Good Grief...

How many stages does a person experience while grieving? It turns out, this question isn’t so easy to answer. Some say there are five stages, some say seven while others say ten or even twelve. These stages are really just a clinical way of bucketing the emotional responses a person experiences after the loss of a loved one and while no one can seem to agree on the number of stages, they can all agree on 5 of them – shock and denial, pain and guilt, anger, depression and acceptance.

Here’s what they don’t tell you – what I learned (am still learning) from my own experience.

I didn’t go through any of these stages separately. In fact more often than not, I experienced all of them. All the time. With one emotion just more dominant than the others. Like when my father handed me my mother’s wedding rings right before the viewing at the funeral home. I was still denying the fact that she was gone. I was still in shock and found myself unbelievably angry at my dad. I was angry that he didn’t want her rings, angry that he was forcing me to take them and angry that he was making me so upset just a few moments before I had to face everyone. I wasn’t prepared for how angry I would be at everything and everyone or how debilitating it was or how long it would last.

The pain. Indescribable. I wasn’t prepared for how much the emotional pain would hurt physically – I started to get migraines and didn’t eat because my stomach hurt too much. I just wanted to burrow deep within myself where no one could touch me. Create a whole new me that smiled all the time and cracked jokes and tried to fool everyone around me so they couldn’t see how much pain I was in. So I did. And it still hurt. And I don’t think I was fooling anyone.

As a mother, I found depression was the hardest. Your children look to you for love, fun and laughter and it was this stage I found the most difficult to hide. I didn’t want to go anywhere. A lot of the time I still don’t and am quite content to stay in the confines of my home surrounded by the three people I love the most. But, that’s not fair to the kids so I forced myself to get off the couch and do things with them. There were days when something as simple as taking the girls to the park took more effort than anything I’ve ever done.

Acceptance is a tough one. It forces you to admit that she’s gone and that life goes on and you accept the reality of what you’ve lost. I struggle with this one as it also assumes that you’ve put all the other emotions behind you and I wonder if that’s even possible. Can I accept that my mother’s gone and still feel angry or depressed about it at the same time? Because I do.

They don’t tell you that each of these stages is necessary and good for you. You need to be in denial at the beginning or you won’t be able to plan the funeral. It’s this haze of shock that consumes you that also enables you to make all the arrangements and decisions (soooo many decisions) that are necessary so quickly afterwards. You need to feel the anger and the pain because you need to feel everything that you’re feeling no matter what it is. No matter how hard it is. And you need to have moments of depression because it means you loved. Deeply.

They don’t tell you that it takes a lot of time and more tears than you can imagine. But, I find comfort in knowing that she was worth every second and worth every tear!

I want my mommy!

She used to sweep my bangs across my forehead and put barrettes in my hair to hold it in place. Those plastic barrettes in very girly shapes and colours. Like pink flowers or purple bows. She did this so she could see my face because even through my most awkward freckly phase, she thought I was beautiful. And sometimes at night, she would play with my hair. Not because she liked to but because it was the only thing that would eventually put me to sleep in a bout of insomnia. I miss her laughter. Especially while telling me what crazy thing I did sleep-walking the night before. I think she laughed mostly at my teenagery look of absolute horror once I learned what I had said or done.

When I was 12, my mom and dad were called to the principal’s office because I staged quite a successful walk-out at school. I felt my teacher greatly favoured the boys over the girls and since our class only had about 3 boys in it, a game of baseball became quite difficult when all the girls just sat in the outfield and didn’t budge. At least not until gym was over. I remember how proud I was to have her as my mother when her reaction to the teacher was ‘what if she has a point? Perhaps it’s you that needs to think about what you’ve done!’ Then I think of how horrified I was of having her as my mother the next time we were at McDonald’s and it took 10 minutes and she said (more like yelled) to the manager ‘is this your definition of fast food?’ Although, I was happy again when we walked out with free sundaes!

Once, I made her sit 3 rows behind me in a movie theatre so that she wouldn’t embarrass me and my friends. She didn’t mind – I think it was the years of inflicting guilt that she enjoyed afterward...and it worked...I still feel guilty about it.

Her sigh of relief after my 19 year old self walked into her office at work to tell her I was pregnant and I was keeping it. When she wasn’t disappointed in me but disappointed for me. Trust me...there’s a huge difference! Or when she danced with her newborn granddaughter to Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me over and over again because it was the only thing that would make Sarah settle enough to fall asleep.

The look on her face when we went to the casino and I was asked to show some ID and she ranted about how she was my mother and I was a mother myself with 2 daughters. And the shock when she sarcastically asked the security guard if he needed to see her ID and without missing a beat he replied ‘no, that won’t be necessary m’am’. I can still giggle about that one!

I miss seeing that look a mother gives her daughter. One full of happiness and pride and hope. I would catch it every once in a while when she thought I wasn’t looking and our eyes would meet and I’ve never felt so adored in my entire life.

I’m sick with a cold and it’s kicking my ass. And even though I’m 34, I’m reduced to being a child and just really want my mom!

