Learning to cope with pain and with loss

I wrote this blog initially in February 2023 for KETR.org, the website for East Texas A&M University’s public radio station. I want to share it here to report that my journey from the darkness of sorrow has progressed nicely.

Here is a general assumption most will agree is true: Almost every human being who’s ever lived will undergo some form of grief or mourning, that they will struggle to recover emotionally from the loss of a loved one.

Another assumption that is generally accepted is that all humans have their own way of processing that grief. They all deal with it differently from, say, their siblings or their parents or the aunts and uncles or their best friends.

I am going through it myself. A little more than one month ago my wife of 51 years passed away from a savage form of brain cancer. You’ve heard of glioblastoma, yes? It has taken the lives of notable politicians, such as U.S. Sens. John McCain and Ted Kennedy, as well as Beau Biden, the elder son of President Joe Biden.

That it struck Kathy Anne down so rapidly and with such brutality only has worsened the grief I am feeling at this moment. We took her to the ER on Dec. 26, where the doctors informed us she had a mass in her brain. A surgeon took some of it out the next day. Kathy Anne was preparing for radiation and chemotherapy treatment when, on Jan. 26, she suffered a grand mal seizure … from which she never recovered. She passed away on Feb. 3.

Here is another truth: Anyone who endures such loss must take comfort in this bit of truth: No one is alone in their struggle; others have gone through it before and for as long as human beings exist there will be many more who will suffer the immense pain far into the future.

Does any of that lessen the pain in real time? Are we supposed to take that knowledge and then pass it off as something that will just go away – like a common cold or a headache? Not a chance.

They write books about grief and mourning. The world is full of experts who profess to know how they have dealt with it and they impart knowledge to the rest of the world based on their own experience.

Megan Devine is one such “expert” on grief. She suffered a horrible loss when her partner, a fellow named Matt, drowned. Devine holds a master’s degree in psychology and has written a book titled “It’s OK That You’re Not OK.”

She writes: “We all want to talk about our pain. We all carry stories that need acknowledgement. But right now? Right now, when you are in pain, when your loss is primary and powerful? That is not the time for a two-way, give-and-take discussion about the losses we all sustain. Grief comparison and shared grief stories do not bring you comfort. Of course they don’t.”

I know of which she writes. Friends and family members want to say the correct words, except that when they tell you that they “know how you feel,” they really don’t know. They cannot get into the heads or the hearts of the aggrieved. Those who can either are clairvoyant or they possess some unknown super-human power that is exclusive to them only.

Nick Patras is head of counseling at Texas A&M University-Commerce; Patras earned his doctorate in counselor education. He has seen grief and mourning up close, first as an employee in the funeral industry and then as a counselor at TAMUC.

“Our focus here is on the students,” Patras said, explaining that college students must deal with the “death of a grandparent, a parent or even the death by suicide of friends. These students have to navigate their way through the mourning process.”

Grief and mourning, Patras said, “are unique to each individual. Their level of grief will depend on the level of the relationship with the individual they are mourning.”

Students, he said, also occasionally have to deal with a rather unique form of mourning. “Sometimes students who are on academic probation must deal with the loss of their educational and career aspirations,” Patras said. “Students come here and enroll in pre-med, or pre-vet or pre-nursing,” he said, “and then they see their academic potential taken away. They decide that ‘This just isn’t for me.’ Then they see their hopes and dreams are derailed. Many students then go into a form of mourning over that loss, too.”

We all have heard of the various “stages of grief.” They remain a mystery to many of us who are going through it. My own stages deal mostly with the intensity and frequency of emotion that pours forth unexpectedly. It comes without warning, although it is most common when the discussion turns to Kathy Anne. It is getting easier with each day – or maybe two – to discuss life with her without blubbering.

One piece of advice that is worth retaining is to “live each day as if it’s your final day.” Yes. I’ll take that advice. Take nothing for granted and do not allow the little irritations to get you down. It’s OK to burst out with anger, but then let it disappear.

