaul University in Chicago. I was home for the break and I went to a party at my friend's house that night. My mom helped me get ready for the party and she let me wear her dress from the 80s (complete with shoulder pads of course!) My friends and I spent the night eating delicious food and telling stories about our fresh college experiences.
Making a silly face on New Years Eve 2011
On New Years Day 2012, I flew back to Chicago to start my second semester. What I didn't know was that in less than two weeks, I would be flying back home because my mom had needed an immediate brain surgery. I had no idea that that New Years Eve partying would be the end of my care-free college life.
It's been a rough two years. It has not been fun. But I have learned a lot. I'm not exactly sure what I've learned, but I do feel like I've matured faster in the past two years than most 18-20 year old do. Which is kind of cool, but sometimes I feel like no one my age understands what I've been through and what I'm going through.
I didn't go to any party last New Years and I'm staying home tonight too. I just can't seem to let go and have fun anymore. I can't feel care-free anymore.
So here's to 2013. Here's so a new year, hopefully full of happy memories (just like my mom would want) and free of anxiety.
Last semester, I took a course on Positive Psychology. We were told to write a 10-page research paper on any topic regarding Positive Psychology. I chose to write about positive outcomes of grief, in hopes of finding some beneficial information. Here is the paper I turned in for class. Perhaps it may help some of you who are also grieving. I also included the academic artciles that I used as references, if you are interested in the original research. I enjoyed learning about this topic, but I can see that, as of now, not much research has been focused on the topic of the positive outcomes of grief.
Meaning and Posttraumatic Growth During Bereavement:
A Focus on College Students
Following the death of a loved one,
it is possible that the most positive outcome of bereavement would be to
develop a sense of meaning about the loss and to foster posttraumatic growth. This personal growth can manifest itself in
several different ways, including heightened maturity and self-esteem; enhanced
tolerance, compassion, spirituality, and emotional strength; and a greater
appreciation of life.
Bereavement is the condition caused
by the death of a loved one. Following the loss, individuals often feel sad,
depressed, anxious, angry, and alone.No
matter how they may react to the death, the feelings they experience are
considered grief. After losing someone close, people have no control over
whether they experience bereavement, but they can control how they grieve. For example, some people may choose to cope by
either ignoring the reality of the loss, but others may directly confront the truth.
Dr. Kübler-Ross revolutionized the study of death and
dying in her 1969 book appropriately titled On
Death and Dying.She developed five
stages of grief that were first applied to terminally ill patients dealing with
their own mortality, but were later expanded to include all types of loss.In no particular sequential order, the five
stages are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.Though Kübler-Ross’ concept of the five stages of grief is
commonly accepted and referred to in popular culture, its validity has been brought
into question by others in the field, including philosopher Dr. Attig.
In his book, How We Grieve: Relearning the World (1996), Attig rejects the concept
of stages of grief and that bereaved individuals can “recover” from a loss. Instead,
he asserts that people develop ways to live with the loss, from loving the
deceased in the present to loving the deceased in their absence.
Following in this vein, the
Developmental Psychology textbook Human
Development: A Life Span View by Kail and Cavanaugh (2010) states that
during bereavement, “we must reorganize our lives, establish new patterns of
behavior, and redefine relationships with family and friends” (p. 613).Kail and Cavanaugh maintain that a bereaved person
must complete the following during the grief process: “acknowledge the reality
of the loss, work through the emotional turmoil, adjust to the environment where
the deceased is absent, and loosen the ties to the deceased” (p. 613-614).
Balk (2008) built upon the
frameworks of leading grief researchers, such as Attig, to develop a “holistic
template” which identifies six areas of a bereaved person’s life which may be
affected by grief (p.8). These particular areas are the physical, behavioral,
interpersonal, cognitive, emotional, and spiritual aspects of an individual’s
life. Examples of the effects of grief
on each aspect of a person’s life include difficulty sleeping (physical),
difficulty staying organized and meeting deadlines (behavioral), difficulty
maintaining friendships with non-bereaved people (interpersonal), difficulty
concentrating and remembering (cognitive), difficulty controlling sudden bursts
of sadness (emotional), and difficulty understanding the existential question
“Why?” (spiritual) (Balk 2008).
This period of grief could
potentially last for many years, but most people eventually learn how to cope
with the loss and move forward with their lives.Research has shown that the emotions of
losing a loved one never truly go away, but the intensity of grief usually
peaks within the first six months of bereavement (Kail & Cavanaugh 2010, p.
616).
While most are able to cope with
the grief, approximately 10 to 15 percent of individuals experience what is
known as Prolonged Grief Disorder, also referred to as “complicated grief”
(Bonanno, 2004). Prolonged Grief Disorder is a psychological condition that is
being considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Symptoms of
this disorder include daily yearnings for the deceased for months, difficulty
accepting the death, impaired functioning in daily life, and loss of purpose in
life (Neimeyer, et. al. 2008). Prolonged Grief Disorder has been associated
with psychological issues including generalized anxiety and depression, and
physical issues including stress-related diseases of the immune and
cardiovascular systems (Neiymeyer, et.al. 2008).Gerrish, et. al. (2009) theorize that the
bereaved people who experience Prolonged Grief Disorder, or possibly even
Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, after the loss of a loved one are
psychologically predisposed to treat the experience as traumatic.For example, they may have this
predisposition because of negative attachment experiences during childhood.
Although only 10 to 15 percent of
bereaved people can be categorized as experiencing Prolong Grief Disorder, this
pathologically dramatic reaction to bereavement has been the focal point of
most research on the topics of loss and trauma (Bonanno 2005). The study of
normal or even positive experiences of bereavement is rare in comparison to the
body of work regarding Prolong Grief Disorder. This perspective on bereavement is
explored by the Positive Psychology movement, which believes that the
discipline of Psychology has focused too much on psychological pathology and
not enough on how people flourish (Seligman & Csikszentmihalyi 2000).
Gerrish et. al. (2009) explain the positive
outcome of bereavement in which the person is “left in a better psychological
state as a result of the adversity” (p. 226). They further explain this “positive change”:
Positive
change has been defined as personal transformation, posttraumatic growth,
thriving, resilience, benefit-finding, positive life change, stress-related
growth, and meaning reconstruction. Persons who have experienced positive
change may be more compassionate; live life more fully; be wiser and more
accepting of life’s paradoxes; be more mature and have enhanced self-esteem; be
more patient, tolerant, empathetic, and courageous; be more spiritual and
religious; and have heightened existentialawareness. (p. 227)
There is research focusing on each
of these definitions of “positive change” mentioned above, though not all of
the factors correlate with each other.
