loss

Mourning Miss Marie’s Garden

Posted by Barbara Techel

In the late fall when I move my geranium plants indoors I think of my friend, Miss Marie. It was from her that I learned to do this. Soon I’ll have to cut them back, but for now, I’m enjoying the last of their blooms.

It will be two years ago in February, at the age of 72 that Marie passed away. Her white two-story house on the corner in the hub of our quaint downtown was sold to a gentleman who buys up homes in the area and rents them out to tenants.

It’s been sad to watch the changes to the property since then. Many of the shrubs have disappeared. Then this summer the black ornate wrought iron gate to the entrance of her house was taken down. Before I became friends with Marie, I’d often think of that gate as the entrance to a secret garden, and behind it, I was curious about the mysterious woman who lived inside.

Walking by what was once Marrie’s house is part of my morning route. Today as I rounded the corner I sensed something different once again. As I walked a little further I saw that the garden off to the side of the house was completely gone. Tears sprang to my eyes. It’s now covered over with gravel and has been made into a large parking area. Even the sidewalk that led from her back porch out to her art studio is gone.

The garden, with raspberry plants that leaned over the walkway, and how I’d often sneak a berry or two as I sauntered up the sidewalk to the back porch when I’d visited Marie were now gone too.

Tears filled my eyes and my heart ached for how Marie loved birds and the many that hung out in her garden (and stole the berries too!) who no longer have this special place to dwell. The stories we’d share of critters that often appeared at her home or mine — the toads, frogs, and the dragonflies, oh my (!) — and how we both took such great delight in these sightings.

It all felt so harsh. I could barely contain my sadness as I continued on my path home. Marie loved nature, flowers, books, and animals and was an artist that collaged fabric into the most exquisite designs – she had quite the eye for combining colors and patterns together!

I realized once again why my attraction to her all those years ago when I’d catch glimpses of her downtown or at the post office – and her eccentric style always fascinated me. She lived simply but also loved to indulge now and then in a few of the finer things of life, which she was able to do so with a depth of joy because of her frugalness. Somehow it just made those indulgences all the sweeter. I loved how her eyes lit up and her whole body came alive in excitement when she’d share with me the experience of something she had saved up to do.

For a moment I wanted to just stuff it all down and not feel the heaviness of it all. For a moment I wondered why I feel these things at this depth. I thought to myself that it was silly to be mourning a garden. For a moment I didn’t want to be the person who feels so deeply.

But it is who I am. I realized once again that just as I feel something like this so deeply I’m also able to experience great joy in things others may think seemingly ‘small.’ 

I realized also it’s the essence of Marie that is a part of who I am too and that I continue to strive to be. Nature, animals, art, books, and indulgences in the finer things now and then is what brings me joy too — and what makes me deeply appreciate life.

While I can’t bring back Marie’s garden, I can continue to carry on that very spirit of who she was and who I am too. In many ways, the steps I walk through this life, Marie walks with me and the mourning I experienced with the loss of her garden today was in fact my missing her here in this life.

But it strengthened my determination once again to live the principles that are in alignment with my heart — and the sorrow that had enveloped my heart for a time during my walk this morning is a beautiful thing. And before I knew it I found myself smiling at all the sweet and fun memories.

And this box that contains some gelato crayons that sits on my art table in my Joyful Pause Cottage. It was a box Marie gave to me one day that contained some chocolates inside.  I was just as excited about the box, as Marie was mid-sentence that she said to return it when the chocolates were gone, that she changed her mind and with a smile said to keep the box because she saw how happy it made me.

And I realized now looking at this box how it is a nudge from Marie to continue to experiment with the collage pieces I’ve been making and to continue to make art more a part of my life.

A moment of sadness that turned to sweet memories that turned to inspiration…

xo,

Barbara

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Grief Is Not In the Present Moment

Posted by Barbara Techel

Grief is not in the present moment, it is our perception. ~Lisa Wimberger, Founder of Neurosculpting Institute

I recently took part in a Neurosculpting session gifted to me by my friend Connie who is a facilitator of the process. She reached out to me after the passing of Gidget with this lovely gesture.

The definition in short from Neurosculpting Institute website is: “Neurosculpting® is a 5-step meditation process that can strategically help an individual release the grip of old patterns and entrain their brain to creating new and more supportive patterns, habits and behaviors.”

A session is about quieting the flight/fight response, focusing on curiosity within the front part of the brain (pre-frontal cortex), engaging both sides of the brain (actually toggling between the two so you don’t stay stuck and utilizing both in achieving balance), creating a link as a reminder by tapping a part of the body, and giving the experience a name to return to when you find yourself back in flight or fight mode.

