Refocusing One's Grief

I have been thinking about this lately. And today's DailyOm, which it often does, caused me to sit down and put my thoughts into words.

The closer we get to Christmas, the more I have been grieving Gregory's death, the sadder maybe even depressed I have been feeling.

I know that this is only natural and one will be told by everyone else that we should expect this on firsts: First Thanksgiving. First Christmas. First Anniversary without Gregory in January which would have been (or should I say will be) 41 years together?

But I also know that Gregory does not need me to grieve, the universe is not benefitted by my grief, God (if she exists) does not need me to grieve. I am the one who needs to grieve but if it makes me sad, unhappy, and possibly depressed; maybe I do not need to grieve as much or in the way that I am doing so.

My Grief does not make Gregory's life any more or less meaningful. My Grief will definitely not bring him back to me for even a moment or two in realtime. My Grief will not being me joy, or cheer, or good feelings, or help support my health. So I continue to question Grief.

It is as if Grief gives me permission to wallow in my sorrows, my loneliness, my "what if's," my "if only's." It is as if I allow Grief to slow me down, feel tired, feel lethargic, to not accomplish those things I want to accomplish. I allow Grief to cause me to be poor company to friends and family.

So I continue to question grief. If I can turn my Grief into a more productive activity, I will be served. Gregory will be served. The universe will be served and God (if she exists) will are served. Family and friends and my two cats, Emma and Gigi, will be served. So I continue to question grief.

I believe that if I want to believe in something, then it is true. At least for me. So I continue my conversations, my dialogues with Gregory or with Gregory's Spirit although they at times might seem like monologues. But sometimes I hear Gregory's answers. At least I hear them in my head. At least they may be coming from him, from beyond, or from my 41 years of knowing what he would say, but none-the-less they come.

And I feel at times that Gregory, or Gregory's Spirit, is sad that I am sad, unhappy that I am unhappy, misses me because I miss him. I hear him telling me to try not to be so sad because it makes him feel sad as well. And that doesn't serve Gregory in whatever his next set of adventures and spiritual growth may need.

So I have been trying to grieve less. Grieve yes but less. When I feel sad I try to change the thoughts to ones of joy. When I feel lonely, I try to remember the good times and to be grateful for them. When I feel depressed, I sit with the feelings then tell myself to move on.

By allowing myself to stay sad, stay lonely, stay depressed, I am allowing myself to wallow in my grief instead of celebrating not only Gregory's life but also my own. I am seventy years old, I have much to celebrate and will have much to celebrate yet. By grieving less I will not be wasting those precious moments, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years I have left.

So enjoy, not grieve. Laugh, not cry. Celebrate, not mourn. Sing and dance. I tell myself. And most of the time it works. And when it doesn't, I allow myself to sit and wallow but not for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Then I continue on continuing on.

• • •

www.dailyom.com

December 20, 2015 Raise Your Vibration Focus on the Goodby Madisyn Taylor There are many ways to raise your vibration including thinking positive and uplifting thoughts. Everything in the universe is made of energy. What differentiates one form of energy from another is the speed at which it vibrates. For example, light vibrates at a very high frequency, and something like a rock vibrates at a lower frequency but a frequency nonetheless. Human beings also vibrate at different frequencies. Our thoughts and feelings can determine the frequency at which we vibrate, and our vibration goes out into the world and attracts to us energy moving at a similar frequency. This is one of the ways that we create our own reality, which is why we can cause a positive shift in our lives by raising our vibration. We all know someone we think of as vibrant. Vibrant literally means “vibrating very rapidly.” The people who strike us as vibrant are vibrating at a high frequency, and they can inspire us as we work to raise our vibration. On the other hand, we all know people that are very negative or cynical. These people are vibrating at a lower frequency. They can also be an inspiration because they can show us where we don’t want to be vibrating and why. To discover where you are in terms of vibrancy, consider where you fall on a scale between the most pessimistic person you know and the most vibrant. This is not in order to pass judgment, but rather it is important to know where you are as you begin working to raise your frequency so that you can notice and appreciate your progress. There are many ways to raise your vibration, from working with affirmations to visualizing enlightened entities during meditation. One of the most practical ways to raise your vibration is to consciously choose where you focus your attention. To understand how powerful this is, take five minutes to describe something you love unreservedly—a person, a movie, an experience. When your five minutes are up, you will noticeably feel more positive and even lighter. If you want to keep raising your vibration, you might want to commit to spending five minutes every day focusing on the good in your life. As you do this, you will train yourself to be more awake and alive. Over time, you will experience a permanent shift in your vibrancy.

My response to a post by Kate: http://kateswaffer.com/2015/12/20/is-brain-plasticity-the-key-to-healing/ (opens in a new window)

I also believe in belief! I believe that Gregory was able to continue to do so well for as long as he did because we both were able to support his brain’s ability to change and heal itself. We read, we traveled, we talked, we went to opera and musicals, we entertained, we engaged family and friends, we enjoyed our pets, we planned, we walked, we communed with nature, we kept out expectations high, we enjoyed life to its fullest.

In the end we all must die. We have known this from when we were first born. Perhaps facing this also helps the brain do its best until it is ready to go back home.

Forbidden Love

As I continue to grieve the loss of the person I have most loved in the world and now will continue to love only in my heart, I think about how far we have come to be accepted by so much of the rest of the world as viable, valuable members of society with the right to love whom we choose.

When I came out in my 20's, during the 1970's, homosexuality was not discussed, not visible, no role models, illegal, etc. As an even younger man, dealing with my feelings for the same sex, for sure I felt that I was the only one who had these feelings, that I must be "sick," and that if I loved or lusted after another man, did that mean I was a woman in some way?

During the early Stonewall Era, I signed petitions, protested, and marched. But always carefully because I would not have done well being arrested and would for sure have been fired from my teaching position if I was found out. Astounding that it was felt that just because I was Gay, I would automatically be a threat to young boys while Straight male teachers didn't automatically molest young girls made and makes no sense.