Bonanno (2005) explores the
positive outcomes of bereavement and found intriguing results.His research has found that 10 to 30 percent
of people were severely affected over a two year period following a loss. These individuals could be
categorized as experiencing Prolong Grief Disorder.5 to 10 percent of people experienced a
delayed grief response, usually beginning to react to the loss around 1½ years
after the event. 15 to 35 percent of people experienced moderate to severe
psychological symptoms initially after the event, but the symptoms gradually
lessened over the course of two years, finally returning to pre-loss levels.
This experience is known as “recovery”. Surprisingly, the largest group, 35 to
55 percent, experienced “resilience”, meaning they initially experienced a
brief increase of distress directly following the loss, but returned quickly to
relatively normal functioning. These resilient people would experience brief
and sporadic moments of anguish, but overall maintained a psychological
balance.
Resilience is one of the “positive
changes” mentioned by Gerrish et. al. (2009).However, Bonanno (2005) did not believe that a connection between
resilience and personal growth after a loss existed. Though he did not study
the connection between resilience and posttraumatic personal growth
specifically, he felt that bereaved people who experienced recovery during
bereavement were more likely to sense a personal growth than those who were
resilient.
The connection between resilience
and posttraumatic growth is not definitive. Some researchers including Bonanno
(2005) argue that the bereaved person needs to experience substantial amounts
of distress in order to grow from the experience. Others disagree, stating that
resilient people are more likely to recognize the positive aspects of
bereavement (Aldwin & Levenson 2004). This hypothesis forms connections
between people who have high levels of resilience/hardiness and view the
experience of a loss with high levels of optimism/hope, and therefore are more
likely to experience posttraumatic growth. This connection has been studied by
Mathews & Servanty-Seib (2006) and Michael & Snyder (2005), both of whom
focused their studies on college students.
College students present a unique
set of issues to those studying bereavement.Most undergraduate college students are between the ages 18 and 23,
transitioning from adolescence to young adulthood and beginning to develop a
sense of self (Kail and Cavanaugh 2010).
It has been estimated that between
22 to 30 percent of undergraduate college students are in the first 12 months
of bereavement (Balk 2008 and Hardison, Neimeyer, & Lichstein 2005). Knox
(2007) claims that 40 to 70 percent of undergraduate college students will
experience the death of someone close while are in college. “Bereavement may be
a silent epidemic on [college] campuses” (Neimeyer, et. al. 2008, p. 36), yet
“institutions of higher education are not settings conductive to the
exploration and expression of grief” (Mathews & Servanty-Seib 2006, p.
187).
Throughout the bereavement process,
college students face many hindrances, including “constant academic pressure,
an environment that emphasizes having fun, peers who are unable or unwilling to
provide support, and distance from their families and home communities”
(Mathews & Servanty-Seib 2006, p. 187). Balk (1997) states that many
college students feel that their unaffected peers do not understand the
intensity and duration of grief. The bereaved college students themselves rarely
avoid thinking about the death, but their unaffected peers prefer to avoid
talking about the grief. Bereaved college students stated that they felt that
talking about the grief was helpful, but that their unaffected peers seemed
uninterested or uncomfortable whenever the topic of grief or death was
mentioned. Balk asserts that “bereaved college students find few, if any,
persons in the university willing to discuss the death, to acknowledge the
importance of this event in the student’s life, or to recognize the
significance for the griever of the person who died” (Balk 1997, p. 218).Balk (2008) encourages colleges and
universities to offer more resources for the grieving. He argues that this
would not only help the student emotionally and academically, but it would also
help the university because it “may ultimately affect a school’s retention and graduation
rates” (p. 12).
Having experienced a traumatic loss
in my own life, the death of my mother in the past 12 months, I can attest to
feeling that unaffected peers were avoiding or felt uncomfortable about the
topic of grief. I have experienced a friend of mine say to me, “I try not to
talk about my mom around you because you don’t have one.” This statement made
it clear that my friend did not understand what it felt like to grieve. I
certainly do not feel like I “don’t have” a mom.To the contrary in certain regards, I have gained
a greater connection with my mother as a result of this experience.
Some of my other friends seem to only
want to “hang out” and don’t understand why I can’t “have fun” like I used to.
I am under the impression that most of my friends feel as though avoiding the
topic of my mother and her death is what’s best for me. However, I feel that
talking about her death more often would be beneficial to my mental health,
instead of reflecting on the grief internally.
Michael & Snyder (2005)
investigated the role of reflection, hope and optimism, and finding meaning in
bereaved college students. They and other researchers (Boyraz, et. al.2010) consider
reflection to be divided into two subtypes: rumination and cognitive
processing. Rumination is defined as repetitive thoughts on the negative
emotions of grief without reaching a solution to lessen these emotions. Rumination
is intrusive to daily life and is a maladaptive coping strategy (Michael &
Snyder 2005). Defined this way, rumination can be categorized as a symptom of
Prolonged Grief Disorder.
Cognitive processing also manifests
itself in repetitive thought, but these thoughts are focused on productively
finding a resolution to the “discrepancies between cognitive models of the world
pre-death and new information from the experience of the death” (Michael &
Snyder 2005, p. 437). After a traumatic
loss, one’s assumptive world — “where much that the individual has counted on
as being reliable, predictable, and even controllable” — has been shattered
(Caserta, et. al. 2009, p.463). In order to cope with the grief effectively, the
bereaved must relearn the world, as explained by Attig’s (1996) theories,
mentioned earlier.
A critical result of cognitive
processing when related to bereavement is the ability to find meaning in the
loss. The type of meaning found may also be divided into two categories:
sense-making and benefit-finding (Michael & Snyder 2005, and Neimeyer et.
al. 2008), which are listed in the Gerrish, et. al. (2009) description of
“positive change” after a loss, mentioned earlier.
Similar to Michael & Snyder
(2005), research done by Neimeyer, et. al. (2008) also focuses on bereaved
college students, and both studies compare or contrast the role of sense-making
and benefit-finding in finding meaning in the death.
Sense-making is more likely to
occur in the first year after the death and is associated with less rumination
during bereavement (Michael & Snyder 2005, and Neimeyer et. al. 2008). It
is suggested that people who ruminate about the death do so because they have
been unable to make sense of the loss (Michael & Snyder 2005). Sense-making
is also associated with a positive well-being after the bereavement process.
