I've was never very good about saying goodbye

I was never really good at saying goodbye. In Death, is it good-bye or until we meet again? There is nothing kind about cancer. The diagnosis is painful and brings up many questions and not a lot of answers. As life swings in the balance, the looming potential of death hangs heavily.

And then there is the final good-bye.

In the 10 months, from diagnosis to death, we spend hours talking about life and its mysteries. I wasn’t ready on so many levels. He was my soulmate and a life without him, was unthinkable.

His treatment meant painfully long weeks in bed, and so we made use of this time. When he was well enough, we talking endlessly about some of life’s regrets and triumphs, about love and family, memories.

And we did more sitting around in the last months of his life than we had done in a lifetime. And it was an endless reminder of what was coming.

Anxiety was constant, in the pit of my stomach, waking with it gnawing at me, it took conscious effort to ease the discomfort in my body and mind and soul.

Even though I had experienced an NDE, which had changed my belief in life after death. It didn’t make it any easier to let go. I know now that death challenges our beliefs. There is a difference between believing and knowing that often conflict. I discovered he also believed in life after death, and so I asked him to give me a sign.

He said he would come back as a red winged blackbird, which was he favourite bird as a child. I asked how will I know? I asked, will you rest on my outstretched palm, will you land of my shoulder or sit on the coffee table, how will I know. And he simply said, that I would know..

When he died, I was devastated and those first few days I wandered around the house in a daze. I called out to the sky, send me a sign. I went down to our lake, and I waited for the redwing blackbird to approach. But none of them did. I became more desperate every day. I held my face and hands to the sky and begged for him to send me a sign. A few minutes later, the phone rang and a voice came through, that said, your chickens are here..

Willis had always wanted chickens, but we had ordered them so many months before, I had completely forgotten. So yes, there is humor, and laughter and hope and love, and there are signs, if we take the time.

And there were those days when I struggled, but I know it is not the way forward.

My background in NLP was an asset for sure, I had tools to remove anxiety. I created meditations for his and mine. Understanding how to engage with our mind, to stay in the present in order to cope effectively was essential. Because there was so much to do.

Being in service, or caring for a sick loved one, can be both deeply rewarding but also exhausting. I could hear my own warning to clients, to fill my tank. Think of ourselves as a lawn mower, you will also run out of gas, so be mindful of your needs.

Be mindful of your energy, stress, mindset and fill your self up. A walk in nature, any single minded act: knitting, fishing, cards, reading, journaling, physical activity, cooking, you name it. If it creates an externa focus, it is meditation and it does wonders.

Caregiving demanded so much on so many levels, I would wake up and go to sleep exhausted. The emotional toll could be devastating if you allowed yourself to drop into that pit. And so I made a pack with myself and with you….. to take time each day, to reach out to try to normalize some of our daily routines, in small doses bring in a routine.

Take the time but be mindful of your moods and reach out. You will be missing human touch, reach out, think of a retreat which will nourish your soul. Connect with me to find out more.

I have a retreat a 7 day Growth through Grief Retreat in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico in January, feel safe secure and surrounded by love and the warm Mexican Sun.

Or the sunshine coast of BC’s beautiful water front in February.

Connect for a free call

Soulutions for Grief