A Lesson From My Sister: Gratitude in the Midst of Grief

gratitude noun : gratefulness, thankfulness, appreciation, indebtedness; recognition, acknowledgment.   

The journals that I've kept regularly since my early teens have been a place for me-an introvert-to process, sort out, and share my inner world.  My journals won't be preserved and archived, like Queen Victoria's; my journals don't contain updates on the Industrial Revolution, the expansion of the railroads, or the latest debates in Parliament.  My journals contain details of day-to-day events, reflections on conversations, to-do-lists for my ordinary life, and, of course, self-examination.  

But until recently, I've never done gratitude journaling.  I do remember, maybe 25 years ago, when a guest on the Oprah Show debuted her "Gratitude Journal."  Soon after, I bought one at Barnes & Nobel and gave it a try: "Write down 10 things each day that you are grateful for."  I'm not sure I have that journal anymore, but I do know that the practice of Gratitude Journaling didn't take...until recently, when I've needed it most. 

This past fall, 2024, Jenny, one of my sister, Kay's, friends, found a small notebook among Kay's papers.  It was Kay's Gratitude Journal.  The entries cover events from  July 15, 2023 - February 10, 2024, ending five days before I stayed with Kay to celebrate her 65th birthday.  In the first pages of her gratitude-journal Kay wrote:                                                     

• grateful to have Mina curled up comfortably on my lap, relaxed, not in pain
• glad I could work from home today, for a job that pays well...for a little while longer 
• for being able to afford a car and giving it new brakes
• for having Georgia for a friend and to enjoy a yummy lunch together
• to be able to share things with my sister, and discuss, and process feelings together.

If she had kept up her gratitude journal Kay might have gotten around to writing down all of the things that she told me that she was grateful for: her 65th birthday, concluding all of her health screens, for Maggie & Mary helping her with retirement goals, for work colleagues that showed up for her retirement party and how they spontaneously shared stories of how Kay had made an impact on them, for her last day of work, and for four trips already accomplished in 2024.

But my sister won't write another gratitude entry in her colorful little journal; Kay died in Monterey, California, after being struck by an impatient driver, while she crossed the street in a cross-walk.     

Years ago, Mary DeJong, a therapist (who also taught yoga at a veteran's hospital) shared her definition of trauma with me.  She said that there are three components to a traumatic experience.  1. A lack of control.  2.  A lack of predictability.  And 3. Some kind of injury, whether emotional, physical, mental, or spiritual. 

I have grieved many deaths and losses including the deaths of all four of my grandparents by the time I was 23, the death of my father when I was 32, and the death of my mother after six years of caring for her while she lived with dementia.    

This traumatic grief is different.

Kay was just 65.  She had just retired.  She had plans.

The word "trauma" means wound.  How appropriate.

So many things to do with my sister's death continue to be traumatic: the circumstances of her death, having to deal with the Monterey Police and the victim's advocate, attending Zoom meetings with the DA's handling Kay's case, seeing the defendant on the screen, delayed court dates, predatory businesses calling me and sending me letters, my having to use a crosswalk, and the possibility that the defendant may only get probation.  But what wounds me the most is the fact that my sister is gone.  I think of calling her almost everyday...and then it hits me afresh: I can't.  In all of this there is an on-going lack of control and predicability, and injury.  As my friend, Paul, reflected, "Like salt into wounds."In his book Man's Search for Meaning (that my sister introduced me to), Viktor Frankel states that in the midst of his Nazi-concentration-camp-prisoner existence, he had no control over any aspect of his life.  Except one.  Frankel writes:    Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to         choose how you will respond to the situation.  ~ Viktor E. Frankel    So, should I choose to move on from this deep grief?   Should I self-medicate, as culture tells me to?  Or could I choose to experience my grief as a bittersweet connection to Kay?  And could I take the hand of the Divine and be led through this sacred human experience, however long it takes?  By reading her journal I've learned from my sister that I can choose gratitude even in the midst of grieving her death; I don't have to choose one or the other.  I learned this, dear friends, because that was what my sister had been doing.You see Kay was looking forward to retirement, travel, seeing friends, and doing new things.  But in the midst of so many wonder-full possibilities just around the corner, in the months leading up to her retirement, my sister endured an "uncomfortable" work environment.  Things would happen beyond her control, that she was unable to predict,  that left her feeling shaky, unsafe, vulnerable, and worthless.  In a word, wounded.  At the same time, though, Kay chose gratitude as much as she was able to, in the midst of that environment.  Not every day, for every thing.  But she did it.  In the last pages of her gratitude-journal (shown below) Kay wrote, "Looking back over the year - much to be grateful for...I'm grateful for return of perspective re. how much I have, how lucky I am to have it; & how to be content with my life."

In turn, I'm grateful that my sister kept her gratitude journal for those seven months.  Her example, her words, and her intention to be grateful is helping me and healing me, as I'm led through the valley of the shadow of her death.  From my heart to yours, Kay, thank you for the lesson.      With so much love and gratitude,             Nancy

A Happy-Curious Experiment:                                               In the 1913 book, Pollyanna, by Eleanor H. Porter, the title character charms, inspires & changes the residents of a small New England town by teaching them to play the Glad Game.  Pollyanna does this by reliably observing what one can be glad about in any given situation.  Sometimes minimized in our current cultural mindset, Pollyanna's deep well of gladness (or gratitude) is hard won.  In the book, Pollyanna first loses her mother, and then her missionary father.  It was from her father that Pollyanna learned the Glad Game.  One Christmas, when a very young girl, Pollyanna was hoping for a doll in the missionary barrel.  Instead of a doll, though, Pollyanna was sent a pair of crutches.  Her father sat with her in her disappointment, then tried to find something to be glad about.  Finally, he said, "We can be glad that you don't need the crutches!"  I just read through some of my gratitude lists in my journal.  A repeated entry is this: "I'm grateful for all of the time I had with my sister."  If you're going through a difficult time, you might try one of these happy-curious experiments.1.  The oldest part of our brain is hard-wired to do one thing: survive.  And so, when--through our senses--we take in data and information about our environment, we first notice the threatening, the bad, the dangerous, and the fearful, so that we can take action in response to it, and survive.  This is called negativity bias and it's super important and super helpful!Yet, it means it takes us a bit of effort to notice the good, the safe, the loving, the kind, the helpful, or the beautiful.  One way to do that is to write down the good stuff, the stuff we're grateful for.  In doing so, we slow down for a moment, we take stock of our day, we give our brains a chance to remember the good stuff, which in turn, influences our perceptions and mood.  For this happy-curious experiment, try the obvious: start writing down--regularly--what you're grateful for.  It doesn't have to be 10 items, especially if you're in the midst of grief or something else difficult, just write down one or two, or what you're able to.   Though this might seem "Pollyanna-ish," this is a powerful practice with mental, emotional, and physical benefits.  Or...2.  If that sounds like too much to start with, that's okay.  But, do you have 20 seconds?  As this video explains, simply "taking in" a good moment, experience, or sensation for 20 seconds (while it's happening) changes our brain for the good and influences our emotions positively.  Or...3.  Get comfortable and listen to Ralph Vaughan Williams' Lark Ascending, a violin piece with orchestra, as it combines the lark's joy at break of day arising, with heart-piercing poignancy.  It's one of my favorites.  Try listening to even the first five minutes...it's just brilliant.Thank you for reading this post.  If you could leave a short comment, I'd appreciate that, too. And if you try any of these experiments and want to share your experience, please do so.With gratitude,    Nancy ☕