“Namu Amida Butsu”, We are one with infinite light. This was the mantra given to my dad during his last days. Caretaking for him was challenging, letting go even more challenging. While attending an energy workshop after his initial diagnosis of Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia, and over the first visit back home, the leader felt the pain I was carrying in my left shoulder blade, “You are going to have to learn to let go.” She was the amazing massage therapist that gave me my first massage, inspiring me to one day be able to make people feel that good. Back then, I hadn’t experienced the loss of a parent and didn’t know the pain that was building behind my left shoulder, behind my heart.
During the summer of my dad’s decline, after having lived with cancer, treatments and, for the most part, a high quality life for six and a half years, my fourteen months old niece was the light on the path. There were some highlights and extremely meaningful moments during the difficult days, including holding him with one hand on his heart and one hand in the center of his back, in sitting meditation, when he was too weak to sit on his own. I had meditated with my dad as a teenager, college student and whenever I visited home, we would sit. Never could I have imagined the experience that unfolded that day, holding him, in meditation myself, so he could still meditate. The power of his discipline, the beauty of my love for him, and the feeling of nothingness and everythingness separate and together.
The holidays have the power of a real force, like a full moon tide in Baja, to break down the walls we build to hold the grief in. Grief is unique. I do not think any one person experiences it like another, but how would I know? We do not talk much about our grief, what it feels like, how it shows itself, why it can come on in the most random moments with no explanation as if hiding behind a tree and just jumps out at you while you’re strolling down the street, scaring the bajeezus out of you.
We are mostly left alone with our grief, almost like having an imaginary friend. It is possible to find ways to increase our self care during times of grief. Even on my dad’s dying day, I went for my massage. I still can hardly believe it. But I guess I am proud of that and think there is something to learn from it. Waiting for someone to die, is a long, hard process. After my massage, I returned to his bed side at our house. At one point, soon after getting back from my massage, he indicated non verbally by putting his hands together in prayer hands and pointing to his legs, that he wanted to meditate. We sat him up in an effort to cross his legs, half lotus sitting position. It wasn’t a long sit, but it was our final ‘bow’ in this life. There was a flow to how things unfolded, and I believe taking care of myself, even when I had every reason not to, was part of that flow. I often gave my dad massages and foot massages, this became useful when it was time to administer morphine, of all things. There is a morphine cream that I was given by the hospice nurses to massage into his feet, as we approached the final stage.
There are so many moments required of us to hold our grief in. We also must surrender, even if it feels like once you give in you will be swallowed whole. A few months after my dad passed, I took a few months off of life to deal, and I had one goal: to feel good in my body at some point in the day. Grief rips not just your heart apart, it can make you feel like you have been run over by a truck. Massage is just one tool we have to help let go of everything we are holding in, and feel better. Talking to someone about the who, what, where, when, why and how’s of grief or journal about it. Be kind to your body, nurture and indulge in self care like you never have before. “Everyone can master a grief but he that has it.” – William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing
There may be an upcoming grief support group that meets at Alpine Chapel, 122 S Aspen, led by Darla Erickson. Visit griefshare.org to read about some tips and tricks that Darla put together to help people get through the tough times. Telluride Daily Planet has an article from November 9, 2018 about it:
https://www.telluridenews.com/news/article_cc3acea2-e3b9-11e8-8610-7b44dc70fc1e.html?utm_medium=social&utm_source=email&utm_campaign=user-share
To schedule a therapeutic massage, contact Ambrosia Brown at the Telluride Wellness Center at 435-260-1122, ambrosiabrown@gmail.com, www.ambrosiabrownmassage.com , www.telluridethaimassage.com. For inquiries about grief counseling therapy sessions, you may also contact Lynton Moore and/or Kim Moriyama, practitioners at the Telluride Wellness Center, to see what they offer. Wellness is the full integration of mind, body and spirit. We look forward to helping you towards a healthier life.