All The Life We Cannot See

How much did you miss seeing today? Perhaps you were looking at your phone. Or driving and talking. Or running errands and talking.

We seem to be on our phones a lot. I know I can be. I have all my work emails and texts and work apps on there. So there is no 9-5 anymore. I also have social media and texts from friends, etc. And I know you do, too.

We seem to always be easily distracted now. Or bored.  I never see people just reading a book or chatting while waiting for their flight. Or just sitting enjoying that warm cup of coffee or tea. Literally everyone is just on their phone.

I know. Maybe they are reading a book on their phone or doing work or reading the news. But do we really need this 24/7? I even see people at the hospital visiting sick loved ones who are constantly looking at their phones. It is so common now that we don't even notice we are doing it. The patient was doing it too!

So, I ask you, what did you miss today?

You most likely didn't miss the latest notifications from Twitter or Facebook or Instagram. You didn't miss the latest viral video or Snapchat.  You know all the headlines.

But what did the sky look like today. I know your weather app said rain. But was there a rainbow? Did the clouds part suddenly and allow a beautiful clear sky to shine through? Were there bright puddles with reflections. Were kids jumping in them.

Did you see that cute puppy? No, not the one on your phone. The one you just passed while you were on the phone. The one that stopped to look at you or get a pat on the head. But you just walked on by.

Did you see the look on that woman's face? You know, the one ringing you up and the one bagging your groceries as you ignore them while talking on your phone. You never even looked up.

The flowers are in bloom now. The lilacs. Have you stopped to smell them? It is like a bit of heaven.

Did you see the elderly man sitting on the bench? The one sitting quietly, holding his cane with two hands, looking down. Did you see the look of anguish on his face? You know, his wife died last year. And he is in pain. But no one even glances his way. Or says hello. What a lonely existence we all have when there is so much to share.

If only we would stop and look.  Just stop and really see. Smell the air. Feel the breeze. Smile at someone. Say hello. Pet the dog walking by. Noticing people.  Acknowledging them. Thanking them for holding that door.  Or bagging your things.

What did your daughter look like today? Was she smiling and funny? Was your son sad? Did you notice the haggard look on your husband or wife's face when they got home from work? Did you hug anyone today? Did you share a laugh with a co-worker? Did you see the plants rising up through the dirt in the garden? Did you notice the new floral display at the grocery store? You know, the one you ran past. Someone stayed extra hours yesterday to make it beautiful for you to see. Did you see her? She was standing right there as you bustled by.

I have been asking myself these questions lately. A lot. I miss things, too. But not anymore. I am making a real effort to really see things. See the beauty. The nuances. The ugly. The sad. The happy.
It makes my life better. I leave my phone in my purse. Or at home when I go on a walk now. There is nothing that cannot wait. Remember when there were no cellphones? No answering machines? No internet? I saw more then. Real life. Right in front of me.

It's in front of you, too. Don't miss it. (You may be reading this on your phone or tablet. But put it down now and look around. Really see)

"The key to nature's therapy is feeling like a tiny part of it, not a master over it. There's amazing pride in seeing a bee land on a flower you planted-but that's not your act of creation, it's your act of joining in." ~ Victoria Coren Mitchell

"You can become blind by seeing each day as a similar one. Each day is a different one, each day brings a miracle of its own. It's just a matter of paying attention to this miracle." ~ Paul Coelho

"I love walking down the street and seeing faces and drama and happiness and sadness and dirt and cleanliness." ~ Rick Ocasek

"The world is the true classroom. The most rewarding and important type of learning is through experience, seeing something with our own eyes." ~ Jack Hanna

"When was the last time you spent a quiet moment just doing nothing ~ just sitting and looking at the sea, or watching the wind blowing the tree limbs, or waves rippling on a pond, a flickering candle or children playing in the park?" ~ Ralph Marston

Life is short. Don't miss it.

The Hurt We Hide Is Killing Us

I meet so many wonderful people each and every day. Unfortunately, I meet many of  them in the worst of circumstances. You have probably met them too. But you never know their pain, their sorrow. They keep it hidden, often asking you how you are doing. And when you respond in kind, they most likely will answer, I am doing well, thank you.

But they are not doing well. They wear a fake mask, trying to hold it all together.  It is exhausting for them. They swirl in a mass of conflicting priorities; the young mom with a sick child but two others seeking attention, the co-worker who is caring for a sick loved one but cannot miss another day of work or a paycheck, the teacher of your child who has just received a cancer diagnosis, the neighbor whose spouse died suddenly and without warning but must now maintain a home and do not have the capacity to even try.

We walk among these folks every day. We may be one of them. We nod, we say hi, but we never really know the sorrow that is deep inside. We hide it. They hide it. It is all so isolating.

When I meet with the bereaved I am often told of their isolation. They feel that people don't want to know about their sadness. They stop getting invited to events and parties. No one brings up the deceased. They are too afraid to open wounds. They prefer the stoic presumption of bravery. They like saying, you have moved on, things are getting better, oh good for you. They like to believe that because they don't want to really know. They want to see that you are doing 'fine'. They need that so that if a similar situation befalls them, they see that all will be ok.

They are easily fooled.

