Tag: grief

It’s Not a Competition

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

“How d’ya think I feel!?” (emphasising the “I”).

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard this from either side of the relationship.

And the storm clouds gather.

Facing the end of your life after a terminal diagnosis is not easy.
Most terminal diagnosis or Life-shortening diagnosis are not short-lived illness’s but typically months and sometimes years. And it doesn’t necessarily get any easier over time if it is a long term illness such as MND, COPD, dementia or Parkinson’s.
In fact, living with the slow progression of an illness that erodes physical and mental health, independence and dignity over a period of years can be hugely difficult.
Equally, it can be incredibly difficult for the primary carer, often a partner, sibling, adult child or other family member. It can push a carer to breaking point many times. To support, to witness, to give up the life you knew or hoped for is incredibly difficult.
Even when it is done with the utmost love.
Relationships can get tense.

But here’s the thing – it’s not a competition of who has it worse.
Both are equally challenging, difficult and painful for very different reasons.
You each carry a burden.
The suffering of each of you can feel immense.

It is not easy to navigate this.
I’m not going to dress it up with niceties.
All we can do in these times of suffering is be compassionate to ourselves.
You are still husband, wife, daughter, son and you are you.
Don’t lose sight of yourself beyond the illness or caring role.
Each of you still has wants and needs independent of each other.
When you feel relationships getting fraught or, perhaps, resentment creeping in ask yourself – “what would love do here for me?”
Take a little time to sit and notice your breath – even if the only time you get is when you go to the bathroom or when your care-giver goes to the bathroom.
Remember – it is not a competition as to who is suffering most.
You are enough and you are loved.

Nancy xx

When memory making and the idea and pressure of making memories becomes exhausting

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

I endeavour to keep things real here for you.

And for me.

It keeps me grounded.

It keeps US grounded.

What a shitty thing for us doulas and death-workers to espouse the idea that deaths should be inspirational, romantic even.

Dying and death can, indeed, be beautiful.

And peaceful.

But sometimes, amongst all that beauty and love, it’s raw, it’s ugly, it rages and it is anything but peaceful.

And I tell you this so that, when the capacity to make memories reaches it’s limit or becomes suffocating, when the overwhelm or suffering becomes all-encompassing and when you encounter the raw, the ugly, the rage, the bitterness of that metaphorical pill, of things left undone and the internal noise of it all that, you don’t think that you are doing it wrong.

You are not.

You are not.

This is dying in all it’s humanness.

And no matter how spiritual, religious, easy-going you are you will very likely be taken by surprise at the strength of it.

The conscious and unconscious, the internal and external pressure to make as many memories as you can in the time you have when time is short, when you or your person are diagnosed with an untreatable, life shortening illness that memory-making ideation can become all-consuming, overwhelming, exhausting and unachievable.

Of course you want to make memories.

For yourself and for your people.

And yet, here is what my doula heart will tell you.

Go gently, my friend.

Make space for it all.

Making memories is not so much in the “doing”, in the photo opportunities, in the forced or choreographed inspirational moments or in the physical legacies but in the “being”.

They are built in who you are.

They are not built in what you do – they are built when you are able to just be.

Being in the quiet moments.

Being in the very ordinariness of togetherness.

Being held in a space of love in tumultuous times.

That’s what makes the most precious of memories.

And sometimes, strangely enough, it’s the times between the deliberate making of memories that become the richest, most exquisite memories of all.

The moments between.

Spend time there too.

This is what will hold those still living in their times of grief.

With deepest love

Nancy xx

Grief Groceries

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

Grief groceries.

Earlier this week I popped out to pick up some grief groceries.

And, I’m likely to be doing another grief grocery shop in the coming days.

Now, you might be wondering what grief groceries are?

So let me share a little bit of wisdom from those grieving.

One of the many things that are said to a griever when their person has just died is “Let me know if you need anything” or “How can I help?”

But here’s the thing, when folks are grieving making decisions or even knowing what they want or need can be just far too difficult.

And this is where grief groceries comes in.

It’s not that they can’t get to the shops (some grievers are high functioning) and it’s not that they have nothing in the house.

But…

Changes in appetite are a universal component of grief, particularly in those early days.

People can lose their appetite completely or over-eat.

Keeping it simple can be helpful to the griever when the physical, mental and emotional capacity to cook diminshes.

So picking up some groceries, food that is easy to cook, some healthy goodies and practical stuff like tissues, lip balm (lips can dry and crack so easily when people are grieving, stressed and crying a lot), hand cream as a treat and for a special touch, a candle to light.

