The unexpected and accidental death of this popular TV conservationist (who was killed by a stingray’s poisonous barb this morning while filming) is such a shock! My heart goes out to his family.
To lose a loved one without warning is excruciating – it doesn’t matter if it is an accident or a suicide or a murder. To suddenly not have that person in your life anymore is mind numbing. You are left with so much you want to say – need to say. “Goodbye,” for one. “I love you,” for another. You feel robbed of growing old with that person and robbed of creating more memories together. It feels like such a rotten deal and hurts almost too much to bear. You just want them back – want to hug them again – see them smile or laugh, or even cry once again.
You CAN survive the shock and intense mixed feelings of losing someone, and you CAN put yourself in touch with your grief and allow yourself to address it.
Later, when you are ready, one of the ways to heal yourself through grief is to allow your thoughts to revisit your memories and your experiences. If you’ve recently experienced a loss you could write about it, or write about your remembrances with the deceased. Or if writing isn’t suited to your personality, perhaps talking into a tape recorder is, or speaking with someone you trust. All of these can be beautiful releases. Allow yourself to go into as much detail as you possibly can. You might be surprised at how difficult this undertaking is. It’s an emotional and painful process with rich rewards. I promise!
You could start with, “How did I feel when I heard the news?” or “What was left unsaid?”
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend –
The unsolved mystery of the death of Cindy James
After my sister’s death I felt I had lost a mirror for my heart and had wanted to keep connected to her. So for 17 years I cherished photos of Cindy James – and photos of us together – and kept special mementos and belongings. I even wore some of her clothes for a while because in wearing them I felt closer to her. And sometimes I revisited the clothes and ran my fingers through the material and smelled their familiar scent. This important ritual did wonders to soothe my tortured soul! (For me, even wearing Cindy’s favorite color, purple, allowed me to feel close to her.) Over time I was able to say goodbye to some things and let go.
Several years ago the police passed on to my parents the clothing Cindy wore on the day she died. When I found out dad had thrown it all away, I was devastated. He said the smell and the constant reminder of Cindy’s tragedy caused him to chuck it out. But I would have taken it all, just in case there was forensic evidence that could have been reevaluated in today’s modern labs. Then I wondered if there was ANY evidence, like hair or fibers, left in the police files (which I found out were closed as “suicide” even though they were supposed to remain open because of the undetermined verdict at the inquest). In fact, was there anything left of Cindy, anywhere? We had cremated her so I assumed all vestiges of Cindy were now long gone.
Well, I was wrong! – Before me is a three-inch-long lock of Cindy’s golden hair, sealed in a plastic bag, at the back of a photo album recently put together just for me. Someone who also loved Cindy mailed it to me. So here I sit with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I’m overwhelmed. I wasn’t expecting the hair to be there. So excuse me as I take the time to gently run my fingers over the hair, and slowly devour the album one photo at a time.
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend –
The unsolved mystery of the death of Cindy James
I just found out that a friend’s husband went missing a day and a half ago. An experienced rider, he went out for an evening bike ride in the wilderness and hasn’t been seen since. I can empathize with the shock and distress the family is feeling right now, not knowing if he is hurt and unable to reach help, if he is lost – or worse.
It is stunning news to be told your loved one is missing. It seems so unreal – a nightmare that blankets you with numbness and fills you with anxiety and panic, while catapulting you into a state of excruciating limbo. Time stops and life suddenly feels as if it is playing in slow motion. You don’t want to believe this is happening and you feel helpless as you wait for news. Your brain is overwhelmed with constant thoughts of the missing person – you desperately want to know where they are and you hope and pray they are OK. You experience uncontrollable chills, shivering, shaking – and not from being cold. And you have trouble eating because food seems repulsive. And sleeping, well, that seems impossible.
It’s OK to cry – you don’t have to hide what you are feeling. And it’s OK to talk about your feelings – find someone you trust who will listen when you need to talk.
This must be hard for you. I want you to know I’m here, and I want to listen. Take all the time you need.
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend –
The unsolved mystery of the death of Cindy James
I’ve spent years trying to figure out what happened to my sister, Cindy James. She endured seven years of attacks and harassment from an unknown assailant before her tied-up body was discovered beside an abandoned house.
I was devastated and confused, unable to understand what had happened to her, and just wanted her back (if only for a few minutes, I pleaded to the universe) But I found myself pulled along an incredible journey. Not only a journey of healing, but a quest for the truth in what happened to her.
I was shocked when I uncovered secrets and hidden papers – information nobody had – and her story was examined at the longest and most expensive inquest in British Columbia history! So I decided to write a book and tell her tragic, true story, just like she wanted me to. You see, I had a dream…well that’s another Blog. So I’m sharing with you what I learned along the way – what Cindy wants you to know about her life and death – what she wants you to know about your life too – what society NEEDS to know!
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend –
The unsolved mystery of the death of Cindy James