Sunday, June 03, 2007
I didn't get too many genes from my father's side of the pool...ya think?
Without my new hair color I'd be a spitting image!
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Since my father’s fairly sudden death this past February, I’ve felt unable to write about my experience, my thoughts, my emotions, and some of the profound healing insight that accompanied our brief time during and immediately after his emergency bowel obstruction surgery. That is, I felt stuck writing to myself, but when I wanted to share some of our story with my friend Maria Dancing Heart, author of The Last Adventure of Life, words, emotion, and images started to flow once again.
My writing, our story, and my connection to the many lessons I’ve received through my father’s end of life journey will see many more pages than I’ve only begun here. And I’m completely comfortable with waiting for the inspiration to rise up so to continue sharing this healing and utterly significant part of my life—this ending as well as new beginning chapter of relationship with my father.
I’d like to share the recollections which have already made it to paper in hope they will help construct the bridge for me to walk upon and meet halfway my father’s spirit. A bridge that is safe and secure to hold our history, our evolution, and our futures.
As I write, and remember, and share, it will come from my own source of truth and challenge with my father and not from a romanticized notion of our relationship. I owe us both that courtesy and conviction. We survived too much to minimize the healing power of forgiveness and finally, complete acceptance.
It is from this center that I dedicate my father story to my dad,
My writing, our story, and my connection to the many lessons I’ve received through my father’s end of life journey will see many more pages than I’ve only begun here. And I’m completely comfortable with waiting for the inspiration to rise up so to continue sharing this healing and utterly significant part of my life—this ending as well as new beginning chapter of relationship with my father.
I’d like to share the recollections which have already made it to paper in hope they will help construct the bridge for me to walk upon and meet halfway my father’s spirit. A bridge that is safe and secure to hold our history, our evolution, and our futures.
As I write, and remember, and share, it will come from my own source of truth and challenge with my father and not from a romanticized notion of our relationship. I owe us both that courtesy and conviction. We survived too much to minimize the healing power of forgiveness and finally, complete acceptance.
It is from this center that I dedicate my father story to my dad,
Kenneth Russell Snyder, Sr.
My first attempt at writing about my father's death...
Hi Dancing Heart!
Receiving your email was a delightful surprise. Your blog looks wonderful. I’ve added it to my “favorites” and will first read it thoroughly and then refer others to it whenever an opportunity presents.
The last time I wrote on my blog site was in October after a soulful visit with my parents—my father in particular. In November my dad went into the hospital for about a two week stay with complaints of stomach & chest pain and unexplained weight loss. He was released without ever finding the cause of his “feeling he was dying.” After a short stay at a nursing home as the medical community tried to get his unexplained weight loss under control, they put him on a new bi-polar medication which made him veraciously hungry and he began gaining weight so he was sent home. This was just before Christmas.
I think it was in November that I decided to spend more time supporting my parents by bringing weekly meals and generally spending more time “being” with them. My dad was thrilled, especially by my cooking since I’m not known for my love of being in the kitchen. Just after my dad came out of the nursing home and Christmas was fast approaching, I took him shopping so he could buy a few gifts for my mom. I also took the liberty to buy gifts on his behalf knowing that his energies were low and he would not be able to do as much as he imagined. One of his comments that afternoon, “we’ve never done this before and I’m so happy we are now.” He treated me to donuts for dinner! Once home I wrapped the gifts while he took painstaking efforts to fill out each gift card with loving sentiments to the love of his life. Christmastime was more magical than ever before.
My dad would have one more special celebration, my mother’s 65th birthday, February 11th, before he died on February 13th. It was Sunday and my parents went to church which was a special celebration of the coming Valentines Day and a surprise cake for my mother’s birthday. The congregation had a pot luck lunch and sort of party for the two special occasions. I can’t say for sure, but my parents may have even danced that day together.
