I recently read the excellent book Enjoy Every Sandwich:  Living Each Day As If It Were Your Last by Lee Lipsenthal, MD.  Lee was a doctor, diagnosed with esophagal cancer, who proceeded to write a book about what he was learning in the process of facing his mortality.  What makes the book especially poignant, is that the author died just 6 weeks before the book was published.

One perspective that I found especially helpful was turning the idea of a bucket list on its head.  So many of us hold a mental check list, popularized by media such as The Bucket List film (starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson) and the “Places to see before you die . . . ” book series.  But Lee pointed out, upon facing his own death, that it really didn’t matter whether he had seen the Pyramids in Egypt or eaten Thai food in Thailand.

The only thing that really mattered to him was loving and being loved.  Period.  I suppose a life could be measured by accumulated vacations — and certainly, those experiences can be wonderful.  But at the end of the day (or the end of a life) love is all that really matters.  Have you put ‘love’ on your bucket list?

Expcerpted from the Newsletter,

 “Still Waters:  Tools and Resources for Living Deeply”

Ashley Davis Bush, LCSW is the author of

“Shortcuts to Inner Peace: 70 Paths to Everyday Serenity”

and

 “Transcending Loss:  Understanding the Lifelong Impact of Grief and How to Make it Meaningful”

Sarah sat across from me with tears streaming down her face.  Her husband was killed in a car accident three years ago and now she had entered into the first romantic relationship since her husband’s death.  “I don’t understand how I can love someone new when I still love my husband.”

It’s true that Sarah’s love for her husband will be ever vibrant.  That love has infused itself into her being, allowing her to be the person she has become.  One task of healthy grieving is to cultivate a sustained relationship with the one who has died, an ongoing connection based on spirit and memory.

And yet it’s also true that Sarah’s relationship with her husband has changed.  Because his physical form is gone, she has space to create new physical relationships.  Even as she does this, she brings her husband’s love along with her.  

As she wiped her tears away, Sarah reflected, “I guess my husband opened my heart and now, it’s my choice to keep it open.”  Bringing the love and lessons of the past into the present, and then carrying them into the future is part of our journey as we grieve, grow, love, and continue to embrace life.

Expcerpted from the Newsletter,

 “Still Waters:  Tools and Resources for Living Deeply”

Ashley Davis Bush, LCSW is the author of

“Shortcuts to Inner Peace: 70 Paths to Everyday Serenity”

and

 “Transcending Loss:  Understanding the Lifelong Impact of Grief and How to Make it Meaningful”

I watched, amused, as the young man spoke through gritted teeth, “Just take the picture!”  This man-child had his arm around his mother’s shoulders while his father snapped a picture saying, “You don’t start college every day, you know.  Smile.”  The younger man sighed with exasperation and walked briskly away, “No more pictures!”
 
This scene repeated itself across the campus as sentimental parents moved their children into dorm rooms.  The parents around me reluctantly pushed their offspring out of the nest even as the children were delighted to test their wings at last.
 
I too watched, misty eyed, as my daughter Elizabeth waved me off without the tiniest shred of ambivalence.  I was grieving even as my daughter was celebrating.  For me, a life chapter was ending; for Elizabeth, a new chapter shimmered enticingly before her. What would my new chapter look like?
 
The next day she called me, not to tell me she was homesick but to share her excitement.  As we chatted, I didn’t notice any of the ‘quit bugging me’ mentality that had shaded our interactions over the last few years.  In fact, I found her quite likeable . . . as if she was a new friend.  Hmmmm.  I think I’m going to like this new chapter, afterall. 

Expcerpted from the Newsletter,

 “Still Waters:  Tools and Resources for Living Deeply”

Ashley Davis Bush, LCSW is the author of

“Shortcuts to Inner Peace: 70 Paths to Everyday Serenity”

and

 “Transcending Loss:  Understanding the Lifelong Impact of Grief and How to Make it Meaningful”

I placed a phone call to an elderly woman who was recently widowed.  When the answering machine picked up, I didn’t hear the customary greeting of “We’re not home; leave a message.”  Instead, I heard a voice say boldly, “Donald left this earth on February 26^th but I’m happy to say that we had thirty-three wonderful years together and I will always be grateful for those years.  Please leave a message.”

This message was not only open about death, but it was also full of gratitude for life.  I was struck by her willingness to hold her grief and love simultaneously.  Most people associate grief with only deep sorrow and overwhelming pain.  This widow stood in the dark and looked out into the light of love.

I often pose this question to grievers: if you could eliminate all of your heartache and grief, but in exchange you had to erase the relationship that

photo by Rick Evans

 brought you so much happiness, would you want this bargain?  The answer is unilaterally “no.”  No one would ever give up the love in order to give up the pain.

Grief is always attached to a deep love, a special relationship, a dear gift. Our gratitude for the love that was, the love that is, and the love that will always be forms a web of strength that grows in intensity. When we shift our attention from loss to the love that endures, a spirit of gratefulness begins to bloom.  

Expcerpted from the Newsletter,

 “Still Waters:  Tools and Resources for Living Deeply”

Ashley Davis Bush, LCSW is the author of

 “Transcending Loss:  Understanding the Lifelong Impact of Grief and How to Make it Meaningful”

 To order a copy Click Here

When I began my training as a psychotherapist over twenty years ago, I was assigned to work with a middle-aged woman whose sister had recently been murdered.  There I was, a young professional with very little life experience who had, until a few months previously, been pushing paper in a PR firm.  And yet I was asked to console this woman paralyzed by grief.

 To my surprise, I did just that.  I was able to listen compassionately and nonjudgmentally.  Inexplicably really, I could hear and understand her pain.  And I knew without a doubt that I had a calling to work with grievers, to help people in emotional pain. (more…)