Faded Reminders of Four Years Ago

As Winter merges into Spring in the Pacific NW, I look at entrances to shops and see faded reminders from four years ago to stand “six-feet apart.” Painted flowers. Foot prints. Circles indicating “6’". Whatever the store thought would be helpful to remind folks to stay separated. Yes, the four year anniversary of the pandemic is close-at-hand. So many shifts in four years!

Perhaps like me your camera roll likes to offer memories, the “before photos,” where we were gathered at sardine-packed events unaware we were likely “at risk.” Then came the “after.” The impromptu masks…scarves wrapped loosely around faces, YouTube videos showing us how to make a mask from old t-shirts, folks digging through piles of material making free masks for healthcare workers, trying to fill a need…weak attempts at protection until we could buy something we thought was better…or at least more comfortable. Hand sanitizer at every doorway and checkout counter. Constant reminders to “wash your hands and not touch your face.” Washing groceries and placing mail in ziplock bags for a day or two (remember that!) And all the closures. The wide berths when walking. The lack of hugs. And ZOOM! Suddenly everything moved to Zoom.

I’m feeling overwhelmed just writing this. What is coming up for you? And I feel relieved to be eons beyond those early uncertain days. I learned a lot about coping with uncertainty, though sometimes I forget. The Mary Oliver poem, The Uses of Sorrow, comes to mind when I “think” I have to have it all sorted out already.

“Gift” of the Zoom Room

And Zoom. At first the Zoom room was awkward. What is the etiquette? Camera off or on. “Hey, please “mute” when you are eating!” “Your cat is so cute!” Now, four years later, despite some drawbacks Zoom has expanded our ways of connecting and can be used as a hybrid. I’ve been able to attend education, readings, and general curiosity events in places far afield that would never have been accessible before the pandemic. I never considered meeting with directees via Zoom, but now I regularly do.

So Zoom for everything…nah. I need to be “in the room” with folks and am grateful for the in-person events that have restarted. But am also grateful for those that continue to have a life on Zoom (or other similar platforms) that makes meeting accessible on many levels to many folks.

No, It Is Not About “Getting Back To Normal”

Of course while the pandemic is “officially” over globally, we still have COVID-19 in its variant du jour on world tour. I know a few folks who have not “had it” yet, but most have had at least a mild case (I did in late August.) There are those who have the lingering effects of long-COVID, a chronic condition. Many of these folks feel forgotten amid our culture’s desire to “move along.”

“Move along." “Get back to ‘normal.’” “Look how our economy’s productivity is back up and humming along.” I hear phrases like these and sigh. Oh, I’m guessing there will be some articles about “remembering” those early days of the pandemic. A few photos of New York City, the epicenter where hospitals and funeral homes were overwhelmed, will be shared. Talk about how families couldn’t be with their loved ones at the time of death or attend memorial services. We will dust off our collective amnesia for a few minutes and feel, what, relief?, that those days are “long gone.”

Collective Grief

But the depth of the losses spanning the last four years is immense. The collective Grief still to be done in community…I sense it has been overshadowed by our society’s pattern of “getting over” loss and moving on. Here are some thoughts for you to consider:

• Who do you know who has been personally touched by the death of someone from COVID-19? Or long-COVID? You perhaps?

• When did it occur during the past four years (or even prior to March 2020, before there was a name for it)?

• How has that loss been talk about?

• Do you know someone who worked in healthcare or funeral services during the height of all the uncertainty (Or another essential service I didn’t list)? Do you know how they are doing/being? How has COVID-19 affected their lives? Where is it safe to share their stories?

• What about other losses and deaths not directly related to COVID-19 that went unrecognized, such as chronic and serious illnesses diagnosed during the pandemic, cancer and other illness deaths, accidents, suicides and violent deaths, loss of jobs and businesses, homes, etc.? Where were folks allowed to go with this Grief amid the focus on COVID-19?

  I’m sure you can think of more as the list is close to inexhaustible. (And see how I slipped in the reflection questions this time.) Please reach out if you would like to share.

Where is Your Grief Today?

As the anniversaries come around, news stories pop up, and your own personal photos scamper across your screen, stop for more than a moment. Check in with yourself. Your heart. Where’s your Grief in the canvas of COVID-19? It has touched us all. What does Grief want to say to you? How can you be aware of others moving forward in the days and weeks ahead? It may be they lost a loved one or witnessed the death of someone’s loved one and their body is remembering.

Be kind. Be kind. Be kind.

To yourself. To yourself. To yourself…and to others, everyone, every being.

Resources

• Dougy Center, The National Grief Center for Children and Families, has activity books specifically for children and teens grieving after a death from COVID-19. These are free, downloadable and are available in English and Spanish. There is also a link of additional resources related to all deaths after COVID-19 which includes tip sheets, episodes from their Grief Out Loud podcast and more.

  Besides COVID-19 resources, the Dougy Center has a multitude of resources for grieving children, teens, YOUNG ADULTS (a population that can fall through the cracks) and families needing support. Please check them out.

• One place folks have found where they can share their stories of loss began during the earliest days of the pandemic: Coffee and Grief Community’s, Coffee Talk. My friend Anne Gudger and her daughter, Maria Gibson listened to their wise intuition and said, “Folks will have stories about Grief around this and will need a place meet and listen to others’ stories.” (Okay, my paraphrase.) It went from a bi-weekly Zoom event to monthly and the Grief stories have now expanded far beyond the pandemic and even gave birth to a podcast: Coffee, Grief, and Gratitude.

