Beautiful Mourning: A Guide to Life After Loss

By Melissa Oatman

"Beautiful Mourning: A Guide to Life After Loss" is a compassionate and insightful resource for those navigating the turbulent waters of grief. This book guides readers through the complex journey of mourning, offering understanding and support from the initial shock to eventual acceptance. Each chapter delves into the different stages of grief,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Oatman
• Release date: Apr 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798893794700

Book preview

BEAUTIFULMOURNING

AGuidetoLifeAfterLoss

ByMelissaOatman

ToMyFamily

This book is dedicated to all the people that I have lost in my life, especially to the woman I chose to be my mom. It wasn’t until I became a mom myself that I understood how difficult and challenging her job as a mom was. She was my rock, my confidant, my best friend, and my idol. A little part of my worlddiedthedaysheleftthisone.TherearedayswhenIdon’tknowhowI amsupposedtomakeitherewithouther,butIknowsheishereguidingmy steps. Idon’talways understand why she had to leave so soon, butIwasblessedtohave44yearswithher.IonlyhopetobethebestmomtoAllyand Christopher. I also dedicate this book to them. They inspire me to keep going each and every single day. I am so proud of who they are becoming, and Ihope Imake them proud too. Iwant tothank the amazing women I’ve beenblessedtohaveinmylifewhoweremomfigurestomebeforeandafter my mom passed. Lori, Sandy, Grandma Lassen, Aunt Gee, Aunt Connie, you were all so instrumental in shaping who I am today. Thank you somuch.ToLori,thankyouforalwaysbeinglikeasecondmomtome.Youalways give good advice and are willing to listen when I need to vent. To Sandy, growing up next door to you was such a blessing. To Donna andMichele,thankyoufortakingMomtohertreatmentsandfortheyearsofmany laughs. To my dad and Phil, thank you for all you have done for me throughouttheyearsandwhenMompassed.We’vehadsomanylaughsand adventures. I will always remember Maine, and Mom loved spending timewithPhilinFlorida.ToAuntConnie,thankyoufortakingsuchgoodcare

ofMominherlaststagesof life.Weareforevergratefultoyou.You areand willalwaysbethefunaunt.TomysisterMary,we’vebeenbestfriendssincebirth.Thankyouforalwaysmakingtimeformeandforallofouradventures. To my brother Chris, thanks for loving me even though youonly wanted one brother. I love you and Mary more than words could express.Dave,DavidandGinna,Igiveaspecialthankstoyouforlovingme and being there for me always. To Tori, thank you for providing a place for ustogrieveandcelebrate mymom.Yourkindnessandcompassionwillnot soon be forgotten. To my best friend Rusty, who has been instrumental in mywriting,thankyouforalwayshavingmyback.Iwillalwaysloveyoulike butta.Ihavesomanyamazingfriendsandfamily,andthatiswhatthislifeis allabout.It’snotthethingsthatmatter.It’sthepeopleandtheloveyoushare that is truly important. That is all you take with you when you leave thisworld.

CONTENTS

Chapter1PainLikeNoOther:WhenGriefFirstStrikes      1

Chapter2WhatisThisGriefStuffAnyway      16

Chapter3ShockandDenial:TheFirstWaveofGrief      27

Chapter4Guilt:Should-ingAllOverYourself      42

Chapter5Anger:I’mMadattheWholeDamnWorld      56

Chapter6Bargaining:MakingaDealWithGod      76

Chapter7Depression:HowDoICrawlOutFromtheDeepDarkPit      86

Chapter8TheUpwardTurn:MaybeMyHeartWillGoOn      99

Chapter9Reconstruction:CreatingYourNewNormal,WhateverThatIs      107

Chapter10Acceptance:FacingtheColdHardTruth      117

Chapter11AskingforSigns:ConnectingtotheLovethatStillExists      127

Chapter12HowQuicklyEverythingChanges      151

Chapter13Grief:TheGreatestTeacherINeverExpected      158

Chapter14SiftingThroughtheSadnesstoFindYourInnerStrength      174

CHAPTER1

PAIN LIKE NO OTHER: WHENGRIEFFIRST STRIKES

riefisaninterestingthing.Everyoneexperiencesitatsome pointintheirlife,yetnotwopeoplehavethesamegriefjourney.Whengrieffirststrikesyou,itisshocking,painful,and