Benefit-finding is more likely to
occur after the first 12 months post-loss and includes finding any aspect of
the loss to be beneficial for the bereaved person or others in their life. This
includes experiencing posttraumatic growth (individual) or feeling grateful
that the death ended their loved one’s suffering (others). As mentioned
earlier, I have found some benefits to my own personal bereavement: I feel that
my experience strengthened my relationship with my mother. As my bereavement
process continues, I may find other benefits of the experience. Benefit-finding
is a strong predictor of positive well-being during the early phases of
bereavement. But benefit-finding after the first 12 months post-loss is linked
to poor-wellbeing.
It is hypothesized that bereaved
people attempt to make sense of the loss, and if they are successful, they
experience positive well-being. If they are unsuccessful in making sense of the
death, then they attempt to search for benefits of the loss. This usually
begins around 12 months after the death. At this time, benefit-finding becomes
“an inadequate strategy in an attempt to cope with ongoing intrusive rumination
and the attending distress” (Michael & Snyder 2005, p. 453).
Research by Neimeyer, et. al.
(2008) states that college students who displayed the most symptoms of
Prolonged Grief Disorder were those who neither made sense nor found benefits
of the loss. The students who adjusted best to the grief were those who
reported high degrees of sense-making but low degrees of benefit-finding from
the death, possibly because sense-making is a finite process, but
benefit-finding is ongoing. Research from Michael & Snyder (2005) suggests
that the ongoing process of benefit-finding “is not so beneficial. It appears
that it is more adaptive to find benefits early and then move on with life” (p.
454).
Michael & Snyder (2005) studied
how hope and optimism are related to finding meaning after a loss in bereaved
college students. Optimists have shown to use “active and adaptive coping
strategies” that guide the person to positive adjustment during an adverse
situation such as a traumatic loss (Michael & Snyder 2005, p. 439). They
define hope as a “goal-directed thought processes” (p. 439). Research has shown
a strong correlation between finding meaning in life and being hopeful. Michael
& Snyder (2005) found that because hopeful people are by definition more
goal-oriented, they will focus on recovering from grief quickly and are less
likely to be bogged down by ruminations. Hope was also found to predict
positive well-being in bereaved individuals and help them redefine and
restructure their lives so that they may live effectively. However, hope was
not found to be helpful in finding meaning within the loss. Instead, hope is
associated with a general sense of meaning in life, which may or may not help
the individual to make sense or find benefits in the loss.
The topic of resilience and
hardiness in bereaved college students was studied by Mathews and Servanty-Seib
(2006). Their research found that hardiness was inversely correlated to
bereavement-related distress, and was an excellent predictor of the intensity
of grief to be felt by bereaved individuals. However, Mathews and Servanty-Seib
(2006) found no relationship between hardiness/resilience and posttraumatic
growth, suggesting that the hypothesis presented by Bonanno (2005) may be
correct: posttraumatic growth would be found in people who experienced recovery
from a loss, instead of resilience.
This hypothesis is supported by
Caserta et. al. (2009), who state that people who struggle with grief but learn
to rebuild their lives may develop posttraumatic growth. They define posttraumatic
growth as a stress-related growth expressed by a personal transformation that
is more than simply bereavement-related adaptation. The individual develops a “new-found
sense of strength, a renewed appreciation for relationships with others, and a
reassessment of priorities” (p. 463). Research by Caserta, et. al. (2009)
suggests posttraumatic growth and bereavement-related distress are not
correlated, and in fact can coexist without affecting each other.
Other research has shown that
bereavement-related distress and positive affect can also coexist, however the
correlation is unknown (Boyraz, et.al. 2009). Positive affectivity may also aid
the bereaved in using cognitive processing as a way to cope as opposed to
ruminating. The broaden and build theory proposed by Fredrickson (2001) proposes
that positive affect expands a person’s cognitive and behavioral coping
strategies during stressful life events, such as the death of a loved one, and
fosters the development of mental resources. Positive affect also fosters creative
and flexible thinking and self-reflection. The study by Boyraz, et.al. (2009)
supported Fredrickson’s broaden and build theory, showing that bereaved people
who were predisposed to positive affectivity were more likely to use self-reflection
as a coping strategy, and were therefore more likely to find meaning in the
loss.
Finding meaning in a loss is a
positive outcome of the bereavement process. It may come easily for some, but
could be quite difficult for others to achieve. But if the bereaved person is
able to find meaning in the loss and they are able to incorporate the meaning
into their personal life story, the death can promote posttraumatic growth
(Neimeyer, et. al. 2008).In this case,
the individual would be “left in a better psychological state as a result of
the adversity” (Gerrish et. al. 2009, p. 226). This could potentially mean
discovering new emotional strength or developing greater compassion, maturity,
or appreciation for life.
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T. (1996). How We Grieve: Relearning the
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I went to the cemetery the other day. That may not seem like a big deal, but I hadn't visited the cemetery in about 2 months. (It's a bit a drive from where I live.)
I've been feeling pretty depressed and alone lately. Not exactly sad, more like apathetic and empty. I thought that maybe I'd been avoiding feeling the sadness by avoiding the cemetery. So I thought going to visit her grave would bring out the sadness and help me feel a little more.
I guess you shouldn't make assumptions about how you'll feel about something before you do it, because boy was I wrong!
When I arrived at the cemetery, I just sat in the car for about 5 minutes. I felt scared and paralyzed. I didn't want to face it. I finally got the courage to get out of the car and I found that people had left a beautiful wreath and peocock feather on her grave. (We don't have a gravestone yet, but I thought this was still beautiful.)
But within 2 minutes, I rushed back to the car. I just sat there for a few minutes. I felt scared and alone.
Eventually I convinced myself to get out of the car and sit by her grave. But I didn't feel sadness. I felt panic and scared and alone. I'm not angry that she left me, like I've heard some people feel. All I wish with my whole heart that I could talk to her and again and she could respond. I know she wasn't able to respond well even before she died. But now that she's actually gone, it's really over.
It's hard because she doesn't really feel gone. I don't feel like my mom died and now I don't have a mom. I still feel her motherly presence in my life. But the effort to make her better is over. And while at first, it felt kind of relieving. I didn't have this constant weight of anxiety. Now I'm left with just a constant empty feeling. Oh and the anxiety hasn't gone away, it's just not directed at anything specific anymore.
So I sat there at her grave for about an hour. But I didn't feel like I was with her. I felt the same as if I were anywhere else.
I had flashbacks to the day of the funeral, but I have those flashbacks all the time. Being at the cemetery didn't make them stronger. It didn't bring up any emotions that I hadn't already been feeling.
So I guess I want in any sort of denial. I guess grief just isn't about feeling sad like I thought it was. It's about feeling alone and learning to cope with it.