Tom Hanks - Not just for dessert anymore!!

I was going to continue my story but I’ve been distracted (unfortunately, that’s all too easy for me). I was watching Breakfast Television this morning. Dina and Kevin were talking about the Toronto International Film Festival and mentioned that Clive Owen was in town. Then, out of nowhere, I heard a little noise in the background. At first, I thought it was uttered from my very own mouth – sort of an mmmmhmmm sounding sigh – you know the one I’m talking about ladies! But, it didn’t come from me. That dreamy sigh came from someone behind the scenes at BT. What piqued my interest however was when Dina compared that sound to the same sound one would make when a slice of very rich, velvety cheesecake was placed in front of you and it got me thinking. Was it a coincidence? Or can women associate all really good looking men with an equally good dessert?

Naturally, I’ve been contemplating this all day. Thinking about men and dessert led to a very un-productive day for me (if my boss is reading this, I’m making it up! I thought of nothing but work...work, work, work). So, I hit the streets and asked my fellow female foodies (or maybe I just asked women I happened to talk to today...I’ll never tell!) and was shocked to discover I wasn’t alone with this comparison. The women I talked to fell very easily into this subject – like it was always in the back of their minds just itching for someone to bring it up. And it was almost comforting that we could all bond over men and dessert; two of my favourite subjects.

Let’s start with Eric Bana – I immediately think Creme Brulee. The silky, creamy texture with caramelized sugary goodness that lights my fire...um... or that you light on fire (wow...where did that come from?). How about Brad Pitt and Apple Pie? Down home goodness with a sweet, warm center that is your reward for breaking through the hot, buttery crust (damn this is fun!). Then there’s George Clooney. With him, I think about a multi-layered, sweet, sticky, finger-licking piece of yumminess like Baklava! Or Gerard Butler and Chocolate Molten Lava Cake and the hot, volcanic center (oh my...)!

What about Tom Hanks and Pumpkin Loaf . The good ole stand by that isn’t just for dessert. You can have this one for breakfast too. Maybe warmed up with butter melting over it. What if you added a scoop of ice cream over a warm slice and drizzled some caramel over it. Does the good looking man associated with it change? I certainly don’t think so. Tom Hanks is definately one of those men that can have his pumpkin loaf topped with ice cream and caramel every once in a while.

Maybe eating one of these warm, decadent desserts while thinking about equally warm and decadent men is our secret reward for everything that we need to accomplish on any given day. Whatever the reasons for our indulgence - like getting caught up on laundry and housework or meeting that deadline at work or maybe your child is finally potty trained and you never have to look at a diaper again – we deserve it dammit!

We deserve to let our minds wander...like thinking about Orlando Bloom and Strawberry Shortcake...enough said!

Subtle Reminders...

So, the kids are back to school and after a week we seem to be settling in. Sarah started high school and Isabella started grade 5 and we’re getting used to the new routines that are needed when your kids are going to different schools. But now that things are starting to get comfortable my mind drifts to my mom (and dad…but we haven’t got there in the story yet…stay tuned!) and this new milestone we’ve hit in our lives.

You see, Sarah starting high school was one of those subtle reminders that something is missing. Sarah is meeting new people, making new friends, learning new things and starting out on what some say are the best years of your life. My mom would have been thrilled, over the moon that her little buddy was starting this next phase. And it just makes me think that it’s yet one other thing that we get to miss out on and it makes me sad.

Most days these reminders don’t bother me – I sort of just roll with the punches because if I let them all in, I would be a basketcase. But every once in a while one just gets to you – a little twinge that nags at you and forces you to dwell on it. For example, a couple of months ago I was sitting in a conference room at work. My closest co-worker was giving a presentation to myself, our boss and a few others but her mother was also there (her mother works with us as well). The presentation she was giving was for a global project and it was a big deal…huge…and she was just fantastic. But the hard part was when our boss leaned over to her mother and said, “Aren’t you just so proud of her?” and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Now, don’t get me wrong - my co-worker deserves her mother’s pride. It was just one of those moments that take your breath away when you realize that you’ll never have that again and even after almost seven years, I still felt sorry for myself.

So I picked myself up and got my pulse and breathing back under control and was able to finish my day with no one the wiser. But, I gave in and cried most of the way home (I really need to stop crying so much in the car) because sometimes you need to just give in to your emotions. By the time I picked my husband up though, I had it all tucked up into a neat little ball in the back of my mind to save for a rainy day and everything was all right in my world again.

Then Sarah started high school and with that I remembered I can’t ask my mom how she felt when I started high school (did she worry about the same things I’m worried about? What if she worried about something I haven’t thought of yet?) A reminder that I can’t ask her anything – I’m all alone. Thank goodness for distractions – uniforms to buy, orientations, bus schedules (oh my!) – there doesn’t seem to be enough time to dwell on this one. I guess it will just have to wait for that rainy day!

It's Simsational!