G

confusing. Grief is a very complex thing. It is intense. If you’ve ever been impacted by grief (spoiler alert: everyone has!), it can be downright overwhelming. It feels like you are on the receiving end of a surprise attack byahugeinfantry.Onlytheinfantryhereisanarmyofyouremotions.They seem to come from every direction and hit you all at the same time. You are confused,lost,hurt,angry,hungry...wait,didshejustsayhungry?Yes,Idid. I’malwayshungry.Don’tjudgeme.Anyway,youneverreallyknowwhat emotion will hit you next. It’s like a treacherous battlefield where you are attacked from all sides, and you are left wondering what the hell justhappened.

Expertsoftenrefertogriefasajourney.Whataninterestingwordchoice!Whyisgriefreferredtoasajourney?WhenIthinkaboutthewordjourney,afantastic,fun,andexcitingadventurecomestomind.Ithinkoftripsto

Europe or beautiful scenic hiking trails. We used to drive eight hours to see my relatives in Michigan. Those trips were always filled with laughter, singing in the car, and 20 stops for food along the way. It was exciting and, yes,food-filled.I’mhungryagain,butIdigress.Journeysaresupposedtobe magical and fun. Ajourney is not what Ipicture at all when Ihear the word grief. Grief is not exciting, it’s not a great adventure, and there is absolutely nothingfunaboutiteither.Griefisexcruciatingandcruel.ThatiswhyIliketothinkofitasanattack.Itisrelentless,andjustwhenyouthinkyoustartto feel better, it strikes you again seemingly out of nowhere. Grief just plain sucks,anditchangesyourwholelife.EverypersonthatIhaveevertalkedtoaboutgriefsaidthatitchangedtheminamajorway.Ilostmymomtocancer in 2022, and it changed me profoundly. This is my story of grief andhowitshookmetomyverycore.

If you were to look up the wordjourneyin the dictionary, you would see that the word is defined as an act of traveling from one place to another. Maybe that is why they call grief a journey. Although you don’t physically travel from one place to another, your emotions take you from one place to another every single day. It’s like standing on the shore of a beach. One moment, the waves of emotion are small and manageable. Everything is calm,andyouthinktoyourself,MaybeIcangetthroughtherestofmylife without my loved one around. Maybe I will be OK. On other days, the wavesaresoenormousandtorrentialthatyouwonderhowyoucanremainstanding.

The waves are so forceful that when they hit you, they knock the breath out of you. The current takes you under, and you can’t even seem to keep your head above water. That’s what grief is. At least, it is inmy own experience. Grief drags you and carries you from one emotion to the next and from one day to the next. One moment, you don’t know how you can live even one more second when you are missing your loved one so badly. In other moments, your emotions are calmer and more manageable. Then there aredays when your emotions are everywhere in between.You never really knowwhat will set those gigantic waves of grief in motion, and you never know how you will feel each day when you wake up or even from moment to moment.Allittakestochangeyourdayisonethought,onememory,orone person askingabout your loved one. These experiences can trigger an entiretsunami of emotion in just a matter of seconds.

GriefissuchaheavysubjectthatItrytoinfusealittlecomicreliefinmywriting; plus,humor has apowerful healing effect,at least it does for me. If you read my previous book (What do you mean you haven’t read it yet?), you will know that I’m a very sarcastic person, and my sarcasm bringspeoplesomuchjoy.Ibringpeoplealotofjoymerelybybeingme.DidImentionthatI’malsoanextremelyhumbleperson?Backtothepoint.It’sgoodtolaugh.Laughterisanaturalhealer.Speakingoflaughter,comparinggrieftowavesintheoceanremindsmeofahumorousmemory.Iloveretelling this story because I can still hear my mom’s laughter in it. Her laughterwasoneofthebestsoundsever.Itwascontagious.Onesummer,a groupofmymom’sfriendsandIwenttothebeachinGulfShores.Ifyou’ve

