View From a Prairie Home

by Hege Hernfindahl, Columnist

I read and read and read and read. I read for entertainment. I read to escape. As I read, I learn. My world expands and I have new fodder for my dreams, my thoughts, my imagination.

Now, I also read books about grief. About the new way to do grief; not to try to escape or deny grief or go through the Kübler-Ross well-defined stages (which, by the way, was written for people who were dying, not for their grieving relatives) but to be with grief, to embrace grief. To be there with grief. Even though you might not have experienced the earth-shattering grief I have, you will have experienced grief; being shunned by peers, losing your job, experiencing divorce, losing your home or the mobility of your body.

Joanne Cacciatore in her book “Bearing the Unbearable” writes about how to surf if you are caught in a rip tide. Rip tides are dangerous as they will pull you under even if you are a strong swimmer. The only way to survive is to let go.  She uses this as a metaphor for how to meet grief and also life. Just let go. Be brave and deal with your worries, your sadness and your grief by courageously letting go of control. If a rip tide takes you, it is your instinct to fight back, to try to escape. But you can’t. It will kill you. But if you let go of control, if you just let the current take you, you will eventually be brought out into calmer waters. Similarly, if you let go of your instinct to control, you will get out of the other side. Changed, but alive. Unresolved grief or worry or anger will manifest itself physically and it will make you sick.

Control. We all have it, the need to control. Our emotions, the situations we find ourselves in, but also other people. If we can’t control, we often react with anger. I have seen multiple relationships fall apart because of control issues and the resulting anger. Feeling out of control does result in anger and stress. Nobody wants to live with those. But, of course, we do.

The other week, a huge straight-line wind gust caused our boatlift to topple over with our boat in it. We could do nothing, so we called a boatlift guy with a barge for help. Our boat with its inboard engine sat in the water for 20 hours before it could be brought to shore. The boat will be fine.  But without an engine, what can we possibly do with our boat? You can’t row it. I was stressed and angry. Summer was here, we wanted to glide across the lake and relax. I wanted my grandchildren to be able to ski. I cried tears of frustration and anger. Until I heard our dog, Per, whimpering. With his tail between his legs, he came to me, thinking whatever was happening was his fault. It melted our hearts. I calmed down and remembered how concentrating on breathing in and then out would help me let go of my anger. Pretty soon we all felt better.

Of course, I don’t have all the answers to life or death or grief or even how to deal with losing your boat right before the Fourth. But I am trying to live without trying to control everything. I can’t control what will happen tomorrow or even the next moment, but for now, I will breathe. Despite the devastatingly losses in my life, I have decided to go on living. Mainly for those who love me. So I choose to live in this moment. I watch the birds and the flowers. I sit on the deck of our cabin and watch the lake. Sometimes I hear the loons. I try to ride the wave of the moment. And in this moment, there might be peace and even joy.