It is never really okay. People have no choice but to soldier on with open, gaping wounds and sorrow. They must "hold it together". People are depending on them. No, they don't talk about it. But at night, all alone, the facade can be put aside. They can lose themselves in sleep or TV or exercise or crying. They can take off that mask they wear for you and embrace their loss, their pain. Until tomorrow, when they put on that heavy mask once again.

This is why we need compassion. To show it to people. To hug. We need more than sad face emojis. We need to reach out to one another. Touch.  Start listening. Start asking questions. Start sharing our pain. Just sitting quietly. Just being present.

The isolation is literally killing us. Pills and drinks and elicit drugs are sweeping our communities. People are anesthetizing themselves. Those walls we build are tombs. We must find ways to break them down.

A first step would be to acknowledge someone's pain. Don't ask, do. Send a text. Make a call. Send a card that says I know you are going through hell, but know I love you. Ring someone's doorbell and bring them some flowers or some treats. No words needed.

Reach out.  Reach out.  Just reach out in small ways.

It could literally save your life and others', too.

"Spread love everywhere you go.  Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier" ~ Mother Teresa

"Look for a way to lift someone up.  And if that's all you do, that's enough." ~ Elizabeth Lesser

" Instead of putting others in their place, put yourself in their place."  ~Anonymous

Some Grief Haiku by Janice Badger Nelson

On the grayest  day/

Nothing Takes my pain away/

So I keep walking. 

Sadness envelopes/

All of my waking hours/

Missing you is hell. 

No one understands/

The deep depth of my despair/

Because you aren't there.  

Why did you leave me/

I guess you can't quite answer/ 

Silence is your prayer. 

In the end I will/

Keep on walking each day/

In my mind with you. 

~Janice

Good Grief

I have been reading twitter lately. I usually do not like that social media forum, but have been drawn to it more in recent months. It could be because of my curiosity to read what other people think about certain events. Especially movie reviews and that type of thing. People are crazy on there and say crazy things. It can be entertaining.

Anyway, I have read some tweets from Meghan McCain. No political statement there. Her father, as you may know, Senator John McCain, recently passed away from a horrible brain cancer called Glioblastoma. It is always a death sentence. My own sister in law and an Uncle both died from this. It is insidious and sneaks up on you. People usually die within a year or so. It is awful.  And not a death I would wish on anyone. It is particularly hard on the caregivers. To watch this fast decline. It is cruel. As a hospice nurse, it is a diagnosis we all dread.

Getting back to Meghan. She tweets about her dad a lot. Apparently she also talks about him frequently on a show called The View. I don't watch much TV, and have never watched the show, but people comment to her that she talks about him too much. Like she should be over it by now. That other people have lost loved ones but they don't talk about it incessantly like she does.

I call that grief shaming.

It is like people expect you to wrap it up and put it away about 3-6 months after someone dies. It doesn't matter if it is a parent or sibling or spouse. Or even a child. They talk about closure. They say talking about it only makes you sad. They say to get out more. Don't think about it. Let it go.

They say all sorts of stupid things. And it is hurtful. And totally unnecessary.

Most times people have to hide their grief. They stop talking about it at all. They bury their feelings. They cry in the shower. When they are alone in the car. They numb themselves with alcohol or drugs. They may try to distract themselves. Sometimes it creeps up on them like a big wave of despair and they feel like they are drowning.

And then sometimes it is gone.

But not for long and not forever.

I think my grief over losing my father and mother and pets gets worse when I see something or someone that reminds me of them. Holidays are particularly difficult. And it has been decades since my mom died. I still have all her handwritten recipes. And sometimes I bring them out and read them and remember. And yes it does make me sad. But also it fills my heart with the love I felt. And that is healing.

We will never fully stop missing someone who is gone from this world. No way. And it is okay to talk about them. To keep loving them. To stay connected with memories and pictures and videos and treasures we kept from them. Life is short. We are who we are because of the people in our lives. Past and present. We do not have to forsake the past to live in the present. We can celebrate their life and honor them until the day we die. And we have to let people know that. If they grief shame you, tell them that. If they persist, just walk away.

It is so hard for the bereaved.  But we are all bereaved at some point in our lives.  And we all deal with it individually. And in our time and space. And some may choose to talk. And others to stay silent. Some write beautiful poetry. Some visit a grave every week. Some talk in prayers to loved ones. Some cry themselves to sleep every single night.

And it is all ok. It is okay to miss someone. It is okay to feel sad.

We are not allowed to own our feelings anymore. If we say we are sad, we are labeled as depressed. And given a drug for that. Awful.

Instead we need more hugs. We need to allow grief and sadness. We need to lean into our grief. Feel it. It will never really let us fall. And it is the one thing we all share at one time or another. If only we were not so isolated in our grief. If only we didn't feel the need to build walls around it. If only we could just be allowed to miss those we lost loud and clear.

 It would be so much better.

For all of you out there hurting, it is okay. You should hurt. It hurts. But it does get better. Never forgotten, but better. The timing is just different for all of us. Know that and accept your grief.  It has it's own timetable. It is so hard but keep remembering that it is part of our human experience. Keep loving yourself.

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
...Edna St. Vincent Millary