The long and Winding Path of Courage
Today in Courage:
This is my path forward today. This particular route has taunted me for the last couple of years and today I am embarking on the forward journey. You see, this is a path I know well, have previously rode often and have many, many memories of “what was” prior to Greg’s passing.
Anyone who has experienced the death of their spouse, best friend, the person they DID life with, will likely understand when I talk about the emotional and mental challenge in going back to some of the activities that we used to love to do with our person. One of those activities for me is biking. Greg and I joyously bought new bikes about five years ago. We are fortunate to live close to many lovely and scenic bike paths. We would often pack up a picnic, put the bikes on the back of the car and head out for an adventure. Or one of us would simply say, “Let’s go for a bike ride!” and we would jump on our bikes and join the path not far from our home. There were sunset rides and breezy morning rides. It didn’t matter the circumstances, we were in it together. The memories are many.
So here I am ready to conquer this next step for myself. Getting back to the paths we rode together, for me, involves a readiness to embrace and integrate the memories so I can continue to experience all the things in life I still love to do, even when I miss the person I did them with. As I said, it has taken me a couple of years to get to this place of readiness for this particular endeavor. Grieving for me is becoming about both loving fully what was and living and loving fully in what is. Transformation with grief as my guide has involved a lot of soul searching, inner work, and rebuilding my courage muscle. This may sound dramatic to some, but to those that know this deep loss of love, it likely hits home. Healing takes time, healing takes energy and healing takes a commitment to oneself. I am ready for this particular path today. The path is long and winding and full of not just “what was” but also “what is”. I feel my courage muscle growing as I put foot to the pedal. Maybe I will see some of you out on your own courage ride this summer 🚵😀.
Grit in Grief…holding on in the flood.
Grabbing on to Grit when grief threatens to pull you under. What does GRIT look like in deep grief? Well, I think it looks like whatever gets you to the other side of those tumultuous feelings that take over our minds and hearts. This past week has been one of those weeks for me, filled with many large and small grief bursts. First, our incredible neighborhood presented the Greg Miller Scholarship to the sweetest young lady, Gianna. I love so much about this scholarship and the young, energetic and goal oriented people who have won it over the years. This year, I particularly love the fact that Gianna’s name starts with “G” (may sound pathetic to you, but suddenly was a beautiful connection to Greg for me) and that Gianna is going into nursing, as the nurses throughout his illness played such a crucial role in his care. AND it’s so bittersweet that there even has to be a scholarship for a man who had so much life in him while he was here on earth. He should be here, yes. The BOTH AND of grief and grit.
Greg’s family and friends gathered on Saturday for a golf outing and a dinner at Mooney’s to remember and celebrate Greg. Yes, it is absolutely a beautiful and fun way to meet up and reconnect with much of what and who Greg loved in life. AND it is emotionally and physically exhausting. The “Both And” of so much in grief. The beautiful memories AND the resurfacing of the gut wrenching loss that lays always so close to the surface. Greg was everywhere in that space. Utterly beautiful. His life mattered and his love still permeates. My heart is full. AND my heart hurts with the “what is no longer” and the fact that he should be here.
Our church on Sunday celebrated and said farewell to the lead Pastor who walked along with my family in Greg’s death and then my father’s death. He was a quiet and trusted guide on the journey. I will never forget how comforting that was and I am forever grateful that he was there with us and for us. Grateful, yes, AND very bittersweet. It was like letting another piece of both Greg and my Dad go. And such is life, the BOTH AND.
We hosted Greg’s family from out of town and in town that Sunday night as well. Grief makes relationships sticky and complicated. We all grief Greg differently and that is ok, kind of one of the beauties in life. Each of our relationships to Greg was unique and holds a special place in each of our hearts. I loved sharing old family stories over dessert that night, reminiscing, laughing and putting pieces together for my kids. You see, Greg’s family is the connection to Greg’s past that I cannot completely fill in. These moments are so important, and yet filled with many emotions. Grateful AND complicated.
Our 31st wedding anniversary is tomorrow. My heart hurts with what we did not get to do together, all the beautiful and adventurous plans we had. AND I am truly so grateful for all we did get to do and all we got to be to and for each other in the thirty years we had (28 married, 30 together). Yes, he should be here.