Perhaps add in a precooked home-made meal or two.

Let’s not forget some things they can snack on too and that might include some healthy and some not-so-healthy snacks.

Let us not judge their choices or impose on them what WE think they should be eating. In those early days of grief it is sometimes all a person can do to function.

If you are unable to get them any groceries how about a voucher for a takeaway that can be delivered direct to their door?

Grief groceries.

Just a little way of showing that we care at a time when we can feel so helpless.

With love

Nancy xx

Death has a habit of taking us by surprise.

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

Death has a habit of taking us by surprise.

We always think we have more time with those we care about than we really do.

Even when death is expected.

Even as our person has begun actively dying.

And the death of our loved-one almost always comes as a shock. It feels so sudden.

Again, even when it’s expected.

It’s a really strange scenario.

You know it’s coming.

You prepare yourself for it.

And yet, you are not ready for it when it does happen.

Sometimes, you sit by your person’s bedside for hours, you get up to go for a pee……..and death happens when you are out of the room.

No matter how much we prepare ourselves psychologically and emotionally nothing can fully prepare us for the finality of it.

Perhaps this is due to the fact that we are so far removed from death. Where once we were cared for at home within a community of support and helpers at the end of life whereas now we are carted off to be cared for by others. Hidden from sight of the community and those around us. As a result few get to befriend the intimacy of death.

Perhaps the shock is because this death is a stark reminder of our own mortality.

Or perhaps we are just not ready to release the spiritual and energetic ties that bind us. Similar to having the umbilical cord between mother and baby cut at birth, this invisible, yet tangible cord that connects us, sends a shockwave through all our systems when it is cut at the moment of death. Where, although this person is ever present in their love, our lives are forced to continue separate or independent of them.

Perhaps it’s a mixture of all the above?

This really, is a reminder, a call to action, to say the things you need to say whilst you can.

Go and visit and hold your person’s hand even if words fail you.

Because, quite often, that touch, that shared moment, says more than words can ever say.

Speak to them, through these words or touch, as if it’s the last time you will see them, because one day, it will be.

This moment really does matter.

With the tenderest of love and affection

Nancy 💚 xx

A Ritual as the Year Turns

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

Some people glide into the next year without any thought for the date and others celebrate with wild abandon.

And, of course, there is everything in-between.

There may be no miracles that happen as the calendar year turns from 2023 to 2024 – you are still you and your life doesn’t suddenly change, however, there is a subtle mental shift.

As we drift over the seconds of midnight whether you are awake or asleep, conscious of it or not, you will have one final 2023 out-breath and take your first in-breath of 2024.

New resolutions or intentions aren’t necessary, and yet, ceremony and ritual can bring resolution, comfort and hope for this shift in time.

And certainly, with the work that I do and the way it touches me bringing a little ritual to the evening is a beautiful way to honour that.

Since ancient times, the use of flame has been an important feature of many spiritual ceremonies whether of religious origin or not.

However, we don’t need to have any spiritual or religious leaning to feel the comfort of a candle lighting ceremony.

It’s amazing how candlelight can transform a space. How it can offer up space for reflection with it’s comforting glow.

If you wish, take time to honour those who will not be arriving into 2024 with a candle lighting ritual.

You may wish, on the approach to midnight, to light a candle and spend a moment in time with a memory of those you said goodbye to.

Or light your candle to honour yourself and all that you have endured.

Hold space for grief and suffering – yours and others.

For all the losses that you have experienced or that have touched you.

And also honour those special times.

The times that lit you up.

The times of personal joy.

And of collective joy.

Be present with whatever comes up for you.

If someone you loved dearly has died this year please know there is no pressure or expectation to wish away all that 2023 held for it is likely to hold some very special memories amongst the painful ones.

Let us live where we need to be, and hold on to those memories that help us through difficult time.

With love as always

Nancy xx

Twas THE Night

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

Twas THE Night.
Written Christmas Eve last year.
Well, perhaps not the poem you expect to read on Christmas eve but, as it is based loosely on The Night Before Christmas, I thought to share it. It’s the story of a gentle welcoming of end of life in the presence of a doula.

Twas the night before death, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
My heart it was heavy, this sad night of the year
I hoped that the doula soon would be here;

My beloved was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of ancestors danced in his head;
With me in my grief, holding a hand in his lap
My love settling down for a long final nap,

When out on the path came footsteps heard before,
I crept swift from the bedroom and unlatched the door
Not wanting to leave my beloved for long
I feared when I got back I would find he was gone.

