By Larry Dawalt, BCC, CT ‘When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high, and don't be afraid of the dark.’ Chances are many of you remember those opening lines of the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ from the 1945 musical ‘Carousel.’ The song has been recorded over 250 times by artists ranging from Frank Sinatra and Elvis Pressley to Josh Groban and opera star Renee Fleming, who offered a stunning rendition as part of the first inauguration of President Barack Obama. ‘Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain…’ 'Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you’ll never walk along- you’ll never walk alone.’ While it is not as bad as ‘The Most Wonderful Time of the Year,’ ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ can be a difficult song to hear for those who are grieving the loss of a loved one- whether around the holidays or any other time of the year. Loneliness is a significant part of grief and it is one of the most difficult to combat. And yes, I meant to use the word ‘combat’ because dealing with loneliness can be a battle. Acquaintances and even friends mean well when they say, ‘just get out there and be around people and you won’t be lonely’ but those words aren’t comforting. As a matter of fact, most people who are grieving can be in a large crowd and still feel all alone. But it’s the emptiness of a previously occupied chair, seat at the kitchen table, or bed that hurts the most. Visits from family and friends can help. Cards and emails are valuable, too. Even more important is some sort of steady correspondence with someone who has shared a similar experience. In this age of worldwide communication, opportunities for maintaining relationships across the miles abound at the touch of a computer keyboard or a smartphone. It is certainly not the same as a long visit together, but it helps- especially around the holidays as you share memories that may be both happy and painful. So, reach out as best you can. You may not be in each other’s physical presence, yet knowing someone is always out there can give you ‘hope in your heart’ and remind you that you aren’t walking alone. Larry Dawalt is Senior Director of Spiritual & Grief Care Services for VIA Health Partners. If you have questions or comments about this article, the Bereavement Bulletin or the VIA Health Partners Grief Program in general, you may contact him at DawaltL@viahp.org.

by Ken Grano, M. Div., BCC ...he casts an image that speaks to a common phenomenon for those who are grieving when he says, "There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me." One cannot help but appreciate the honest expression of grief when reading C.S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed". In the pages of this little book (really his private journal made available to the public), Lewis describes the nature and impact of grief that is relatable to many who have suffered a significant loss. Towards the beginning of his reflections on the death of his wife, he casts an image that speaks to a common phenomenon for those who are grieving when he says, "There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me." Now I hope I am not taking too much liberty with Lewis' comment, but what stands out here is a felt separation between the one who is grieving and the world. What is more, if there is a blanket (so to speak) before me, than does that mean I see things through the blanket? If this is the case, everything that was once clearly visible has now become distorted. Why? Because now everything is seen not directly but indirectly through a veil (or blanket) which changes how things in the world are presented to me. C.S. Lewis himself seems to affirm this when he says, "The act of living is different all through. Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything." Everything is different. Does that resonate with you? Nothing seems the same. In our time of mourning the world that was once so familiar can seem like a strange place. Not only the world but we can become a stranger unto ourselves. The loneliness and isolation this brings into our lives can seem unbearable. What are we to do with this loneliness? How are we to find our place again in the world? Many answers have been given to these questions and they all have their merit. For example, sharing stories about your loved one or inviting others to share stories about them can alleviate some of the loneliness. Starting a blog provides an opportunity to openly express your grief and may help others who are going through a similar circumstance. Other suggestions have been to join a grief support group or gradually resume social activities you used to enjoy. All of these are good suggestions. In addition to these, I wanted to bring to your attention certain markers for meaning discovery or guideposts as described by Joseph Fabry in his book, “Guideposts to Meaning: Discovering What Really Matters.” These guideposts can help us discover a sense of who we are, as well as how we can contribute and reconnect to a world that seems so foreign to us after the death of a loved one. The first guidepost is self-discovery and addresses the questions of who you are and who you want to become. The second guidepost, choice, involves discovering where we have freedom to change a situation if desired and deciding what kind of attitude we choose to have when we can’t change the situation. The attitude we choose speaks to our values. For example, if I cannot alter a difficult situation yet I decide to not allow the circumstance to get the best of me (taking a stand), I discover that courage, or a sense of heroism, is an important part of who I am. The next guidepost is uniqueness. Uniqueness refers to your gifts and talents along with how these gifts have been used for others, for some kind of cause, in the workplace, or to accomplish some other important goal in your life. Personal relationships are also included here. That is to say, there are relationships you have that no one else can lay claim to which connect you uniquely with those important people in your life. Following this is responsibility. This refers to the ability to respond to what you may be called to do. Given my uniqueness, my gifts/talents, and the attitude I have chosen, what is life asking of me? Or, in the context of Lewis’ writing, what is God asking of me? Last of all is self-transcendence. This involves the ability and act of reaching beyond yourself to serve someone or a cause that coincides with your personal values. Psychologists, theologians and philosophers have argued that we find ourselves if we lose ourselves in the service of something greater than ourselves; which brings us back to that first guidepost, self-discovery. You may have noticed that these markers for meaning discovery compliment and inform one another. It is my hope that they will be informative in your own life as you learn how to walk again in the midst of the loneliness that often accompanies grief.