His 65th birthday is July 1st. Oh how he LOVED to celebrate his birthday! He always said that since his birthday was the first of the month, he gets the whole month to celebrate, lol. Mind you that my birthday is July 7th, hmmm. He would joke and say that I could have an hour of his month to celebrate my birthday. Oh how I miss those jokes and that smile. AND I can’t wait to celebrate him and the memories we have. When we got married we consciously picked the date that was close to both of our birthdays with the idea that it would always be a big and wonderful time of celebration for us. Grateful AND hard in grief.
So, it’s been and continues to be a full and complicated week of grief bursts for sure. How do I choose to hold on to grit in the midst of these grief bursts? For me, it looks and sounds like leaning into the heartache, leaning into the tears, leaning into what my body is telling me is my truth at the moment. Please don’t get me wrong, it is not one bit easy to “just lean in”. Yet, I don’t know another way to do it. I cry if I need to cry. I call a friend who I know will sit with me and my grief without judgment. I write if I feel like writing is the release I need. I rest if my body is telling me I have had enough. For me, it is often the day before an event or an anniversary that is hardest. The anticipation gets me every time, regardless of how prepared I think I am. I will wake up the day before and wonder to myself, “why am I feeling so wiped out, so worn down, so tired, so emotional??” Duh, it finally dawns on me, “oh yeah, it’s the day before a big memory flush.” I have learned that I cannot fight the reality of the hard emotions and the beautiful memories. I lean in. I lean into what is and I lean into what was. The big feelings don’t last forever and I come to the other side of those tough and beautiful moments a bit clearer, a bit stronger, a bit more able to carry on. I carry on for Greg, yes. I carry on for my children, yes. Most of all, I carry on for my own sake. I know life is fragile. I have watched it fall apart too many times in the last several years. I want to be fully here to celebrate the “Both And’s” of it all. Leaning in is all I can do. I loved him yesterday, I love him today, and I will love him tomorrow. Grateful for it all.
If you or someone you know is struggling with loss and grief, please share this site with them as I truly believe we heal in connection and community. Or feel free to reach out to me at cathymiller@cathyemillerlifecoach.com
Cheers to the Very Best of the Best: a dedication to the loves of my life.
On this day of celebrating fathers, my heart is split in two. Split because I am grateful and fortunate enough to celebrate two amazing men in my life who epitomized what being a Father really embodied. Split because my heart is torn in two with the fact that both of these incredible humans are no longer with us here on earth. I miss them both immensely.
My Dad, my hero, the man who loved me first so unconditionally. Wow, do I ever miss his presence, his wisdom, his genuine welcoming smile, and that soft place to land when life feels hard. He listened without judgment. He loved life. He loved to laugh, whether it was a good joke or at himself. He loved his kids and his grandkids in such a big and bold way. Never missed a baseball game or soccer match for those grandkids if he could help it. When I was a child he was my pure joy at the end of a long day of school. He had a nickname for me, “umpers-gumpers”...I can’t explain it so please don’t ask, lol. To this day I can hear his bellowing “how ya doing umpers-gumpers?” with a smile and a love that took up my whole heart. As I entered adulthood, we shared the bond of being educators. He was a well-respected administrator and I was a school counselor (which, in large part, happened through his loving patience and guidance). Dad would be there to offer words of encouragement or thoughtful advice when I had any kind of particularly challenging work scenario. He could put just about any difficult situation in perspective and often said, “tomorrow is another day, a fresh start.”. My dad gave me my love of travel. Every Easter for as long as I can remember, we piled in the car, suitcases stacked and coolers packed and headed to Jekyll Island, GA. In our younger days we camped in Maine, Nova Scotia, and other East Coast destinations. Our family made Sherkston Shores our summer home for 40 years. We all loved the beach, the sun, and the many beautiful life-long friendships we made there. In his retirement Dad and mom became snow-birds to Hawaii. For twenty years they made this trip and made it their home away from home with a cadre of friends and incredible adventures. To this day, when I plan a trip of any kind, I can feel his excitement for an adventure within me. Anyone who knows me, knows my love of walking. If you can’t find me, it is likely I am taking a long, mind-clearing walk. This is my father’s influence as well. He was a great role model in walking for both the exercise and the mind-dump. As he grew older and less able to walk distances, I would walk with him around the parking lot of their apartment complex, his walker leading the way. Oh, how I admired this determination and dedication to knowing what was good for both his body and soul.