been there, you know how rough the waves can be. One of our friends was fighting the waves trying to walk back to the shore from the ocean. The waves were knocking her all around. She was trying to hold her hat, walk, and avoid being knocked down all at the same time. The view from where wewereswimmingwasquiteamusing.Wewouldsay,Oh,she’sup.Oh wait,she’sdown.Thatcontinuedoverandoveragainforseveralminutes. She ended up crawling back to the shore. Let’s just say she was not thrilled withus,butwecouldn’tstoplaughing.Themorewetriedtostoplaughing, the harder we laughed, and the more angry our friend became. This of coursebecameaviciouscycle.Mymomwaslaughingthehardest.ItlookedlikeascenetakenstraightoutoftheILoveLucyshow.

Imention this story not only to make you laugh, but alsobecauseitreminds meofthegriefjourney.Whenwearelivingwithgrief,we’remerelytryingto move on in our lives. We’re just trying to reach the shore from the depths of grief, but we keep getting knocked back down again and again by the tumultuous waves. We’re tired, drained, and left crumpled in a ball on the shore. Let me tell you that just as my friend was not thrilled with us for laughing at her, I'm not too thrilled with grief either. Grief makes getting through a regular day all the more difficult. It feels so heavy, unfair, andvindictive.

Ihaveexperiencedgriefmanytimesthroughoutmylife.ThestrongestandmostintenseexperienceofgriefformewaswhenIlostmymomtopancreaticcancer in January of 2022. Iwas very close tomy mom. She was one of my best friends. Not only did we lose her, but we also had to watch

hersuffer,wasteaway,andbecomeashadowofherformerselffromthis horribledisease.Itwasshockingbecauseshewassofulloflifebeforeher diagnosis. She was a retired teacher, but she continued to sub.

Iusedtojokewithherthatshemaderetirementlookdifficult.Thatwasher. Her love for teaching and her students was so intense that she continued to work. Even though she retired, she still wanted to keep teaching. It was herheartandsoul.WhenI’mretired,that’sall,folks.Iwillnotbedoingmuch,except maybe traveling. Not her. She adored teaching. It was who she was. Her death is the loss that deeply changed my life, and it is the reason that I am sitting here writing this book today. I have been a completely different person since she passed, and I have been through every emotion there is aboutamilliontimes.HerlosshasmademequestioneverythingIthoughtI knew about life, and my life will never be the same again.

Mymomwas notmyfirstinstanceofloss,butherswasthemostpainfulof mylife,andbelieveme,Iknowfirsthandwhatitistoexperiencepain.I’ma child of the 80s, after all. I wore Jellies. For the younger crowd, those were plastic shoes. They looked super cute, but those things were excruciating.

Theyrubbedblistersonyourtoesandonthebacksofyourheels.Peoplesay fashion comes with a price. I guess that price is pain. Speaking of pain, my firstexperiencewithlosswaswhenIwas7yearsold.Mygreatunclepassed awaytwodaysbeforemyeighthbirthday.Itwasaverydeeplossforme.He was more than just a great uncle. We lived next door to him and saw him almost every single day. We often spent the night at his house because my great-aunttookcareofusformymomwhilesheworked.Hedidn’thaveany

grandkids, and both of my grandpas died before I was born. He was, for all intents and purposes, our grandpa. We even called him PaPa. He was the kindestandmostjoyfulperson,andhislaughwasinfectious.Headoredus, andweknewit.Wehadhimwrappedaroundourlittlefingers.Hewoulddo anythingforus.TherewasevenatimewhenhecrackedarawEastereggon his head. We wanted to trick him, so we told him that it was a hard boiled egg. He knewit wasn’t, buthe went along with our little prank and crackeditonhisheadanyway.Wegiggled,andhesmiledandlaughedatourdelight as the raw egg dripped down his forehead. I didn’t learn until many years laterthatheknewtheeggwasraw.That’showmuchhelovedmakinguslaugh.

