Tag Archives: mourning

January 24

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January 24

Today was split into two parts – the “before” and the “after.”

In the “before” I drove into town to see if I could find a little bedside lamp for our spare bedroom. I thought I’d stop by Pat’s New and Used – I hadn’t been there for years and I wondered if my former student, Rod, was still connected to it. His family had owned the old Pat’s New and Used, I remembered. So I stopped by to see what I could see. It was amazing in there! – full of nostalgia and fun, useful things and cheerfully whimsical things. I found a little lamp right away and set it on the counter, and then just explored for a while.

When I came back to the counter, I asked the clerk if Rod still was part of Pat’s New and Used, and she told me he was! Then she led me back through the aisles and outside and called out to him. Rod came out from behind some machinery and I asked him if he remembered me. He smiled and said he did – he said I was “Mrs. Terrell” – he recognized my voice and smile and mannerisms. I’d had Rod in class probably 37 or 38 years ago and it’s an understatement to say that I’ve changed a little since then – so it was very cool that he still remembered me. Rod and I chatted and laughed together for a while and then I asked him if I could get his picture, and this is when I realized I’d left my cellphone at home. So Rod kindly took our photo with his cellphone. (See our pic below.)

It was so fun to see Rod again, and I was so excited about finding my new little lamp. I came home all full of gratitude about the gifts Life gives us.

Then I checked my FB messages. I learned about the murder in Minnesota this morning. All the joy of the morning got sucked out of me.

The rest of the day was my “after.”

I had to go back into town to get some gas and buy groceries. Usually I walk into Fred’s with a smile on my face, wondering who I’m going to run into in there, and what magic I’ll find. But today I walked in feeling emotionally shattered. I wandered the aisles, shocked and numb. I exchanged a smile with another man who had the same look I probably had on my face – he looked like he was in mourning.

But when I got to the produce section I found a moment of joy – a cart went by with a toddler sitting in it, and I found myself smiling at the wee one, coaxing a smile back from him. His innocence, his unaffected happiness in getting a smile, and returning it to me – was magic. It’s amazing how a small thing like a smile from a baby can bring us out of the depths, isn’t it?

I found the things I wanted. Summoned a smile for the cashier – I love the people who work at Fred’s – filled my tank with gas, and started the drive home.

Following my intuition, I ended up taking a side road on the way home, and found myself gazing at a field of swans. I pulled over and got out of the car and started snapping pictures. The swans didn’t seem scared of me at all. They glanced up to see what was watching them, trusted I was harmless, and then went back to grazing. It was so peaceful there with the swans. Another moment of joy.

As I was about to get back on Chuckanut, I impulsively turned into the Otter Beans espresso stand. The baristas there always lift me up with their kindness. Danielle was manning the shop today. She asked me how I was, and I was honest with her about how I was feeling. There were no other customers there right then, and Danielle and I had a good chat for about ten minutes – talking to Danielle was like talking with a life coach. I told her I always find joy at the Otter Beans, and she told me that I had just brought HER joy by telling her that. Then she reminded me that for all the evil we see happening in the world, there’s always good, too – and she reminded me to look for that.

Just about then, Scotty suddenly appeared next to me. He was on his way home from his errands, too, and had seen me at Otter Beans. It always makes my heart happy when I see my husband unexpectedly. More joy!

I got home. Made myself some peanut butter and honey toast. Put on the 1987 version of *Adventures in Babysitting* and watched a babysitter conquer the forces of evil. I found this weirdly inspiring.

At 7:00, like other people around the nation, Scott and I lit a candle in tribute to Alex Pretti, an American hero.

And thus ended another day in the U.S.A.

In Mourning for My Country

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I’d never heard of Charlie Kirk until his death. It doesn’t sound like he and I had much in common, politically or otherwise. But his death has put me in mourning – not for him, personally – as I said I’d never heard of him – but I’m in mourning for my country. I’m in mourning for all the schoolchildren killed by guns, and the resort to violence that has taken the lives of people on both the left and the right. I’m in mourning for the death of basic civility and respect for life. I’m in mourning for the death of decency in our political system.

But here’s what’s keeping me going through my mourning: Every day I encounter people who still show kindness, who still show generosity. These aren’t celebrities and politicians – these are just “regular” people who have the courage to get out of bed every day and face whatever the world throws at them. These are our world’s real heroes. For our world’s kind people, I am grateful.

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Stepping Into Magic

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Here’s the link to the podcast.

I’ve been in a funk today – I feel like I’ve been treading water just to stay afloat – mourning friends and family who have passed on in the last several years. But just now – as the sun slipped beneath the horizon – I left my house for a quick walk and stepped into magic. I was instantly surrounded in evening smells and sounds – frogsong and birdsong and the perfume that comes from the spring flowers as the evening wraps around them. I looked up at the night sky and saw a light shining down on me – I think from a planet – and then, further away, a star twinkled at me. And I was just suddenly so grateful. So grateful to live in a place where I’m safe to walk around the block on a fragrant spring evening. So grateful that the sounds I hear are coming from birds and frogs, and not cannons and guns. So grateful that the sky is clear and clean and I can see the stars on a sweet spring evening.

