3 Things I Learned by Listening to my Grieving Heart
My dad passed away in June 2018, one month prior to my retirement from my 21-year career as a military musician in the U.S. Navy. We knew that he would not be physically present at my retirement because he had been in the hospital since April, but it was my hope that he would be able to watch with the nurses on FaceTime. My journey to becoming a professional musician had begun from the moment I remember picking up an instrument. I loved music,c and my dad used to really seem amazed by me and my talents. However, when I would come out of my bedroom in high school to play something for my family, he would always say “and a-one and a-two” right as I would take a breath to play just as Lawrence Welk would count off his band. I would get so infuriated because I thought he was making fun of me in some way. In hindsight, I think he was trying to help me to relax and add a little humor into my ultra serious, perfectionist personality. I’d love to have him “make fun” of me again.
Fast forward to December 2023. I was sitting in the 2nd row of a wind ensemble playing a concert in Jacksonville, Florida, where I live. We were in a beautiful church, and I can remember being so very happy because Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. Once, when I was a child, I got so excited about opening presents that I threw up trying to wait for go time!!!! I loved the holidays for the gloriousness of the lights, the holiday smells of peppermint and cinnamon, and the tastes of the yummy cookies I remember as a child, and it just seemed as though people were a little nicer around the holidays. Back to the concert.
The church was wonderfully decorated for the holiday with holly, greenery, an enormous tree, and all the usual beauty that a church holds. The pews were fully filled with people that were excited for our music to bring emotion to their holiday experience. As I looked out to the audience, I smiled lovingly at my husband, Shane, who was sitting about eight rows back. He sat on the very end of the pew near a stanchion. I could see his eyes, but we were not close enough to know whether or not he was looking into mine. In the pew behind him sat my dear soul sister, Maria. Maria and I had a type of friendship where we had only known each other for maybe two years at that point, but it was as if we grew up together. She was very spiritual and a “feeler,” just like me. I had told her many stories about my dad, and she has watched me grow through my grief journey as I have walked with her on her own.
We were in the middle of playing a festive piece, and I felt so cheerful. It was something lighthearted, although I don’t remember exactly what tune it was. I looked out to catch a glimpse of my husband at one point, and I didn’t see him and assumed he must have gone to the restroom. In the 1000’s of performances that I had in my 21 years of being a Navy musician, there were very few of those concerts where I had “my people” in the audience. Most of my friends were the people I worked with, and most of my family lived quite a distance from where I was stationed. It meant so much to me to have Shane and Maria in the audience. Get back to the concert, my brain told me!
I put my eyes back on my music and played for another few minutes. And then it happened. I looked up quickly again to see if Shane was back and to catch a glimpse of “my people” being there for me. This time, I saw Shane sitting there smiling right at me, and out of the periphery of my vision, next to the stanchion, stood my dad smiling at me. “Oh, that must have been what Shane was doing. He went to get my dad from the foyer!! My dad came to my concert! I wonder if he flew or drove. This is perfect!” My entire body felt warm as if someone had dialed a dimmer knob waaaay up and it lit every space my body from deep within my cells all the way outward through my skin with the brightest, happiest light possible!!! My shoulders lifted up and I felt my little kid-self squeal joyously inside to see Dad in the audience. “He came! He came to my concert!” I could even feel myself getting excited for what was to come after our concert. Where could we take him to eat? Oh, I hope he is going to stay with us! I couldn’t wait to share how excited I was to see him and get one of his hugs where he chuckled under saying said “Wow, Charlie, that was great.” It was going to be such a special time!! Him showing up meant so much to me, and I can’t wait to tell him…and then something woke me up.
I don’t know what it was that woke me up. Maybe it was a cymbal crash or a trumpet playing a loud entrance. I got woken up like when you gently roll over in bed after a restful sleep to look at the time, see sunlight shining through your windows, take a huge gasp, and realize that you hadn’t set your alarm and are now late. The adrenaline and painful truth (thankfully no out loud gasp) slapped me hard in the face. As quickly as the excitement came that my dad was standing at that stanchion for me came the devastating realization that he was dead. I looked out at Shane and Maria smiling at me once more, and when I looked away this time I didn’t look back again during the concert. I felt like I was in shock and like I was going to sob. “No Charity. Your dad is dead. That man was not him.” I continued to go through so many waves of emotion in a matter of minutes. Yes, I was still trying to focus and play my music too!!! Elation, joy, pride, excitement, devastation, grief, sadness, anger. Why??? Where did this scene come from that played out through my eyes and came to take my heart? What a cruel joke, Universe! It wasn’t funny!!
