Last Thursday evening, I went to my first official African drumming lesson.  It was absolutely fantastic.  It is a perfect way to de-stress as the repetitive beat is hypnotic and keeps you in the present moment.  This means that for once the troublesome mind is still and the heart is allowed to feel.  I guess it’s a type of meditation and of course it’s a well known fact that sound is very healing.  There were only 6 of us and yet there was a wonderful sense of connection in the room and a lot of smiling faces.  I can’t remember feeling as happy as that since my first biodanza claass.

If you wish to find out more about this enjoyable pastime, go to www.noahafromusic.com.  Give it a go.

I was recently in Sewards, getting a headlight bulb replaced.  After waiting three quarters of an hour for the job to be done, despite having booked an appointment, I approached the lady who had originally served me.   She was on the telephone and looked quite harassed.

When she put the phone down, wanting to mop her fevered brow and show concern for her, I mentioned that she looked rather stressed and asked her what the matter was.  She immediately opened up and said that people didn’t listen to her.  Without a moment’s hesitation I said, no, it’s not personal to you, people just don’t listen!  It looked as if she took that on board.  It’s easy for us to believe that other people’s inconsiderate behaviour is something to do with us, when in actual fact, it’s their issue.  Of course, if we choose to make it personal, then we will suffer, which will do absolutely nothing to change the other person’s behaviour.  How crazy is that?  And yet, we’ve all done it, haven’t we?

Remember one of Eleanor Roosevelt’s famous quotes: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”  She was a wise woman and of course she was absolutely right.

For a long time, I had been intending to get hold of a copy of Dr Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning” as he had frequently been quoted in  personal development books.  Finally, I did, and I was not disappointed.

In the preface, it says: “In his book, Dr Frankl (a psychiatrist) explains the experience which led to his discovery of logotherapy.  As a long time prisoner in bestial concentration camps, he found himself stripped to naked existence.  With the exception of his sister, his entire family perished in these camps.  How could he with every possession lost, every value destroyed, suffering from hunger, cold and brutality, hourly expecting extermination – how could he find life worth preserving? …”

And yet he did.  Day after day, and week after week.  It’s a moving and inspiring story.  For me, his most meaningful quote is:

“Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”   

I briefly mentioned in the second blog that the grieving process can include myriad feelings.  What I hadn’t mentioned is that, according to grief experts, there are four phases to the grieving process: shock, protest, disorganisation and reorganisation.  Within each phase, the following may be experienced:

Phase 1:  Shock

Numbness - a lack of feelings

Disbelief - it hasn’t really happened

Hysteria - uncontrolled emotional excitement

Euphoria - an irrational feeling of happiness

Unemotional - apparently unaffected

Thinking - slow, chaotic or can remain unaffected

Activity - slow, super drive or can remain unaffected

Suicidal thoughts - often related to wanting to join the deceased

Phase 2: Protest

Sadness - an all-pervading feeling

Anger - may be directed at the deceased for leaving, or at others who may be blamed for the loss; or may be a general feeling of anger and irritability

Guilt - ‘if only’, taking the blame for words spoken or not spoken, for actions done or not done

Fear - of own death, of survival, of inability to cope, of the futur

Relief - often after long illness

Yearning - the longing for the return of the lost person; may include a sense of presence, or seeing, hearing, smelling or feeling them

Searching - looking for the deceased, calling them or mistaking others for them

Preoccupation - with memories related to the loss; often include thoughts of how to recover the lost person, dreams and nightmares

Physical distress - chest pains, fatigue, tension, nausea, sleep disturbance, headaches, panic

Phase 3:  Disorganisation

Confusion - often a mass of conflicting, difficult feelings and thoughts

Apathy - void of feeling, indifferent to what is happening

Aimlessness - no sense of purpose, not knowing where to go, lacking motivation

Loss of interest - not wanting to do anything

Restlessness - and inability to relax or settle to any activity

Loss of confidence - fear of failure, fear of not coping

Low self-esteem - somehow of less worth without the deceased, and less able

Anguish - deep emotional and often physical pain

Depression - low, flat despairing

Anxiety - may be related to own mortality or to feeling there is no way out and no way of coping

Lonelines - often not assuaged just by the company of others, which may in fact be avoided

Concentration  Memory - often poor for the task at hand

Sadness - sometimes described as a better feeling following recovery from more intense depression

Loss of meaning - Why are we here?  What’s it all for?