Slowly things changed, being gay was more accepted by family and friends and colleagues. Eventually this issue of Gay Marriage began to be resolved in state after state and finally at the Supreme Court level. Even so that doesn't mean there are not gay haters and gay baiters and gay beaters out there. But it is better.

Now that marriage was possible between Gregory and I, we chose not to because of the financial complications that Medicaid would pose in his care at the Alzheimer's Care Facility. Bluntly: poor people are supported by the state or they die, the wealthy never has had to worry about getting the best care and paying for it. It is the middle class family (and now gay married family) that would go bankrupt and all those life savings, earned with such hard work, would fly out the window for health care.

But ironically, like the Hippies of the 70's who would rather live together without benefit of marriage papers saying, "How does a piece of paper make our love any deeper or any more permanent?" now Gregory and I could CHOOSE not to be married having at least the right to be able to CHOOSE to do so or not!

So to the title of this post. Tonight on the way home from visiting Michael's Museum: A Curious Collection of Tiny Treasures at Chicago Children's Museum on Navy Pier with a dear family friend who has served as a mentor and role model having been through the Alzheimer's journey with her husband; after dropping her off, the song from West Side Story, "Maria" and then "There's A Place For Us" came on the radio.

The lyrics resonated with me and I felt sad being without Gregory sitting next to me. I wondered about the strength of our love and wondered if that love was so strong, so pure, so intense because it was a love that "dare not speak its name" as it used to be called. Was it because it was a "forbidden" love that had to make its own rules and establish its own milestones of success. Was it a love so strong because as a male I knew what male love was about and that made it easier to love another male instead of having to figure out what a female needed when it came to love

Will never know for sure, just musing, but none-the-less, my love for Gregory and his love for me got us through many very difficult situations: Lack of money at times. Getting advanced degrees with lots of studying and less time to be together.

With "running away to Mexico" for 6 months when I was 35 years old. When Gregory divorced his female wife of 7 years. When he was searching for himself and trying to decide what his life's work would be.

When he studied for and passed his architecture licensing exams. When he opened his architecture and design firm and had me there to help.

When I lost a year to chemo therapy for my lymphoma cancer. When I retired early from teaching.

When we worked together to build Michael's Museum in the guest room of our home. When the museum was transferred to Chicago Children's Museum.

When we received his diagnosis of Dementia/ Alzheimer's. Through the twelve years we lived, and lived well with the diagnosis. With his last 18 months at the memory care facility. During the three days he used to die.

And now with my being really alone and grieving and trying to keep on keeping on.

And I realize that I am not the only one grieving his death. His family and many friends and just acquaintances for whom he made a difference grieve as well. His gentle demeanor, kindness, generosity, compassion, deep spirit and love of fellow personkind always shone through, even during his diminished years, months, weeks, and days with Alzheimer's

Will never know for sure about this huge love, but I do know and am grateful for a love that will continue to last for as long as I do and for as long as the people whom Gregory influenced and touched remember and love him as well.

Perspective Changes

Interesting how one's perceptions of life change when an important person in one's life dies.

When my mom and dad died, I wrestled with how someone could be here today and gone tomorrow. Wondered where that energy went. Wonder where our time together went from my being a child, to a teenager, to a young adult, to a full grown adult (if one ever becomes full grown.)

I missed them. I grieved not only their death but what I considered the missed opportunities for parent/son relationships and how different it could have been if they were different, if I was different. 

Acknowledged that I was grateful for many opportunities they did provide and for the love that existed. Acknowledged that they did the best job of parenting that they could and that I did the best job of "offspringing" that I could.

Now, with Gregory's passing, my perceptions of time have been shifting and the shift has caused me to do some deeper thinking.

Gregory and I lived, and we worked at living well for twelve years, with his diagnosis of Dementia/Alzheimer's. At times our life felt normal and at times we also felt like we were living on a roller coaster as his needs confounded, our interactions became surreal, his abilities failed and resurfaced only to finally fail again.

Now when I think about those twelve years, it feels like minutes. At the time it felt like forever, but now that the confusion, frustration, anger, sorrow, fear, etc no longer exists, it feels like moments.

Gregory spent the last 18 months of his life at the Lieberman Center for Health and Rehabilitation on the Alzheimer's Special Care Unit. At the time it was a day in and day out activity. Grateful to Manny for providing not only care and safety for Gregory but also for the love, socialization, and life enrichment he provided on a day to day basis.

When Gregory's health needed extra attention or his medications needed rebalancing or when his difficult behaviors needed a look see; my life would feel topsy turvy. But once the Lieberman nurses, doctors, hospice care, and I did our problem solving; things settled down for both Gregory and me.

Now, with Gregory on his next adventure, without my daily visits, and the Care Conferences, and the monitoring of his daily needs and treatment;  it feels like Lieberman was but a breath.

During the three days it took Gregory to die, I saved many vivid, sometimes difficult and sometimes joyful, memories of the process. None-the-less it feels like those three days were shrouded by a certain numbness. 

The planning of two tributes for Gregory was easy. Gregory's Memorial at the condo (attended by over 100 family and friends) was gratifying and consoling as was the Lieberman Memorial to thank them for their care and support (attended by over 150 staff, residents, and families at Lieberman the following week.)

Now, when I think of Gregory, it feels like his dying was but an instant and at the same time that he has always been dead, when if fact it is just over two months since he died. Strange feeling - ALWAYS been dead.

The thoughts which next occupy my mind then ... based on Gregory and my twelve years seeming like a moment, and his Lieberman stay feeling like a breath, and his death feeling like not only an instant but also forever ... are that my life, now, will last just a few moments longer with the lesson being that I must live each day to its fullest doing things that matter to me, spreading joy and love whenever I can, and doing the best I can without being too unforgiving of myself and my weaknesses and being forgiving of others. 

• • •

In this thinking and these awarenesses, I focus on the buddhist teachings which explain that our suffering is based on permanent attachment to things which are ever changing. Nothing is permanent. 