The moon barely visible behind the clouds of my heart
Was aware of the soul that was about to depart,
Then, what to my woeful eyes should appear,
Twas the end of life doula, and her heart so dear,

Our doula spent a few moments sensing all that was here
The anxiety, the love, the grief, the fear
Then she took my hands and invited a pause
Then said “Let’s be still, let’s be still, witness these moments with awe”

With a hug, a kind word, so soft and so pure,
I knew in a moment we were held safe, reassured.
More rapid than eagles when I phoned she came,
And she greeted, with love, my beloved by name;

Within this familial space – I felt so blessed
As together we prepared the sacred death nest,
Candles, a poem, his favourite music we played
We plumped up his pillow for his head to lay

I shared memories, told stories, sang songs that he knew
Provided moments of silence for him to explore new realms too
My doula she noticed my face it was frowning
She uttered words of support to ease me from drowning.

She kept me supplied with refreshments as needed
She checked my beloved’s wishes were heeded
My doula stepped in when I needed to sleep
A presence at bedside, a sacred vigil to keep.

In each precious moment I watched my beloved’s chest rise
As the light slowly dimmed in his tired brown eyes
His breathing now shallow, the timing slow.
Gave an intensity, a lustre for my focus to grow

As his body shut down my loves throat started to crackle
The doula she said it’s sometimes called the death rattle.
Blotchy mottling had appeared on my beloved’s skin
I can’t help but wonder of the bodily processes within

My love – his hair laid ruffled, his eyes partially closed,
His cheeks deeply sunken each side of his nose
His mouth showed wrinkles where once there were smiles
His jaw hung loose as if asleep, my heart in denial

As his physical life faded, his spiritual energy grew
This subtle glow it encompassed him soft and true
We welcomed it warmly, we knew he was frail
He was almost ready, to step through the veil.

When with a movement of his head in spite of his health,
He turned to look at me wisely, shared a moment of himself
With a twinkle in his eye and a nod of his head
He gave me to know he had nothing to dread

He spoke not a word, but closed his eyes,
And the room filled with awe that we just can’t describe,
And laying my face close to his where he lay
He gave a last sigh, and went on his way;

We stayed there bearing witness, nothing to do or say
Holding each moment tenderly ’til the new day
And as the sun began to rise on the fresh new morn
I knew a different me had just been born.

The touch of his hand, his skin cooler now
I stroked him tenderly across his brow.
In accordance with my beloved’s last wish
He stated clearly, he wanted one final kiss.

Then his spirit it rose, making ready to pass through,
He lingered for a while, then, away he flew
But I heard him whisper, ere he drifted out of sight,
I love you deeply, and I wish you goodnight.

I hope this poem touches you softly

With love ❤
Nancy 24/12/22

Art by David Yan

The Long Goodbye

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

The spouse of someone I’m supporting has been busy these past few months knitting this intricate mourning scarf and she has given me permission to share it here.

It’s been slow progress as she picks it up and puts it down intermittently.

She tells me that last year she began knitting a baby blanket for her sister. This baby hadn’t yet been conceived but just as she finished the blanket her sister announced the pregnancy!

Almost as if she manifested it.

And now…..

She is taking her time with the mourning scarf – a little apprehensive that it’s completion will summon the death of her husband.

She wants to be prepared and doesn’t want the suffering to continue and yet doesn’t want to rush these moments or hasten the need for it’s wear.

It’s such a beautiful yet brutal reality.

Don’t you think?

And rather an apt description of life and death.

With love

Nancy xx

Continuing Bonds at Christmas Time

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

Grief doesn’t take a break over Christmas and even if it has been years since our loved person died it is often a time that brings to the fore how much they are missed and loved.

A few days ago I shared about welcoming grief with the celebrations and to the table.
If you are missing someone this festive season (or at any significant life celebration for that matter) and wish to bring them a little closer to your heart here are a couple of things you can do.
Things that bring them right there with you.

First suggestion –
Write a Christmas/Solstice/New Year card to them.
It doesn’t have to be for a human. It could be for a companion animal too.
In the card write them a message.
The message can be as long or short as you wish – simply say what you’ve been wanting to say since they’ve not been physically with you in this life.
Write all the things you wished you had said and all the things you’ve been wanting to tell them since their death.
Share any news with them.
Recall special memories.
Tell them how much you love them.
Or, just write something simple such as “I love and miss you”
When you’ve finished, either put it up on display with all your other cards or, perhaps, on your bedside table or pop it in an envelope and keep it somewhere safe to read whenever you want to feel closer to them.