Loss of faith - may be damaged or lost “How can God do this?”

Hopelessness - unable to see a good future and perhaps feeling stuck with no sign of change

Suicidal ideas - overwhelmed by hopelessness, depression and despair

Decreased Resistance to illnesses to illness - susceptibility to all sorts of minor and possibly more major

Phase 4 – Reorganisation

Developing Balanced Memories - developing a more realistic memory of the deceased, both good and bad aspects of their personality

Pleasure in  Remembering - enjoying memories, although still sad as well, but no longer just painful

Control over  Remembering - some choice over when and what to remember; no longer preoccupied with memories

Return to previous levels of functioning - a resumption of activities, interest, motivation and ability

Changed values - a different view of the relative importance of things; new insight

New meaning in life - a new sense of purpose

Having said all this, I wish to emphasise three things:

1) there is no timescale assigned to each phase

2) there can be movement backwards and forwards between the phases. 

3) your reactions and feelings are perfectly normal, even though you may not think they are. 

While it is certainly useful to be aware of this process, do not be overly concerned about whether or not your feelings fit into the stage that they are ‘meant’ to be in.  I know that mine don’t.

Approximately 6 weeks after my Father’s death, I went into the “protest phase.”  The first phase for me was nowhere near as painful as the second one.  In fact, I remember feeling calm on many occasions and told people of my Father’s death, almost as if I were saying something quite trivial.

If you have been following this blog, you will also remember that I suggested that it is a good idea not to judge whatever you are feeling and to just allow it.  Of course, this is easier said than done.  Looking back to the first phase, I was judging myself as doing really well. Funnily enough, other people were saying the same thing.  What I have found is that many people’s comments are just not helpful at all.  In fact, some are downright hurtful.  If you happen to be reading this and haven’t had a personal experience of loss, then please also pay heed.  If you want to support someone going through the grieving process, then the best way to do this is just to be a good listener.  Refrain from platitudes and judgemental comments, however well meaning.

So what have I been feeling?  For me, there are two key emotions – sadness and anger.  The anger has been very strong and widespread. Anger at my Father, my family in general, my niece, my friends, strangers  – at times, almost anyone and everyone that I come into contact with.  In fact, I was so angry one day that I slammed my bedroom door as hard as I could twice and screamed, it’s not fair.  I was then very tearful.  The tears I can handle – the anger is far more difficult, particularly in view of my age and sex.  Obviously females of my age were brought up to behave in a certain way and anger was definitely not on the agenda for girls!  What came to my mind was the nursery rhyme:
What Are Little Girls Made of?  (It’s strange how the first line starts off with “what are little boys made of?”, in view of the title “What are little boys made of?”

What are little boys made of?

What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails and puppy dog’s tails
That’s what little boys are made of

What are little girls made of?

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and everything nice

That’s what little girls are made of

What are young men made of?

What are young men made of?
Sighs and leers and crocodile tears

That’s what young men are made of

What are young women made of?
What are young women made of?
Ribbons and laces and sweet pretty faces

That’s what young women are made of     

Bearing in mind it must be 45 years since I heard this, it goes to show how ingrained this form of conditioning can be!

On a final note, if you are grieving right now, remember it is transient and this too shall pass.

I was on a train from Poitiers to Charles de Gaulle yesterday morning returning home from a 6-day visit to my ex step daughter’s in Parthenay.  Being on auto pilot, the phrase “life’s a journey, not a destination” flashed into my mind.  It struck me that, like many clichés, it often loses its meaning through overuse and yet, if we examine it more closely, we realise how true it is.