After church my parents spent the evening at my brother and his family’s where our mom was treated to a surprise fish dinner. My mom commented just after dinner to me that it was the best day she could remember ever spending. I had been in the kitchen “all” afternoon and most of the evening preparing an entire meal which I would bring to my parents the next day in celebration of mom’s birthday.
My mom called me at 6:30am Monday, the 12th, to say that they were at the hospital after a long night of severe pain for my father. They had just done a scan and my father had a bowel obstruction which had ruptured. He was considered critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My family arrived at the hospital within an hour and the long wait began. My dad made it through the actual surgery, but we were informed that it would be moment by moment to see if he would be able to recover from the toxins that had flooded all his vital organs. My hospice training automatically took reign and I began to work in service of my father.
With the exception of my mom’s sister who was in NJ and in the middle of a chemotherapy round, all our family came to dad’s bedside over that next almost 30 hours…his 4 children, his only surviving brother and his family, all my dad’s grandchildren, friends, pastors, neighbors… I spent time gently repeating, yet with deep belief, to every family member even as we sat in a group in the family waiting area, “now would be the time to say these most important things: Thank you, Please Forgive me, I forgive you, I love you, and We support you on this beautiful journey. “Please don’t miss this opportunity, please trust me on this,” was my counsel over and over even after being challenged that those words might send the message that we were giving up on him.
My dad had the most beautiful death I have yet had the profound blessing to witness. He was supported by our family circled and holding hands around him. When people needed guidance, I simply said, Love Him—send him your love, from the center of your heart and quietly wish him well on his journey…he has earned this beautiful exit…his body and spirit have worked very hard this lifetime…Wish him peace, wish him freedom from suffering…send him Love…Let him begin this new journey.
There’s even more beauty to this story…especially my understanding and getting my dad’s message that it was indeed his time to leave and how he gave the sign of the “dragonfly” to me…and how that too is connected to you, your book, and my father’s deep healing moments at the bedside.
I feel I can’t type anymore right now. I’d love to share more later. Emotions are flowing and I’ll take some moments to be still…
Thank you Dancing Heart for “the bridge” from pain to forgiveness and acceptance which you helped to build so my father and his family had a safe and supportive passageway into the Light of Death.
I love you.
Deep, heartfelt gratitude, kim
Receiving your email was a delightful surprise. Your blog looks wonderful. I’ve added it to my “favorites” and will first read it thoroughly and then refer others to it whenever an opportunity presents.
The last time I wrote on my blog site was in October after a soulful visit with my parents—my father in particular. In November my dad went into the hospital for about a two week stay with complaints of stomach & chest pain and unexplained weight loss. He was released without ever finding the cause of his “feeling he was dying.” After a short stay at a nursing home as the medical community tried to get his unexplained weight loss under control, they put him on a new bi-polar medication which made him veraciously hungry and he began gaining weight so he was sent home. This was just before Christmas.
I think it was in November that I decided to spend more time supporting my parents by bringing weekly meals and generally spending more time “being” with them. My dad was thrilled, especially by my cooking since I’m not known for my love of being in the kitchen. Just after my dad came out of the nursing home and Christmas was fast approaching, I took him shopping so he could buy a few gifts for my mom. I also took the liberty to buy gifts on his behalf knowing that his energies were low and he would not be able to do as much as he imagined. One of his comments that afternoon, “we’ve never done this before and I’m so happy we are now.” He treated me to donuts for dinner! Once home I wrapped the gifts while he took painstaking efforts to fill out each gift card with loving sentiments to the love of his life. Christmastime was more magical than ever before.
My dad would have one more special celebration, my mother’s 65th birthday, February 11th, before he died on February 13th. It was Sunday and my parents went to church which was a special celebration of the coming Valentines Day and a surprise cake for my mother’s birthday. The congregation had a pot luck lunch and sort of party for the two special occasions. I can’t say for sure, but my parents may have even danced that day together.