Thus early Buddhism declares that in this world there is nothing that is fixed and permanent. Every thing is subject to change and alteration. "Decay is inherent in all component things," declared the Buddha and his followers accepted that existence was a flux, and a continuous becoming.

According to the teachings of the Buddha, life is comparable to a river. It is a progressive moment, a successive series of different moments, joining  together to give the impression of one continuous flow. It moves from cause to cause, effect to effect, one point to another, one state of existence to another, giving an outward impression that it is one continuous and unified movement, where as in reality it is not. The river of yesterday is not the same as the river of today. The river of this moment is not going to be the same as the river of the next moment. So does life. It changes continuously, becomes something or the other from moment to moment.

Take for example the life of an individual. It is a fallacy to believe that a person would remain the same person during his entire life time. He changes every moment. He actually lives and dies but for a moment, or lives and dies moment by moment, as each moment leads to the next. A person is what he is in the context of the time in which he exists. It is an illusion to believe that the person you have seen just now is the same as the person you are just now seeing or the person whom you are seeing now will be the same as the person you will see after a few moments. 

Even from a scientific point of view this is true. We know cell divisions take place in each living being continuously. Old cells in our bodies die and yield place continuously to the new ones that are forming. Like the waves in a sea, every moment, many thoughts arise and die in each individual . Psychologically and physically he is never the same all the time. Technically speaking, no individual is ever composed of the same amount of energy. Mental stuff and cellular material all the time. He is subject to change and the change is a continuous movement.

Impermanence and change are thus the undeniable truths of our existence. What is real is the existing moment, the present that is a product of the past, or a result of the previous causes and actions. Because of ignorance, an ordinary mind conceives them all to be part of one continuous reality. But in truth they are not.

The various stages in the life of a man, the childhood, the adulthood, the old age are not the same at any given time. The child is not the same when he grows up and becomes a young man, nor when the latter turns into an old man. The seed is not the tree, though it produces the tree, and the fruit is also not the tree, though it is produced by the tree.

Taken from: 

http://www.urbandharma.org/udharma8/imperm.htmlhttp://www.urbandharma.org/udharma8/imperm.html

A Great Adventure

The book Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief, by Martha Whitmore Hickman, was recommended to me by Corinne Peterson, my yoga teacher and guru.

When I come across a particular salient passage, I will share it here with you. I highly suggest the book if you are currently, or will be dealing with death and loss.

Even as I stood there, the tears streaming down my face, I felt a kind of joy for him, a strange gayety almost, that he would so soon be released, and I had a sense that he stood now on the threshold of some great adventure ... so it was in a strange way not only a time of terrible sorrow, but a moment of light, as I stood there telling him goodbye.

My Guru

Guru: Guru is a Sanskrit term that connotes someone who is a "teacher, guide or master" of certain knowledge. In pan-Indian traditions, guru is someone more than a teacher, traditionally a reverential figure to the student, with the guru serving as a "counselor, who helps mold values, shares experiential knowledge as much as literal knowledge, an exemplar in life, an inspirational source and who helps in the spiritual evolution of a student."

I call Corinne "My Guru" and she always demurs, but I insist. She has done so much for me, through her yoga and Yoga Nidra classes, in helping me find peace during a time that was and is chaotic, stressful, emotional, frightening, frustrating, and I could go on. I am referring  to Gregory and my journey with Dementia/ Alzheimer's followed by his death, two months ago on October 4th.

Over the years, I studied world religions, searched deeply into my own Judaism, thought about Christianity, read the philosophies of great men, yet never found a path to finding peace, a way to get away from my problems, a way to cope with my sorrow and lonliness. Meditation and Corinne's classes helped me find that peace within myself and furthering my studies of Buddhism seemed to be the platform that enabled me to find that path.

Meditation and Yoga Nidra and Corinne have also helped me understand, deal with, and welcome in Gregory's death and my grieving. The current class I am taking from Corinne is called: "Yoga of Loss and Grieving."

If you have read my posts about session two and four, you will be familiar with one's "Inner Resource." Click here to read session 2's post. Click here to read session 4's post. (Both open in a new window.)

Based on my post about session 4, this is the e-mail I received from Corinne. You will see why I call her my Guru! Find out more about Corinne on her website. (Opens in a new window.)

Hi Michael – 

Thank you for sending along this post. I read it last night, and woke up thinking about it this morning. 

One thought I have is perhaps to develop an additional way to connect with Inner Resource - remembering that any visualization we use is to connect with the felt-sense of our own wholeness. Our true nature has never been harmed, has never suffered, has never caused suffering, is not lacking and has always been complete. This feeling is often described as peaceful, calm, safe, secure, strong, grounded, etc. Everyone has different language to describe this feeling.  Any imagery we use is not the feeling, rather a vehicle or pathway to experiencing it. The feeling is what we are connecting with, using this very human way to do it (our imagination).

My thought is that it could be helpful to have another way to connect with your Inner Resource that is more neutral/less charged.  Then you can reconnect with your True Nature/Inner Light in a way that is more direct, rather than through Gregory.  You can have more than one way of connecting with your Inner Resource, and you could decide which to use at different times. 

This may take some exploration, which I'd be happy to do with you. Therapy would also be a wonderful place to explore this. I'd also be happy to talk with your therapist at any time, I'm doing this more and more. Whatever is helpful for you in this mysterious, unfolding journey.

xo Corinne

This is my reply to Corinne:

Corinne, 

Hi. Thanks so much for your thoughtful e-mail. I think you are correct in your observations and as I was reading the e-mail, I instantly re-discovered another path to an Inner Resource. Many, many years ago when I was helping my fifth grade students through “Guided Visualizations,” I created for myself a personal waterfall oasis. It is a calm, peaceful place located in a lush, green rain forest. I would at times stand under the tepid water the of falls to wash away problems, fears, illness, etc. I think I will be able to use that as a way of “unloading” my current Inner Resource. Depending on what I am seeking, I can choose which one to go to in time of need. Thanks again my Guru!

Michael

Yoga for Loss and Grieving: Session 4 - Never Agains!