My husband, the father of my two kids, often reminded me a lot of my own dad. That old adage about women marrying their fathers probably held pretty true in my case. Greg loved, loved, loved being a dad! He took the role seriously and always with a whole lot of fun sprinkled in. There were few things I enjoyed more than watching him teach one of the kids how to swing a bat or patiently help them with their math homework. For a few years Greg embraced the role of stay at home dad at a time when stay at home dads were not quite a real thing yet. And he loved every single minute. I simply can’t say enough about his patience as a father. Our kids will tell you that if Dad was mad it had to be serious because he simply didn’t do mad very often. Greg told a great bedtime story, let me tell ya. I often wished he had had the gumption to put the stories into a book. He was so creative and fully in character as he told these tales and the kids were spellbound. We will forever remember Lady Cratchet and the Garbage Scow (sorry, you had to be there). This man NEVER missed an opportunity to brag about his kids. He coached their teams, cheered them on in their music, and simply beamed with pride at every turn. I learned patience and humility in parenting from my sweet husband. There are days I now will think to myself, “what would Greg do?” I miss him beyond words and find myself often talking to him about our adult children’s latest adventures, accomplishments and challenges. Oh, my heart.
I am forever grateful to have been gifted these two incredible men in my life. Today, my kids and I will grill some steaks, enjoy some ice cream and toast the loves of our lives with a gin and tonic all in honor of their Dad and my father. Gone but never forgotten. ❤️😇
Welcome
Welcome my courageous friends! You have likely landed here because you have been thrusted into the often murky and uncertain world of loss and grief. I am so incredibly sorry for your loss and I am so incredibly grateful that you have found your way here as part of your support system. My hope for our journey together through this blog is that we can all feel more connected and understood in our grief. While each person’s experience with grief is unique to them and to the person or situation they are grieving, there are some universal truths about grief and loss that bind us together. We find parts of ourselves in other people’s shared stories and that hopefully offers us some comfort in knowing that we are not alone in our thoughts and feelings in the depths of some of our most difficult times.
Each week I will share my personal thoughts, experiences and observations on a specific topic within the loss and grief framework. Lucky, or unlucky, for us, there is not a shortage of topics around experiences, feelings and underlying truths in the world of sorrow. To get us started, I am honored to share with you my personal story of loss and grief.
First and foremost, I come to this world of loss and grief humbled by the people who have shown up for me as well as all that I have learned about myself along this arduous journey. On September 2, 2021 I lost the love of my life, my confidante, my partner in crime, my person, my very best friend. My husband, Greg, passed away six weeks after receiving a double lung transplant. It would be easy and natural to jump to the conclusion that his body rejected the gift of new and foreign lungs in his body, but that is not how it happened. No, Greg’s body instead rejected the anti-rejection medications used to support his body after the transplant. His body simply could not absorb and use the anti-rejection meds in all of their intensity.
Our journey to the world of a double lung transplant began in May 2020, yes, in the depths of the Covid outbreak. Greg began experiencing breathing difficulties in April 2020. Up to this point he had been a fairly healthy adult, minus a type 2 Diabetes diagnosis that was controlled through medication and diet. When his breathing issues began, we naturally thought it was Covid related so he contacted his doctor, took the PCR test and we waited anxiously through the 72 hour window it took to get results then. Negative. Yay! We could not be happier and more relieved! Yet, Greg still was struggling to get a good solid breath in. He contacted his doctor again and the PA prescribed him an inhaler believing it could be asthma or allergies. Fast forward to May 19, 2020 when Greg awoke in the middle of the night unable to fully catch a complete breath at all. He was visibly scared, as was I. Ironically, early on in the pandemic I had ordered a pulse oximeter for myself and my daughter because we were at higher risk for Covid due to having asthma. I used the pulse ox on Greg and his read 73, which is dangerously low. So at 4am, with fear and uncertainty in our hearts, we decided to head to the ER. I dropped him off and waited in the car because at this time within the pandemic hospitals limited who could enter their doors. He did wave me in after a few minutes, which I will be eternally grateful to the ER staff for the rest of my life. Since the ER was mostly empty at this time, they allowed me to sit with Greg as he waited for tests to happen. Many hours later, the ER doctor came back a bit perplexed by Greg’s bloodwork and scans. His markers did not indicate Covid. There was some indication of pneumonia. Because they were unsure of what was fully going on inside Greg’s lungs and because of the severity of his breathing issues, they decided to keep him overnight. Long story short, after many tests and numerous medications prescribed, ten days later he was finally released with oxygen as his companion and a diagnosis of severe double pneumonia. The doctors assured him he would only need the oxygen for a week or two.
