Connecting through grief, Death, Gratitude, Grief, Mother Loss, Motherless Daughter, Moving forward after loss, Podcasts

5 Podcasts I Recommend for Motherless Daughters

One of my new favorite things are podcasts. I love that I can select a topic I’m particularly interested in, search for online discussions on that topic, say, the craft of writing, inspirational women’s stories or conversations around grief, and several podcasts will pop up for me to choose from with an entire thirty minutes to an hour dedicated to my chosen topic. During this pandemic when people are advised to stay home it is a perfect time to explore our podcast options, most of which we can access on our phones or laptops. We don’t have a television in our house and these days I’m avoiding the news and radio stations apart from those dedicated to music, because I need a break from overwhelming, unsettling broadcasts about the global pandemic. I stay informed but I’m selective, in order to keep anxiety and fear at bay. While we look out for the most vulnerable in our communities and make extra efforts to stay in touch with our loved ones, we must also practice kindness for ourselves.

One way to take a break is to schedule in an hour for yourself, some time in the day, where you can listen to a podcast episode. There are so many amazing podcasts out there, with talented, empathic hosts and I just love to tune in when I’m preparing lunch in the kitchen, settling down with a mug of hot tea in the evening or when I allow myself the time to take a warm Epsom salt bath. Sometimes I’ll play an episode while I’m outside tending to the garden or sitting on the deck as our spring blossoms burst forth. I welcome the soothing voices of these hosts and their guests and am eager to learn from their experiences. In this blog I’m delighted to share a few of my favorites. Although these particular podcasts aren’t specifically tailored towards motherless women, I think many will gain some level of comfort and wisdom from the episodes. I believe that anybody grieving the loss of a significant other will draw reassurance from these shared stories, and for people wishing to support grieving loved ones, many helpful suggestions are offered.

Here are five of my current favorites, in no particular order.

  1. Widowed Parent Podcast hosted by Jenny Lisk

Host, Jenny Lisk, is doing a fabulous job interviewing widowed parents, experts in the field of grief and people who lost a parent when they were young, for her podcast. Jenny’s webpage is clear and accessible. She has a wonderful ‘Start Here‘ page where episodes of the show are clearly divided into sections, with guests’ names listed alongside numbered episodes. Episode 35 is a discussion with Allison Gilbert on keeping memories of our loved ones alive. In episode 54 we listen as Brennan Wood, Executive Director at The Dougy Center for Grieving Children & Families speaks about her own personal loss. And in episode 48 I tell my story of losing my mother when I was eleven and how her death has continued to impact my life to this day. There is something for everyone in this podcast including short “pandemic special” episodes like this one with Buffy Peters of Hamilton’s Academy of Grief and Loss.

2. Moving Beyond hosted by Psychic Medium Fleur and Grief Therapist Claire Bidwell Smith

This is a relatively new podcast and I love it. I attended a motherless daughter’s retreat with Claire a few years ago in Ojai and I’ve read and love all of her books. I’ve also seen Medium Fleur here in Portland, Oregon when she came to town for an event, the results of which blew my mind. In this podcast Claire offers tools to assist a person during their grief and then we experience a psychic mediumship session as Fleur connects each person with a loved one in the spirit world. I have not had a reading with Fleur but someday in the future I hope to. Check out this podcast if you’re curious about the after life. It’s both comforting and mind-blowing.

3. Grief Gratitude and Greatness hosted by Sarah Shaoul

Sarah Shaoul has a beautiful, gentle voice and I could listen to her interview guests for hours at a time, and I have. I’ve listened to a few of these episodes back to back as Sarah thoughtfully raises questions about lessons associated with guest’s experiences. Each episode is varied as this podcast explores the different ways people grieve with a focus on the gratitude that allows us to keep going following a loss. In this episode Frances Badalamenti discusses becoming a mother as she loses hers.

4. Unlocking Us hosted by Brene Brown

I know most of you already know who Brene Brown is. Professor, lecturer and author of several best-selling books, Brene has spent her career studying courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy. But did you know she has a podcast? And it’s so good! This particular episode with grief expert David Kessler, reveals what he has learned about love, loss, and finding meaning in his grief. An enlightening, comforting episode, I intend to listen to this one again and again.

5. Grief Out Loud hosted by Jana DeCristofaro and produced by The Dougy Center for Grieving Children & Families in Portland, Oregon

The Dougy Center provides support for children, teens, young adults, and their families grieving a death. They offer support and training locally, nationally, and internationally to individuals and organizations seeking to assist children in grief. This illuminating podcast offers a wide mix of personal stories, tips for supporting anybody grieving a loss and interviews with bereavement professionals. There are so many episodes worth listening to here, but if you are looking for one that addresses mother’s day, as it fast approaches, try episode 13 titled Grieving Through Mother’s Day.

I hope you find these interesting and helpful! Let me know in the comments below what you think and please feel free to share some of your favorite podcasts on the topic of mother loss and grief. Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.