I remember the day he died just like it was yesterday. It will be foreveretchedinmymind.Ihadjustseenhimadayortwobefore.Myeighthbirthdaywasinafewdays.HeteasedmeandaskedifIwantedawatchfor my birthday. He knew that all I wanted was a Cabbage Patch Kid.

I was sitting in my second-grade classroom a few days later, when they calledovertheintercomtosaythatIhadanearlydismissal.Iwassohappy. I high-fived my friend and raced down to the office. I never got any early dismissals. When I got there, my mom and her friend were waiting. They had very serious expressions on their faces. My mom waited until we got home to tell us the news. PaPa died this afternoon, she said solemnly. I didn’t believe her at first, and I told her to stop lying. She urged me to go next door and see for myself. My sister and I walked next door and the house was full of people. My great-aunt was sitting with her head in her

hands,crying.Itscaredmesomuch.Irememberwalkingovertoher,sittingonherlap,andhuggingher.Iheardsomeonesay,Oh,isn’tthatsweet?She’stryingtocomforther.ThetruthisthatIwastryingtocomfortmyself.Iwas so sad and scared. I was confused and hurt. Everything felt different then.

Thedaysthatfollowedwerebusyandcrazy.Thefamilycameinfromoutof town. There was a wake and a funeral, and we had a small gathering to celebrate our birthday in between all of that craziness. There was both laughterandsadness.Thinkingbackonthosememoriesbringsupsomuchemotion.

Ireceivedmyfirstdiaryformybirthdaythatyear.Myveryfirstentryinthat diarywasaboutmyPaPadying.Itstillsendsatwingeofpaintomyhearttothinkaboutthattimeinmylife.TherearetimeswhenItrytorememberwhat my PaPa’s voice sounded like, and Ican’t. That loss was devastating formeatthetimeformanyreasons.Ihadneverreallyexperiencedthedeathof someone so close before. I didn’t understand what was happening, and becauseIwasonly7,Iwastooyoungtograspwhatdeathwas.Itwasscary.Icouldn’treallyprocesswhatwashappening.Ididn’tknowwherehewent. Everyone kept saying that he went to heaven. I didn’t know what going toheavenmeant.Ijustknewhewasn’tcomingback.

After he passed, they sold his things at auction. That ripped my heart out, and since we lived next door, we had to watch them sell all of his things to thehighestbidder.Itwasasifheneverexisted.Histhingswerejustgone.At least before the auction, if I wanted to be reminded of him, I could just look at his motorcycle in the garage. Now, that was gone too. I was very angry

about this, as a 7-year-old little girl who didn’t understand why it needed tobedone.EvenasIamwritingthisnow,itbringsmetothepresent.Wealsohad to sell my mom’s belongings. Iwill never forget the day that wewere going through her house; my daughter broke down and started sobbing. It wascompletelyoverwhelmingforher.Shewasexpressingwhatwewereall feeling.Itwasasoverwhelmingtomeat45asitwastomewhenIwas7.My PaPa’sdeathwasthefirstdeaththatreallyshookmetomycore,anditmade me start to question what happens to us when we die. Will I ever see myPaPaagain?WillIeverfeelbetteragain?Iwassoscaredoflosinganyoneelse in my family that I remember praying about it the night after I found out he died. Ispentthe night at my Grandma Lassen’s house. She was mymom’s mom,andwewereveryclosetoher.AsIwatchedherwalkingaroundinthekitchen,IworriedthatGodmighttakehertoo.Irememberprayingandasking God not to take my Aunt Gee (my PaPa’s wife), my Grandma Lassen, or my mom and dad until I was very old (at least 40). Well, 40 seemed old toa7-year-old.Inowunderstandthatitisnotold…Isaidit’snotold!I’mstillquite young…in my mind anyway. In what I now think is a very strangecoincidence,IwouldlatergoontolosemyAuntGeein2019,mygrandmain2020,andmymomin2022.IwishIcouldgobackandchangemyprayernow. I was just kidding, God.