Missed last week's session 3. This week we worked on "Practice Intention" which was setting an intention for what might come out of today's session and "Life Long Desire," a more over time, life-long intention that we would like to consider.

For my "Intention," I set "Self-Forgiveness." Self-forgiveness for those times I didn't really understand what Gregory was going through as the effects of his Alzheimer's/ Dementia progressed. Self-Forgiveness for those times I could have done a better job if I was more aware of exactly it was that he was experiencing. Even though I did the best I could at the time, and even though I did a pretty terrific job, there is some grieving at not having been a better support to him, of getting angry with him, and at times of being downright mean to him!

While I have been beating myself up a little less as time has passed since Gregory died, I still wish I could have been better and obviously there is no way to go back in time to redo my behavior. I know that Gregory always forgave me and I was always able to quickly apologize; still the feelings and emotions linger of not ever again being able to make it right! That is one of the irrational side effects of death: the NEVER AGAIN syndrome!

For my "Life Long Desire," I set the idea of wondering what the rest of my life would be like and how I could spend it doing good for others.

Following the setting of the "Intention" and the "Desire" we let them drift into the background, as we continued our Yoga Nidra practice, knowing that we had acknowledged them but did not need to do anything about them or work on them. Just having noted them was enough for now.

Next, we visited our "Internal Resource" place, that place we can go to anytime we need to seek peace and comfort and safety. This time Gregory was not in bed but was waiting to greet me by the door. We hugged with great love and joy in a way that we had not hugged for a long long time due to his being in a wheelchair for over a year during his time at Lieberman. I wanted it to be real so it was, for a few moments real.

Again, like last session, while being in my Internal Resource place was beautiful, if was emotionally overwhelming. The realization was that hugging Gregory could only exist here, in my Internal Resource now and only in my imagination made me very sad (although I fancied that I was really hugging him and if I deemed it so, it was so!) Once again death waved the NEVER AGAIN flag. Hugging Gregory could exist in my memory but never again in real life. Somehow I will have to come to grips with this being enough for me.

I realized that while often I am happy and enjoying my new life without Gregory, the shadow of sadness still strongly fades every bright color that shines through the clouds. I cried silently so as not to disturb the other students or instructor in the class.

Slowly I drifted back to the rest of the practice with its breathing, its being aware of my body in relation to the floor and the air and the room. Slowly I returned to the calmness and peacefulness of the practice and for the time being left my sorrow behind. When it was time to slowly come back to reality, back to my body, back to the room with the other students, the tears flowed again but I gathered myself together, put my pillows and blankets and chair back in the store room, wished Corrine a "Thank You" and came home to write this post.

While I believe that I gained much from the session, I am aware that I am feeling somewhat numb and spent. I hope I will sleep well tonight.

Calligraphy

Written by my friend Jan Yourist about the passing of a teacher friend. What a beautiful eulogy!

Where does a life, full and rich, wise and perceptive, compassionate and caring, gentle and kind, disappear to? Where does that energy and insight go? How do we cope with that empty space? How do we hold what is so shockingly fleeting? On the classroom's window shade, even the shadow calligraphy is impossible to decipher.

Click here to visit Jan's site (Opens in a new window.)  

Grieving and Wondering

• Where does the ability to play Chopin's Ballad #43 go when a person dies?
• Where does the knowledge to design a house that people see as beautiful go?
• Where does the ability to choose colors and furniture for a room that are peaceful go?
• How does the nurturing without qualifications go that came so easily?
• How does the creativity in so many areas like music, art, design, etc disappear?
• How does the culinary skill that helped prepared so many delicious meals retreat?
• How does one account for a life well lived?

The physical evidence of Gregory's abilities, knowledge, creativity, nurturing, and skills continue to exist in form here and there around the condo and also in memory and imagination but the physical evidence of Gregory himself only continues to exist in photographs and in his Grandma Carrie's sewing box in the from of its basic element: carbon.

I have not created this quote but you may use it: Death like birth is one of the great mysteries of life.

The Beauty of Grief

The title for this post was suggested to me by a friend who is working through her father's Dementia/ Alzheimer's and trying to help her mother work with it as well. "I've been reading the blog, thinking of you and Gregory and my dad. You express your feelings so well. I would like to share some of the entries with my mom but I don't know if she'll be able to accept them. Thank you for ...sharing... the beauty of your grief," she said in a recent e-mail.

I do appreciate all comments added to the posts, separate e-mails people send, and sometimes the in person hugs. In this case her compliments mean a lot to me if only because she is not only a wonderful person but a Librarian, avid reader, story teller herself and one of most articulate, intelligent, world traveled people I know. So "beauty" coming from her to me regarding my blog means a lot!

Her use of the term "Beauty of Grief" caused me to want to sit down and think, in writing, about what that means to me.  
Grief | grēf | Noun. Deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death. Sorrow, misery, sadness, anguish, pain, distress, heartache, heartbreak, agony, torment, affliction, suffering, woe, desolation, dejections despair, mourning, bereavement, lamentation.

But beauty?

Actually, yes beauty. If one can allow oneself to see the beauty in grief and not just the loss. In loss there can be gratefulness as well, if one looks deep enough. Gregory has died. I am sad and at times my emotions resemble all the nouns listed above. But I also feel a sense of joy and yes beauty, when I allow myself to be grateful for the wonderful life he and I had together for 40 years. 

I feel good that he was able to be mostly calm and accepting of his Dementia/ Alzheimer's diagnosis and that we, together, were able to make his life joyful and full as we compensated for the changes the disease gave us. I am grateful that we enjoyed each other and our condo and our sexy Audi convertible, and living in downtown Evanston. 

Even with the diagnosis, we didn't lie down and die but rather hunkered down and kept going. We enjoyed cooking, entertaining, travel, theater, opera, family, and friends. For as long as he was able; he continued reading, doing crossword puzzles, taking walks, helping prepare meals, going shopping with me, helping around the house and with the pets. Slowly these abilities disappeared but he kept up the best he could and let them go with dignity while remaining content with what he was still able to do.

