“I need your help . . . without you, I don’t know how to be me.” This post, addressed from a mother to her daughter, came across my Facebook feed this past October. Less than two months earlier this daughter, the mother’s only child, had passed away from leukemia, just shy of her 14th birthday.
Say what you will about the coldness of online communication, but here was a case where technology was no shield for human emotion. Grief spilled through the keys and could be felt, in every direction, for miles and miles and miles.
Here’s a project you can do for somebody who’s grieving. Several months ago, I pinned this Altoid-tin upcycle project from Junk & Stuff, hoping to try it soon. Now I’ve finally had the chance to make this, my own interpretation.
In the weeks following, I became repeatedly humbled by this particular mama’s ability to open herself up. She sprinkled her feed with photos and dreams and stories and laments. I happen to be a believer in vulnerability, so I quietly cheered her on for having the guts to express herself so candidly. (She owed the rest of us nothing, of course. All grief is personal, and nobody but the person living it gets determine what feelings need to arise, when, or how.)
Still: Oh, how I wish we could all learn to “craft love from heartbreak,” as researcher-storyteller Brene Brown outlines in her 2-minute video, Manifesto to the Brave and Brokenhearted. I’m grateful for Brown’s relentless work in encouraging us all to embrace vulnerability more.
Choose what you want to say, then make them into tiny cards that fit in the tin. I made these by cutting up old postcards and fabric, then attaching them to each other with Mod Podge.
Last month, another friend published a Facebook post about grief. This time, it was a poem about how she’d moved through mourning over the course of several years. Fortunately, she later posted the piece, What I’ve Learned About Grief, on her blog Sheri Hoeger’s Art to Live By. Hoeger’s words inspired me right away, as she’d managed to verbalize things I wouldn’t have thought to say myself.
I chose to make each card different. Grief expresses itself differently on different days, so why not reflect that in the cards?
So, as I’d undertaken before during a friend’s hardship, I did the only thing I knew how: I made something with my hands. Hoeger’s words struck me as a great match for the keepsake-box project that had been swimming in my brain ever since glimpsing the tutorial I’d found online.
Perhaps what struck me most about Hoeger’s piece was that that its paragraphs didn’t necessarily have to be absorbed in linear fashion. Rather, its segments could be cut apart and savored, one by one. They could be placed on cards, each decorated with its own special fabric. Like memories of a loved one, the words could be delivered in fragments that have no chronology.
Feel free to express your grief, or not, however is right for you on any given day.
My hope was that the recipient of my comfort box (yes, the mother from earlier in this story) could choose to take in Hoeger’s bits of comfort as she felt ready. Sometimes she might feel moved to read them all. Other days, she might respond to just one. Who knew? Maybe she’d feel compelled to put a little card in her purse as a secret special reminder, just for an afternoon.
Regardless, it felt good to make it. Perhaps it was a partly selfish act, my own vain attempt DO SOMETHING about a situation I can’t control. I love words and all, but sometimes my brain comes up short, and my hands are the only ones who can take over and create.
If you’re experiencing grief this holiday season, I hope you know it’s okay to be patient with yourself. I hope you know your vulnerability isn’t weakness (thank you, Brene Brown), and that you can find the courage to express it however is right for you. I hope somehow, some way, this day, this night–whatever your individual story may be–you can find a tiny box of comfort of your own.
(Photo by me.)
Dear Suzi, I love you so much! You have such an amazing heart and soulful spirit! This is such s beautiful post! Hope you are having a wonderful Christmas sweetheart. We hope for another visit with you in the new year! With love from Donna
Sent from my iPhone
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Hi Suzi
I’m sure the mum who receives your comfort box will find much to help her through this time. I did something similar for my cousin when her husband passed away. I, like you, felt the need to do something. And though you may think it’s selfish, I’m sure it’s not. Most people tip-toe around grief and often mean well, but sometimes make the griever feel worse. Things like comfort boxes allow the process it’s natural life and, ultimately, I believe, provide more healing than you saying the same platitudes over and over again.
My cousin found the box I’d given her so helpful that she passed it on to a colleague who’d lost her child. I hadn’t expected that, but I’m glad. Those few hours I spent on that box helped more than I thought. Perhaps it’s still moving around helping others cope through grief:) It’s likely your comfort box will do the same. Your time well spent:) Best wishes
Leenna, I’m so glad we discovered each other online. Talk about kindred spirits, yes? Thank you so much for writing this comment. Heart.
Kindred spirits 🙂
What a beautiful idea. I just found your blog through Blog, Share, Learn
Great to meet you, Jennifer! I’ll check out your blog. Yeah!
Suzi, I love that you did this for her. I myself am a grieving mother of almost 8 years now and there are days that are good and days that are bad. I think it is truly inspirational and not selfish for what you did. You are correct, people do grieve in their own ways. I have an ornament that my daughter recorded a christmas message on and last year when I pulled it out of the box I began to cry. This year when my daughter pulled it out of the box the message wasn’t there because the batteries had died.
I was fortunate enough to be able to record her voicemail message before the phone was disconnected. Being a grieving person is hard but it is the hardest when you are a parent. All grieve is different in its own way. I was still dealing with losing my mother that April when I lost my daughter in October the same year. Not only did I lose my daughter but I lost my grandchildren to their father. I haven’t seen them since.
Keep doing what you are doing because you never know what will help and when it will help. I found your page from the DYOB Blog Beautiful group on facebook. You can read about my story by going to my blog at http://www.trinaoneil.com.
Thank you for sharing, caring and responding to the grieving mom. You are a beautiful person for what you did.
Trina, your story touched my heart. Unexpected things like the ornament can take on such strong meaning when they remind us of the ones we’ve lost. I hope you can take the time you need to nurture yourself as you face all this loss. I really appreciate you for reaching out. The blogging community is so amazing. Hugs!
Just found your blog through blog share touching. Grief never easy your comfort box was a nice gesture.
Hi, Patrice. Wonderful to meet you!
This is a great idea!
Thank you, Ren! I can only hope small kindness makes a difference.