But as we trudge on through the beginning of the rest of our life it becomes easier to avoid even the angry bursts. Honest to goodness … it’s true!

Devine writes: “The way to live inside of grief is not by removing pain, but by doing what we can to reduce suffering. Knowing the difference between pain and suffering can help you understand what thing can be changed and what things simply need your love and attention.”

Devine devotes a section of Chapter 7 to the difference between pain and suffering, noting: “Pain is pure and needs support rather than solutions, but suffering is different. Suffering can be fixed, or at least significantly reduced.” Pain, she implies, remains in some form virtually for as long as we live.

Kenneth Haugk founded Stephen Ministries after his wife died in 2002 of ovarian cancer. He is a pastor and a clinical psychologist who also has written a booklet, “A Time to Grieve.”

In the book, he cites the “Three Ns” of grief. He calls it “normal, natural” and “necessary.” He writes, “(S)ometimes people still feel pressured not to grieve. The message they receive is that grief is optional, abnormal, or even a sign of weakness. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Grief is a normal, natural and necessary process.” Haugk implores us to “give yourself permission to grieve.”

I have no particular need to grant myself “permission” to grieve. It comes naturally and easily.

The only times I “apologize” is when I cannot complete a sentence while speaking of Kathy Anne. The response always has been in the weeks since her passing that “It’s OK. Take your time. I get it.” The understanding from friends is most appreciated and, indeed, these words expressing that appreciation seem so inadequate.

Feb. 3, 2023 was – without a doubt – the worst day of my life. I watched my bride slip away. The days that come along will be better than the previous days. President Biden – who lost his first wife and infant daughter in an auto accident in 1972, and then his grown son to glioblastoma in 2015 – tells us that one day we will smile when we think of those we have lost.

I know that day is out there.

The triumph over grief and mourning, Patras said, occurs when someone can “come to grips with the new reality and whether that new reality makes sense. It’s all about making sense of that new reality.”

It’s good to rely on the wisdom of those who have experienced deep emotional pain. As Megan Devine writes: “No one can enter the deepest heart of grief. We here, even the ones who know this magnitude of pain – we are not there with you inside your deepest grief. That intimacy is yours alone.

“But together, we recognize each other and bow to the pain we see. Our hearts have held great, great sorrow. Through that pain, we can be there for each other. As our words knock on the doors of each other’s hearts, we become way stations for each other.

“The truth is, also: you are not alone.”I wrote this blog initially in February 2023 for KETR.org, the website for East Texas A&M University’s public radio station. I want to share it here to report that my journey from the darkness of sorrow has progressed nicely.

Wishing POTUS well carries self interest

If we’re honest with ourselves, and most Americans fall into that category, we would carry a significant self-interest load while wishing the president of the United States success as he seeks to lead the country.

Where am I going with this? Here it comes.

I want Donald Trump to succeed in the office he will occupy for the next three years and some. I want him to succeed — particularly on economic issues — because it will have a direct impact more than likely on my retirement.

I’m long in the tooth, heading soon for my 76th birthday. I am semi-retired, working part time as a freelance reporter for a group of weekly newspapers in Collin County, Texas, where I have lived for six years. I also am drawing my retirement income from Social Security.

I have entrusted my retirement account to the care of a wise investment counselor who has taken good care of me, helped in large part by the performance of the stock market, which reacts almost daily to the whims of the president, be he a Democrat or Republican. The market did well during the terms of Barack Obama and Joe Biden, but my support for their success went far beyond self-interest motivations.

So, when I declare my good wishes on the current POTUS, I do so with more than a twinge of self-interest. I detest the man for who he is, what he did before being elected to the only public office he ever has sought, for the lives he has destroyed, for the lies he has told, for his absolute lack of character, empathy and compassion.