We always seem to be trying to get somewhere, focusing on our goal or destination.  I’m certainly not criticising being goal-oriented as we are goal-setting by nature.  However, if we lose sight of what we are experiencing and learning along the way, then it is likely that the destination will not have the same meaning. 

In addition, as human beings, we have a tendency to have expectations, which, if they are not fulfilled, will probably cause us to be dissatisfied.  I remember my Father saying many years ago that often a situation which we perceive as “bad”, in the long run, turns out to be in our best interest.  In summary, take time on your journey to really experience it, refrain from judging situations and always expect the best.  We can certainly focus on what we want to achieve but it is the Universe and not us which decides on the timing!

The day of the funeral came, as it must.  I felt agitated, not because I was concerned about speaking, for I most certainly was not but because I was worried about being able to contain my emotions.  (Nine years before, I had spoken at my Mother’s funeral (my first experience of public speaking) and had kept my emotions well and truly under wraps for the entire day – which for me, as probably the most emotional person I know – was unbelievable.  This was the very beginning of my discovery that public speaking was to be an integral part of my life – in fact, it was the key to me discovering my life’s purpose.  Not crying at my Mother’s funeral was one thing – I did that for my Father – not crying at my Father’s would be an entirely different proposition.)

We arrived at the Crematorium in very good time and were therefore able to greet our guests, as they arrived.  As the older sister, I began the service, with my younger sister by my side taking over when it was her turn.  Then it came to the point where three of us – my sister, my niece and I – would give our own personal tributes, which we had not shared with each other previously.  My sister began and completed hers.  It was moving.  Next my niece.  Almost immediately she started crying and simultaneously my sister and I jumped in and offered to do it for her.  No, she insisted and bravely continued on, though she had never, to my knowledge, spoken in public, let alone at something so emotional.  (Come to think of it, she probably is as emotional as me!)  It was beautifully written and exquisitely delivered.  I encouraged the “congregation” to applaud her, which they did admirably.  This also gave me a breather before it was my turn.  It was a very powerful and moving experience.

All too soon, it was time to hand over to the officiant for the committal – the part where the final goodbyes are made and the coffin departs.  It was our opportunity to sit in with the congregation and shed a few tears.  Then it was all over and off to the pub!

The service had gone extremely well and it felt perfect to have been able to honour my Father in this way.  He would have been so proud of us all.  It was so much better than allowing a complete stranger to perform it and I would encourage anyone who has a desire to do this to go right ahead and do it.  As a small part of my business, I offer assistance with wedding speeches and believe that I could also offer similar assistance for those wishing to speak at a funeral.    

The officiant sent me the words which he had put together for the service and frankly I was completely unimpressed.  He had also chosen the poems to be read, both of which I found miserable.  My sister and I re-wrote almost the entire script and inserted one of my Father’s favourite poems which expressed his sentiments on death perfectly.  It is the well-known poem by Mary Frye “Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep.”

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints of snow

I am the sun on ripened grain

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry

I am not there, I did not die.

We chose upbeat music for entry to and exit from the Crematorium both of which were favourites of his.  They were England Swings by Roger Miller and Banner Man by Blue Mink.  Instead of hymns, we chose Jerusalem and Let The Love Flow, both of which are rousing rather than sombre.  In fact, the whole feel of the service reflected his positive attitude and we endeavoured to make it a celebration.  We didn’t wear black – we wore colours.  We smiled.

It took my sister and me 9 attempts before we were finally happy with what had been written.  We put in an enormous amount of effort to ensure that it was perfect.  For me, it was an extremely important part of the process, even though the service itself only lasts for about half an hour. 

Just 5 days before the service, I was talking with an acquaintance who happened to mention that his girlfriend’s Mother had died and that the family had delivered the service themselves.  What a fantastic coincidence and it was just what I needed to hear!  That meant that we could too.  As soon as I got back home, I checked with the Funeral Directors to make sure that we could do it ourselves.  The answer was a resounding yes.  I left a message for my sister to call me urgently.