By Katrina Cauble, LPC ...grief is a balance between engaging in life and being still and reflective. This fall I was able to go to a training for grief by Alan Wolfelt where there were many things that were eye opening and thought provoking. He spoke on several points from his book “The Paradoxes of Mourning.” The one concept he talked about that made so much sense to me was the concept that you have to go backwards before you can go forward in grief. This is something I witness daily and also experienced with my own grief journey. So what does this mean - to go backwards? The body gives us physical signs in grief to slow down and be reflective. One myth Dr. Wolfelt speaks of is the concept of “just stay busy.” Does staying busy push grief away to not be dealt with? The season of winter is a great reflection of how nature slows down and stays still. In grief, winter can be the season for us to do the same. Most people I witness experience fatigue with grief, especially when it is more acute or intense. This is the body trying to tell us to be still and rest, and this may look very different than “just stay busy.” One thing I like to stress is that grief is a balance between engaging in life and being still and reflective. If one is busy, busy, busy, it does not give time to do natural grief work. The risk can be that the grief will build to a level that one day it just explodes like a volcano. The other side is if one is too still, they may neglect self-care and the necessary activities of societal functioning like paying the bills, buying groceries, cleaning house and other basic activities of life. This leads to the built-up stress of neglecting what is needed to survive and then finding oneself in a bind. So, the balance of grief and life can be different every day as one tries to walk the tightrope of grief. So much of grief is thinking of your loved one and the memories of the past. It is rare to see someone who is grieving intensely be able to concentrate on a book or always remember just why they came into a room. This is going backwards when you are grieving. I have had more than one person describe just sitting still and not even focusing on the television. Crying and even just being numb may take a lot of energy; and when it is winter it may even cause you to want to hibernate like a bear. Taking a day or even just a couple of hours just doing this may be what is needed. It is said that grief is the dark season of the soul. This is a still place that needs to be tended, just the same as the bills and caring for oneself. You may think about the balance of the two - grief and rebuilding life - and reflect on what you have done for both and/or what is your body saying? Fortunately, even though the journey of grief can be very overwhelming, you don’t have to do this alone. Just as we have walked with others, our VIA Health Partners grief counselors are here to help journey with you through the winter of the soul. You don’t have to do this alone. For more information about VIA Health Partners Grief Care Services or to schedule a call from a grief counselor, please contact Deborah McGregor at 704.335.4300.