I looked up at the stars and could feel my friends and family with me. I felt a part of something cosmic and divine.

Blue Cosmos (photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell)

Or Alternatively

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I want to hibernate – just go to sleep
until we’re all together again –
only be awake for those moments
when you’re all near.
Maybe I can function while I sleep –
look like I’m awake and appear
to do all the things that society
requires of me – until your return.

Or…

Alternatively, I could fill those waiting
moments with love and joy –
I might as well, right?
And then when we all meet again
one day around the family table
I’ll have something valuable
to share – I’ll be ready and able.

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Stockpiling Memories

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Storing away memories
like a squirrel stores nuts
before the winter cuts in
They’re leaving soon
so I’m storing fast
gathering memories
before they pass
Walks around the block
as we laugh and talk
steaming tea in our favorite mugs
curry soup and extra long hugs
I tuck these memories
into the safe places
in my heart –
stockpiling the memories
for when we’re apart

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

“We think of an absent friend as easily as we do of one present.”
-Mary Baker Eddy

Topped Tulips

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Spring has always meant renewal for me – a time of new growth and baby things and the smell of blossoms. But I found myself feeling this deep sense of loss today as I drove the backroads to take one last look at the tulip fields.

I remembered driving around with my centenarian dad in the car just a few years ago – sharing the sights of Skagit County with him. I remembered chauffering Mom around to her appointments – and I remembered that day when she was trying to remember all the birds she’d seen so she could tell her friends about them: “Trumpeter swans and snow geese and herons.” I remembered the swans that were in that field at the beginning of April, spreading their wings for me. And I remembered the waves of snow geese that were here just weeks ago.

And now the tulips are topped, and the swans and snow geese have started their journey back north, and Moz and Dad are no longer here with me in their human bodies. And for a time today I felt this deep ache when I thought about the loss of all these beautiful forms.

Of course, the essence of all these things – the tulips and the swans and the snow geese, and Mom and Dad – is still with me. And I’m going to consciously wrap myself up in the love and joy and beauty and rejoice. But sometimes… sometimes there’s an ache.

topped tulips stand stark
trumpeter swans are gone now
April brings mourning

All That Is Gone

tulip petals in the lawn
no more trumpeter swans
my parents have moved on
spring is supposed
to be the dawn
of seasons, new growth,
lambs and fawns,
but today I’m remembering
all that is gone
-Karen Molenaar Terrell

“…our disappointments and ceaseless woes, turn us like tired children to the arms of divine Love.”
– Mary Baker Eddy

Topped Tulips in Skagit County, Washington. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.

World in Mourning

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A world in mourning.
Weeping in the dark of night.
Praying for the light.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Messages from Jill

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My beautiful friend and former teaching colleague, Jill Bailey, passed yesterday. This morning I’ve been going through our FB messages to each other, soaking up her wisdom and kindness, and I found messages she’d sent me just after my mom passed – messages about the process of grieving. But… it felt like these messages were fresh and brand new – like she’d just sent them to me – like she was sending me inspiration and wisdom to help me through mourning HER passing.

Today is also the second anniversary of my dad’s death. Finding Jill’s messages this morning couldn’t have come at a better time.

I want to share Jill’s wisdom with everyone who is mourning her today.

Jill wrote:
“…Karen, my dad told me shortly after my mom died that he believed that the most important word from Psalm 23 was THROUGH. This scripture can be recited by many…The Lord make me lie down in green pastures, etc. The word THROUGH is only in the chapter once. People picture lying down in green pastures and God walking alongside them through the valley of death, etc..They see themselves THERE. But my dad said go THROUGH it. It is the only way to truly process and heal (get through it) the death of someone you love dearly. He was correct. We can’t shut it out, forget or not deal. The waves of grief crash and we have to dive through…”

And in another message, Jill wrote:
“…this grief we go through tends to be solo and honestly no one can truly feel or understand its intensity (at times)…I am sorry that you are going through all the tough stuff that death leaves for the living. I know, I know people say, ‘everyone goes through it.’ It doesn’t help to hear those words. It just truly amazes me that so many people deal with this grief day to day without acknowledgement. And I guess I want to do that – acknowledge you and what is happening!…This is a very hard time. (As I state the obvious.) Please know you are hugged and understood. Jill”

Two Years Ago Today: The Last Time I Saw Him Alive

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Two years ago today: The last time I saw Dad alive. He died the next day, before I could get to him.