After church my parents spent the evening at my brother and his family’s where our mom was treated to a surprise fish dinner. My mom commented just after dinner to me that it was the best day she could remember ever spending. I had been in the kitchen “all” afternoon and most of the evening preparing an entire meal which I would bring to my parents the next day in celebration of mom’s birthday.
My mom called me at 6:30am Monday, the 12th, to say that they were at the hospital after a long night of severe pain for my father. They had just done a scan and my father had a bowel obstruction which had ruptured. He was considered critically ill and needed emergency surgery. My family arrived at the hospital within an hour and the long wait began. My dad made it through the actual surgery, but we were informed that it would be moment by moment to see if he would be able to recover from the toxins that had flooded all his vital organs. My hospice training automatically took reign and I began to work in service of my father.
With the exception of my mom’s sister who was in NJ and in the middle of a chemotherapy round, all our family came to dad’s bedside over that next almost 30 hours…his 4 children, his only surviving brother and his family, all my dad’s grandchildren, friends, pastors, neighbors… I spent time gently repeating, yet with deep belief, to every family member even as we sat in a group in the family waiting area, “now would be the time to say these most important things: Thank you, Please Forgive me, I forgive you, I love you, and We support you on this beautiful journey. “Please don’t miss this opportunity, please trust me on this,” was my counsel over and over even after being challenged that those words might send the message that we were giving up on him.
My dad had the most beautiful death I have yet had the profound blessing to witness. He was supported by our family circled and holding hands around him. When people needed guidance, I simply said, Love Him—send him your love, from the center of your heart and quietly wish him well on his journey…he has earned this beautiful exit…his body and spirit have worked very hard this lifetime…Wish him peace, wish him freedom from suffering…send him Love…Let him begin this new journey.
There’s even more beauty to this story…especially my understanding and getting my dad’s message that it was indeed his time to leave and how he gave the sign of the “dragonfly” to me…and how that too is connected to you, your book, and my father’s deep healing moments at the bedside.
I feel I can’t type anymore right now. I’d love to share more later. Emotions are flowing and I’ll take some moments to be still…
Thank you Dancing Heart for “the bridge” from pain to forgiveness and acceptance which you helped to build so my father and his family had a safe and supportive passageway into the Light of Death.
I love you.
Deep, heartfelt gratitude, kim
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Yesterday I took the opportunity to visit with my parents; sipping mugs of coffee out on their newly built deck we were surrounded by the autumn colors that offer Maine trees their fame.
I believe I am one of the lucky ones whose family has little-to-no reservation talking about illness, dying, death, post-death arrangements and the possibility of an after-life. In fact, it seems quite the opposite for us with conversations about end-of-life issues being some of our most invigorating and maybe even our favorites.
Now, I don’t in anyway consider myself morbid. I honor the richness, the full-bodied euphoria I feel from living alongside the wonderful cast of characters I call family and friends. I also understand and fully accept that on some date, at some time, from some particular circumstance I will die. And so will each of my family members. And so will each of my friends. And so will you.
For me it makes good sense, sound sense, to talk openly and explore feelings, thoughts, and questions about the totality of our lives in the midst of our living—quite possibly while we are enjoying good health. If we are to talk about the whole of our lives our conversations would include consideration, contemplation, and reflection of our deaths.
As a hospice spiritual care provider I sit around a table every 14 days to hear the interdisciplinary team review hospice and palliative care cases. Too often I hear that patients and families struggle with communicating about an approaching death. Many families won’t talk openly, intimately, so to not invite death sooner or at all.
This form of magical thinking can leave our loved ones to die feeling unfinished and truly alone at one of the most essential moments of life. As well, when we guard against communicating our feelings and heart wishes for our dying loved one we invite surviving family members and friends to carry heavier burdens of regret, remorse, and more complicated grief.
So—
…why not change our silence and discomfort?
…why not begin exploring our hopes of how we envision being cared for, held, and nurtured as death approaches?