He trusted and deferred to me but more than that I trusted myself to take care of him when he needed it with regards to matters of home, health, finances, entertainment, etc. I didn't disrespect him by making decisions unilaterally or prematurely which would affect his life and his well being. Even though he usually let me take the lead, we continued to "operate" as a team in decision making. We continued to "fall in love" with each other more than ever.

The last phrase became one of our guideposts: MORE THAN EVER. It became the name of the More Than Ever Trust we established which would take care of him if I died or take care of both of us if I no longer could make decisions on our behalf. It protected both of us, with Power of Attorney of Health and Property and wills, in our "same sex relationship" when church, state, and national laws and opinions wouldn't.

The phrase was also used to name the education fund that we had talked about so many years ago but now were able to do something about. The More Than Ever Education Fund which will help provide scholarships for homeless youth and will be administrated by our long time charity friend, La Casa Norte.

I am grateful for his days at Lieberman Center which were spent with his usual grace and compassion for others. The care they gave him was superb and Manny, his private pay day care partner, was if not a Saint, a very highly placed Angel! Everyone on the staff at Lieberman and other residents and their families loved and enjoyed Gregory.

I was fortunate to be able to visit Gregory almost every day and we enjoyed those times fully with touching, talking, singing, fresh air, and sharing meals;  musical concerts and other events in the Lieberman Community Room; and especially treating Gregory to his favorite cookies, chocolates, and rice puddings!

He died peacefully after four days of preparing himself to let go of this life and move on to his next adventure. Many of his friends were able to sit with him and help him to let go. Family who live far sent continuous prayers and love our way. He gave me one final kiss after being in a coma for three days and on the fourth day he slipped away. He didn't go out with a bang which would not have been his style. His death reflected his life: calm, simple, compassionate, and loving. 

So BEAUTY? Yes BEAUTY! Gregory was a beautiful person, lived a beautiful life, shared his beautiful love with me and so many others, created beautiful friendships, designed and built beautiful homes and temples, and left much beauty behind in many ways for many others to continue to enjoy. 

I miss him so much. Death is still one of the great mysteries of life. I am lonely, I am sad, but I am blessed. It was a good run, thanks Gregory!

• • •

P.S. I need to add some thoughts that people reading this blog may be thinking. Believe me, I have had some of them myself. Gregory's and my entire time of 12+ years dealing with Dementia/ Alzheimer's, let alone our 40+ years of being together, was not always beautiful.

Sometimes as we grew in our relationship,  our earlier life was very difficult and at times our life with Dementia/ Alzheimer's seemed like the word CRAZY personified. Sometimes I was mean or impatient with him. Sometimes we did not resolve issues. Sometimes anger reigned. (Although we vowed and succeeded in never going to bed angry.)

Yes, there are things I would have done differently and yes, there are things I would still like to tell him. I apologized often and he always forgave. For the most part we did not leave too many things unsettled. I know that for a lot of people, and for me as well, we have regrets at missed opportunities or things not said.

How can there be beauty in that? Well maybe there can when the word forgiveness is added to the word beauty. Forgiveness of the other person and most importantly forgiveness of oneself.

I still talk to Gregory and believe that he is listening. No matter your believe system, if you want to believe something ... it can be true. So I believe that Gregory is listening to me, answering me sometimes, and watching me ... as well as watching over me. If I want to believe, and if this makes me feel better ... it is so!

Maybe you can do this as well. Sit down in a quiet place and talk to the person you love and tell them what you are thinking. Tell them what you are feeling. Tell them what you wished they had been able to give or say to you as well as what you wished you had been able to give or say to them.

There will be forgiveness and love shared, even if you feel it might be too late. But I believe that it is never too late to forgive and to love and to share ... and because I believe it ... it is true ... at least for me ... and maybe for you!

To Grieve or Not to Grieve and How, That is the Question

Interesting that often family and friends will tell you how to grieve. Or at least they will offer advice and/or suggestions. Shortly after Gregory died, when they would make their offers, I would try to share how I felt about the grieving process and how that process made sense to me.

This often took more energy then I had and most often the family member or friend would agree, and then reiterate once more their idea on what I would be going through and what I should expect. “You are strong and have been dealing with this well. But one day it will hit you so be ready. You will grieve and loose it. It will not be easy. Be prepared.” Eventually, actually on short order, I just started saying, “Thank You” and leaving it at that. I didn't feel the need to explain, or educate, or council.

My own understanding of how I have been grieving is that I have been “HIT WITH IT” for over twelve years, especially during the last month Gregory was still at home, then hit hard with the realization for 18 months while Gregory was at Lieberman - even though he was well taken care of, and hit yet again during the four days he was preparing for his passage, and finally on the day that I sat with his empty body and held his hand and kissed his cooling mouth.

I have been processing and writing about Gregory and my journey with Dementia/Alzheimer’s for over five years on my blog of over 1,370 posts with 70,344 hits and this doesn't count the manuscript, consisting of over 300 pages, which I worked on before I began the blog.

I am often "HIT WITH IT" when I wish Gregory goodnight over my shoulder towards Grandma Carrie's sewing box where his ashes reside, when I find the need to cry myself to sleep, and when I feel the need to cry myself awake.

Grief does not happen all the time but when it arrives, I welcome the emotions and sit with them. Sometimes if I do not have the energy to cope, I welcome the emotions and thank them. I ask them to come back another time when I am feeling stronger.  I do this out-loud. It seems to work and they leave me alone for the time being.

Grief happens when I am reminded of a favorite restaurant at which Gregory and I used to eat or a favorite place we shopped. It happens when I hear a certain song, or am reminded while at the opera, or when I use a language expression that we used to "shorthand" with each other.

It happens when I write my blog as I process ideas, emotions, and experiences.

So I wonder to myself, "Either I am doing a wonderful job of grieving or I am doing a good job of hiding my emotions." I think that the former is true and not the latter. I think that I have been grieving for 12+ years, just to various degrees and with various triggers.