I do wish him success as he seeks to manage the nation’s economic policy. It’s not because I have faith that his decisions will fatten my retirement investments … but because if he makes the right call — somehow! — good fortune will come my way.

Pictures say everything

Social media have become, for better or worse, contemporary society’s premier method of exhibiting what’s on people’s minds and in their hearts.

One social media image popped up on my Facebook feed today. They are very expressive. One image shows Donald Trump lecturing Volodymr Zelenskyy in the Oval Office; Trump’s image is stern and the text next to the picture tells you Zelenskyy’s country has been invaded by Russia in an illegal and immoral military action.

The second image shows Trump shaking hands with Vladimir Putin, the thug who runs Russia and the text notes that Putin was given a red-carpet welcome, a rare private meeting with the president of the U.S.A., a ride in a presidential limousine. This is the invader! The bad guy! The alleged war criminal!

What is wrong with this picture? Just about everything that might cross your mind.

Trump is trying to get Putin and Zelenskyy to talk directly to each other. I give Trump credit for that effort, even though it has been haphazard and slap-dash. I have trouble grasping, though, how he can treat the victim of an illegal military actiion with disdain and disrespect while showering the aggressor with all the niceties afforded to a head of state.

Let us remind ourselves of this reality: Vladimir Putin has been accused formally by international legal authorities of committing crimes against humanity by invading Ukraine. Zelenskyy deserves the red carpet. Putin deserves to be arrested, handcuffed and forced to stand trial.

Double down on news boycott?

Time for an acknowledgment, which is that my declaration some months ago that I was commencing a boycott of political news on TV is beginning to lessen … just a bit.

However, even though I keep the TV on to listen to the political news only with one of my ears, I am consdering a doubling down on that earlier declaration. I mean, even though I am paying partial attention to the machinations of D.C., Austin and even the local news, it is tiring to hear the same thing repeatedly.

I am waiting for a grand revelation. A “Eureka!” moment when someone tells me something no one else has reported. I want an intrepid reporter to deliver the scoop for the ages on what no one else on Earth knows about Donald Trump, or any of his sycophants.

Print journalism reached its high-water mark in the 1970s when two Washington Post reporters, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, were given license to ferret out the truth behind the Watergate scandal. They were so successful that the “gate” terminology has become a suffix for any scandal that boils up … you know, Russiagate, Hegseth-womanizergate, whatever.

The media have been sufficiently demonized by Donald Trump and his moronic MAGA minions that even tried-and-true shoe-leather reporting is now deemed suspect, of peddling “fake news.”

It’s not fake. It’s real. But the media seem reluctant to sic the reporter hounds loose to tell us the full truth. Instead, we get a mere regurgitation of what we know already.

I haven’t yet decided to fire up my news boycott. I might do it. I am going to wait a bit longer and hope someone can produce the next scoop for the ages.

Who’s talking to whom?

At this moment, I am a confused old man, given that I cannot tell who is talking to whom regarding this bizarre trail many of hope leads to a ceasefire in Ukraine.

Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin talked to each other for a time in Anchorage. Volodymr Zelenskyy was nowhere near the conference room, but he damn sure should have been there.

Zelenskyy and Trump met in the Oval Office, along with several other European Union heads of state and government who were there to support the embattled Ukrainian president.

Trump is now insisting that Putin and Zelenskyy talk to each other, but only after dismissing the idea as a non-starter. Why? Because Putin didn’t want to talk to the man with whom he launched a war three years ago.

Trump now says he will seek an end to mail-in voting … because Putin thinks that kind of balloting is prone to fraud and corruption. What the hell? Putin is the godfather of electoral fraud, having emerged on top in numerous Russian presidential elections with an 80% majority.

Can you say and spell “r-i-g-g-e-d?”

The wild card in all of this, naturally, is Trump. Which is what I presume suits him just fine. He likes being unpredictable. Says it gives him an edge. Except that he hasn’t closed any deals to end the war, which he pledged to do on Day One of his second term in office.

