Stepping stones to healing
Being a photographer in my past life (BBD – Before Brendon Died), I visualize a lot of my healing. Here’s how I saw it after Bren’s (my son) death.
My suffering life was one bank of a river. The bank on the other side was a better life, a happier life. The river that ran between those banks was the tumultuous, raging river of deep grief. I realized early on that the river was much too long and wide to find a way around. Time would be wasted in searching for that path. The choices were two; ignore the river and stay on the bank of suffering or cross the river to a happier, healthier life. To find a better life I knew had to move across and through my grief; I had to jump in and do battle with it. If I’d ignored it, the river would have grown more powerful and ever wider, eventually spilling over its banks and drowning any chance for a better life. Once I decided to commit to my goal of finding my smile and meaning again, crossing the river of grief was my only option. It took work and grief did its best to drown me, but it was not successful and I reached the other bank and now live a happier life.
How did I get to the other side? The river was too powerful to launch a boat and swiftly move across; too wide to build a bridge and avoid it and too
turbulent to dive in without support. Deep grief was a powerful challenge, a staunch foe to my healing. At first I imagined I could leap across my grief and quickly be done with it. I thought there surely must have been a book to read, a workshop to attend or a support group to join that would speed up my healing, allowing me to reach the other bank in a few weeks or months. I found healing wasn’t swift. The way across the river wasn’t in quick, big leaps, but in slower, measured steps. The things I did to create the stepping stones to healing I placed in my river of grief showed me a path to the other side, the happier side.
I placed my first stepping stone in the river by allowing others to support me in the days and weeks after my son died. I gave in to the many
compassionate requests to help. I let others get involved. I didn’t try to do it myself. When I failed in my grief, I asked for support. Others swarmed to my
side and I let them into my life. Helping me also helped them because they too were grieving the death of my son.
Another stone was put in place when I stopped fighting with what I was feeling. I gave myself permission to feel anything I wanted to feel, no matter
how irrational or scary it seemed. Because my son was murdered, I felt intense anger, hatred and resentment. Many negative emotions churned within me, tearing at my heart and soul, but I denied none of them. I let them all in because I knew if I didn’t try to understand and resolve them, they would control me for a long time. It was painful to experience them, but it became evident that if I didn’t work on my pain, my pain was going to continue to work on me.
One of my sturdiest and largest stepping stones fell into place when I expressed my suffering in positive ways. Each time I screamed out my grief, each time I pounded on my steering wheel while parked in the garage, each book I read, support group I attended, tear I shed, poem I wrote and each person I hugged and talked to, let out more of the poison of my son’s death. Expressing my suffering in positive ways was the steam valve on the pressure cooker of my life. If I hadn’t let it out, I could have exploded in ugly and unforeseen ways.
I laid my next stone by understanding that wherever I was in my journey was exactly where I was supposed to be. As long as I wasn’t abusing myself or others, whatever I was doing with my pain was just what I should have been doing. It was then that I became comfortable with my grief, knowing it wasn’t ever going to completely go away, but would stay with me in some form forever. I also dropped expectations I had put on myself and dropped the expectations I let others put on me of being at a certain place at a certain time in my healing. I also let go of expectations of others being able to support me. Just like I didn't get the manual on how to deal with Brendon's death, others didn't get their manual on how to deal with me. I realized I was on a singular journey and I was responsible for my healing. It was like letting out my breath after having held it for many, many months. I then moved forward at my pace, in my own way. I was doing what was best for me.
Shortly after placing that stone in the river I faltered in my healing. The work was so, so hard and I’d been doing it intensely for a long time. I’d
been placing my stones and crossing my river of grief, but I began to stall and run out of energy. It was like trying to row a boat up stream. The harder I
tried, the less progress I made and I got tired and frustrated. What I had to do was push myself and find new ways to heal. I read another book; went to the party I didn’t really want to go to and got more involved in my support group. I put more enthusiasm into my healing. Finally I pushed through my lethargy, found my healing energy again and placed another stone in the path of my grief.
As I began to let go and forgive, another huge stepping stone went in my river. As I began to release my negative emotions and unreasonable expectations, I took another step towards the other side of my grief. When anger, hatred, blame, resentment and the biggest obstacle of all, the death of my son, left my life, I took a huge leap towards a happier life. With my heart emptied of all that was ugly, I made room for all that is beautiful, the life of my child and all the wonderful emotions that surround him.
I was now within a few feet of what was once a far away bank. I was feeling better. My meaning and smile awaited me, but there was one stone left to put in the river before I could embrace them. That stone was placed when I began to give away my healing and give away the love I had, have and will always have for my son. I could no longer give my love directly to Bren so I gave it away by reaching out and helping other people. The adage is true, “You get when you give.” I found I got a lot more when I had no expectations of getting anything in return. I gave with a clear heart and put in place my final stepping stone.
As I climbed onto the bank of meaning and joy, I looked back at the river and the far bank. The river had calmed and so had my life. No longer was my grief as powerful and overwhelming as it was in the beginning of my journey. The bank on the other side was beginning to fade, but would never
completely leave my memory. I will always remember that suffering; I will always have a measure of grief, but they had both diminished in strength. By battling my pain, I was able to cross my river of deep grief and find the joy of my son’s life, my meaning and happiness. I wish you courage on your crossing. When you discover your stepping stones to healing (and you can), use them to move through your suffering to the other side; the happier side.
