Nikki, yes I agree. Every day we have a choice on how to approach our grief in ways that are nurturing to our heart and soul and foster resilience. Within the first few days I too made a conscious decision about how I wanted to remember and honor my daughter, Crystal. I wasn't angry at her but I was regretful about how she died alone many states away from me. I chose to remember her smiling, happy and healthy as I know she is in the world beyond. She continues to grace my life with her love, light and effervescent personality.
Nancy, I love how you put it, "nurturing to our heart and soul and foster resilience." I hadn't thought about it that way, but that's exactly what it was. I felt immediately that it didn't make me feel better. On the contrary, it made me feel worse, if that's possible. Crystal and Garrett will always light the way for us. Mother's Day hugs to you!
Nikki, this is one of the most profound descriptions of agency I’ve read. The pinball analogy really captures that feeling of life just 'happening' to us until we stop and choose otherwise. But to make that choice to honor your son through love rather than anger within 30 minutes of such a loss is a staggering act of courage. It’s a beautiful reminder that while we can’t control the storm, we can choose which stars we use to navigate out of it. Thank you for such a vulnerable and necessary piece.
Awwee, I love your phrase, "while we can’t control the storm, we can choose which stars we use to navigate out of it" so much! Thank you for your gracious feedback!
Thank you for your wisdom Nikki. Your words about continuing your relationship with your son really spoke to me. Our relationships are never in the past, and that gives us a hope. And thank you for your reminder that courage is often found in the simplest of acts that go unnoticed by all but ourselves.
Yes, and if we notice those simple acts, we can feel progression whilst simultaneously feeling we're drowning. That little act can give us hope, knowing that we are progressing. Thank you for joining the conversation!
Thanks, Pam. At the time, it didn't feel like a choice. I just felt horrible by getting angry and noticed right away that it didn't help - it made me feel worse, so I changed course. Thank you for your wisdom in all things grief.
Analogies and metaphors are so important to finding ways to talk to myself about what has happened and how I’m feeling. My grief doesn’t want logic nor reason. Pinball lets another way of seeing to sneak past the woeful gatekeeper and allow of hint of recognition from long ago to paste a small smile below the emptiness. Thank you!
“This is not how I want to remember my son, not how I want to honor my son.”
Such a powerful realisation and the beginning of a choice which honours you too, Nikki. I so admire that you made it. And your Garrett shines on in the memories you have chosen to hold close.
Great piece. I have used this pinball analogy in my writing, as well, as grief complicates the game. When "pinball mode" has been your unconscious survival default all your life -- and you endure a major, making intentional choices feels almost impossible. Like your entire world is on tilt. Fortunately, therapists like you and tender hearts who know the terrain can help us eventually contain some of the ricochets and stay out of the gutter.💙
Yes, quiet acts of courage, and when we have used all our courage for the day we pause and rest. To begin anew daily often taking baby steps. Powerful reminders, Nikki. Thank you. 🙌🏼💜
Nikki, yes I agree. Every day we have a choice on how to approach our grief in ways that are nurturing to our heart and soul and foster resilience. Within the first few days I too made a conscious decision about how I wanted to remember and honor my daughter, Crystal. I wasn't angry at her but I was regretful about how she died alone many states away from me. I chose to remember her smiling, happy and healthy as I know she is in the world beyond. She continues to grace my life with her love, light and effervescent personality.
Nancy, I love how you put it, "nurturing to our heart and soul and foster resilience." I hadn't thought about it that way, but that's exactly what it was. I felt immediately that it didn't make me feel better. On the contrary, it made me feel worse, if that's possible. Crystal and Garrett will always light the way for us. Mother's Day hugs to you!
Thank you. Mother’s Day love to you!
Nikki, this is one of the most profound descriptions of agency I’ve read. The pinball analogy really captures that feeling of life just 'happening' to us until we stop and choose otherwise. But to make that choice to honor your son through love rather than anger within 30 minutes of such a loss is a staggering act of courage. It’s a beautiful reminder that while we can’t control the storm, we can choose which stars we use to navigate out of it. Thank you for such a vulnerable and necessary piece.
Awwee, I love your phrase, "while we can’t control the storm, we can choose which stars we use to navigate out of it" so much! Thank you for your gracious feedback!
Thank you for your wisdom Nikki. Your words about continuing your relationship with your son really spoke to me. Our relationships are never in the past, and that gives us a hope. And thank you for your reminder that courage is often found in the simplest of acts that go unnoticed by all but ourselves.
Yes, and if we notice those simple acts, we can feel progression whilst simultaneously feeling we're drowning. That little act can give us hope, knowing that we are progressing. Thank you for joining the conversation!
I love how you choose to remember and honor your son in your grief. A brave thing to turn anger around for positive.
Thanks, Pam. At the time, it didn't feel like a choice. I just felt horrible by getting angry and noticed right away that it didn't help - it made me feel worse, so I changed course. Thank you for your wisdom in all things grief.
I had anger at first too. It just didn’t help and only made things worse. It’s good to move on with good memories.
Analogies and metaphors are so important to finding ways to talk to myself about what has happened and how I’m feeling. My grief doesn’t want logic nor reason. Pinball lets another way of seeing to sneak past the woeful gatekeeper and allow of hint of recognition from long ago to paste a small smile below the emptiness. Thank you!
I get that, for sure! Grief does not dwell in the head. It's in the heart and it needs to connect there. Thank you for sharing!
Beautifully said. What wisdom without brushing the immense feelings aside.
“This is not how I want to remember my son, not how I want to honor my son.”
Such a powerful realisation and the beginning of a choice which honours you too, Nikki. I so admire that you made it. And your Garrett shines on in the memories you have chosen to hold close.
A lovely post 🙏❤️
Thank you, dear Esther. Isn't our group of grievers/gaggle of grievers (I like the alliteration) the best support system ever?!
Yes…a wonderful gaggle in our grief support group. I love the alliteration too ❤️😊
Thank you, Rene!
I am always frustrated when the steel ball falls right between both flippers. As many times as I keep pushing the buttons makes no difference.
So, thankfully it’s not game over as we can try again.
Thanks for your story.
I agree, that's so frustrating. We just keep pushing like mad anyways! LOL. And yes, it's not game over for us. Good point!
Great piece. I have used this pinball analogy in my writing, as well, as grief complicates the game. When "pinball mode" has been your unconscious survival default all your life -- and you endure a major, making intentional choices feels almost impossible. Like your entire world is on tilt. Fortunately, therapists like you and tender hearts who know the terrain can help us eventually contain some of the ricochets and stay out of the gutter.💙
Ah, Elaine. Yes! And I love your analogy of our entire world being on tilt. Yup. Yup. Yup. Thanks for your comment.
Yes, quiet acts of courage, and when we have used all our courage for the day we pause and rest. To begin anew daily often taking baby steps. Powerful reminders, Nikki. Thank you. 🙌🏼💜
Thank you, Joanie. Always appreciate you.