Grief Tranformation: Five years ago my husband, Hurley Cox, died

Grief Transformation
July 28, 2010

Five years ago, my husband died.

Just as with any anniversary there is an opportunity to reflect, looking into the past, present and future. In case you are new to my blogs, I want to lay a foundation. I believe that life goes on after we physically die. I feel my husband with me on a regular basis. Any crap that might have been a part of our relationship is gone. I feel support, love and blessings from him. He is one of my guardian angels. When I speak of loss or sadness, I am talking about loss of the physical presence. I miss his physical presence.

I am feeling deep sadness this year and I just want to sink into the feelings and be with them, talk about them, and allow the process to unfold.

Five years.

At the 1st anniversary of Hurley's death, a group of 40+ family and friends gathered at our home. I had been ordained as a minister of spiritual peacemaking a few months earlier. We had a ceremony with peace prayers and created an emissary wheel with rocks. When it was complete we stood in a circle holding hands in silence. Even the dogs who had been running back and forth across the rocks came to a halt and sat in silence.

After a short break, we gathered once more that day for a simple ceremony in the garden.  I read a Hopi prayer.  It starts with, "Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep... After that I placed a handful of the ashes of Hurley and Cooper (my son who had died 13 years earlier) into a hole for the planting of a peace pole.  The garden in that area had roses all in full bloom.  Passionate kisses, Love's Promise, Peace, Glowing Peace, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the Mary Rose.  After I had placed the ashes into the ground, my brother shouted and pointed, "There is a hawk."  Sure enough, on cue, a hawk approached our location flying from the east to the west.  It flew straight toward us, circled over our heads and turned to fly into the north.  Amazing! We finished by singing Let There Be Peace on Earth and saying a short prayer.

Hurley was a falconer and Cooper was named for a Cooper's Hawk.

2nd Anniversary: Hannah and I drove two hours to Philadelphia. The next day was our first Jonas Brothers concert. Little did I know that that was the first of many JB concerts (78 so far)! I felt Hurley with me as we watched our baby girl connect to life again.

3rd Anniversary: Hannah and I drove 10,000 miles that summer.  I felt so connected to Hurley that summer.  I felt like he was leading me to incredible sacred places and was right there cheering me on to live life fully. On the anniversary we were back at the house for a few days and I was surrounded by four weeks of mail. I sat quietly that evening and felt the deep connection.

4th Anniversary: It was a magical day, a hummingbird day. Hannah and I were in St. Louis on a summer tour of 45 Jonas concerts. We won tickets to the concert that day, met people we still keep in touch with on Facebook and Twitter, received meet and greet passes. I thought about all of the things I appreciated about my husband and felt the glow of a magical day.

5th Anniversary: This feels like a milestone marker. How could five years have passed already? I think the sadness is deeper because Hannah and I moved into a new apt and Hurley isn't moving in here with us. My name is on the lease. This is not a hotel or a hostel or anything connected with traveling. This is our home. And he is not here.

I think any loss is hard. I have lost a brother, a child, grandparents, friends and a husband. It always hurts. There is always pain.

As I reflect today, I feel that the most difficult losses for me are when the loss of the person turns my entire life upside down. Losing my life partner meant that everything changed in my life. When Hurley died, I let go of his business and our home. I let go of Girl Scouts and Destination Imagination and all of the other things I coordinated with home schooling. I let go of community gatherings at my home. I needed to think about getting a job or building a business that would support my family.

The foundation of who I am is still inside of me. I am who I am.

And my life is changing radically. I moved across the country because I felt a deep calling to do that. I continue to peel away the grief to discover the parts of me that want to emerge now. I connect on Facebook but I am giving myself the time and space to feel empty. Open and willing to welcome the new.

 I have been in California for six months. I love it in the same way I have always loved it when I have visited. I was born in Oceanside in a Naval hospital. We moved away when I was 3 or 4 years old. I have now returned to the state of my birth. Hannah feels a strong connection here. And interestingly enough, Hurley was exploring moving to California to become an actor when I first met him in 1989.

I will walk on the beach in Santa Monica and Venice today and go to the Agape Spiritual Center for the Wed night service. Hannah does not want to talk about the loss of her Dad. She will find her own way, in her own time. Liz and Mary have their own lives in Arizona and NYC and will grieve in their own way today, too.

I end with one of Hurley's favorite songs from one of his favorite movies. Many metaphors in the words and the film. I always thought it was curious that Hannah would watch this with him when she was only five years old. Although this has the world blowing up, there was a rebirth on the other end of it. The hummingbirds survived.

Blessings to you all in love and life. Embrace the adventure.

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