Being a photographer in my past life (BBD – Before Brendon Died), I visualize a lot of my healing. Here’s how I saw it after Bren’s (my son) death.
My suffering life was one bank of a river. The bank on the other side was a better life, a happier life. The river that ran between those banks was the tumultuous, raging river of deep grief. I realized early on that the river was much too long and wide to find a way around. Time would be wasted in searching for that path. The choices were two; ignore the river and stay on the bank of suffering or cross the river to a happier, healthier life. To find a better life I knew had to move across and through my grief; I had to jump in and do battle with it. If I’d ignored it, the river would have grown more powerful and ever wider, eventually spilling over its banks and drowning any chance for a better life. Once I decided to commit to my goal of finding my smile and meaning again, crossing the river of grief was my only option. It took work and grief did its best to drown me, but it was not successful and I reached the other bank and now live a happier life.
How did I get to the other side? The river was too powerful to launch a boat and swiftly move across; too wide to build a bridge and avoid it and too
turbulent to dive in without support. Deep grief was a powerful challenge, a staunch foe to my healing. At first I imagined I could leap across my grief and quickly be done with it. I thought there surely must have been a book to read, a workshop to attend or a support group to join that would speed up my healing, allowing me to reach the other bank in a few weeks or months. I found healing wasn’t swift. The way across the river wasn’t in quick, big leaps, but in slower, measured steps. The things I did to create the stepping stones to healing I placed in my river of grief showed me a path to the other side, the happier side.
I placed my first stepping stone in the river by allowing others to support me in the days and weeks after my son died. I gave in to the many
compassionate requests to help. I let others get involved. I didn’t try to do it myself. When I failed in my grief, I asked for support. Others swarmed to my
side and I let them into my life. Helping me also helped them because they too were grieving the death of my son.
Another stone was put in place when I stopped fighting with what I was feeling. I gave myself permission to feel anything I wanted to feel, no matter
how irrational or scary it seemed. Because my son was murdered, I felt intense anger, hatred and resentment. Many negative emotions churned within me, tearing at my heart and soul, but I denied none of them. I let them all in because I knew if I didn’t try to understand and resolve them, they would control me for a long time. It was painful to experience them, but it became evident that if I didn’t work on my pain, my pain was going to continue to work on me.
One of my sturdiest and largest stepping stones fell into place when I expressed my suffering in positive ways. Each time I screamed out my grief, each time I pounded on my steering wheel while parked in the garage, each book I read, support group I attended, tear I shed, poem I wrote and each person I hugged and talked to, let out more of the poison of my son’s death. Expressing my suffering in positive ways was the steam valve on the pressure cooker of my life. If I hadn’t let it out, I could have exploded in ugly and unforeseen ways.
I laid my next stone by understanding that wherever I was in my journey was exactly where I was supposed to be. As long as I wasn’t abusing myself or others, whatever I was doing with my pain was just what I should have been doing. It was then that I became comfortable with my grief, knowing it wasn’t ever going to completely go away, but would stay with me in some form forever. I also dropped expectations I had put on myself and dropped the expectations I let others put on me of being at a certain place at a certain time in my healing. I also let go of expectations of others being able to support me. Just like I didn't get the manual on how to deal with Brendon's death, others didn't get their manual on how to deal with me. I realized I was on a singular journey and I was responsible for my healing. It was like letting out my breath after having held it for many, many months. I then moved forward at my pace, in my own way. I was doing what was best for me.
Shortly after placing that stone in the river I faltered in my healing. The work was so, so hard and I’d been doing it intensely for a long time. I’d
been placing my stones and crossing my river of grief, but I began to stall and run out of energy. It was like trying to row a boat up stream. The harder I
tried, the less progress I made and I got tired and frustrated. What I had to do was push myself and find new ways to heal. I read another book; went to the party I didn’t really want to go to and got more involved in my support group. I put more enthusiasm into my healing. Finally I pushed through my lethargy, found my healing energy again and placed another stone in the path of my grief.
As I began to let go and forgive, another huge stepping stone went in my river. As I began to release my negative emotions and unreasonable expectations, I took another step towards the other side of my grief. When anger, hatred, blame, resentment and the biggest obstacle of all, the death of my son, left my life, I took a huge leap towards a happier life. With my heart emptied of all that was ugly, I made room for all that is beautiful, the life of my child and all the wonderful emotions that surround him.
I was now within a few feet of what was once a far away bank. I was feeling better. My meaning and smile awaited me, but there was one stone left to put in the river before I could embrace them. That stone was placed when I began to give away my healing and give away the love I had, have and will always have for my son. I could no longer give my love directly to Bren so I gave it away by reaching out and helping other people. The adage is true, “You get when you give.” I found I got a lot more when I had no expectations of getting anything in return. I gave with a clear heart and put in place my final stepping stone.
As I climbed onto the bank of meaning and joy, I looked back at the river and the far bank. The river had calmed and so had my life. No longer was my grief as powerful and overwhelming as it was in the beginning of my journey. The bank on the other side was beginning to fade, but would never
completely leave my memory. I will always remember that suffering; I will always have a measure of grief, but they had both diminished in strength. By battling my pain, I was able to cross my river of deep grief and find the joy of my son’s life, my meaning and happiness. I wish you courage on your crossing. When you discover your stepping stones to healing (and you can), use them to move through your suffering to the other side; the happier side.