…why not tell each other we hold hope that those same qualities which made our lives meaningful and fulfilled will continue to serve us in the time of our dying and through the journey of our death?
And so—
…honestly, why not?
…why not be the change and lead by example through active sharing of our thoughts, hopes, and fears about end-of-life issues; inviting dialogue over a glass of wine with friends; making these conversations common place and more and more comfortable?
...can you think of a reason why not?
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
...and the Catcher will catch you...
It seems impossible that nearly a month has passed since my last writing.
Words and thougths surely have been in my head, rolling around and around, but time and inner resistance kept me from channeling them [the thoughts] onto the page.
In all fairness to myself, hospice spiritual care work has been incredibly active this summer thus keeping me much busier than I imagined or have been in the past.
The good news about that is I sense a shift in our community, or at least in the hospice and hospital staff's recognition that caring for the spirit of the dying is changing and becoming more and more important to us all.
Nursing staff are calling for support on behalf of family members as well as their dying patients. The nurses on the second floor of our small, acute care hospital are open to receiving care and comfort for themselves as they carry the often heavy burdens of sorrow for their patients and themselves in their own grief.
Yes, we are being called to care for our spirits in a new and exciting way. We are being called, more than ever before, to be more open, spacious, and responsible for our attending to the whole of one another--mind, body, and spirit!
Spending more time being with our loved ones in their dying process, attending to any unfinished business, learning to say goodbye, and remaining in the present and honoring our roles as witness to both the lives and the deaths of those we share this planet and our love will be one of our wisest gifts to our human/spiritual evolution.
I could not be more inspired to live life to my absolute potential, or to its fullest than when I am in the company and grace of someone who is nearing death. The dying share many lessons to living LIFE and it's up to us to listen, deeply, in the stillness of the hospice or hospital room, at the bedside in the privacy of their homes, or in our dreams when they come to tell us they are ok and have made the transition from this last adventure here, among us all.
In memory of my most recent teacher and friend, Norman Davis...
Norman, trust the Catcher...to catch you.. And you did, Beautifully!
In love & light,
Kim
It seems impossible that nearly a month has passed since my last writing.
Words and thougths surely have been in my head, rolling around and around, but time and inner resistance kept me from channeling them [the thoughts] onto the page.
In all fairness to myself, hospice spiritual care work has been incredibly active this summer thus keeping me much busier than I imagined or have been in the past.
The good news about that is I sense a shift in our community, or at least in the hospice and hospital staff's recognition that caring for the spirit of the dying is changing and becoming more and more important to us all.
Nursing staff are calling for support on behalf of family members as well as their dying patients. The nurses on the second floor of our small, acute care hospital are open to receiving care and comfort for themselves as they carry the often heavy burdens of sorrow for their patients and themselves in their own grief.
Yes, we are being called to care for our spirits in a new and exciting way. We are being called, more than ever before, to be more open, spacious, and responsible for our attending to the whole of one another--mind, body, and spirit!
Spending more time being with our loved ones in their dying process, attending to any unfinished business, learning to say goodbye, and remaining in the present and honoring our roles as witness to both the lives and the deaths of those we share this planet and our love will be one of our wisest gifts to our human/spiritual evolution.
I could not be more inspired to live life to my absolute potential, or to its fullest than when I am in the company and grace of someone who is nearing death. The dying share many lessons to living LIFE and it's up to us to listen, deeply, in the stillness of the hospice or hospital room, at the bedside in the privacy of their homes, or in our dreams when they come to tell us they are ok and have made the transition from this last adventure here, among us all.
In memory of my most recent teacher and friend, Norman Davis...
Norman, trust the Catcher...to catch you.. And you did, Beautifully!
In love & light,
Kim
Monday, July 24, 2006
I've had so little time to sit at the keyboard and organize thoughts into words- into sentences. For a number of weeks now, I've actually lost track of time lately, I've been supporting people in the "last adventure" of their lives.