In regards to the brain, we either spend most of our time in the left side (logical and analytical) or right side (creativity and arts). I tend to be in the right side of my brain and feel most comfortable there. Many of us don’t give enough attention to the front part of our brain which helps us work with, and through, our emotions.

For my session, we focused on grief because of the recent passing of my dog, Gidget.

I’m not going to go into all the details of the session as I wanted most to share how the quote above really struck me and still stays with me: Grief is not in the present moment, it is our perception.

Our past stories, just like grieving the loss of someone we love, we can easily stay trapped there. Connie shared that grief comes with a story, a history, and an energy.

I admit that connecting the thought of being in the present moment, which I continue to strive for, and linking it to grief is one my mind has to really concentrate on to take in.

I am grieving what was (my past) and wondering what is next (my future now looks different than what I thought it would).

I thought Gidget was going to be with me for many more years. Her death felt so sudden. My brain tries to make sense of it, but in reality, there is nothing to make sense of.

If I stay in the present moment, the past is complete with Gidget. My future is not yet known, thus I only have right now. And in this right now I can choose to be sad, happy, negative or grateful.

There is no changing that Gidget is gone. I’ll never see her again. But I can be with the teachings, the joy, and the love of who she is right here in this present moment. This makes me smile and fills my heart with happiness.

By association, Connie took me through different stages during guided meditations. One of which was permission. Within the permission meditation, I associated it with the color yellow. I then saw an image of me as a little girl in a yellow dress riding my bike. To me, yellow represents joy. I tapped my hand on my heart as a way in which to remember I can give myself permission to experience joy.

For grief, I saw it as the color of gray and like a fog. I put it in an old-fashioned candy jar to contain it, yet I could still see and recognize it for what it is. When I feel anxious about grief I feel it in my stomach area, so I tapped there to release it.

The color I chose to represent the future was red which for me represents freedom. The song that popped into my head was Let freedom Ring by Martina McBride. “Let the white dove sing” which is a line in the song, I associated with the fact that my future is free from carrying the grief with me to the point that it would prevent me from being happy and continuing to move forward.

Just revisiting my notes from this experience I feel lighter in spirit and know that I don’t have to stay trapped in sadness. I honor all the feelings, but I also allow them to flow through me, instead of consuming me.

So this quote, when I sit and simmer in it makes perfect sense. While grief is real, we must honor it for the gift it gives us in that we were also able to experience love. And love is something we can choose to feel in the present moment.

I realized today also that the gift of grief and feeling my heart cracked open from the loss of Gidget, I am so much more aware of what matters. The birds, the flowers, the trees, the sun, my gardens, my life with John, and I could go on….but I have so much to be grateful for.

XO,

Barbara

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Grief Counselors in the Woods

Posted by Barbara Techel
Altar in my writing cottage remembering Gidget

All week I’d been wanting to go for a walk in the small wooded area near my home. But I couldn’t seem to get myself to do it until this afternoon.

Earlier in the week, I mailed out the wheelchair that Frankie and Joie used to an organization called Red Flyer. They accept used wheelchairs and then donate them to animal rescues. Harlan, the founder of Red Flyer said he would let me know who the wheelchair goes to. That did my heart good. I’m looking forward to seeing a photo of the lucky recipient.

This morning I donated Gidget’s stroller to a second-hand shop where all the proceeds benefit animals in need in our local area. This made my heart feel good to know another dog will enjoy it.

But whew…all this letting go. 

I rarely went for a walk without Gidget so I felt some trepidation as I put my walking shoes on this afternoon. But I felt called to visit the woods and see if it didn’t have some advice for my still aching heart.

Walking through the woods I was reminded of life and death and how there is beauty in each.

Trillium flower in full bloom among the dead leaves.

Looked like a cross to me, but actually from old wire fencing and what was once a post. But seeing this as a cross reminded me of a higher power that always has a plan.

“Lady of the woods” birch trees surrounded by trees with no life left in them.

I’ve never come across an egg this size! Not sure what bird would have hatched from here. But it made me think about how my heart is cracked open like this shell, while at the same time new life sprung from this shell. Just like new life will spring from my broken heart.

and okay…this wasn’t in the woods but was my treat when I got home. “It’s not about where an adventure ends.” I had to think about this one for a moment. I understand it as the adventure with Gidget does not end. It’s just a new way in which we are now in a relationship with each other….and so the adventure continues.

I’m so glad I went for a walk in the woods. So many counselors on hand to help walk me back home and my heart feels a little lighter for it.

XO,

Barbara

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