Since my dad died, I have “seen” him in the dragonflies that constantly surround me and in the angel numbers I have noticed everywhere after his death. I have even noticed people who looked similar to him. I had been so overjoyed and grateful through tears to see these signs and reminders that he is always with me. HOWEVER, to have a TRUE felt sensation in my body, heart, and soul that even tricked my mind for a time that he could be surprising me with his physical presence without any common sense or realness kicking in to remind me that he was dead?? It all happened in a matter of seconds. In fact, maybe it was all in 1 second, but the pain of reality felt like the day I lost him.
After the concert I felt frightened to walk over near that stanchion to meet Shane and Maria who were smiling from ear to ear and excited to see me. Should I tell them? I will sound crazy because my entire being still is half believing that HE WAS THERE! I walked through the audience members, trying not to make eye contact. How could I tell them? I could hardly keep it together, and the journey of maybe 24 feet seemed like a mile. I just wanted to be in Shane’s arms with Maria holding my hand and have everyone in the church disappear.
The closer I got to their smiling faces, the more I dipped my chin towards my chest. I knew I had to make a choice:
I keep this to myself, stuff it down, probably seem “off”, try to ignore it, and process it alone. “Oh yes,” my mind said. “It’s the holidays, they came out to hear your concert and they are so happy. Why should we upset them with this? We’ll process it later. Let it go.”
My heart replied, “Oh dear one you know they will know something is wrong. They are trustworthy and love you. They will want to know and support you, and they have never cared before if you cry.” “But I’m scared I won’t be able to stop crying like when he died,” I said back to my heart.
Shane and Maria were filled with joy as they both said, “That was an awesome concert, Charity!!!” I acknowledged them with a little head nod. They knew something was wrong and hovered closer to me like angel wings, wrapping me in a hug. I began to sob, and listening to my heart, I said, “My Dad, he was right here.”
Here’s what I learned through this experience:
1. GRIEF GIFTS - Be open to possibility. As I was sharing with Shane and Maria, I remember being out of breath, describing how I felt when I saw my “dad” standing there. I was so excited and exhilarated and I remember saying “I can’t recall that last time I felt like that.” THEN IT HIT ME! That felt sensation. That elation of being the apple of his eye, his “favorite” only daughter 😊, being so excited to hug him that I could literally feel his arms around me and hear his voice saying my nickname he gave me of Charlie. I hadn’t felt that in forever and when he died, I thought I’d never feel it again. Oh my! WHAT…A…GIFT to feel that again!!!! This was not a joke but the greatest gift ever!!! Gifts can come from our grief at any time and in all ways.
2. BE PRESENT - Gifts show up when you least expect it. Performing music puts me in a very present and focused place (unless I think my dad is in the audience LOL). It is also a place where I could have never imagined a grief gift, especially of this magnitude, showing up. I could have tried scanning the audience to find someone who looked like my dad so I could create the feeling of his presence, but it would have never brought me this deep-felt sensation. When I am present to what is around me and really being in this particular moment and no other, I am given opportunities to catch subtle signs and gifts from my loved ones.
3. SURRENDER to receiving support and love. Grief never leaves us, and it never gets smaller. Instead, we have an opportunity to get curious about our grief and to grow larger around it by surrendering to receive support and love. It can be frightening to do, though, because society tries to put its rules on our grief. Right after a devastating loss, we hear, “Take as much time as you need.” What happens when the grief burst comes 5 years later? Are we still offered the space and time? Do we even feel comfortable asking for it after that much time has passed? I am sure you know the answers to these questions.
When your grief bursts happen outside of that two-week window or so that our society deems as enough time to process grief and loss, I’d invite you to surrender and explore your grief with trusted friends and family. Even if it is YEARS later! Trusted friends and family = anyone that you’d trust to witness your grief without dismissing you or your grief in any way. Surrendering to receive support and love is a beautiful way to love yourself and honor the loved one that you miss.