People say, "I am so sorry for your loss." And I say "Thank You." What I want to say is, "Thank you, but I have gained more than I have lost. I am NOT sorry, I am SAD but not SORRY! I am HAPPY, maybe even JOYFUL that especially Gregory, but also I, am no longer having to live in a Ménage à Trois with Alzheimer's being the dominant uninvited partner.

MÉNAGE À TROIS - PROLOGUE
(Written July 4, 2012)

After more than forty  years their relationship is as strong as ever, their love continues to grow, change, and adjust to the times. Uninvited, however, a third partner has joined the relationship.

When they first met, it was not fashionable for two people of the same sex to be in love let alone to participate in a “three-way.” But Alzheimer’s does not discriminate nor ask permission and so it became a Ménage à Trois.

In the beginning, each one was very much unlike the other. He was tall and he was short. He was fair and he was dark. He was slender and he was bulky. He was a recovering Catholic. He was a recovering Jew. He was calm, thoughtful, and orderly. He was animated, impulsive, and random.

Often he described him as a “stick,” meaning hard, formed, and inflexible. In turn, he described him as a “sponge,” meaning soft, malleable, absorbing. Over time the stick became more sponge-like and the sponge became more stick-like. Their life was good and roles “subject to change on a moment’s notice” and then the unanticipated, uninvited lover arrived. 

Now one is becoming less and one is having to become more. Slowly while one is becoming the back partner in this ménage à trois and one is becoming the front partner, Alzheimer’s is becoming the dominant partner. They do not really love the third partner in their relationship but they acknowledge the intruder’s presence and do the best they can.

Day to day, try as they might to successfully deal, accommodate is the best they can do. Once one thinks he has learned the “rules” of living with someone living with Alzheimer’s, the other inadvertently changes them. While one wonders what the other really still understands, the other doesn’t realize that he no longer understands. While one is in such pain at his loss, his success is confirmed by the other’s trust, happiness, contentment, and peace. A moving target is what they call it.

Meanwhile, their love continues to grow, change, and adjust to the times. Uninvited, the third partner is now an accepted part of the relationship. They continue to list the many things they have to be grateful for in their life list: supportive family, friends, and neighbors; pets, condo, and convertible auto; going to movies, plays, opera; great meals out and better ones at home; and most of all ... each other! Alzheimer’s Disease, they will tell you, just happens to be one part of their life, but at the bottom of the list.

EPILOGUE
(Written 11/18/15)

It took Gregory four days to prepare himself to die.
It came on unexpectedly and quickly.
Hospice expected him to leave that day or the next.
But he slowed it down, I believe, to allow me time to process as well.

He was in no pain, his breathing was not too labored.
He was unresponsive but most likely he knew I was there.
He most likely knew I was talking to him and loving him,
While I touched, stroked, and petted him.

The nurses and staff kept a close eye on him overnight,
So I did not feel the need to keep an overnight vigil.
He probably needed the time to himself to continue his preparations.
He was that kind of a private, compassionate (compassionate even with himself) person.

In the third day of his coma, he relied his energy and gave me one last kiss goodbye.
He was able to leave his body without anguish or pain.
He did so in the calm manner that reflected who he was his entire life.
I celebrate him more than I grief for him and I continue to love him.

MORE THAN EVER!

Last Breath

Last Breath
By: Kate Swaffer

Remember when the time comes
To breath in very deep
Take my very last breath
And make it your own

This poem was written by my blogger friend from Australia in her book of poetry Love, Life, Loss: A Roller-Coaster of Poetry. Of all her wonderful poetry, this poem moved me the most when I read it several months before Gregory died. 

The day before he died, after three days of his being in a non-responsive state, I kissed him three times on his open mouth and on the third kiss, he kissed me back.

A short while after he died the next day at 12:04 on Sunday, October 4, 2015, I sat with his beautiful body and told him everything I needed to say. I held his still warm hand. Before leaving, I kissed his open, cold mouth and I breathed as deeply as I could. 

He smelled of the sweet Gregory I have loved for forty years and will love for the rest of my life. He has been, is, and will always be part of me in so many ways.

His ashes sit in his Grandma Carrie's sewing box which lives on my bedroom bookcase and his breath lives within me.

Faith III: Fear

I have posted here before about the concept of "Faith." I have found my views reflected and strengthened and improved by the book: Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience, by Sharon Salzburg.

This is my paraphrasing of what Sharon went through when someone she cared deeply for was dying. It reflects what I slowly learned during the twelve years Gregory and I walked the Dementia// Alzheimer's path. It reflects what I finally knew to be true and held my faith in during the four days during which Gregory was preparing to die.

• • •

If we absolutely insist that things work out only as we want them to, our  hopes become strategies to avoid facing what is, then we have nothing on which to base either effective action or real peace of mind. We're in the hope/fear dilemma.

What one really wants is that the person dying not feel alone, that he feel sheltered and held, that benevolence surrounds him, that he feel loved. This has nothing to do with demanding a specific outcome.

The person is going into the unknown, into a realm none of us can control. That is hard to accept. We cannot go there with him and we cannot really find out what that realm is all about. We feel fear for the person and we feel fear for ourselves.

When one sits side by side with fear and acknowledges it, one can befriend oneself despite the fear and one's heart begins to open.

One is able to meet the unknown without a plan for controlling something that is not within one's power to control. With fear no longer dominating the mind, love can rise freely.

The power of love doesn't shatter in the face of change or disintigrate in the face of ones's own terror of lack of control. One is able to enter into the mystery.

One can hold onto one's faith in oneself, and faith in the person leaving. Faith allows one to relax into the vast space of not knowing.

One feels sorrow but one remembers that life is bigger than its constantly, sometimes drastically, changing circumstances. This is the power of letting go in the face of unexpected changes and doing so with love and peace of mind.

Faith enables us, despite our fear, to get as close as possible to the truth of the present moment, so that we can offer our hearts fully to it, with integrity.