Take care, Carmel X

“The most basic of all human needs is to understand and be understood. The best way to understand people is to listen to them.” Ralph Nichols

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After Mother Loss, Childhood grief, Connecting through grief, Death, Grief, Mother Loss, Motherless Daughter, Talking grief

My Mother Is Dead but I Still Want to Talk About Her

Dear readers, let me be clear here. My mother is dead and I still want to talk about her, but that doesn’t mean I always want to talk about her. I don’t want my friends who read this thinking they should bring up Mam’s name during every conversation just because I’ve written this blog. Obviously, there is no need to bring her into every discussion, so, before you decide to run in the other direction when next we meet, for fear of not knowing whether or not to bring up my mother, please read on.

Before I began writing about my experiences of early mother loss I didn’t have many opportunities to talk about Mam. At home, with my father and brother, I could talk about her all I wanted. They were always open to sharing memories, answering questions and thumbing through photographs with me, and this helped a lot as I navigated my grief journey. But I wanted to talk about Mam out in the world too. For several years I didn’t speak about her, because it’s hard to bring your dead mother into casual everyday conversations. People feel awkward when the subject of death comes up. They don’t know what to say or how to respond. Discussions fall flat, people stare at their cuticles as if never having seen them before. The floor is suddenly incredibly interesting, or someone has to dash off somewhere very fast.

All those times in my life when my companions or classmates got to celebrate their mothers or complain about them, casually call them on the phone, praise and adore them, in my presence, I too, longed to talk about Mam, but couldn’t. And it hurt to the core, over and over again. So, now I’m writing about my mother on Facebook; in my memoir (in-progress), Briefly I Knew My Mother; on this blog, and through the stories I’ve shared people have gotten to know Kathleen a little.

I write to connect with others who know what it’s like to lose someone very special. It’s important for me to build community with motherless daughters and especially with women whose mothers died when they were children. And I write to keep my mother’s memory alive. As long as we say their names, the people who have died live on.

On March 2, 2020, thirty two years after Mam’s death, I posted one of my favorite black and white photographs of my mother on social media. In the picture she is glowing, offering the photographer her radiant smile. Beneath the photo I wrote a few lines about it being her death anniversary and to my delight I received some kind comments about my mother and the anniversary of her death. My friend, Steve, posted “Through you Carmel, we love mam too” and his words touched me deeply, because if I have given others an idea of the woman my mother was, so many years after she died, I have accomplished something beautiful, something significant and worthwhile. Writing about her and sharing special stories from my memories of growing up as her daughter, allows me to feel connected to my mother in ways that nobody else can. As Kathleen’s daughter I carry her with me in this world everyday.

I wish my mother didn’t get sick and die when I was only 11, and though I want to talk about her and tell stories with her in them, because she died when I was so young, I don’t have an abundance of stories. I remember a lot, more than most of my friends remember, and yet it’s not enough. I know little to nothing about her childhood or her teenage years or the time before she met my father and I never got to know her from any perspective other than a child’s. This is one of the heartbreaking things I hear frequently from women who lost their mothers early in life. We want to hear stories of our mothers from those who have them. Shared stories are a gift to both the teller, and to the person listening.

My friend, Mari, posted a comment beneath the photograph on March 2. She offered simply and with such heart “I’m so sorry that she died – and so grateful for the life she gave you.” How beautiful to receive a direct, love-filled message like this! As one of two founding members of the Grief Rites Foundation, Mari is not afraid to use the word “died”. My mother died and we can say the word. In all the years since Mam’s death less than a handful of people have actually said the words “I’m so sorry that your mother died.” I didn’t realize this (and I write about grief and death regularly) until I read Mari’s comment and it made a powerful impact on me. I knew she got it. She understood.

As with every blog I write I hope something on this page resonates with my readers, those of you who have lost a loved one and people looking to know how to support a grieving friend. Often a listening ear is all that is needed, a few minutes to talk, a chance to process something out loud. When you speak from a place of love and acknowledge a person’s situation honestly, you are doing it right. Thank you all for being in my life. We are here, but for a fleeting moment in time.

“Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.” – George Eliot

Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.

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After Mother Loss, Death, Grief, Grief Writing, Love, Mother Loss, Motherless Daughter, Moving forward after loss

Moving Forward After Mother Loss

We can’t go back in time. We can only move forward. Moment to moment. There is no changing what has happened no matter how much we want the outcome to be different. And in standing still, which we may do for a while, there can be no growth. Our bodies and spirits gravitate towards recovery and healing so eventually we must move in that direction, but it can take a long time, and a lot of effort. How do we activate our healing when all we want to do is cry? When all we want is for the person we have lost to reappear and hold us and tell us everything is okay, just as it was before, but better because we now know what it feels like to lose them and the most amazing feeling ever would be to have them back.

Well, crying is a good step. Crying is a release and it is healing. I didn’t cry all that much in the first decade following my mother’s death. I cried in the second decade, and into the third. So, I know that grieving is a process and that it can present itself throughout our lives depending on circumstances. I’ve lived some of the happiest days of my life in the years since my mother died, but I’ve also lived black days. Days where I couldn’t stop crying, staring at the photo of Mam on my fridge, imploring “Where are you? Are you here? Why did this have to happen to us? I neeeeed you!”

