Don’t Be Stingy With Your Grief


It’s taken me years to be able to grieve. No, I should say it has taken me years to be able to grieve in a manner that is not debilitating. It only takes one, you lose one person close to you and it sets in motion a lifetime of grieving that will only be compounded by the addition of more loss. We add loss, it happens to everyone. Once you have loss, you can’t get rid of it. Lose a parent, gain a child… you are still down one life. So we learn to manage it. We learn to manage our grief so that our grief does not manage us. I know all about being riddled with grief having lost both of my parents. A physical, mental, and spiritual breakdown of all things YOU. A crippling of your will, a weakening of your drive, a proverbial dampening of your powder… you can never be quite ready.

Three years after the passing of my mother, I am finally showing signs of life. A new man? Not quite, but a better man than the one I once was. Loss has a way of proving to you what is important, and it surprises you with revelations of what is now extraneous. I could write about the process for the next two years, but I’ve only come here to share a program that I owe my sanity and resilience to. It’s called GriefShare and it is very likely being held in a neighborhood near you.

So my description of it would be a group facilitated by people who have experienced a significant loss, that is geared towards people struggling to get on with life after losing a loved one. It is very much (Christian) faith based, but all are welcome. You start with a 20 minute video, then a discussion about the days topic (presented by the video), followed by some personal sharing if anyone is interested.  It’s typically a weekly meet-up that will run about 14 weeks, the frequency and duration being very important in building relationships and camaraderie within the group. Answering “how was your week?” is much easier than answering “how was your month?”, a monthly group would have never sufficed for me. I can’t stress enough how important it is to set time aside to grieve and work through your emotions. If you are anything like me you will push it deep down inside and let your feelings see as little daylight as possible. This often results in sporadic grief sneak attacks. I’ve found that setting aside a time to focus on my grief makes those surprise attacks few and far between. GriefShare is that time for me, it’s my weekly time of reflection and purposeful focus.

Click here to find a GriefShare near you

I’ve just started my 3rd round of GriefShare, there is absolutely no maximum number of times you should go through this process. Every moment of it helps. When you’ve gone through the GriefShare process you won’t simply know how to help yourself, but you will find that you are also able to help others that are struggling to cope with grief. If you do find a group and it has already started, go anyway. You can jump in at any week and it will still be very beneficial.

Now I often say this last part, but I never get a response. I am always available to anyone that has lost someone and am open to discussing what I’ve gone through as well as helping you find what may work in assisting your grief journey. I am also willing to just listen. You can be a stranger, you can be a friend, it does not matter to me. I am here to help. If you have my number, use it. If we are friends on Facebook, message me.

For everyone else:



Chocolate Death

Of all the ways to die, Svetlana Roslina found the sweetest. The Russian chocolate factory worker fell into a vat of chocolate earlier this week and she did not live to tell the sweet tale. There are conflicting stories circulating surrounding the circumstances of this horrible tragedy. Some say she fell in while adding ingredients to the mix, others say she dropped her mobile phone in the vat and unsuccessfully tried to retrieve it. No one has claimed that she actually wanted to die in a vat of chocolate, though many have admitted to wanting to bathe themselves in chocolate on a daily basis. This is her:


Svetlana Roslina, a sweetheart

A local source said “She was minced. Only her legs were left.” Minced. This is what minced pork looks like:


When you hear about someone falling into a vat of chocolate you really want them to come out looking something like this:


Not this:


Or this:


Very sad, she had a husband and two young children. That being said, if you had to die… would a vat of chocolate be that bad? Yes?

Here is the original article: Mother dies after falling into huge vat of melted chocolate

Life is Loud.


I’ve been thinking a lot about life lately. It was never all roses but there were a few…and now those have started to go bad. The road has been bumpy for me as of late and only now am I regaining my feet. Ever since my mom passed away last year I haven’t been able to do much right. Nothing is the same, nothing will ever be the same. I lost my father 17 years ago but when he went, I still had mom. Now I am an orphan at 36. There were no siblings. So I have an entirely new life right now. It’s not the same in any way. I am different. This is not a new chapter, the book ended. This is a new book. Though this new book started out like an ember in hell, I’ve learned that I am a much stronger reader than I thought. I don’t really have a point here. There is no great revelation… at least not yet. I’m lonely and sad most days, but for me it’s normal. Normal is good. You can get used to normal very quickly. I have a different look in my eyes… I think more than I ever have. I have a thousand yard stare sometimes that I am trying to get rid of, you know the one. A million things going on around you but you are focused on that point in the far distance. I’m still listening, but I stare off. Though I am alone and though I am sad, I am not depressed. That is key to my survival. Life is a series of guaranteed losses, the gains are up in the air. I  want nothing more than to gain a few things in this next book of life. Perhaps a family. Does anyone know where I can find one? Well I am going to make an effort to start writing again. I am thinking much clearer these days. I think I am ready.



Dealing With It. A Stream-Of-Consciousness Nothingness

Merry Christmas

On December 19th of 1999 my dad passed away, or my pop as I would call him. What can you do? It sends shivers down every holiday’s barrel. It can ruin you… but it can also make you persevere. What would you do? I avoided it for a decade. Thanksgiving is the event that sets my heart racing, it sends me panting, grasping for air. Christmas isn’t Christmas without you? That is not the case. It still exists. The spirit is still here and it is still kicking. Thank goodness. The holidays are tough aren’t they? They make you wax and wane. What if it’s marred with death? Almost unforgiving in nature and certainly relentless with reminders of a past that haunts you with lingering doubt. Will they ever be that good again? Will the Holidays ever make me smile again?  Will I ever wonder and wish and hope and dream… will I ever think that a miracle is around the corner? Yes. Help is right round the corner.  No one’s Christmas is perfect. Is this a sad thing? I seem to lose track of that notion. It can’t be perfect, can it? Of course not. That is what makes it so special. The imperfection, the flickering light. The new faces and new borns… they don’t know that this Christmas isn’t absolutely splendid. Well their naivety must make it so. The glimmer in their eyes, the sparkle in their smile… we can see that it is just the most wonderful time of the year and that it’s the most celebrating we can get in, in a two month span. There will always be a memory to smile about. Some things will never change. There is no reward in shying away from the jubilation at the end of the trepid season, we only torture ourselves. I am resigned to that fact. Each years adversity is overshadowed by a years worth of gained wisdom and peacefulness. It is getting easier. And all this time I thought it was getting harder. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. 2014 shall be one for the books, there is not one person that can deny it.