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Life After Loss: 3 Benefits of Embracing Your Parent’s Friends

I wait in line at the post office until James calls me forward. He offers a restrained greeting despite our connection. He knows who I am, but he’s in work mode. All business.

I step up to the clerk’s counter that he’s stooped over. We make eye contact as his gnarled but muscular hands await a petition. A little space of warmth ignites in my belly on this hot, late July afternoon. Being here during this month, in this place, seeing James, is full of meaning. Of specialness.

man person people hand

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I announce, “I’ve come for two things.” I wonder if one of my requests will trigger a transformation of our encounter.

First, stamps. James’ slim, dark frame twists to open a drawer, and I select the transcontinental train anniversary sheet. But I’ve only asked for stamps out of convenience. I’m really at the post to renew my box, or really, my dead parents’ box. Their address. One of my connections to them. (Go to Seeking Connection Thru Objects of the Dead to hear more about the deceased person’s possessions and attempts to feel connected to them.)

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A Decade With Grief: Eight Behaviors That Transformed Pain Into Peace

This article is different from ones that reflect on how grief evolves years after the death of a loved one. I’ll share what changed my grief – what got me on the other side of tremendous pain.

I howled as I stood beside my mother’s bed 10 years ago this week. After taking her pulse, I realized she was dead. I buried my face in my husband’s chest. I howled again when the hospice nurse arrived, put a stethoscope on her chest and shook her head “no.”

hands people woman girl

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Mom’s house became my mourning place as I cleaned out hers and Dad’s belongings over an eight year period. Not that I didn’t mourn her elsewhere. But it was an operation room of sorts. It’s where I exposed all my insides to the full force of grief’s scalpel.

Last year, I sold their house. Despite all the years that had passed, I hated letting go of the place where I felt their presence the most. However, I definitely saw a change in me. My grief was not the same. How did that happen? Was it simply passage of time? I can confidently say no.

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How long will grief last? When will the pain subside? I see social media posts from people who say the grief still feels fresh years later. They fear that sorrow will never subside. While each of us will follow a unique timeline with our grief, I sometimes wonder what might be happening that keeps a sense of healing out of reach. I want to connect, offer a hug, and help.

As I reflect on my grief, I see not only a different sorrow 10 years later, but I see things I did and things that occurred to help me experience a measure of healing. I’ve identified eight that I share below.

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Reading Inherited Diaries

What if you could hear your deceased parent tell a story you’ve never heard?

What if you could discover thoughts they’d never expressed?

What if you could get perspective they never gave you in life?DadJournal

If a parent or another loved one left behind a diary or journal – or even letters or tales of events in story form – you’ve got a gold mine.

I also realize our perception of someone may be shattered by what is written in a raw moment of honesty, guilt or bereavement. We also may learn intimate details we don’t want to know.

Early in the project to clean out my parents’ home, I found a batch of their love letters I’d never known existed. I hesitated reading them. I feared the equivalent of walking into a bedroom and discovering my parents naked.

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Do You Need A Mid-Year Reset?

I decided this past weekend to declare a mid-year reset. Lots of events may force resets. Loss and death. Job changes. New homes. New cities. New phases of life. These are resets forced upon us.

And then there are those we choose. We draw a line in the sand. July 1st is my line in the sand.

black calendar close up composition

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“Perfect,” I thought. “The first day of the second half of the year. And a Monday. The beginning of the work week.”

I needed a reset. Saddled with bouts of depression this year, I’d languished in loss and in uncertainty about life and about myself. I’d surface for a while only to be pulled under again.

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