  Always a heart balm, Coffee Talk is the first Thursday of the month at 7pm PT. I usually post the registration information on my Nurture Your Journey FB page…or your can contact me directly for a reminder.

  This week was a special Coffee Talk in that is featured five readers whose work was included in the anthology, Hindsight: Untold Stories from 2020. So tender. Lest you think all stories from that time are devastating or full of sorrow, there are stories of hope and joy, too. Here is the link to the recording. It is less than an hour and so worth a listen.

Reading Recommendations

I’ve been reading a “series” from last to first (not intentionally, but oh well.) A friend recommended Landlines, The Remarkable Story of a Thousand-Mile Journey Across Britain by Raynor Winn. It is a memoir about a couple who walked across the UK. By “walk” I mean wild camping, enduring rain, midges, heat, blisters, etc. And it is more than that because the author’s husband, Moth, has an advanced serious illness, corticobasal degeneration (CBD). At the start of the book he can hardly walk and appears to be declining quickly. There are so many kinds of Grief and loss woven into the story… anticipatory Grief, ambiguous loss, Grief for the environment. The writing is beautiful. And some of their walk overlapped places I went on my own sojourns in 2019 and 2022, so I did feel a special sense of connection.

Complex Losses

Landlines was Winn’s third book. The first was The Salt Path, which starts when they are evicted from their home not soon after her husband’s diagnoses and are homeless. The second was The Wild Silence. I was so enthralled by Landlines I quickly put her other two hold at my library and The Wild Silence came in first. It is the middle book and opens around the decline, then death of the author’s mother and looks at the complexity of their relationship while struggling with her own husband’s terminal diagnosis. Yeah, I go for the light stuff. But remember, this is book two and they go on that long walk…

I’m waiting for The Salt Path. And all that walking and being outdoors. It helps with his CBD (just to leave you on a hopeful note.)

We All Experience Loss

I do tend toward Grief related memoirs (I have a couple of more in the queue.) I read these in hope that I will have, if not a deeper understanding of another’s journey, at least a glimmer of what another may be going through. To listen in on how folks navigate different losses, be they complex relationships, chronic illness, loss of a home, adoption, immigration, and belonging. And more.

I have my own experiences of loss as do you. To come alongside one another is to listen deeply, to tap into our own experiences, not to assume it is the same as the person we are listening to, but to build our empathetic muscle. To be able to wander alongside one another in the land of Grief without having to fix each other.

Thank You

As I often mention, the “heart” of my practice is Spiritual Direction/Companionship. I want to say thank you for those of you who have sent referrals my way since the first of the year. I am deeply appreciative.

As a reminder I meet folks in-person or over Zoom. I have room in my schedule and am open to chat if you are curious to find out more. It is always an honor to come alongside folks on their journey, whether it be to hold space for their Grief or reflect on their spiritual path.

If you click over to my website, you can find out more about my background and other services I provide.

In Memoriam

One of my mentors and my chaplain clinical supervisor, Horace Duke, DMin, died March 6. He was one of the best. A spark in the world and a powerhouse of a man. He would say he was a “wise fool.”

Chaplaincy training to become board certified includes CPE (clinical pastoral training) under the guidance of a certified supervisor. Training includes 50% practicum, 25% education (for example: family systems, ethics, death and dying, concepts of different religions and spiritual beliefs,) and 25% working on your own “stuff.” Horace had years of experience and was didn’t not let one off the hook about getting to the core of their stuff, all in service of being a safer presence when they were supporting patients and staff…and for our own spiritual and personal growth. Was it hard? Yup. I likely used up a pallet’s worth of tissue in his office and in our group sessions! And I am so, so grateful for the two years I was under his tutelage.

We remained connected after I left the Portland VA in 2009 via email and he always had kind words to say about my work.

He trained hundreds of chaplains who continue to carry on his legacy. I know I carry his legacy on in my work. I lit a candle and raised a cup of tea in his honor—a small ritual to say “thank you, Horace.”

Final Thoughts

You might notice I’m not sending out as many posts. Most of my writing time is spent on following dandelion seeds, my Substack page. Though the focus wasn’t going to be Grief…well my Mentor Grief seems to insert it’s way in there somehow. However, following dandelion seeds doesn’t focus on the professional aspects of my work. Instead I reflect on what is stirring my curiosity, which might be what I’m reading, other Substacks, podcasts, movies…and life in general. I welcome new subscribers.

Tuning Into Cycles

This weekend the clocks will once again switch…jumping forward an hour where I live. My body doesn’t like playing with time arbitrarily…always takes me a week or two to adjust. At least the mornings will be dark again. The chill of Winter brushing against my skin when I go out for my swim. And the new Moon is Sunday. I find the more I tune into her cycles, the more I tune into my own body.

May you tune into your own self. Your heart. Your Grief. Your Joy…yes your Joy.

Tune Into Joy

I want to leave you with something lovely, so please click over to poet Andrea Gibson’s Substack, Things That Don’t Suck, and hear her recite (and you can read it too) her poem “The Birds Wrote Me A Poem.” Here is a taste:

“Why stay in bed when you could be high-fiving the sunrise? Human awe is an endangered species. Do not let your astonishment go extinct.”

in deep gratitude for you,

anne