Tyler,,,, I assure you, you said All the right things…and your timing was perfect. For a man to speak on grief and pen his most inner thoughts and insecurities is Epic to begin with. I’ll share my experience…I lost my son, he just turned 31, struggling with addiction. I needed a safe, loving support group. I never doubted those closest to me would not be able to witness my pain and grief. After all, he was loved his entire life, so when my brothers and closest friends disappeared,,,it hit hard. I would awake in deep grief, look at my phone in disbelief…nothing. I held that pain, and never confronted anyone. It added more pain than I ever imagined. It created anxiety, confusion and anger. I found a support group and shared my feelings there. I found out, I wasn’t alone in “ghosting”, the grieving mother. It’s so common in American culture…sadly so. I think you nailed the most important tool… Say them anyway… oh how I wish they could have known this. Love & light Tyler…thank you
Well this essay certainly ‘struck a chord’ with me. I have forever been struck with a ‘loss for words’ spoken, yet been a virtual ‘firehose’ when it came to written comments (but you already knew this haha). So, my public demeanor seemed to evolve to one of a quiet and stoic figure while as for my writings… one of my first bosses once replied to an email I sent with the following: “Kevin, your information and conclusions all have merit, but let me remind you that novels should be found in bookstores, not emails. Tighten it up please!” Yep, yep, yep.. Over the course of a career in business, training and practice in public speaking did help me to condense my thoughts, focus on message, and learn the importance of cadence. But nothing has been more influential in my practice for both brevity and messaging (in both speaking and writing) than the practice of writing poetry. Poetry is mystical and lyrical experience in "speaking the most while talking the least," allowing complex experiences to be distilled into a few, powerful lines.
Oh, Tyler, another serendipitously timed Signal Fire. There has been grief, sadness and loss in this neck of the woods for the last few months. I leaned in, when I saw what was coming, I spoke the hard truths born of a deep knowing to prepare those that refused to or couldn’t understand the path that lay ahead. I’ve done the showing up you speak of (as best as I could) because ultimately that presence matters so much.
There seems to be a fragility of sorts that those experiencing loss are treated with. In this recent experience, it seemed many were uncertain what was needed, and didn’t want to intrude or overwhelm. I get it, we all process, feel and experience this world differently. And the truth is (at least from my perspective), yes, solitude is needed at times on the grief journey, but when your world changes overnight and a presence that was with you day in and day out is suddenly gone in the blink of an eye. That quiet, the eerie silence, the being in a once shared space surrounded by the reminder of your loss at every turn and you’re alone, that is something I would never, ever wish upon anyone.
All that to say, show up, have the real, true, raw conversations. Ask, offer specific things you're able/willing to help with (if that fits the situation)….sometimes a choice is empowering and sometimes it’s overwhelming. The authenticity is felt when the actions or words are genuinely born of care and compassion, it matters far less if they aren’t the “right” thing. It seems we’ve tempered interaction with correctness/politeness at the expense of honesty and authenticity. This is not to say that a balance of both cannot be met, just that interactions often swing heavily to one end or the other of that scale.
We have no guidebook for these moments, life is a messy thing full of countless twists and turns. But leaning in, facing and feeling the messiness is all we can do in any given moment.
Much appreciation as always, Tyler, for the words shared and creating this community for us to share.
Tyler,,,, I assure you, you said All the right things…and your timing was perfect. For a man to speak on grief and pen his most inner thoughts and insecurities is Epic to begin with. I’ll share my experience…I lost my son, he just turned 31, struggling with addiction. I needed a safe, loving support group. I never doubted those closest to me would not be able to witness my pain and grief. After all, he was loved his entire life, so when my brothers and closest friends disappeared,,,it hit hard. I would awake in deep grief, look at my phone in disbelief…nothing. I held that pain, and never confronted anyone. It added more pain than I ever imagined. It created anxiety, confusion and anger. I found a support group and shared my feelings there. I found out, I wasn’t alone in “ghosting”, the grieving mother. It’s so common in American culture…sadly so. I think you nailed the most important tool… Say them anyway… oh how I wish they could have known this. Love & light Tyler…thank you
Well this essay certainly ‘struck a chord’ with me. I have forever been struck with a ‘loss for words’ spoken, yet been a virtual ‘firehose’ when it came to written comments (but you already knew this haha). So, my public demeanor seemed to evolve to one of a quiet and stoic figure while as for my writings… one of my first bosses once replied to an email I sent with the following: “Kevin, your information and conclusions all have merit, but let me remind you that novels should be found in bookstores, not emails. Tighten it up please!” Yep, yep, yep.. Over the course of a career in business, training and practice in public speaking did help me to condense my thoughts, focus on message, and learn the importance of cadence. But nothing has been more influential in my practice for both brevity and messaging (in both speaking and writing) than the practice of writing poetry. Poetry is mystical and lyrical experience in "speaking the most while talking the least," allowing complex experiences to be distilled into a few, powerful lines.
To get to the point -
Bared the weighted drone of prose;
the magic of verse.
Oh, Tyler, another serendipitously timed Signal Fire. There has been grief, sadness and loss in this neck of the woods for the last few months. I leaned in, when I saw what was coming, I spoke the hard truths born of a deep knowing to prepare those that refused to or couldn’t understand the path that lay ahead. I’ve done the showing up you speak of (as best as I could) because ultimately that presence matters so much.
There seems to be a fragility of sorts that those experiencing loss are treated with. In this recent experience, it seemed many were uncertain what was needed, and didn’t want to intrude or overwhelm. I get it, we all process, feel and experience this world differently. And the truth is (at least from my perspective), yes, solitude is needed at times on the grief journey, but when your world changes overnight and a presence that was with you day in and day out is suddenly gone in the blink of an eye. That quiet, the eerie silence, the being in a once shared space surrounded by the reminder of your loss at every turn and you’re alone, that is something I would never, ever wish upon anyone.
All that to say, show up, have the real, true, raw conversations. Ask, offer specific things you're able/willing to help with (if that fits the situation)….sometimes a choice is empowering and sometimes it’s overwhelming. The authenticity is felt when the actions or words are genuinely born of care and compassion, it matters far less if they aren’t the “right” thing. It seems we’ve tempered interaction with correctness/politeness at the expense of honesty and authenticity. This is not to say that a balance of both cannot be met, just that interactions often swing heavily to one end or the other of that scale.
We have no guidebook for these moments, life is a messy thing full of countless twists and turns. But leaning in, facing and feeling the messiness is all we can do in any given moment.
Much appreciation as always, Tyler, for the words shared and creating this community for us to share.