Fast forward again to January 2021 after a lung biopsy and another significant exacerbation and hospitalization, we have a new pulmonologist who diagnosed Greg with Pulmonary Fibrosis. What??? We were not familiar with this complex disease and thus had a lot of homework to do. For anyone unaware of what PF is, it is a scarring and slow hardening of the lungs. There is no cure and it is lethal. This new pulmonologist, I believe, literally saved Greg’s life at this point. After some trials with prednisone levels and anti rejection medications, by April 2021, Greg plateaued with his oxygen intake to a point where he could do more while still on oxygen therapy. He basically got most of his life back. He was able to golf, go for short walks, enjoy family and participate in respiratory therapy.
Because the area we live in does not have a hospital that performs lung transplants, the pulmonologist connected us with a hospital three and half hours away to begin the grueling testing which would determine if Greg was a good candidate for a lung transplant. Turns out, according to the hospital surgeon, he was the “perfect candidate”. Greg was placed on the transplant list on July 12, 2021. We received the call at 5:50am July 23rd, a mere eleven days later, that the hospital had a set of lungs for Greg.
Greg came out of the almost nine hour surgery with a new set of lungs and such gratitude to the family of the donor. His recovery started out like rapid fire success, until it didn’t. You already know the end of this story, so I will spare you the details except to say that I could not be more proud of Greg’s fight to live through six of the most unbelievably scary and grueling post-surgery weeks imaginable. He lives in my heart as the most courageous man I have ever and likely will ever meet. Thank you for listening to our story of a journey that we never saw coming and a love that will never die. Hugs to you all for your own beautiful and hard stories of love and loss❤️😇.
If you or anyone you know is in search of support in their grief journey, please share this community with them. We truly heal in connection and community. If you are looking for a speaker on the topic of navigating grief, loss and change, please contact me at cathymiller@cathyemillerlifecoach.com.
‘Tis the Season
SEASONAL GRIEF IS REAL
Seems like a strange title for a blog written in June, right?? Well, not so much in the grief world as seasonal grief throughout the year is a real thing to contend with. As so many of the people around us begin to dive in deep to the vibrant and busy summer vibes, there is a renewed sense of loss for people in grief to contend with. The loss of going into this season without our loved one. The pressure to be outside, to be with people, to be making the most of what is often the “favorite season” of the year, while inside we are struggling with experiencing all of this without our person.
Summer is a time of special events like graduations, Father’s Day, and weddings where there is an understandable and expected tone of celebration, yet these events can be bittersweet and activating for grievers missing a family member. There are the feelings of joy AND loss co-mingling throughout the celebrations. And that is hard and normal. I encourage us all to find meaningful ways to incorporate the memory of our person into these special events , whether it is with a toast that includes mentioning how proud our person would be to witness the celebration, or a remembrance table that includes those that we are missing , or simply carrying a picture of our person quietly with us in our wallet so that we know they are with us. These are just my own thoughts and I know you will find the very best way to honor and remember your person when the day arrives.
Taking a time out for ourselves is always a positive strategy. Saying “no” to a particularly grief-activating event is self care and not to be laden with guilt. Or going for a short while and having an exit strategy when your body and mind tell you that you have done enough. The point is, giving ourselves compassion and grace in this season of celebrations is the best gift we could give in honor of ourselves and our love for the person we are missing.
I hope you can get outside and enjoy the sun and fresh air in ways that benefit you and honor your grief. We are all in this together❤️😇