A Hole in the World: Finding Hope in Rituals of Grief and Healing- Guest Post by Amanda Held Opelt

 

Editor's note:  Amanda wrote the very first blog post for this Sibling Grief Blog. She recently wrote a book about Grief and it comes out soon.  I asked her for an excerpt to share as this month's post. Her words are wise, born out of her own pain and grief. I hope this blesses you as it has blessed me!  -Jessica

In my new book A Hole in the World:  Finding Hope in Rituals of Grief and Healing, I explored ancient traditions surrounding loss and bereavement in order to better understand my own grief.  I wanted to try and make sense of all the complex emotions I was experiencing, and find some way to process them.  The passage below is from chapter 10, which is about the ritual of funeral games.  Funeral games, like practical jokes and hide and seek, were often played at Irish wakes.  But the ancient Greeks often engaged in fierce competitions, like chariot races, wrestling, and archery, after a funeral.  It was thought that this would honor the person who had died.  It was also a way for mourners to experience life, diversion, and vigor once more after loss.

 

"Wildflowers" Guest Post by Stacey Margaret Jones, Writer/Researcher

In the heart of the pandemic, July 2020, I got a call on a strange number in the Dallas-Forth Worth area; because my sister Susan lived there, I answered it when I would usually decline. The call wasn’t from Susan, but from an emergency room doctor who had found my number in her phone as a recent call to a person with the same last name. I knew where his introduction was leading, though I hoped it wouldn’t be the worst possible news, even as he was embarking on the sentence I dreaded, that Susan had died of a heart attack that morning. Her friend had brought her in after she had died in her car on the way to an appointment with her cardiologist. It had been sudden: In the short time it took her friend to put something in the trunk after getting Susan settled in the passenger seat, she had left us all. And the long days of our lives lived without her had begun.

"Chivalry in Grief" Guest post by Mitch Carmody

 

Note from Jessica:  My parents have been involved in Compassionate Friends/Bereaved Parents since my sister died in 1999.  I asked my mom, Jo, for ideas for guest writers and she suggested Mitch.  He has experienced the loss of his father at a young age,  a son & two siblings.  His wise words around his grief experience are much appreciated. 

As a national writer and speaker on grief I am for the most part  recognized for my journey following the  death of my 9-year-old son Kelly who died of a cancer in 1987. That event changed my life forever, but many do not know of the other familial losses that I have incurred. Our life is a puzzle in progress. It is our losses and gains that we piece together through our lifetime  that ultimately forms our destiny. We have cognitive choices that influence that destiny, but as children for the most part those choices are made for us. We grieve by proxy through our parents and subjugated by societal influence to marginalize our own pain. You are young, you are resilient, kids bounce right back.

"It doesn't get easier, you just learn to carry it"

I love podcasts & audiobooks! They allow me to listen & learn while I clean, bike, or usually-crochet. One of my favorite podcasts is "Everything Happens" by Kate Bowler. On a recent episode, she interviewed Jerry Sittser, who lost his mother, wife, & youngest daughter in a car accident 30 years ago.  He speaks candidly of his grief journey and how as humans we often try-and fail-at making meaning from terrible things that happen to us.  Jerry said that people are looking for answers and that he didn't really come to one until he realized there are no answers.  "I've learned it doesn't get easier, I just learned how to carry it." 

"You never think it will happen to you or your family" Guest post by: Breigh Ricketts

Warning: This guest author's brother died by suicide & had mental health challenges. If that is difficult for you to read or process, feel free to skip this post.

I had a brother, Brandon, who was about 2 years older than me. I looked up to him, and we shared many of the same friends upon my entering high school. Brandon had a lot of Mental Health issues that dramatically altered his personality. During those times there was no way of knowing how he would act. Nevertheless, there were still so many days where he was an awesome big brother that I looked up to, but Brandon had a secret, a secret that he never confided in about with anyone. He no longer felt he had a reason to live.

Becoming an Only Child: Guest Post by Amanda Held Opelt

 

Almost a year ago, I gave birth to my second daughter.  Two girls, between two and three years apart, just like me and my sister.  Watching them grow up together has unearthed some of my oldest memories, moments from my earliest days of childhood, recollections that are hard to differentiate from my imagination.  Watching my youngest daughter look up to her big sister stirs in me a longing and has exposed new surfaces of my grief.   “This is ok,” I tell myself.  “It is ok to feel this.  This is part of the process.”

The Ball and the Box: A visual representation of grief

It has been 23 years since we last celebrated a birthday in-person with my sister.  In January of 1999, her cancer had returned, spread, and not responded to treatment. We knew it would probably be the last one, so my parents booked the Cutty's Resort party room and we invited everyone to a big birthday party for her.  Some of my friends from Central College shared a van and drove five hours each way to celebrate her and support us. Her friends, church members, and family members came for one last big party! I remember so much laughter that day and also a sense of dread-for what we all knew would be next.  

"Longer would have been nicer" Guest Post by Anne Williams

 

You don’t grow up expecting your younger brother to die, even when you’re told to expect it. You don’t live your life waiting for the grief. You just live.

I was only three and a half when James was born, I already had one brother, so was fairly disgusted with my parents for handing me another. I told them they had to name him Oscar, as in Oscar the Grouch, because I was mad.

"Regrets at the Holidays" Guest post by Jo Winkowitsch

 

Editor's note: This post is by my mom.  She has experienced much loss in life and I so appreciate the work she has done to help others in their loss, even as she grieves her own.  -Jess

Once I had an older brother.
This picture reminds me of that, and of happier days.  For a time there were only two of us kids. Two and a half years apart. I remember pretending to ride horses with him on the arms of our chairs, and ruling an empire with him outside our house. We had many fun times.
But that was before…

Before…

Halloween Memories: Guest post by Sara Tourte

 

“It’s about to be Halloween/you could be anything you wanted/if you were still here” – Ronan by Taylor Swift.

It’s almost been ten years since I last heard my brother’s voice.  January 22, 2022 will mark ten years since Joe’s passing. This time of year brings floods of memories with Joe. Memories of him dressed up as his favorite superhero at Halloween, memories of him and I trick or treating in our neighborhood, and memories of him planning for the next Holiday. Joe would always say “and then” until we got to the next Holiday being Christmas or his birthday - Joe LOVED presents!  While his constant “and then” interrogation would drive us crazy, there’s nothing my family and I wouldn’t give anything to hear him say those words again.