I'm a control freak. There. I said it. Now you all know my secret shame. I don't like spontaneity or plans changing or the kids unloading the dishwasher. Actually, I let them do this one because it's good for them but I stress about it the entire time hoping that they put everything where it's supposed to go (and maybe sometimes I go and re-do it...maybe not...I've said too much already). Perhaps it's this aspect of my personality that is drawn to certain computer games. My current obsession (besides World of Warcraft where I have a very beautiful level 80 Blood Elf Priest that is just as controlling as I am – For The Horde!!) is The Sims 3. There's just something about this game - like how much can be controlled. I can pick and choose what they look like, what personality I want them to have, what career track they will enter, when they eat and what they eat. I can even choose such mundane tasks as when they should go to the bathroom or whether they should have a shower or a bath or whether they should even bathe at all (I know...gross....but oddly interesting when a green gas oozes out of their armpits).

I got this game on the first day it was released and have been lost in the eye candy ever since. The graphics are incredible. And, I've been lost in getting to know my new little minions - the simulated people and families I have complete control over (insert evil laugh here). My first 'minion' was Samantha Jones whom I intended to be just like the Sex & the City character but who ended up being the exact opposite. In the first few hours under my control, Samantha met Sherman. A local boy (aka, came with the game) who is afraid of the dark and has traits like 'lucky' and 'coward'. Then they became best friends, fell in love and got married (Samantha proposed – even got down on one knee with a ring and Sherman jumped up and down with excitement...seriously!). Then there was the new house, new jobs, fertility treatments, pregnancy, raising kids, getting promotions – the fun is endless really. However, my husband wasn't liking it so much. You see, we would spend our evenings playing World of Warcraft together once the kids were in bed and he was feeling quite left out the next night when I didn't want to play WOW with him. In fact, I think my actual words were "Honey, you can't expect me NOT to have my babies tonight!"

So for the purpose of this blog (and to lighten the mood every once in a while), I have created special minions just for you (now you’re all aiding and abetting my madness...more evil laughs here) - meet Henry and Nancy SmallTown. They are a young, married couple with huge lifetime aspirations. They are both family-oriented but Henry wants desperately to be an astronaut while Nancy wants to have at least 5 children that she can watch grow to adulthood. To start off, they have a beautiful house on the beach in a town called Sunset Valley that they can afford due to a very generous inheritance that was left to Nancy when her parents passed away (Ok ok...I cheated and made her rich...happy?). Henry has found a job in the military and Nancy is working as a bedplan cleaner . But, I suspect she’ll be quitting as soon as she discovers the ‘woohooing’ paid off and she’s pregnant. Hopefully with multiples. But should they have girls or boys first? Yes, I can control even that (Muahahahahaha!!).

To hug or not to hug...

Hugs, believe it or not, are pretty powerful things. They can bring comfort when you least expect it, they can push your emotions over the edge after working hard to keep control and they are amazingly different from one person to the next. Some people are ‘polite’ huggers – gently laying their hands on the other person’s shoulders, getting the hug over quickly with as little touching as possible. There are the ‘patters’ where patting on the back lasts the duration of the hug. Can’t forget the ‘boob’ huggers that squeeze you as tight as they can right around…well…let’s just say the ‘girls’ get squished. Shockingly, these huggers are usually men. There are awkward hugs that are really uncomfortable and last longer than they should and then there are the serious hugs. These hugs are reserved only for those you really care about, you get as close as possible and just hang on for dear life.

Now, I normally love a good hug – the kind where you just settle in and enjoy. But, there have been moments in my life where a good hug was my emotional un-doing and there is nothing I try to avoid more than crying in public. I’m a crier in general – I cry with every emotion. I’m a big old mushbucket but I only show this side of myself to people I’m really close to. So, I have become really good at putting up hug barriers – I paste a smile on my face, allow myself to be hugged and feel nothing. This was particularly handy after my mom died. Everyone wanted to hug me so the barriers went up with full force almost immediately. There are obviously downsides to guarding your emotions so carefully. The biggest one was that I didn’t make any decisions between the time my mom died and her funeral with my heart – they were all done with my head. Given the circumstances, my head wasn’t thinking all that clearly and my youngest daughter suffered the most as a result.

Bella was 3 yrs old at the time and I made the decision to keep her from the funeral. I had it set in my mind that it wasn’t the place for a child so young. Watching Sarah (7 at the time) crawl onto my fathers lap in the middle of the service so that they could hug each other and cry together while a church full of people watched and cried right along with them only strengthened my decision. I told myself Bella was too young – she wouldn’t understand anyway.

I was so stupid!

It was Bella that cried herself to sleep for months afterwards. It was Bella that needed to talk about her all the time when all I wanted to do was pretend it never happened. It was Bella that needed to hold on to every single memory fearing they would disappear too and it was Bella, the only one of us that didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to the Gram she adored. Cue the hugs and lots of them – the magically healing ones that only a mother can give her child, the ones that make the hurt better, that make you stop crying and that eventually, give you back your smile!