light through the window of grief

I mentioned last week a video the hospice staff watched of Naomi Tutu. In it she talked about ritual, particularly the ritual of South Africa. When a person dies, the bed is taken apart, and the mattress is placed on the floor. All the matriarchs of the family come and sit on the mattress, and they stay there until the body is buried. As callers come to pay their respects, the women tell the story of the person's life and death, over and over, over and over.

We are a culture short on ritual; and, due to a growing lack of religious interest, the rituals we have are fading too. Fewer people have funerals or memorial services. Fewer still have wakes. Even the family gatherings, the bringing in of casserole dishes to the home, and the calls and cards are less frequent than twenty years ago.

The adult grief group began last week, with a poor showing of five people. One dropped out, thank goodness, and one will be absent this week, so I'm praying for a few late starters to show up this week. (Thank goodness because she wasn't ready to be in a group yet, had too many issues to work out for the group to handle, and would monopolize the time at best and might scare other group members from talking.)

One of the things they'll be doing is journaling, and they have a book designed just for that. Beyond the exercises in the book, I've been thinking about other ways to journal that would be helpful to people who are grieving a loss. Here's what I've come up with, sort of off the top of my head:

1. Go through old pictures, and, choosing one or two per journal entry, write about the situation the pictures were taken in. What was happening? Who took the pictures and why? What did you want to remember from that time, whether or not it showed up in the picture? Is the picture a good representation of how the loved one looked, or one of his/her* better moments? Did he like that picture of himself? How does it make you feel to see it now? (*From now on I'll refer to the loved one as a 'he' for simplicity's sake.)

2. Using the same pictures, or memories without pictures, revisit the places where the pictures were taken: the beach, the back yard swing, the dining room table, wherever. Maybe take another picture. Write about what you're feeling in that same place now.

3. Journal about something that has happened to you this week, and what would have been different if your loved one were still alive.

4. Make a record of the times of day you find yourself missing him most, the scenes and scents that tug at your heart, maybe giving you a grief attack. Imagine him there, and write about what you feel.

5. Think of things the two of you didn't agree on, but you went along with anyway. Maybe you watched football because he liked it, or bought Crest because it's the kind of toothpaste he wanted, or ate Captain Crunch because it was easier than buying a box you liked instead. Maybe you liked to take walks but didn't very often because he wouldn't go with you. Make a list of things you like. You may find this easier than you expect.

6. Make a list of his annoying habits, and forgive yourself for being annoyed with him.

7. Describe him in your journal, in as great a detail as possible, using all your senses to imagine him. Linger with that sense of his presence after you've written, before you go on to do something else. Write about that experience.

Oops, I've exceeded the obligatory (arbitrary) list of 5. Well, maybe it's like a baker's dozen, one extra suggestion in case one of the first 5 wasn't any good. No excuse for number seven though. :( :)

I've just begun this train of thought, so please feel free to add to it.