By Larry Dawalt, M. Div., CT, CTSS Having been in the ‘grief business’ for much of my adult life, I am consistently looking for words to help people understand what grief is and also what it is not. While there is no single absolute definition that covers grief in its entirety, I recently found three explanations in a blog by Russell Friedman that are certainly important contributions to the discussion. His first and most basic definition states that ‘Grief is the normal and natural emotional reaction to loss or change of any kind. Of itself, grief is neither a pathological condition nor a personality disorder.’ While that definition works in a classroom setting, it doesn’t exactly explain seemingly endless tears, sleepless nights, and the morning startle of awakening to find him/her still gone. The second definition is more personal and a little closer to reality, writing that ‘Grief is the conflicting feelings caused by the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behavior.’ I can apply that one a little easier than the first one, but it’s still not as good as his last one. “There’s another definition of grief that’s so descriptive that we include it in all of our books, and usually quote it in every public speech we make. It’s a piece of language that we didn’t create, but if we knew who first said it, we’d give them credit. ‘Grief is the feeling of reaching out for someone who’s always been there, only to discover when I need her (or him) one more time, they are no longer there.’ As poignant as that statement is in giving words to feelings, it can be reversed and used for a different, painful situation; as when a long-term relationship has never been good, in which case it can be stated as: ‘Grief is the feeling of reaching out for someone who has never been there for me, only to discover when I need them one more time, they still aren’t there for me.” I get cold chills reading that definition as I see the faces, hear the voices and feel the feelings of dozens and dozens of dear souls I have worked with over the years. Grief is tough and while I can’t describe it completely, I have come up with a few ‘Larryism’s’ that I consistently share in my grief talks. “When grief is new, words should be few.” “Grief is as individual as the relationship that brought it about.” “Grief is initially about the last chapter, but to really celebrate a life you have to look at the whole book.” Lately, I’ve been thinking about grief as the path to re-connectedness; learning to trust again, and take one more chance that there may be someone out there you want to let into your life as a lover, friend, mentor, confidant, or just someone who makes you want to get out of your pajamas or jogging suit and live and laugh and care again. Whatever definition you use, please know that there are people out there- neighbors, friends, people at a community of faith, counselors and others- who are willing to walk beside you; not as guides, but as companions on your journey of mourning the loss of someone you love. You are on a unique path, but you are not alone. Larry Dawalt is Senior Director of Spiritual & Grief Care Services for VIA Health Partners. He joined the organization in 1997 and has served as Camp Director of Chameleon’s Journey since 2000.

By Larry Dawalt, M.Div. The first lesson is go slowly and learn to hurt in increments. How does one deal with the death of an adult child; or any child? For two precious people I have worked with over the past year, the loss of a child is a reality that they deal with every moment of every day. One lost an adult child and the other an adolescent. They aren’t related. They don’t even know each other. But in their own way they have each confirmed some lessons about what they are experiencing and what they need in the way of help and hope. The first lesson is go slowly and learn to hurt in increments. There is no way to fully comprehend the loss in its totality all at once, so there’s no way to grieve it all at once. Take little bites and don’t be afraid to not ‘go there’ when you aren’t ready. It’s not denial. It’s just waiting; regaining strength and adding small things into your life before confronting the missing pieces. The second lesson is to lower expectations of family support and/or support from friends. It may be good and it may not be good. People may be genuine and kind or they may sensationalize and want to hear the story over and over. It doesn’t take long to find out who is supporting you and who is insensitive, whether they intend to be or not. You will find people you had no idea could be so supportive and they make up for those who disappoint for whatever reason. The third lesson is to let the child keep living even though they are not physically present. What would they do, what would they say, what would they think, or how would they feel are natural questions you would ask anyway; so why not keep asking them, since they are still alive in your heart? They may be gone physically, but they are still present with you in many other ways and always will be. Lastly, find someone who will listen without judgment and let you just talk and talk and talk. Talk about what you are feeling, talk about your anger, talk till you cry- then rest a minute and talk some more. Talk about your loss, talk about your health, talk about lunch, talk about current events- talk about anything. Learning to talk about anything and everything may eventually lead you to what you really need to say. It’s like Julia Cameron’s ‘Morning Pages’ as a way to break out of writer’s block, which she described in her book The Artist’s Way. She said to take a sheet of paper and just start to move your hand. The first sentences may be something like, ‘I don’t know what to write. I don’t even want to write right now. I don’t even know why I am trying to write. But here I am writing. Did I just write five sentences?’ Talking is the same way. You may not know what you really need to be saying about your loss, where you are now, the future, or anything. But if you can just start talking with someone whose sole purpose is to listen, you may eventually say what you need to say or get something out that will help you move forward. I want to conclude by simply thanking these two precious people for the lessons they have taught me - and now you. They didn’t want to become teachers, but their courage and wisdom is a gift. They are truly an inspiration and it is an honor to walk beside them. Larry Dawalt is Senior Director of Spiritual & Grief Care Services for VIA Health Partners. He can be contacted at DawaltL@viahp.org.