Claudia Coenen - Shattered by Grief: Picking up the pieces to become WHOLE again

SHATTERED BY
GRIEF

Picking up the pieces to
become WHOLE again

CLAUDIA COENEN

Jessica Kingsley Publishers
London and Philadelphia

Contents

Preface and Acknowledgments

I have been a performer since I was four years old, and have always been comfortable on stage, in a crowd, in a circle of conversation. I have no problem telling an amusing story, acting it out with movement and changes of voice, often generating a laugh or nods of agreement. I love philosophical discussion and I love music, dance and especially human connection.

Because I am comfortable in public, talking with strangers, speaking what is on my mind, most people perceive me as an extrovert, and some even think I am a bit of an attention hog. While this may be partially true, at the core of my small person is a deeply introspective wonderer, concerned about why we are here on this planet. Even as a young teenager, I wanted to know the purpose of life, the purpose of relationships and the whys of nearly everything.

As I sit here in this latest phase of my life, I look back on many different manifestations of myself. At every turning, I have questioned the validity of what I was engaged in. I questioned the roots of the folk music I sang as a child and teen; I wanted to know how the song traveled with migrating people. I noticed the connections between lyric and melody and as a dancer, I noticed the connection between upbringing, history and even terrain on the types of movement in physical forms of expression. I wondered about it all.

Nothing prepared me for the catastrophic effects of grief. And even as I write that sentence, feeling its power and knowing the impact death had on my whole Self, I know it is simultaneously untrue. Everything prepared me to cope with the unspeakable horror of his death; even when I could not get out of bed there was a part of me that was wondering how to force myself to sit, swing one foot over the edge and step into the day. When everything felt misshapen including my body, when my heart felt squeezed into a tiny hard marble, I knew that somehow, sometime in the future, I would be able to feel complete again.

This book has been in process for 12 years, although its shape has morphed and its content has been enhanced by the experiences of other people experiencing death, not just me. As I write, I look back on the journals I have kept in the time of my own bereavement, in which I attempted to figure out the whys of this tragedy and what to do about it. I have also gone back to older books, mining those notebooks or at least the ones that have survived my 60 plus years of life.

What I find when I delve into my own musings is an overarching theme of connection, disruption and rebuilding. Starting again, beginning something new, trying different career paths and, more importantly, different modes of expressing my inner world, seems to be the leitmotif of my life. This book is an exploration of just thatmy life was moving along in a fairly positive way when it suddenly imploded. Even in the midst of its devastation, I knew that I had to rebuild it and to try to make it even better than before.

I am so grateful to the people I love and who love me. I am grateful for my wonderful children, Chlo Coenen Mickel, Eben Coenen and Ilana Coenen. These three amazing humans also suffered an extreme loss at a young age and still have maintained their sense of wonder in the world. They each have used their pain to inform how they live and engage in the world. I see the influence of their father in their life choices. My sisters, particularly Jennifer Strohm and Maggie Hartley, have been my strength when I could not stand. Albys sister, Nancy Coenen, even in the midst of her own deep sorrow over the loss of her brother, has helped enormously by continuing to be the loving aunt and another sisterly support for me. My youngest sister, Emily-Kate Niskey, has been an inspiration as she drew her way through her own struggle with breast cancer, choosing to remain positive with its aftermath. My dear brother, Jono Berger, and my other brothers, Bill Strohm, Dan Hannaburgh, and Forrest Hartley (in-law but brothers in fact), showed up, mowed the lawn, fixed things, hung out with the kids, represented Alby at important events, and sat with me many times, simply listening, even when I was silent. Everyone in our familynieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, and unclesloved Alby and were affected by his death. They rallied around me even when they did not necessarily know what to do or say.

I am grateful for my stalwart friends, Alice Nuccio, Riva Weinstein, Lori Patricola and Darrah Cloud. Not only did they hold me up, they also protected me. Lori and Alice arranged so many things I didnt even know about and thought were magically happening, like our meals which just arrived or extra staffing for my business, and most of the arrangement for the Celebration of Albys life. Riva and I always share deep conversation about love and life, which keeps me sane. Darrah, who is a writer and a professor of creative writing, is always there to make me laugh or to pull together a ceremony or two and to edit my jumbled up work before I actually send it off to my editor.

Georgann Stewart and Eric Stand have always provided emotional sustenance to all of us since before the kids were born. I consider Georg my parenting guru; she listened and offered wisdom when I needed it. Erics gentle, laconic and musical presence is always encouraging.

Id also like to thank my two oldest friends, both Deborahs. I cant actually remember a time when I was not friends with Deborah Koff-Chapin, since we met when I was three. She has always been an inspiring force and her art expands my life. A pioneer in connecting soul and intuitive art, Deborah discovered her touch drawing process on her last day at Cooper Union when she was cleaning a lithograph plate. She travels the world conducting trainings, retreats and workshops in this deep process and I am proud to say I was there at its inception, when I would dance in her studio as she drew, fine tuning her new method of art-making. The eight touch drawings she sent me right after Alby died are so powerful I can only look at them for short periods of time. Deborah opens up compassion and creativity for people all over the world and I am so happy to have her as my friend. My other Deb, Deborah Mesibov, and I have been friends since we were five and share a bond that cannot be broken. She can look over at me and understand completely what I am thinking. She reminds me of who I am and where I have been because she has been there with me.

The shape of this book, while rooted in personal experience, would not be possible were it not for my mentors at the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology, Nancy Rowe, Anin Utegard, and Dorit Netzger. My professor at Brooklyn College, Dr. David Balk, encouraged me to pursue my career as a bereavement counselor and guided me towards certification through the Association of Death Education and Counseling. Thank you to Dr. Robert Neimeyer, who has been influential, in his theories, writing and teaching as well as providing personal encouragement.

I am also grateful for my mentors at Holy Name Hospice in New Jersey: social workers Amy Kotliar, Michelle Gardiner and Sandra Guzman, who taught me so much about counseling and sensitivity. All my colleagues challenged and supported me during the years we worked together to help our patients and their families. The spiritual counselors and the amazing nursing staff, especially at the Villa Marie Claire Hospice, enhanced what Alby had taught me about compassion. And thanks to Anne Lamana Smith, MA, who got me the job!