Grief Comes in Waves: Family transitions, practices for healing and visits from the ancestors

Grief comes in waves. It ebbs and flows like the tide. Just when you think you’ve cried your last cry, a song, photo or memory can trigger sadness or even a waterfall of tears-- weeks, months or even years after your loved ones have transitioned. Although I have witnessed firsthand that life doesn’t end after the burial, I am not able to sidestep the grieving process. It is what it is. I’ve learned to honor it, and how to nurture myself along the way.

I began this post in September 2012 shortly after the passing of my last living grandparent, Delight McCauley.  I had planned to talk about her legacy—fond memories of camping in the Winnebago, beauty and life lessons, and unending generosity--- and then provide tips on how to help oneself heal while moving through the grieving experience. Then something unexpected happened. The piece would now have a new twist. It caused me to reflect on the dinner I had with family after the funeral.

During the meal my cousin Tomeka spoke about how she wanted her funeral to be a celebration. She said wanted it to be like a party, where everyone had fun and there was laughter.  I chimed in and agreed with her that I would like something out of the ordinary like that too… although I chuckled to myself, “I don’t want folks to be too happy that I’ve died!”

 A few minutes after I’d left the restaurant, Tomeka called me on my cell phone. “Brookie, we didn’t get to take the pictures we were supposed to,” she said.  En route to see my mother in the next town, I shrugged it off and said I’d catch up with her later.   We had taken a few shots at the cemetery and I didn’t think it was a big deal. I returned home to Baltimore without reconnecting with her.

Almost two weeks later to the date, Tomeka’s mother called to tell me her heart had stopped. She remained in a coma for several days before releasing her body and returning to spirit. Clearly, at some level, if not in her full awareness, she knew her time was near. Though challenging, at the age of 91 my grandmother’s passing was not a shock. But a young woman in her 30s and my Facebook buddy, my baby cousin’s passing was unforeseen.

There I sat in the same spot at work where I was when I got news about my grandmother. After the several days of constant prayer while she was in the coma, it was time to let go. Tears flooded my cheeks, my chest tightened, and queasiness hit my stomach. The reactions were all too familiar. The more I had to share the news, with the director, co-workers family and friends, the more real it became.

You can know what you know. That life is a continuum. That there is no ending. That your loved ones have not become dirt and worms. But that does not stop grief, at least not for me. Some of my ultra-religious and uber-spiritual friends focus so much on the life-after and their loved ones being back with their Maker that they do not acknowledge grief. I sometimes wonder if they are missing out on an opportunity to heal and bring closure in their lives. While our loved ones have returned to the Divine, we are left to adjust to life without them in the form we’ve always known them in. Since their transitions, several of my ancestors have returned to warn me and bring greetings from the other side of the veil.

Both of my grandfathers have visited me since their so-called dying. In 2000, my maternal grandfather, Papa, was the first member of my immediate family to pass away. In his 90s, though he had stopped smoking years earlier, lung cancer ravished him in just a few months. 

I grieved deeply for weeks. The pain was palpable, like a heaviness in my back. Although we lived in different states and weren’t able to spend lots of time together, clearly we were still connected. About three weeks later one of my best friends from college, Nikki, had come to visit from Philly. We were hanging out at my place and I was sipping on my favorite drink of the time, Hennessey with Rose’s Lime, and puffing on a cigar, the new trend for young women.

I left Nikki and went into my room, drink and cigar in hand. Suddenly, my grandfather’s image began flashing before my eyes. I blinked but it didn’t go away. Then, something that felt like a breeze knocked the cigar out of my hand and onto the floor. I looked over and saw that my bedroom windows were closed. I was baffled but tipsy. When my buzz wore off, I realized it was him. He had knocked the cigar out of my hand! I believe it was a warning about smoking. I gave up the cigar fad that day.

About a month later I was riding in Canada riding with my boyfriend Jerome. We were laughing, and he was playing one of my favorite songs of the time, Maria Maria by Carlos Santana. It was the lightest I’d felt since Poppa’s death. The flash came again. There he was, blinking before my eyes. This time he was laughing and smiling at me.  Fully sober this time, I was clear on what was happening. I greeted him in my thoughts and told him I loved him. Two years later, another ancestor paid a visit.  

I was at a Redskin’s game with a date and some of his friends. It was a chilly Sunday in November and I was trying my best to follow the plays. The only thing I understood was the touchdowns. Of course, no one was in the mood to explain anything to me, and my attention waned as I tried to focus. Then he appeared. My paternal grandfather, Pa, began flashing before my eyes. I blinked, wondering if I was seeing things.  About a minute later, my cell phone rang. It was my father, calling to tell me Pa had passed. He came to tell me goodbye.

To date, both grandmothers, great-grandmothers, my aunt Micky and a Native American relative I had not met in this lifetime have come through in spiritual readings I’ve had to give me warnings, greetings and loving insight. And Tomeka, my Guides shared, was now a helper from the other side. It was in her soul contract to leave at this time and in divine order. When her picture from her old Facebook account pops up on my page periodically, I often wonder if it’s her way of saying hello. So yes, I know about the eternality of life. Yet and still, grief comes in waves.

And it’s all good…healthy even. I believe it’s important that we embrace our humanity and honor the gamut of­­ emotions that come with our experience of being on the planet. I have learned several practices that have helped me through mourning process. I also use them to help others around me mourning, and the soul of the loved one:

• ·         I pray for the soul of the deceased. I pray for ease in their transition, and for light, peace and love to their soul. I ask for the Angels, Archangel Azrael in particular, to aid them in their journey home. 
• ·         I pray for a perfect and divine release for all involved. When we release our departed love ones on to their greatest good, they have an easier journey. Our loved ones want us to be joyous and peaceful. We are also more able to connect with them when we are peaceful.
• ·         I hold myself, and/or others experiencing the loss with compassion. It’s important to recognize that this is a sensitive period and nurturing is important. Nothing too harsh or heavy right now should be indulged and sleep and rest is key. Light comedies or other things that make one laugh can be helpful. I also pray for strength and comfort.
• ·         I write. Journaling, poetry, song writing are all ways to get your feelings out and onto paper. Though sometimes initially difficult, writing is often a catalyst for healing and freedom. It enables us to go deeper within ourselves, release pain and hear truth. We don’t want the pain to remain in our cells long term.
• ·         I light candles. I usually use green (healing), white (spirit, purity), or pink (love) for this time. I may place them on my altar (sometimes along with their photos), or light them while I pray or meditate.
• ·         I take spiritual baths. A bath with Epsom or sea salt helps to cleanse our energy fields while providing comfort. A lit candle by the tub can also be soothing.

Though sadness may arise from time to time, we can have peace in knowing that we are still surrounded by our loved ones, though they are in a different form, in a different dimension.  Then we can choose to embrace the new beginnings, miracles and blessings in the journey before us.

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