by Benjamin Allen | May 14, 2014 | reflections on grief, reflections on grief recovery, reintegration after loss
Technically, the term “walkabout” is what the Australian Aborigines youth do as a right of passage. They spend six months immersed in their lineage on a spiritual quest. I use the term walkabout as what I do in my wanderings in the Afterloss. It is a wandering through...
by Benjamin Allen | May 13, 2014 | reflections on grief, reflections on grief recovery, reintegration after loss
He did not live to see his first year, but I honor every year on the very first day I held him and the first day he held me. Our dance was so brief, but our song continues. He lived on this earth for eight and a half months and lives in me every day. When Bryan died...
by Benjamin Allen | May 9, 2014 | reflections on grief, reflections on grief recovery, reintegration after loss
In the initial shock, I went into remote control just doing the next thing. Holding my child. Making the call to my brother. Calling the hospice nurse. Holding my child. Calling his grandparents. Calling the funeral director. Holding my child. No matter how much...
by Benjamin Allen | May 8, 2014 | reflections on grief, reflections on grief recovery, reintegration after loss
She and I share many commonalities, but two of the most familiar on this path are loss and life. I, too, have said on many occasions to other people, “I just don’t think I fit here anymore.” Our conversation was about thirty minutes ago and I’ve been reflecting on...
by Benjamin Allen | May 7, 2014 | reflections on grief, reflections on grief recovery, reintegration after loss
I wish there was a roadmap in my Afterloss. I wish I knew what I needed to do when my world first imploded. It would have been nice to know the pain was going to last for a certain amount of time and then it would be okay. From the first moment to this moment I have...
by Benjamin Allen | May 6, 2014 | reflections on grief, reflections on grief recovery, reintegration after loss
I sat next Matt in the ICU that night. We lived life in seconds, in short rapid breaths, in love. He held my index finger. He held my heart. And I begged him to hold on. I matched the rapid rhythm of his breath, the short palpitations, the gasping for air. On that...