You'd think that since it's been over 4 months since my mom died, that things would have gotten easier by now, but they're actually gotten harder. Right after she died, I felt strong and ready. I had mentally prepared myself for her death, with what it would be like to plan the funeral and her After Party. But now it's been 4 months and I don't feel nearly as strong as I did then. I feel weak and empty and I'm ready to have my Mommy back now. Please.
I was at home and walked into the kitchen. And there she was! Just washing dishes. She looked just like I remember her from about 3 years ago.
I was so so happy to see her. We were both smiling. I ran over to her and hugged her. We holding each other and I didn't want to let go.
So I didn't.
My mom and I walked around the house hugging each other. It must have seemed pretty comical. Then one by one, people in my life tried to convince me that I couldn't hold on to my mom forever. It just wasn't practical. What if I needed to drive somewhere? I'd have to let go of her then.
But I refused to let go. I just kept saying, "But you don't understand. She's my mom!"
I've been meaning to write about this for about a week now but I'm just getting to it. Sorry about the delay.
About a week ago, I had a dream that felt so incredibly real.
I was starting my first day of school at a new university and everything was going wrong. Absolutely everything. I won't go into all the details, but it was going so horribly that I somehow missed every single class I was supposed to attend. I was freaking out that my professors would drop my from the classes because I didn't show up on the first day of class. I was very nervous and scared.
That evening I was supposed meet my extended family at a fancy restaurant for dinner. I got there and just started crying from the stress of the horrible day. My aunts tried to console me, but it did no good.
Then I overhead my dad tell my grandpa "She hasn't said a word all day. I made her laugh about 4 hours ago but nothing since then." I looked up, and there was my mom sitting at the end of the other table in her wheelchair. (She looked like she did about back in May/June) Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her face. I got up and ran to her and sat in her lap and hugged her. She held me as I cried. We cried together. I said "It's going to be okay, Mommy."
I'll never forget this moment in the dream. I was curled up in her lap with my head on her chest and her arms around me. And she said in a voice as clear as day "It'll be alright, baby."
It sounded exactly like her. EXACTLY like her. Just like she used to say it to me when I was sad.
I started sobbing so hard. And then I started sobbing in real life. It was an absolutely terrifying feeling. I don't know if any of you have woken yourself up by crying in your sleep, but it's a pretty scary feeling. And I wasn't just crying, I was really sobbing. I was whimpering and going "waaahhhhh!". That's how I woke up in the middle of the night.
But after the initial terror passed, I just felt her with me. It felt like it was really her. She was really telling that she's looking after me and that "It'll be alright, baby."
I had to write an essay for my Health Psychology class about a current streesor in my life. As you could have guessed, I wrote about my mom's death and her diagnosis almost 2 years ago as corresponding major life events. I got the grade back for the essay today. I got 100%! I thought I'd share it with you:
Analysis
of Two Corresponding Major Life Events
I
am currently going through the most stressful times of my life. This is not
because I’m a full-time college student at a challenging school majoring in
Psychology and double minoring in Mathematics and Ethnic Studies. This is the
most stressful period of my life because my mom died less than three months
ago.
Since
her brain cancer diagnosis in January of 2011, I have been felt the weight of
chronic stress. Not only has the death of my mother been a major life event,
but so was her initial diagnosis. The Social Readjustment Rating Scale rates
“major change in health or behavior of a family member” as #11, whereas “death
of a close family member” is ranked #5. I’ve experienced
both in less than two years.
However,
I would rank what I’ve been through higher than #5. For a daughter to lose her mom at the young
age of 20 is especially stressful. It has required me to greatly readjust my
life. Based on the stress I’ve felt over the last 21 months, I believe my event
of losing a parent after a difficult battle with a terminal illness should be
ranked #1 on the Social Readjustment Rating Scale, tied with “death of spouse”. However, I’ve never been married so I cannot even begin
to imagine what losing a spouse feels like for my dad and others like him.
My
mom’s initial diagnosis was extremely unexpected; it had very low
predictability. I was at home with my mom for 6
weeks during winter break prior to the diagnosis. Only one week after I returned
to school, I got the phone call that my mom was in the hospital for a brain
tumor. She had none of the normal symptoms of a brain tumor like a seizure or
prolonged headaches.
As
you can imagine, I had very little control during this entire experience. The
18 months from the diagnosis to her death seemed to revolve entirely around
her. Even when I researched clinical trials that could possibly slow down the
cancer cells, my opinion was not respected. I wanted so badly for my mom to
beat this cancer, but I felt like my efforts to help her were ignored. The only
decision I had control over was whether or not to move back home from school. I
was attending a college 2,000 away from home and during the frantic period
right after the diagnosis, I made the decision to leave the college I was
attending and find a school closer to home.
I
also categorize my experience with my mom’s initial diagnosis of stage four
brain cancer as a novel experience for me. I had never even known anyone with
stage four cancer. Finding out that my own mom had advanced cancer was unlike
anything I had ever coped with before.
Following
the Transactional Model of Stress, my primary appraisal of my mom’s diagnosis
was obviously negative. The event was both a harm
and a threat. As a harm, my mom’s diagnosis uprooted my college experience. I
was no longer living 2,000 miles away from home. I could no longer hang out
with friends. I was always working, studying, or spending valuable time with my
mom. As a threat, my mom’s diagnosis threatened her life, and as a result it
threatened our family life.
My
secondary appraisal during this first event was that I was not prepared. I did
not have many internal coping strategies ready for an event like this and my external
resources at the time were minimal.
After
an 18 month battle with brain cancer, my mom died this past July. This event
felt very different than the initial diagnosis a year and a half earlier. But
in fact the only difference was that it was expected and not a surprise. I had predicted
that she was going to die relatively soon. I had been telling myself for months
that my mom was probably going to die. I didn’t want to give myself false hope
and then feel shocked all over again, like I was with the diagnosis. However,
the anticipation of her death for months before it actually happened was also
very stressful. I wanted to prepare myself in the best way I could, but I
didn’t know how. I felt like I didn’t have any control.
In
fact, I felt like I had even less control than when she was first diagnosed
because I could no longer search for clinical trials and treatment options that
might fix the situation. In order to maintain some sense of control, I took on
the responsibility of planning things like the obituary and the funeral. This
helped me feel a sense of control and purpose.
My
mom’s death was also a novel experience for me. I had never seen a dead body
before. I had never experienced a death of a close family member before either.
My
primary appraisal was also obviously negative. I viewed it as a harm, like the
original diagnosis. But instead of also viewing her death as a threat, this
time I also viewed it as a challenge. I lost my mom.
That is a harm I will have to cope with for the rest of my life. But the challenge
is the important part, the challenge of incorporating this entire experience
into my life perspective and honoring my mother’s life in the process.
