Grief and forgiveness
Dear Reader,
I recently lost my brother, Glenn, my one remaining immediate family member, to a courageous battle with cancer. It started in 2015 with his first diagnosis of esophageal cancer and ended with metastasized throat and tongue cancer.
It was a challenging journey with this brother, one of two. At times we were very close, sharing our seeker’s journey with spirituality. I cherish those times of closeness. At times, he banished me from his life, once for 12 years, the second time for six years. Sadly, six years was from 2017 until his death. I felt lost and impotent in the face of his impending death, as he would not allow me close even though we lived five minutes apart. After I heard his cancer had returned, several months before his death, I attempted to offer help. I went to his home unannounced, as I knew he would not answer his phone or the door if he knew I was coming. I went with a peace offering: pureed soup and a card, asking for his forgiveness for whatever wrongs he thought I had done to him. Already skeletally thin, he promptly slammed the door in my face and told me he didn’t want to see me or talk to me.
The last two days of my brother’s life were spent in Denver hospice after a harrowing week in the hospital. He had gone in to get a feeding tube, a last-ditch effort to extend his life while in denial of his impending death. After two failed attempts, infection began to settle in. He refused to see me even then. Quite fortunately, through the encouragement of a good friend, I made a video and sent it to him. I told him I didn’t want him to die an angry man, told him I loved him and would he, could he, please forgive me? My niece, his daughter, told me he watched it. I believe that video made all the difference in my being able to be by his side, his allowing me to be by his side, when his soul left his body and he took his last breath. I am beyond grateful I was able to be there and to my friend who encouraged me to make that video.
As Glenn’s body was wheeled down the hall to the exit door by the lovely young woman from the mortuary and the hospice staff, wrapped in a blue blanket with flowers placed on top, my niece and I walked arm in arm down the hall in the opposite direction toward most potent moment, my niece and I ringing the bell together as my brother left us.
After his body had been removed, my niece and I spent two hours in the courtyard of Denver hospice, sharing stories and a toast with the Prosecco Lisa brought. One of my cousins called. While the three of us were on speaker phone, a huge clap of thunder and lightning bolted within feet of us. We had asked Glenn for a sign…was that it?
Two days after he died, I went to his home, the home I hadn’t been allowed inside since he banished me in 2017. Everything just the way he left it, without his presence. I went into his meditation room, took a seat in his big recliner, looked around at his precious books, many of which we shared. On his bookshelf, I found his journals and began to the stories he made up about me, the false accusations he made up in his head about things I never did. So painful, although it helped me understand why the recent banishment. I don’t know what I would have done with this information if I hadn’t made that video and felt some healing between us in those last moments of his life.
What have I learned?
The biggest lesson I have learned through Glenn’s death is the importance of forgiveness, as well as being even more aware of the stories my mind makes up about people. My brother, in his reclusiveness, made up stories about me that were untrue. He believed them, banished me because of them, and although he preached love and forgiveness, could not offer these gifts to me. How grateful I am that in the end, in the last moments of his consciousness, we seemed to have found healing. Yet, six years went by without any connection. My favorite definition of forgiveness is this: forgiveness does not mean that you don’t set healthy boundaries. It doesn’t mean that you put up with abusive behavior. It doesn’t mean that you ever have to see the person again. What it does mean, to me at least, is that I don’t push that person’s soul out of my heart. My brother’s abusive behavior and the stories he made up about me never had to be OK with me. Yet I believe our souls choose our life circumstances to learn from. We develop our personalities in part from our life experiences. When the veil is thin and the personality falls away, the soul is released in its pureness.
All of us have our own levels of pain and suffering. We don’t escape life without them. My long-time teacher Rod Stryker recently sent me this quote from another writer: “ One of the greatest indicators of our own spiritual maturity is revealed in how we respond to the weaknesses, the inexperience and the potentially offensive actions of others.” I have been contemplating this quote and how it relates to forgiveness. My brothers and I grew up in the same home with the same parents. Each of us had our own experiences of pain and suffering growing up in this home. My brother Glenn, for all of his spiritual study and insight, could not respond to me, could not forgive me, for whatever he perceived to be my weaknesses and the stories he made up about me.
I hope I can practice what I endeavor to learn from my brother’s death and six years of banishment from his life. I want to watch my mind and the stories it is making up about other people, the perceived wrongs they have done to me and now I respond to those stories. Above all, I will endeavor to resolve conflicts and the suffering they cause. We never know when we may lose someone and what may be left incomplete if we don’t.
To learn more about Life Coaching, contact me today.