Second suggestion –
Pour two drinks, make two cups of tea or coffee, get 2 plates and pop a mince on each.
Now, set this at the table across from each other or, perhaps, on the coffee table in front of the sofa side by side or by their favourite chair opposite yours.
Now, picture them with you.
Sharing the break in your day.
And go through that same process as with the card.
But speak it aloud.
Share your news with them.
Talk about special memories.
Tell them how much you love them.
And miss them.
All the while drinking your cuppa or sipping your glass of wine and nibbling on your mince pie.
Talk to them as if they were right there sharing this moment.
Whisper a Merry Christmas to them.

These two heart and soul-filled actions are little gifts of connection to that someone, a continuing bond.
You don’t need to do both.
But you can!
Or pick one that best resonates with you.
It can make you feel just that little bit closer to them.
Especially at a time when they may feel so far away or so long gone.

With the tenderest of hearts
Nancy 💗💗💗

Art by Kuroi-kisin

Holding Vigil at the End of Life

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

Part of my role as an End of Life Doula is vigil sitting.

But what exactly is vigil sitting or holding vigil and how might I support you with that?

Vigil Sitting is being present and holding sacred space for a person who is in the active phase of dying and for a short time after death. The active process of dying can last anything between 7 days and a few hours.

Perhaps, I will have got to know you a little first and maybe we have drawn up a plan of how you would best like to be supported through this process? Regardless whether we have met or a plan is in place what matters most during this process is you – your comfort, your dignity, your wishes, your peace of mind and heart as you transition.

I might be called to be the vigil sitter or I might be called upon to support loved ones as they sit vigil.

I serve to empower you and your loved ones so my part in vigil sitting might simply be to support with practical tasks, supplying your loved ones with cups of tea and nourishment of food and tlc, or be on hand to allow loved ones to take much needed breaks.

It might also be a time when loved ones require reassurance and emotional support.

Vigil sitting is a most beautiful and sacred time – a time for love, of tenderness, peace and soothing the soul.

And it doesn’t end with the last breath.

Vigil sitting might continue into the hours and days following death and include the continuing care of your body whilst ensuring a respectful and peaceful space is held.

Do you know it is believed that the energy (some might call it the soul or spirit) of the body can take anywhere from a few hours to 36 hours to leave the physical body after death has occurred?

Vigil sitting post-death will most likely involve me supporting your loved ones in whatever way they feel they need at the time. That might be to ensure they have quiet time or to ensure there is opportunity for them to chat.

How would you like to experience your last days and hours?

What do you envisage?

Where would you like to be – given the choice?

What concerns you most?

Now you’ve reflected on these questions write down your thoughts and let your nearest and dearest know.

Nancy 💚 xx

Meditating in Times of Grief

by This moment Matters, posted in Uncategorized

Meditation in Times of Grief.

Those of you who have followed or participated in my teachings of meditation will know that I encourage you to explore different forms of meditation (it’s not about sitting cross-legged on a mat, laying down or emptying your mind), different styles, methods and teachings.

It is not a one-size-fits-all.

And let me tell you here that the aim of meditation is not enlightenment.

Or transcending anything.

It’s about presence.

Your practice will evolve and grow, ebb and flow, shift and change.

And when it comes to meditation in times of deep grief everything you think you know about your meditation practice flies out the window.

Because grief is not just a physical set of symptoms but is energetic too.

And it lands differently.

As it did with me some years ago.

No matter how much I thought I knew and understood about my mediation practice, when I was grieving deeply meditation became incredibly difficult.

Whatever form of meditation practice I was doing all I could do was cry.

Whether I was still or moving, whether my space was quiet or filled with sound every time my practice began I would just cry.

Actually, crying doesn’t quite cover it.

I sobbed.

Consumed by my grief.

And I became frustrated.

Defeated even.

And then I realised –

my tears, my crying, my sobbing was meditation.

And in that moment I was able to let go of what I thought meditation should look or feel like and be present with myself in a very different way.

What a powerful, profound and transformative insight that was for me.

So, if you find your meditation practice faltering or impossible during times of grief give yourself some slack.

And allow whatever it is that you are feeling to flow.

It’s not about emptying the mind, being quiet or still but feeling into your soul.

It’s not about a moving meditation practice that feels freeing and expressive but the ability to hold your body with love as it curls into a tight ball, throws fists at the floor and wails.

With warmth

Nancy xx