This
is part of my secondary appraisal. Since my mom’s diagnosis, I have developed a
strength that I did not know I was capable of. This is my new internal
resource. I feel prepared and I can use this newly developed strength to cope
with any future stressor. Another part of my secondary appraisal is my new
external resources. Over the 18 months of her battle with brain cancer, I met
many people who were experiencing or had experienced very similar situations to
the one I am in. I am able to talk with them and get the perspective on how to
handle difference situations and emotions.
However,
I am also going through a difficult grief process. The sadness and sense of
loss I feel presents itself in the form of stress. I am much more easily
stressed over daily hassles. Studying for a test sometimes feels like an
impossible task. This is because stressors are additive. A daily task of studying for a class on top of the stress of losing my mom
makes me reach overload and exhaustion very quickly. I
feel exhausted a lot. I have felt exhausted many times for the past year, just
as Hans Selye predicted in his model of the General Adaptation Syndrome. I hope in time, as I find a way to cope with my
mother’s death, I will no longer feel mentally exhausted as often as I do now.
I will overcome this major stressor in my life.
I think I've talked about money issues on my blog before, but I really just need a place to rant right now.
My dad has long been pestering me about money. He constantly tells me to get a job. He tells me to fight with my school to get as much financial aid as I possibly can. He's even tried to use my student discounts to buy things for himself.
And yet, time and time again, he spends money on things that no one would normally consider buying when you are low on cash. Earlier this year, he bought my mom a brand new laptop. What in the world would my mom do with a laptop? She had the cognitive mind of about an 8 year old when he bought it. Guess what happened. She barely used it. What a surprise.
He also bought her a Kindle Fire. Again what would she do with this? After losing motion on the left side of her body, my mom developed hemispatial neglect. This meant she couldn't read the words on the left side of the page.
This is a picture my mom drew of her sister.
You can see that a lot more detail is drawn on the right side.
She forgot the left arm entirely because of her hemispatial neglect.
We ended up mostly using the Kindle Fire to play her music after she had fallen into a coma-like state. Not exactly a worth-while purchase.
And now that my dad has received my mom's life insurance money, he isn't spending it any better.
While he still pesters me to get a job and made me take out thousands of dollars in student loans, he's bought another laptop, a new ipod (when he has a fancy Android), has planned several vacations to places like Hawaii and Los Angeles, and has decided to get a $1500 dog from a breeder. (I think getting a dog is a horrible idea altogether because both my dad and my sister are so busy, they don't have time to take care of a dog. Plus our house is filled with my mom's Persian rugs. Imagine what a puppy would do to white silk Persian rugs? But if he really wants to get one, why not get one from the local shelter?)
He's also donated thousands of dollars to the UCSF Neurosurgery Department. I don't have a problem with this, except that he made me take out the same amount of money in student loans. Isn't the point of life insurance money to help pay for things like college as if my mom were still alive? I can already tell that next year when I'm applying for financial aid again, my school is going to say "You seem to have received a lot of untaxed income this year. Why are you claiming you can't pay the full tuition price?" Because all the money will be already spent and I will have to take out more loans in my own name. And my dad will complain to me that we're not getting the same amount of scholarships as we did last year.
In 2 years my sister will be going off to college. I worry for her. My dad should use the money for our education. That's what my mom would do. There's a reason why she was in charge of our family's finances. She was so much more pragmatic about it.
Also, she'd never ever ever get a pet dog. She hated pets. But I guess my dad and sister always wanted one, and now that Mom's dead they can finally get their dog.
The last text my mom ever sent me was from May 10, over two months before she died. Her mind was too much like a child's to work a cellphone after that.
The text she sent me reads "I love you & miss you very much."
My Calculus professor is a cheery man who likes to chat with his students. Today , right before class, he looked at me and said, "How is your day going?"
I responded, "It's going okay."
"Just okay? It's a beautiful day! What could be troubling you?"
I said to him, "You really want to know?"
Mind you, this is in front of the entire class. This was not a private conversation.
"Sure! What's bothering you?"
So I said, "Okay... Well I'm kind of grieving right now. My mom just died 2 months ago" (at this exact instance, every single person snapped their head to look at me. It was just like a scene in a movie) "so I haven't had a good day in awhile."
Suddenly his face dropped. His eyes actually teared up. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Was she young?"
"She was only 52."
"That's so young... Cancer?"
"Yeah. Brain cancer."
Then there was silence. After about 30 seconds, he said "There have been so many medical breakthroughs, but there's still a long way to go."
And with that, he started his lecture.
At first, my eyes were teary. My bottom lip wouldn't stop shaking. But after a couple minutes, I felt empowered. I was raising my hand more than I ever have. I felt confident and capable. I want to make my mom proud and show everyone that I'm just as strong as she was. I'm her daughter. She taught me how to be strong. My strength comes from her.
I'm taking a course this semester called Health Psychology. I thought it would be about the psychological impact of being diagnosed with a severe illness. We might get to that topic at some point, but for now, this class is not at all as I expected. (I checked the syllabus and looks like we'll spend just the last day of class on cancer. Just one day.) So far we've disgusted the health benefits of making good health choices. This doesn't sound too bad, but I don't think I've ever gotten more frustrated taking a class than taking this one.
The textbook for my Health Psychology class.
First day of Health Psychology, my professor asks us to fill out a one-question survey. She asked each of use to rank how much we value our health, on a scale from 0 - 7. I decided to be honest and I wrote 3.
I've never been that healthy. My mom made us eat healthy foods growing up. She made us eat a serving of broccoli and a glass of milk every single night until I was in college. I absolutely hated it. She would beg me to work out with her (she exercised every night), but I'd always refuse. "Exercising is boring," I'd say. She wanted to me to exercise so bad, that she actually gave me roommate at DePaul University $20 for taking me to the gym one time! My mom really cared about her health. She never smoked and very rarely drank (and when she did, it was usually a margarita!). She ate a health diet and took daily vitamins.
Even before my mom got sick, I obviously didn't value my health very much. Probably because I was young and ignorant. And like my mom always told me, "you think you're healthy because you're not overweight, but that's not what being healthy means."
But when my mom got sick, I was in total shock. My mom always talked about how my dad didn't take care of his health and that it'll catch up with him one day. And that she didn't want me to grow up like him. But to watch her to struggle and then lose her life to cancer, why should I value good health? Good health can't prevent cancer. It can't prevent death. My mom was one of the healthiest people I knew, and she died of cancer.