We might hope and plan and arrange and try, but faith enables us to be fully engaged while also realizing that we are not in control, and that no strategy can ever put us in control, of the unfolding of events.

Faith gives us a willingness to engage life, which means the unknown, and not to shrink back from it.

To have courage, just as to have faith, is to be full of heart. With courage we openly acknowledge what we can't control, make wise choices about what we can affect, and move forward into the uncultivated terrain of the next moment.

Experiencing Gregory's death with faith instead of fear meant experiencing him fully as he was and as he continued to change and when he finally left me. It meant that even though there was little I could do, I could continue loving him and to stay connected to him.

For many years I continued to love him in ways not based on language skills, mobility, or even his staying alive. The closeness, the understanding, the devotion of love did not diminish in my letting go of expectations.

By revealing the grace of connection with qualifications, no matter what is happening, love releases us from our efforts to control life and strengthens our ability to just love and to be loved.

Happy Anniversary

On today, which the one month anniversary of Gregory's passing, I am doing really well and honestly believe that I am allowing my emotions to visit as they need. Every now and then I am overwhelmed (expected) with missing him. Every now and then I will have a memory that triggers my tears. Once and a while I will miss not being able to experience an adventure with him.

But for the most part I feel good and joy is the pervasive emotion. I find myself talking to him, feeling his presence, and sometimes (if only in my mind?) he responds or takes my hand or we laugh together.

In some ways, thinking about and understanding Death makes no sense so why think about it or try to understand it? Death is mysterious, it is magical, it is scary. But Life does make sense and at least one can try to understand it. Life too is mysterious, it too is magical, it too is scary ... but at least one can live it and experience it. Death not so much!

When I am down, I think about Gregory no longer having to deal with Alzheimer's and my being free to pursue the next chapter in my life. The realization that all of his dementia difficulties and limitations went "poof" when he left his corporal body was amazing to me and gives me peace of mind.

By the last few years of Gregory's and my life, Dementia/ Alzheimer's was the dominant partner in our relationship. All decisions, activities, and time spent together was interpreted through it. We both made the best of the situation, developed new ways of interacting, and were able to spent time IN THE MOMENT with great love and joy.

My life is almost fully functioning once again. I know that I still have a way to go to fully open outward. As Gregory's life became more insulated and safe and narrow, so did mine. Growth continued for both of us. His was more towards patience and receiving, mine was more towards patience and giving.

We both learned more about being in the moment. In many ways my world became about him. Now I can begin to look at my world in relation to the world. It is a little scary but I am ready.

A lot of this sounds "trite" but is true. Short of poetry, when discussing death and life and love, all the possible word combinations have been written and rarely do you read anything totally original. So let these words try to comfort you anyway (and me.)

To celebrate the one month anniversary of Gregory's death, I lit a yahrzeit candle, will visit the residents I've come to love at Lieberman Center, and will go out to dinner with Isaac, God Son.

The Present is All We Really Have

Barbara,

MTE had your name all the time. I just hadn’t received notification yet. Thanks so much for your donation in Gregory’s memory! So far they have raised $2,500.00, so pleased. I will be writing personal thank you's when I get the chance.

Yes this is a period of adjustment. For me I learned to live on a day to day basis without the Gregory I knew, when he went into Lieberman some 18 months ago. I am happy not to be going there every day. But I do miss him. And as you said the physicality of being able to hold him is difficult and I got so used to the  new “interactions” we developed as he continued loosing abilities. 

M: "You know what?" 

G: "What?" 

M: "I love you." 

G: "I love you." 

M: "You make me very happy." 

G: Laughter  

M: "I will always be here for you!"

For me two main issues are “haunting” me. 

1) Moving on to what will be the next chapter of my life. While I am trying to be good to myself and not rush things, I cannot yet envision what that will be. The idea of growing old alone is a little scary. My own mortality is a little scary. and 

2) Trying to make sense out of nonsense which is what life, death, Gregory’s journey, his death, and my life seem to be.  Periodically I loose faith in my understanding of what it is all about. Then I remember "Love and be loved!"

But as I said, I am being good to myself. I am allowing “day at a time” with no expectations, not too many plans, keeping myself busy so I don’t get overwhelmed by it all, and at times getting overwhelmed by it all. 

I will make a few short trips in the coming months. Am going to be with Gregory’s family this weekend. Want to get to New Orleans for 4 for 5 days. Will probably go to Gregory’s Great Nephew’s wedding in March in South Carolina but still thinking about that one.

The More Than Ever Education Fund as being promoted and organized by La Casa Norte will keep me busy. They want me to be part of the planning of a Spring luncheon honoring the fund, memorializing Gregory, and presenting the first few scholarships. There will be media events, interviews, and meeting lots of new people.

Also, I need to visit my Lieberman friends, residents and staff, periodically. I did so last Sunday and it wasn’t too difficult to be there. 

At my request, there will be a Lieberman lunch meeting (I’ll provide the Kosher tray from Max’s Deli) for all the administrators, department heads, and key Special Memory Care Unit where Gregory lived.

By way of sharing my observations over the last 18 months and my premise that they provide great health care but fall down on the social/emotional/community aspect of life for people with Dementia/Alzheimer’s, I am presenting a “Fantasy Story” of what an IDEAL Lieberman Center Dementia/ Alzheimer's Unit could be. I'll publish that here later.

So again, as I am prone to do, I started writing this as a reply to you and with you in mind as I wrote, but you will see it again on my blog. Love you and your continued support!

Michael

Widow, The Term "Dead," and The Grief of Others

It seems the "Gay" thing to be a "Widow" instead of a "Widower." But that is just me:-) This realization shocked me. I knew (and hoped) that Gregory would die before I did, if only because of the odds set up by his Dementia/ Alzheimer's. But never thought that would mean that I would get a new title. "Widow."

In some ways I do not need or want to hold on to that label. I am just me. Michael. Whose life long partner, Gregory, person I loved more than life and still do, has died. And now I go on to decide who I am without a partner to accompany me through life. Title, label not necessary.