January 18, 2020

Dad is in bed. His eyes are closed. He’s very still, but I see his chest moving. He’s still with us. I lean over and kiss his forehead and say into his ear, “Hi Daddy. It’s Karen.” (There’s no response at first. Then his eyes open and he looks at me.)
Dad: (Weakly.) Karen.
Karen: I love you, Daddy.Dad: (I can feel the effort he’s making to mumble the words.) Ah uv you.Karen: (Smiling at Dad – my heart filled with tenderness.) You old mountain goat. (That’s what Mom had always called Dad – and it comes to me – out of the blue – to call him that. Dad smiles at me. And now I find myself singing to him – that old Jeannette McDonald-Nelson Eddy song that he and Mom used to sing to each other…) When I’m calling you-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh… (I see Dad perk up a little. I get this sense that Mom is calling to him.)

We don’t say much after this. I stay for a while, stroking Dad’s forehead, and watching “Maverick” on Dad’s television. Every now and then Dad opens his eyes and checks to see if I’m still there. Eventually he falls back to sleep. I leave to go home and fetch my husband and son for a return visit. When I arrive home and describe Dad’s condition, the husband and son immediately let me know they’re with me and we go back to Dad’s house.

We enter Dad’s room and approach the bed. He’s sleeping. We pull up three chairs and watch him for a while. His foot is moving back and forth. I approach Dad’s bed.
Karen: Hi, Daddy. It’s Karen. And Andrew is here. And Scotty.
(Dad opens his eyes and looks at me.)
Karen: I love you, Daddy.
(Dad’s eyes are locked on mine and he nods his head at me once, twice. An affirmation. I nod back at him. He reaches up and holds my arm and squeezes it gently. I hold his hand and squeeze. He squeezes my hand back.)
Karen: Here’s Andrew, Daddy.
(Andrew sits close to his grampa. This is his time with Grampa. Love is exchanged. This time belongs to them and it’s not mine to share in words.)
Karen: And here’s Scotty.(Scott grips Dad’s hand and receives a strong grip in return. They both grin at each other. Male bonding.)

We all feel when it’s time to leave and let Dad get back to the business of sleeping. I get up and kiss Dad’s forehead and tell him I love him. Scott says his good byes. Andrew is the last to leave – he gets a strong good bye handshake from his grandfather before he leaves him to sleep.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell, The Second Hundred Years: Further Adventures with Dad

The Pressure to Feel Merry

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(Originally published in 2012, but I think it works pretty well in 2021, too.)

It has been a challenging month for a lot of people. Yesterday when I was running around, doing last minute Christmas shopping, I ran into three friends who teared-up when I asked them how they were doing – one had lost a husband not long ago, the second had lost her mom, the third her dad. The husband of a fourth friend is going through medical treatment for cancer. And then there is the tragedy of Newtown, Connecticut. It just might be that some of us are not inclined to feel all jolly-cheery right now. And I’m here to tell you, if you are one of those folks – it is alright. It’s okay to feel whatever it is you’re feeling. There’s no need or reason to judge your feelings, or to try to force them to be what they’re not. That’s just silly.

At Christmas there’s a lot of pressure on people to feel “The Christmas Spirit.” No one wants to be the Christmas Scrooge. I think we all want to share in the spirit of joy and generosity and hope. But pressuring ourselves to be happy, trying to force ourselves to be jolly, is maybe not the best way to get there. Then it becomes a battle, rather than a natural unfolding.

Here’s the good news: There’s no law that says we can’t feel the Christmas spirit on December 26th, or December 27th, or March 1st – we‘re not limited to feeling joy, generosity, and hope on this one day a year. So even if, this year, we just can’t seem to get there on December 25th, we still have the opportunity to feel the spirit whenever or wherever it unfolds for us. And here’s another bit of good news that I’ve discovered in my own adventures with sadness and grief: I have found that it is possible to be happy even when you’re sad. Which. Yeah, I know that sounds kind of weird, doesn’t it? But it’s true!

May joy settle upon you gently, moment by moment – may you catch it in the playful grin on a child’s face, in the uplift that comes from Beethoven’s Joy, in the smell of something good baking in the oven, in the hug from a friend – may you relax and enjoy those moments for what they are, and what they give you. And may any pressure you feel to somehow make those moments bigger, or brighter, or louder, ease and lift from you.

Karen Molenaar Terrell, from The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Christmas Book

And there’s a new review for The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Christmas Book!

Jeff Chase writes:5.0 out of 5 stars
This book is a gem.
Reviewed in the United States on December 18, 2021
Verified Purchase
It’s my second Christmas with this book, and I think I’m enjoying it more this year, perhaps because it’s already feeling like a tradition. Karen’s stories, poems, and musings are full of warmth, humor, and love. There’s much to relate to here. I find myself recalling my own Christmas stories from years past. This book is a gem, made for relaxing. Enjoy!