My professor read though all the responses out loud, and most people wrote 6. There were some 7s and 5s. But when she got to mine, she said "Huh. Well 3 is kind of low." Yes, I know I should value good health more. My mom would want me to. But after everything I seen in the passed 2 years, it's hard to believe that having good health habits will really help me in the long run.
My professor told us that 75% of all deaths caused by cancer are attributed to lifestyle choices and health behaviors of the individual. [35% attributed to poor diet, 30% attributed to tobacco use, 7% attributed to sexual behavior, and 3% attributed to over-consumption of alcohol]
I realize that 75% is quite a high percentage and I understand why our professor is trying to convince everyone to be healthy, but I can't help but get so unbelievably frustrated during this class.
She told us about a study from 1965 to 1990 that found that healthy women who did 7 good health behaviors [didn't smoke, rarely drank alcohol, ate a balanced diet, exercised, got 7-9 hours of sleep every night, ate breakfast everyday, and didn't eat between meals] had a 43% lower mortality rate that women who didn't do any of these good health behaviors.
My mom did all of those things. She was healthy. Then why is she dead? It's not like she was killed in an accident. She died of a health problem. She died of cancer.
I don't know the exact reason for this, but as my mom's got sicker and sicker she stopped caring about her daily vitamins or a good diet. There were times when she ate two ice cream cones a day. She didn't seem to care. I'm not sure if the brain tumor had affected her reasoning so much that she just wanted to eat whatever she wanted. Or if she decided that she was going to die anyways, so what was the point in taking multivitamins? Or maybe she was so incredibly frustrated that decades of healthy diets and exercise and doing everything right didn't count for shit. That's what frustrates me the most at least. And that's why I wrote 3 on that survey.
Update:
Right after I wrote this blog post, I decided to go to the gym. I probably haven't gone to the gym8 months or so. Maybe I actually am learning from this class. Or maybe I exercised because I know my mom always wanted me to.
I had only been in college for 11 weeks when I found out that my mom had brain cancer and I moved home. I only had one quarter of college under my belt. You can never choose the timing of a thing like your mom begin diagnosed with terminal cancer, but I have to say it was pretty bad timing for me. (I hope that didn't come off as being selfish)
All of my high school friends had left for college too. When I got back to my hometown, they weren't there. They were doing what I had been doing. They were building new lives for themselves. They were building new friendships. I don't blame them for that.
Well I spent one semester at a local (shitty) community college. I made one friend there. He quickly became my boyfriend. He essentially saved me. I was so incredibly lonely when I first moved back home from Chicago (I'm from/live in the San Francisco Bay Area). I had moved back home to be with my mom, but no one in my family seemed to appreciate or care that I had given up on my theater conservatory education. It seemed to me that my mom wanted to spend more time with her friends than with me. Let's just say, I got very extremely depressed. On top of dealing with my moms recent terminal illness diagnosis, I felt like I had nobody. I thank my boyfriend for helping through that time. He was the only person who paid any attention to me.
In the fall of 2011, I transferred to a 4-year college in the Bay Area, and that's where I go now. Mills College is an all-women's school. I never saw myself as someone who'd want to got o a school without boys. But do you know what it's like to be in an environment that if only women, where you feel so comforted and supported and encouraged. To not have any bitchy girls gossipping or creating bullshit drama.It's a place where everyone genuinely wants to help each other. As someone who's dealing with their mother's long illness and death, I certainly did not want to be in a place that was more about partying than education. Mills College is perfect for me at this stage in my life.
But while I say that, I have yet to make any close friends there. I've gone there one year, but I spent the whole year constantly anxious about how I should be home with my mom. I didn't join any sports or clubs because I wanted to spend my time with my mom. I turned down invitations to hang out and I didn't go to any school dances or gatherings. To some people I must have seemed like an outcast. But to the people I told about my mom, I hope the tried to understand what I was going through and understood that I just needed my space.
But now my mom's gone, and I feel like still the only person I have is my boyfriend. Not to say he isn't enough, but sometimes a girl wants other girl friends to talk to. And you'd think at an all-women's school I wouldn't have any difficulty making girl friends. Well that's my goal for this year.
Up until my mom got sick, I was the kind of person who was involved in tons of extracurriculars. And I've felt so empty not filling my time with tons of activities. I've felt like for the passed 18 months, all I've wanted to do is spend time with my mom. And do you know what that meant for about 13 months of that time before she got really ill? It meant sitting with her and feeling uncomfortable. Like "okay, we both know you're sick and are probably dying. Everyone keeps telling us I should make this time with my mom count. But what the hell does that mean? What should I be doing?" It was usually pretty awkward. I was so worried about making my time with her count, that I was too anxious to enjoy myself.
It feels weird to say it, but once my mom got really sick, around March 2012, I actually started enjoying our time together more. I felt useful. I could help her and take care of her. It felt good to do something in return for my mom who had taken care of me for the past 20 years.
Sorry, I got a little off track. But anyway, so I haven't really been able to make friends at school. And I'm hoping things will change this semester. Classes start in less than a week and I'm so so excited. I think keeping busy is the best way to keep me sane right now. If I'm bored, I get depressed.
The only thing I'm not really looking forward to is that I know people will ask me "How was your summer?" And what am I supposed to say to that? "Oh it kind of sucked actually." "Why? What happened?" "Oh, um, my mom died." How many times will I have to play through that conversation? Do I want to? One thing is for sure, I'm so grateful that I'm not in like 2nd grade when on the first day of school the teacher would always say "Okay let's go around the room and say one thing we'll always remember about this summer." That would be horrifying.
It's been over 3 weeks since my mom died. And it didn't really hit me until yesterday. Yesterday was August 20th. August 20th was a very important day to my mom, though we don't know why. All she told me was "August 20th is Arbitrary". It was the day she had chosen for herself to die. She told me that she just needed a day to work towards.
Well she didn't make it to August 20th. She didn't even make it to August.
She also said she wanted her "After Party" on August 20th. Well since yesterday was a Monday, we threw the After Party on the 19th. It was such a wonderful celebration of her life. About 200 people attended - from family to childhood friends to college classmates to her previous bosses and coworkers, to her meditation group. We had some of her paintings displayed in the room and had the slide show I made projected on the wall.
Watercolor by Noushin Sharif-Murphy - 1987
It was definitely a party, just like my mom asked for. We had tons of my mom's favorite foods like watermelon, tiramisu, and margaritas. We made sure it was a potluck event just like she wanted it to be. And we forced one of her employees to be in charge of the music. For some reason, that was the most important thing to her. She insisted over and over again that this employee be the dj. I'm no sure why. I don't think he has any experience as a dj. But she made me pinky promise that he would dj, and he did. Mostly importantly, there was lots of dancing. My mom LOVED to dance. Overall, I think it was a great party and I think my mom would have approved. She was pretty hard to please and she was so worried that we wouldn't do everything just like she asked. Well expect for throwing one day early, I think we did pretty good!