This is the journey of life. The days of cherry blossoms and playful baby goats; warm sunshine kissing bare skin; a comforting hug from someone you love; the fragrance of spring in the violet-blue hyacinths on your coffee table, but also, the sorrow that wells up inside you when the scent of nail polish takes you right back to the days of sitting beside your long-dead mother as she delicately painted your tiny fingernails.

What do we do? We move forward, reaching for the pleasant gifts of life. We must, if we are to survive.

Cheryl Strayed quoted her mother in her stunning book ”Wild when she said:

“There’s always a sunrise and always a sunset and it’s up to you to choose to be there for it,’ said my mother. ‘Put yourself in the way of beauty.”

Is it easy? Not always. Is it possible? Yes.

Following tragedy we will never be the same person we were beforehand. Gathering all of the shredded pieces of ourselves together we gradually become who we need to be as we take our next steps. We learn as we go along, figuring out what works for us, facing adversity head on and sometimes crying. Moment to moment.

Throughout my life many of the universe’s gifts have inspired me to step from one moment into the next. After my mother died it was my father’s love and devotion towards my brother and me that kept me afloat. His love for us gave me something to hold on to. I didn’t lose all hope in the world, though my innocence was shattered at an early age. One caring and devoted adult in a child’s life can make all the difference. My brother and I were blessed with a wonderful dad.

I had close friends in school who cared about me and the laughter we shared, even on the toughest days, allowed a lightness to enter my being when otherwise it could not. Laughter is an instant release from those thoughts that cause pain. One of my closest friends, Tara, could always make me laugh. I needed her compassionate spirit close to me in school following my mother’s death, and we gravitated towards one another no matter how much our teachers tried to pry us apart. I will never understand why it was more important to my teachers that I concentrate on my math or my writing than it was that I laugh with my pal in the aftermath of such tragedy. My work was exemplary. I loved to write and read and my teachers had no reason to worry about that side of things. School granted me a chance to interact with my friends and I needed those interactions. I was only eleven. Plenty of time for austerity. Laughter is one of the best prescriptions for wellness. As a teacher of young children I laughed a lot when I was in the classroom with them. I encouraged laughter and joy more than anything. What a gift little ones are! They remind us to pay attention to the simplest of life’s blessings.

Making art, creating, writing, dancing, singing; all of these things can save a person. Find that which your soul is drawn to and give yourself the time and space to dive right in. Art lifts you out of the analytical thinking left brain and drops you into the expressive, imaginative right brain where you can let go of the pain for a while. Writing has always been my go-to and when I gave myself the time and permission to write about Mam’s illness and death in Briefly I Knew My Mother a weight so heavy and burdensome lifted. My mother loved to dance and sing so these activities not only bring me joy they bring me closer to her.

I know that sometimes none of this will seem to matter. We are too heartbroken and devastated to consider stepping towards anything that removes us from thinking of the person we have lost. There are times when all we want is that person back. I understand. I so completely understand. The void we experience following a loss often feels like too much to bear.

It takes time. That’s why we must be kind to ourselves and listen to what our soul is trying to tell us. Our inner voice knows what we need. Laughter is an instant release. It creates space. Friends give us comfort. Take everything moment to moment. But we must do the work. When we are ready it is ultimately up to us.

Nature offers us many gifts. I am always calmer following a walk in the forest. Regularly I crave a warm lake in which to float, releasing myself to the water as it carries me along. Our universe is rich with beauty. When we give ourselves to it our souls respond to the sweet magnificence of the hummingbird, the soft comforting warmth of a furry family pet and the immense strength of the redwood tree.

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In March of this year my mother will be dead thirty years. It’s an astonishing amount of time. Life threw my family a tremendous burden and a whole lot of heartbreak when we were all just starting off together as a little family. It’s not fair. But what in life is?

In those thirty years since I have lived sad times, bewildering times and happy joyful times. Some years propose questions and other years offer answers.

Moment to moment we can allow the answers to filter through, be it in stillness or art, writing or friendship. Look for that door, the one that appeals to you, the one that draws you over, and then when you’re ready to step on through, open it. Take all that you need with you on your next journey: your memories, the love you’ll always carry for the person you’ve lost, and breathe deeply as you go. Joy and beauty will greet you on the other side, showing up in your art, your words and your song, in the garden, on a hike, in another person’s smile. We are part of all that is. It is a great mystery but one that we are in together. The grief journey is gut-wrenching at the worst of times, but our lives are richer for the love we have experienced. Take it moment to moment, that’s all we can do. Then reach for that door handle. And visualize what you want to find on the other side!

Much love,

Carmel X

Like or follow my public Facebook page here where I frequently post articles, quotes & information about mother loss, grief and the writing process.

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“May my heart be kind, my mind fierce, and my spirit brave.” – Kath Forsyth, The Witches of Eileanan
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