I didn’t study foreign relations much in college and most of what I understand about it I learned during my nearly 37 years as a print journalist.

However, I am pretty sure this isn’t how international diplomacy is supposed to work.

Not used to humidity … just expecting it

My introduction to Texas’s fascinating climate came in the spring of 1984, when I moved to Beaumont to take a job at the Beaumont Enterprise newspaper.

It took no time at all for the seasonal humidity to settle in. I informed my wife of that in a phone call to her in Oregon, where she stayed behind for a time to sell our house. To be candid, once we went through a summer or two of Gulf Coast heat/humidity, we all — our sons included — learned to expect the stifling temperature and the energy-sapping humidity. None of us ever got used to it.

Then we moved to Amarillo in 1995. The weather in the Panhandle was as unpredicatable in the spring as the Gulf Coast. It also was more temperate. Cooler in the morning and evening. The elevation of Amarillo, at 3,676 feet above sea level, had something to do with it. Much more pleasant. During the summer days? Still damn hot! But, hey … it was a dry heat, y’know?

Then we moved to Princeton in 2019. More humid again. Not like the coast, but stickier than the Panhandle.

My mantra now is as it was when I first got here 41 years ago. I have learned only to expect the humidity. I don’t like it, but as my dear old Dad would tell me when I bitched as a boy about the rain in Portland: Go talk to God!

Growth explosion: brand new to me

I have lived a long life and I intend to keep living it, but I want to take a walk back briefly through the communities I once called home and explain why my current hometown is so different.

I was born in Portland, Ore., a city that seemed stuck on a certain population of about 375,000 people through the 1950s and 1960s. The Army called me into active duty in 1968 and I returned to Portland, where the population stayed more or less the same through the 1970s and much of the 1980s. My career then summoned my family and me to Beaumont, Texas, a nice city to be sure, but one trapped in the era of “white flight” of residents to the suburbs. The population of Beaumont declined during our nearly 11 years on the Gulf Coast, falling from about 120,000 residents to around 115,000. Opportunity knocked again in 1995 and my wife and I moved to Amarillo, way up yonder in the Panhandle. The city enjoyed slow, but steady growth during our 23 years there. The city grew from about 180,000 residents to just less than 200,000. In 2019, I was retired from daily journalism and Kathy Anne and I moved to Princeton, Texas, a Dallas suburb about 25 miles northeast of Dallas. Then it came, a population explosion the likes of which I never had experienced. We bought our home at the right time, securing a loan for a ridiculously low interest rate. New residents came pouring into our city. The population exploded from 6,800 residents in 2010 to 17,027 in 2020. Today the city estimates the city is home to 40,000 residents. Forty thousand people now call Princeton home! That number is continuing to explode. The city council has invoked a ban on residential construction permits, but it must honor the permits already granted and the housing construction already underway. I am filled with anxious anticipation as Princeton grapples with this growth. Texas highway planners have big projects set for U.S. 380. City public works crews have to install new water and sewer lines. Police and fire departments need to hire more personnel. The school system is building campuses as quickly as it can but they are being overwhelmed by new students pouring into the district. The city desperately needs more commercial development to serve the thousands of new residents who are moving here. Those of us who already are here must watch as the city grapples with solutions to the “problem” officials face. How to cope with the tide of people who realize what many of us knew all along, that Princeton is a nice place to call home. City Hall’s challenge is to maintain Princeton’s desirability.

Trump, Putin serve a ‘nothingburger’

All the hype, the speculation, the thought of a possible breakthrough … and Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin, after meeting in Anchorage, stood before the assembled media and didn’t say a damn thing worthwhile.

The men gathered to discuss the Ukraine War. Whether there would be a ceasefire. Finding a possible path to peace. Seeking international aid to assist the victims of this bloody war that Putin started three years ago for reasons that still baffle many of us.