So as I said earlier, my mom's death didn't really hit me until yesterday. Until after the After Party. I spent the day very depressed and in tears. The phrase "I miss my mom" was playing over and over and over in my head. That's the worst day I've had so far.
Until August 20th, it just hadn't hit me. I knew my mom was dead, but I didn't really miss her yet. I still felt like she was here. Like things were still the same. I wanted to miss her. I wanted to cry. But the tears would never come out. The tears still have a hard time coming out. Sometimes I just with my eyes would cry already!
There's a song that was one of my mom's absolute favorites. It's in Farsi and it's by a singer named Dariush. She LOVED Dariush ever since she was in high school. She actually kept a poster of him on the back of her door in her office. This song in particular was her favorite. It's called Cheshme Man (My Eyes). Every time it came on, she would just stop talking and listen. I never really knew what it was about until a few months ago, my mom was listening to it and my aunt came in and said "Why are you letting her listen to this song? It's so sad!" Since then, every one of my mom's Iranian friends said "Don't let her listen to Dariush! He's too sad!"
Well turns out Cheshme Man is about a man who's brother has passed away. And he can't understand why his eyes aren't crying. He's begging to God to let his eyes cry. Sounds a lot like what I'm feeling right now.
These are the lyrics translated to English:
My Eyes
My eyes, please come help me, My cheeks are dry, please do something, Is there anything that can be done except crying? We are hopeless, please weep The one who is now gone will never come back My heart wants to cry forever. All the seas God has on earth with all the clouds in the sky I wish he had given all of that to my eyes So they could cry for me The one who is now gone will never come back My heart wants to cry forever. The happy tales of my past Has ended so fast like a dream Now I must put my head on my knees and forever shed the tears of regret, Nobody’s heart has as much sadness as mine Nor nostalgia and sorrow like mine Now that crying is the cure for my pain, Why are my eyes lacking in tears. They have stolen our bright sun And drawn dark clouds underneath Everywhere dark color of sadness Our staying time is near its end The one who is now gone will never come back My heart wants to cry forever. Destiny has gone blind and cannot see The scar of its blade will stay in the heart Sealed lips, chest stained with blood That is the story of the one who stays behind
The one who is now gone will never come back My heart wants to cry forever.
"Now that crying is the cure for my pain, why are my eyes lacking in tears?" That is the question I ask myself everyday. I know everyone grieves differently. But I feel sad, I just want my eyes to show it. I want the grief to begin.
I mentioned this in an earlier post ("The End Is Near"), but I wanted to talk about it in further detail.
One day, about a month before my mom passed away, I was encouraging her to draw in her notebook like I did every time I came to visit. When all of a sudden, she turned the page and started writing. This is pretty unusual. By this time, she was having difficulty writing, so I was pretty shocked.
I was looking through her notebook yesterday when I found that page that she wrote almost 2 months ago:
It took me awhile to decipher it, but I'm pretty sure it says
1. Guests arrive 2. Someone reads the eulogy This isn't about mourning, this is about celebrating her life. After the burial, please gather at the
At this point, I remember her looking up at me and I asked her what she was writing. She didn't say anything, she just kept looking at me. I read the first two lines and got too scared to read the rest.
But now looking back on it, I can see how amazingly brave she was. At this point in her life, she couldn't walk or move her left arm. She had trouble eating, talking, and writing. She couldn't do very simple math problems anymore. Sometimes it seemed like she had the mental capacity of a 5 year old.
But then, out of nowhere, she would write things like this. And this would remind me that she was still the same person on the inside. She wasn't totally gone. She's still the most courageous person I have ever known. And I hate brain cancer for doing this to her.
My dad was reading through my mom's journal from the past year and he found this note that my mom wrote to me on my birthday this year: (click on the picture to view it larger)
If you can't read it, she wrote:
"The connection that we experience is very close. I am glad I got to be a part of it. Keep on bringing joy to everyone's life you touch with your bright smile."
I think it's about time I stop putting off this blog post.
For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter or Facebook, my mom passed away on Sunday.
We were all expecting it to happen. Honestly, I am so incredibly amazed and impressed with my mom for staying alive as long as she did. She fell into a very deep sleep on July 19th and never woke up. She went 10 days without any food or water. And as she requested, no feeding tubes or IV fluids either. I didn't know that was even humanly possible! How does someone survive 10 days without food or water? I know I couldn't do that.
We don't know why she was holding on for so long. After a week, my dad starting telling her that it was okay to let go. But she just didn't seem to want to leave us. We all told her over and over again that we would be okay and that we love her very much. But she kept hanging on.
On Saturday, I decided that we should watch my mom's favorite movie. It's an Italian film called Cinema Paradiso. She absolutely loved that movie. I knew she couldn't see it, because she was asleep. And I know she couldn't she couldn't understand what they were saying because it's in Italian. But I know she loved the music from the movie so I moved a tv into her bedroom and played the movie for her. Here's the trailer for the film:
It was a women's movie afternoon. It was me, my mom, my sister, both my grandmas, both my aunts, and my friend's mom. I really enjoyed it and I think my mom did too because her breathing slowed down.
That night, I wanted to stay awake with her, but I was so exhausted, I just couldn't. My aunt and I slept in my parents' bed, which was next next to the hospital bed. And my dad and my sister slept in sleeping bags on the floor.
My dad says he got up at 2:30am to give her a half dose of morphine. (He was so worried that she was in pain, even though every nurse said she looked peaceful and pain free.) He sat with her as her breathing became slower and slower. Sometime just before 4:00am, he must have started dosing off because just at 4:02am, both my aunt and I woke up. I'm not sure what woke us up, but I opened my eyes and was listening. I knew not to get too worried when I didn't hear any breathing because my mom had been taking up to 20 second pauses between breaths. As I was laying there counting the seconds, my aunt jumped up and yelled at my dad "She's not breathing anymore." She was right. My mom slipped away just when no one was watching.
We woke my sister up, which is always very difficult - she's a really deep sleeper. She later told me it felt like a dream. I told her it did for me too. And she said "No. Like it REALLY felt like a dream. I wasn't really awake."
My sister and I sat with my mom while my dad and aunt called hospice and the funeral home and all the family. She and I sat next to her and my sister said "Look! Isn't she smiling?" And she was. I couldn't help but take a picture of it. It was just so beautiful. I compared that picture to several pictures from when she was in the coma thing. That was the only picture she was smiling in. She was happy to finally go to a better place. She didn't have to fight anymore. She just let go.