She readily agreed.  We then divided up the service between us leaving only the Commital for the officiant  to perform at the end. 

TO BE CONTINUED 

I made contact with one of the officiates and spent an hour on the telephone telling him about my Father, so that he could put together a service for us. It’s a challenging task as when someone has lived for 84 years and done many good things, there is so much to say.  In addition, the officiant had never even met my Father and therefore I wanted to ensure that he understood the essence of who he was. 

We also liaised with the Funeral Directors in terms of the coffin type, flowers (just from us), charities, cars, order of service etc.   Then there were people to invite – we wanted a good send off, so contacted family, friends and neighbours both far and wide.  And of course the venue for the celebration afterwards. It’s amazing how much time we spent and how all-consuming this part of the process can become.  This is not a bad thing and, in my opinion, a funeral is just as much about the people who are left, as it is about the departed loved one, although it’s very important to honour the wishes of the deceased.  We wanted the best possible send off and a positive experience, which he would have wanted, rather than a mournful one.

On 28 November 2008, I decided it would be a wonderful idea to write about my personal journey through the death of my 2^nd parent, my lovely Father.  My purpose for this is twofold: to help me through the grieving process and to help others too.  I intend to do this in small bite size pieces, so that it can be more easily digested.

On 31 October 2008, on my return to the office from a 4networking breakfast, I picked up a message from my mobile phone.  It was from my sister and the message was:  “I’m sorry to tell you, but Daddy is dead.  Call me.”  My initial reaction was shock and disbelief.  How could this possibly be true?  It was Friday and I had only spoken to him the Monday before.  Shock and disbelief are, of course, perfectly normal in such circumstances, especially when the death is unexpected. 

Then tears quickly followed and a sense of panic set in.  I called my sister back and her answer machine kicked in. I felt annoyed by this. When she returned my call a short while later, she confirmed that he was dead, what the circumstances were and that he had been dead for over 2 days!  This set me off in tears again.  My mind started racing and making up all sorts of dreadful stories about whether or not he had suffered.   I pictured him dead in my mind and hoped that it had been quick.  The good news was that he had died in his own home and had not had to endure a long, painful illness.   Although this may seem quite bizarre, even on the day that I heard that my Father was dead, I somehow knew that good things would come from it in due course.

Right now, it is still very early days and it’s difficult to know what my emotions are likely to be doing, in the next 5 minutes let alone in days, weeks and months to come.  Believe me when I say, it doesn’t seem to matter how old you are (I’m 54), when a parent dies, the inner child is hurt.  Even though it is in the natural order of things, it is still extremely painful and is not easy to come to terms with.  However, they say that time is a healer and 4 weeks is no time at all.

Don’t you just absolutely adore this time of the year because of the glorious changing colours of the leaves on the trees.  I feel particularly blessed, as the road in which I reside, despite being in an urban area, has plenty of mature trees, some of which create a wonderful view from my sitting room window. 

Add to this the superb weather of today and a trip down to Sandbanks beach is a must.  After walking along the prom for about half an hour, I sat down so that I could absorb the breathtaking sight of a calm, blue sea, a beautiful blue sky and a surprisingly warm sun.  How fortunate I felt to live so close to such a magnificient beach and be able to enjoy it and all for free. 

Yes, there may be economic problems in the country, and you can spend a lot of time worrying to no avail.  However, with just a little shift, you can think about all the things to be thankful for, many of which you no doubt take for granted.  So when you are feeling blue, get out a pad and a pen and start writing down all the blessings in your life.  Start with your sight – imagine not being able to see anything.  Then move on to all the other parts of your body and that’s just for starters.  Then what about where you live and all the modern conveniences – electricity, gas, running water, the phone, computer, hifi system – need I say more?  When you begin to feel grateful for what you have, you will feel much better and when your mind goes off track again telling you what you don’t have, bring it back again to focusing on all that is good in your life.