I am pretty well "defined" if only because Gregory and I lived, grew, and loved on parallel tracks that converged more often than not. We had our own unique interests, our own unique activities, and our own unique friends and those interests, activities, and friends crossed over often and we enjoyed learning from each other and experiencing life through each other's eyes. But none-the-less, I am still needing to redefine myself, yet again, now that Gregory has died.

I wrote a "kitty story" about one of our pets who died many years ago. It ends with and the title is: "My Kitty is a Memory Now." It is still painful as I continue to get used to saying and realizing that Gregory is dead. I prefer that to "passed," or "left us," or "gone," or "is an angel now." While those comments might make Gregory's death easier to talk about, the use of the word death, died, dead ... helps make the reality of the situation easier for me to learn to live with.

Based on a post from my friend Pat, who was one of Gregory's champions and who visited him very often, always to Gregory's delight, I realized that I am not the only one who is grieving his death. Click here to see "Pat Remembers Part 1" and Pat Remembers Part 2 (Both open in a new window.)

The following can be said by many people about Gregory's death:
     "I have a good friend who recently died."
     "I have a loving uncle who recently died."
     "I have a dear great uncle who recently died."
     "I have a brother who recently died."
     "I have a brother-in-law who recently died."
     "I have a colleague who recently died."
     "I have a good neighbor who recently died."
     "I have a wonderful college chum who recently died."

I was so wrapped up in my own grief, in planning for Gregory's cremation and his memorial at the condo and the one at the Lieberman Center, that I didn't stop to think how many other people would people would be grieving Gregory's death. He was loved by so many people. When a person dies, you get to hear about how they touched so many people's lives and so it is with Gregory. He will live on for a long, long time in the minds, and hearts, and memories of many.

Testimony: Part II

In a post dated February 25, 2014, I talked about the futility of worrying and that "working at not worrying" depleted one's energy as well and served no purpose.

http://mhorvichcares.blogspot.com/2014/02/a-testamony.html

The post began with: This post is a testimony to NOT worrying about the future. I know that one has to experience on their own to learn lessons, telling doesn't help all that much, but maybe a few words from my experience might help you.'

And now, Gregory did it again. With his passing on October 4, 2015 at 12:00 noon, he jump skipped over many of the "possible scenarios" that could have been, that could have caused worrying, that could have caused me to spin and spend my energy erroneously and unnecessarily.

I do believe that I did a better job of not worrying (or working at not worrying) than I have done in the past. I would recognize my feelings of worry, acknowledge them, and quickly release them; having faith in myself, in Gregory, and in the universe that order would prevail and both Gregory and I would be able to deal, cope, and live with any situation.

So many of the things that cold have happened, that I read about might happen, that has happened to others; NEVER HAPPENED to Gregory or me. I will add, however, that what ever might have came in the future, Gregory and I would have gotten through it gracefully. Without worry. Only love.

Gregory never forgot who I was. During his last month, his level of acknowledgment or joy at seeing me (or any visitor for that matter) was not as energetic as it had been but none-the-less he always was happy to see me (and visitors.)

Gregory continued to give me kisses, to enjoy his chocolates, to hold and munch on his pretzel stick, to sip his juice from the foil bag container, to sigh when you massaged his back, to squeeze your hand when you squeezed his.

He continued to enjoy his meals; hamburgers, skirt steak, chicken, lox and bagels,  sandwiches, stew, cereal, omelettes etc, etc. He never needed "mechanical," which is food chopped to facilitate eating and while delicious amounts to "piles" of food and limited choices. He never needed to move to "puree," which is food reduced in a blender with thickener added and then baked in moose like loafs, which amounts to a green custardy like square (green beans,) a white custardy like square (potatoes,) and a brown custardy like square (beef.)

I will say, to Lieberman's credit, that all of the food was tasty and of the same quality. The marinated, roasted chicken breast that Gregory enjoyed was the same one that was chopped up or pureed. I know because I tasted all levels of that chicken breast and all were tasty!

Gregory always loved his music on the earphones or on the speakers in his room, his "South Pacific" DVD which we must have watched 100 times, going down to the community room for the Sunday concerts. He enjoyed playing rhythm band with the instruments I brought in, dancing (arm and body movement in his wheel chair) to Abba, singing, and whistling.

He never became comatose, totally unresponsive (except for the four days he was preparing to leave us,) angry, fearful, confused, frustrated (in part due to the loving care from Manny and the Lieberman staff and in part due to the carefully monitored, minimally dosed Risperdal which was prescribed by joint decision of the doctors, nurses, and me. I know that the use of antipsychotic drugs is very controversial but in Gregory's case they served a good purpose.

His skin help up beautifully even though he "lived" in his wheel chair all of the time except when he went to bed, even though he had to shit an pee himself as a way of going to the bathroom and sometimes had to sit in it until an aide could get to change him. In the beginning, he hated soiling himself and would grab his penis as if trying to hold it in. I would tell him, "It's OK. I know you hate this but just do it. They will clean you up all fresh. Just let it rip!"Eventually he just released what he had to without a care. As the children's books says, "Everybody poops, you know!"

He always kept his sense of humor, his sense of empathy for others, his patience, and his compassion. He always had a smile, an arched eyebrow, a laugh. He loved doing his accent correct imitations, although with nonsense language, of a French man, a Russian man, a Jewish man, a developmentally disabled person, a child.

His unexpected death (I had anticipated another two or three years at Lieberman with a continued downhill trend) allowed Gregory to skip over most of the difficulties inherent in a death caused by Dementia/Alzheimer's. 

So if I had worried a lot, that would have been a waste of my energy and would have diminished the time I was able to spend with him; being happy, being content, being good to myself and therefore being better able to be good to him.

As I said in my previous post about life in general: In the end, what is there to worry about? When you have seen death approach and leave with your parents, when death has also taken friends and relatives and pets, as death slowly but surely took away the person you most love in the world, and when you accept that eventually death will come to for you ... fear looses its edge. Nothing to worry about. Be happy! 

I Miss Him