We talked to her. I told her "I know you probably think this is really stupid. We know that you're looking down on us now, and what do you see? Your two girls talking to a dead body that isn't you anymore. I know you're always with us now."
Of course I broke down crying once or twice too. We all did. But after an hour of that, I just wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted to dream of something happier. But unfortunately, my dad is that kind of person that just babbles when he's uncomfortable or doesn't know what to say. He wouldn't let me sleep. After about an hour, I was finally dozing off when the hospice nurse arrived. She was way too cheery to be dealing with a death at 5:00 in the morning.
We chatted with her. Too much small talk in my opinion. After she left, the men came to take her body away.
I was terrified of that moment, but it didn't seem to bother me as much as I thought it would. I sat in the living room alone as I watched the men carry her out of her bedroom and out the front door in a black bag.
It was about 7:00am when they took her body away. My sister and I just sat on the couch. We really didn't know what to do with ourselves. We turned the TV on and it happened to be the start of the Olympics. We watched the Olympics all day. I think it was the perfect distraction.We left the Olympics on the TV for several days. I think I'll always associate the London Olympics with my mom's death. But not in a sad way. In a way that the Olympics has really helped with through this time. It's given us something to focus on that wasn't about death. And it's something that everyone can relate to and talk about. So thank you to the London Olympics.
For the next few days, I felt like we were all just waiting around the house for people to come and bring us flowers or food and give their condolences. It was awful. Staying inside all day because people expected us to be there. I don't think my dad left that house for over a week.
We were able to transport my mom's body to UCSF so that her brain could be donated to research, just as she requested. It was her dying wish and I'm so glad that we were able to make it come true. UCSF did an MRI of her brain and then took her into surgery and removed the brain. They will compared the MRI results to the actual brain so that they will hopefully be able to better read MRI scans. I hope my mom's brain will benefit other brain tumor patients. I remember about a year ago when my mom had an MRI and her oncologist said, "There is something growing, but it's probably just swelling, not tumor growth." Then 4 weeks later, another MRI and the oncologist said "It's still growing so I'm guessing that it's no swelling, but actually tumor growth." The next week they took my mom into surgery, and what did they find? It was just swelling. But because we had to stop the chemo for the surgery, the tumor cells that were there had developed a resistance to the chemo that was working. I was so mad. I couldn't believe that scientists and doctors could know so little. Give me the MRI scans, and I could tell you just about as much as the oncologist did.
I know it's not the oncologists fault though. There just isn't the research to know more. I really hope my mom's brain will be able to solve this horrible problem. I don't want anyone else to have to go through that.
The Wednesday after my mom's passing, we had the funeral. We all drove to the funeral home where my mom was being kept and two older Iranian women arrived to wash my mom's body, as is Muslim tradition. All female friends and family were invited to participate in the washing, but I chose not to do it. I was too scared at the time. Even my aunt didn't do it. Only two of my mom's very best friends went in to help. I spoke with them after, and they said that it was very spiritually cleansing. Like this was the final thing that they could do for her. They cleaned her body and prepared her and made her look nice. Looking back, I kind of wish I had participated, but I think my mom understands that I just didn't feel comfortable at the time.
As my aunt had insisted, a Muslim man came to recite the prayers and oversee the Muslim burial. I understood most of what her said, and trust me, he rambled on for about 15-20 minutes longer than he had too. It was so hot that day and I swear I almost fainted standing in the sun while he was just babbling. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that he volunteered his time to lead the prayers. I just don't think my mom gave a shit. I sure didn't.
After he finished speaking, several people each read things in front of everyone who was there. I read the excerpt from the Richard Bach book There's No Such Place As Far Away that I included in one of my previous posts Now Death Is Really Near.
You have no birthday
because you have always lived.You were never born, and you will never die. You
are not the child of the people you call mother and father, but their fellow
adventurer on a bright journey to understand that things that are. Fly free and
happy beyond forever, and we'll meet now and then when we wish, in the midst of
the one celebration that can never end.
My mom's friend read a poem that we actually found saved onto my mom's computer. It's called She Let Go
She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go. She let go of fear. She let go of the judgments. She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head. She let go of the committee of indecision within her. She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons. Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go. She didn’t ask anyone for advice. She didn’t read a book on how to let go... She didn’t search the scriptures. She just let go. She let go of all of the memories that held her back. She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward. She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right. She didn’t promise to let go. She didn’t journal about it. She didn’t write the projected date in her day-timer. She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper. She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope. She just let go. She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment. She didn’t call the prayer line. She didn’t utter one word. She just let go. No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations. No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing. Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go. There was no effort. There was no struggle. It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad. It was what it was, and it is just that. In the space of letting go, she let it all be. A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.
While preparing things for the funeral, I remember that years ago my mom had emailed me a worksheet that she had done at a workshop about finding your "primary aim" in life. She encouraged me to also fill out the worksheet, but I never did. I should probably do it now. I searched through my old emails, and found it. She listed these five things as the most important things she wanted in her life:
1. I want a life full of new learnings everyday. I want my life to be filled with personal growth and understanding.
2. I want my mom to accept me for who I am not who she wants me to be. I want us to relate to each other.
3. I want my children to be independent, intelligent and capable to make decisions in their lives that best suits them.
4. I want to surround myself with people that I love, respect and trust. I want to live in an environment free of hatred where people could accept and respect each other's differences.
5. I want to grow old gracefully, with dignity and self-respect. I want to die while I am still healthy and active.
I can't explain the feeling of reading this list of things most important to my mom the day after she died. She wrote this list over 5 years ago.
I will do my very best to make my mom proud and fulfill her #3. I'm sad to report that I don't think my grandma ever fulfilled #2. She such stubborn lady, just like my mom was. Like mother, like daughter. My mom worked so hard to make sure she developed good relationships with her daughters.
#5. I wish #5 were true. My mom was never able to grow old. She was not able to die will she was still healthy and active. Brain cancer took that away from her.
The last assignment of this worksheet is to write your on eulogy. We also read this eulogy at the funeral. This is what my mom wrote about herself:
Throughout her life, through hard work and persistence, Noushin managed to grow from a fearful follower to a fearless leader! She enriched our lives with her sense of restless conviction to her beliefs and values. She was a creative visionary who saw beyond appearances through the depths of the people around her and was able to bring out the best in them. She had the strength to pursue her dreams despite insurmountable barriers and limitations surrounding her. Her highest sense of truth was her commitment to her friends and family. The gift she left behind is the beauty of her character that touched us all.