They presented nothing. Zero. No result.

They did put on a show. Putin spoke first. Then it was Trump’s turn. About the only “news” to come from the presser was Putin saying, in English, that Trump could visit Moscow for the men’s next meeting. Trump accepted the invitation.

I’m still trying to parse what went down. No one knows what the leaders said in private. For all any of us knows they might have simply taken pot shots at the man who should have been in the room, Ukraine President Volodyrmyr Zelenskyy.

Someone speculated that at least Trump could have made some public demand, the way President Reagan did in 1988 when he said in Berlin, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” The Soviet leader did a year later.

No one is going to get fat feasting on a nothingburger such as what Trump and Putin served up in Anchorage. I will cling to my belief that Putin needs to shed his stubborn resistance to Zelenskyy’s presence at the negotiating table with the aim of stopping the bloodshed that has ripped Ukraine to shreds

Collegiality? It’s toast!

It is virtually impossible to visualize this, given the intense partisan toxicity that exists in government at many levels, but there once was a time when Texas’s diverse congressional delegation was held up as the gold standard for bipartisan collegiality.

That was a long time ago. Congressional Quarterly, the Bible for many reporters who cover Congress for their media organizations, once reported on how the Texas delegation set the standard for getting along despite deep philosophical differences among its members.

Jim Wright of Weatherford, near Fort Worth, was speaker of the U.S. House. Every week, CQ reported, the entire delegation would meet for breakfast. Their agenda was to go over the issues important to the entire state. Republicans and Democrats broke bread together. They sought common ground in the search for legislative solutions. Farm policy, transportation, crime and punishment … it was all on the table. The state had elected its share of radicals from both parties. The fellow who represented me in the House, Democrat Jack Brooks of Beaumont, was as mean as they came, as he detested Republicans. GOP Rep. Dick Armey, who hailed from the Dallas area, was equally disposed to detest Democrats.

Yet they joined in the weekly breakfasts. And for a brief period each week, partisans on both sides laid down their long knives and searched for ways to get things done for the state they all said they loved.

CQ, interestingly, held up California as the opposite of the collegial atmosphere that permeated through the Texas delegation. California lawmakers couldn’t agree on the color of the sky or the wetness of the water, CQ reported. I guess they were the trendsetters who paved the way toward the political climate we have today.

I am not going to suggest an immediate return to those halcyon days of fellowship. I do want to remind readers of this blog that it could become the norm once again … even in this time of intense anger, rancor and revenge.

 

Beatles are done … forever

Friends can accuse me of being slow on the uptake and I wouldn’t mind, as I recognize that in my ownself.

Example? When The Beatles released their single, “Now and Then” in 2023, they said it would be their final song. No more Beatles records for those of us who believe they are the greatest rock band in history. My first reaction was kinda goofy. What do you mean no more?

“Now and Then” was presented to Paul McCartney by Yoko Oho, John Lennon’s wife along with two other demo tapes that Paul, George Harrison and Ringo Starr finished and released as singles in 1995. They all worked on “Now and Then,” then gave up on it, as the quality of the demo tape didn’t measure up to the other two. George was the first to abandon the “Now and Then” project.

Then, in 2001, George got sick and died of cancer in November of that year. John, of course, died in 1980 in one of the most senseless acts of violence I’ve ever seen.

Paul then got a wild hair and decided to finish the recording of “Now and Then” with Ringo, using John’s voice and George’s work on the unfinished recording. Technology has advanced well beyond what was available to the lads in 1995.

Where am I going with this? “Now and Then” was the last recording with all of The Beatles taking part. There ain’t no more. All of The Beatles have said the group does not exist without all of them present. George Harrison famously said in the 1980s when asked if The Beatles would reunite: “No. Not as long as John Lennon is still dead.” There you have it. One’s death is as permanent a condition as one can find.

As the cliche goes: The group is gone, but their music lives forever.

 

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