Maria Dancing Heart, author of "The Last Adventure of Life: Sacred Resources for Transition", has helped me in ways I am only beginning to discover. Only a month ago I ordered 4 copies of her book after a soulful conversation with Maria and the book feels like an extension of my being now. I carry it everywhere, am reading it as if my universe depends upon it, and am sharing it with nearly everyone I come in contact with through my hospice work.
There is something extraordinary about this book of resource. It feels like a workbook...it reads like sacred text...it has a humble quality about it that makes it completely accessible to anyone who parts its pages...it shimmers, yes, it shimmers.
Families I've been supporting are reading it and finding comfort in the passages that lead them to their inner strength and patients are being guided by the essence of Truth that makes its way into their expanding consciousness.
I am utterly grateful to Maria Dancing Heart for her wisdom to listen between the spaces of stillness as the beauty of the universe answers our prayers for the dying...
Maria Dancing Heart, author of "The Last Adventure of Life: Sacred Resources for Transition", has helped me in ways I am only beginning to discover. Only a month ago I ordered 4 copies of her book after a soulful conversation with Maria and the book feels like an extension of my being now. I carry it everywhere, am reading it as if my universe depends upon it, and am sharing it with nearly everyone I come in contact with through my hospice work.
There is something extraordinary about this book of resource. It feels like a workbook...it reads like sacred text...it has a humble quality about it that makes it completely accessible to anyone who parts its pages...it shimmers, yes, it shimmers.
Families I've been supporting are reading it and finding comfort in the passages that lead them to their inner strength and patients are being guided by the essence of Truth that makes its way into their expanding consciousness.
I am utterly grateful to Maria Dancing Heart for her wisdom to listen between the spaces of stillness as the beauty of the universe answers our prayers for the dying...
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Ascension
And if I go,
While you're still here...
Know that I live on,
Vibrating to a different measure--behind a thin veil you cannot see through.
You will not see me,
So you must have faith.
I wait for the time when we can soar together again,
--both aware of each other.
Until then, live your life to its fullest.
And when you need me,
Just whisper my name in your heart,
...I will be there.
(Author Unknown. Poem found in The Last Adventure of Life by Maria Dancing Heart Hoaglund)
Today has been a gift.
Over and over I felt completely cracked open and experienced such a sense of Oneness...
Beauty, suffering, love, pain, the absence of fear, and joy
Yes, today has been a gift...Thank you, from the center of my heart.
Amen
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
The return of summer is an especially happy time living at the water's edge here in Belfast.
With bedroom windows wide open I woke to the distinct fragrance of the sea. More pronounced was the sound of the waves as they rocked back and forth just below our seawall.
So how is it that with such beauty and grace all around, especially in Maine's highlighted season, do so many people continue to rush about frantic to "do" the next thing?
When I notice that I am not noticing--well, that is my cue to slow down from the inside out. If I believed in sin, I'd say it was a sin not to connect with the beauty of this place, feel blessed, and in some way express my gratitude on a daily basis.
I consider myself extremely fortunate to have this degree of consciousness in my life. And I confess that for me being conscious and present to life, my surroundings, my relationships, is a "practice." Over and over I find myself shifting from distance and a sense of impersonal to a deeper awareness that I am in a moment of importance and so I have the opportunity to consciously enter the moment. My biggest teachers about awareness and conscious living have been those people whom I've work with in Hospice.
Life certainly becomes sweeter and more precious knowing that it is available to me in this form for only a certain amount of time--and no one knows what that timeframe will be. This reality helps my grasp to loosen, my ridgidity to soften and definitely my relationships to expand.
There is only one drawback that I have seen to expanded awareness and that is--that once conscious, it is nearly impossible to be unconscious any longer. So somehow this all relates, in a round about way, to my feeling alive and utterly grateful for life in this present moment.
Namaste
