grief Archives - Lisa Manterfield

May 15, 2017 - Lisa Manterfield 2 Comments

Weird Things That Happen When Someone You Love Dies

I was 15 when my dad died suddenly and unexpectedly. None of us is ever prepared for this kind of loss, and I was no exception, but I was surprised by some of the strange experiences that came along with grief. Only much later did I understand that almost anything extraordinary is “normal” when it comes to grief. Here are a few weird things that happened to me:

Every time the phone rings, you’re sure it will be them

It takes the brain a long time to process the idea that someone who has been there since the moment of your birth is suddenly gone. Every time the phone rang or there was an unexpected knock at the door, my first thought was always, “Oh, it’s my dad.” My adrenaline would start flowing and it would take several seconds for my grief-addled brain to catch up and realize that it couldn’t possibly be him.

The experience was worsened when, on the day of my dad’s funeral, I answered the door to find him standing there. It took me a lot longer than a few seconds to realize that the man on the doorstep was my dad’s younger brother, who’d I never met in person and who happened to bear an uncanny resemblance.

It’s a wonder the shock didn’t kill me.

Flippant expressions sting like hell

And speaking of flippant expressions like “It’s a wonder the shock didn’t kill me”, only when someone you love dies do you realize how often people use death-related expressions in daily life. “Don’t have a stroke”, “The good die young”, and “It’s like a cancer” all take on a different meaning when they happen to your loved one. “I almost had a heart attack” was an expression used often by many of my friends, but it stung like hell to hear it after my dad actually did have one.

Random items that belonged to your loved one suddenly take on new meaning

It’s been over 30 years since my dad’s death and I still have the travel alarm clock he woke up to every morning. It doesn’t work and I don’t even keep it on display, but I will never part with it. Same goes for the monogrammed handkerchiefs into which he always blew his nose. My dad won trophies for running and was an avid gardener, but it’s the clock and the hankies that suddenly became significant.

In my collection of worthless, but priceless, treasures, I have costume jewelry brooches from each of my grandmothers and a miniature ceramic teapot that belonged to my auntie. These items have become hugely significant to me.

Even if you don’t believe in the paranormal, you’ll get messages from the other side

You think about your loved one all the time in the weeks after their death. You’ll probably talk to them a lot, too. Then one day, as you’re walking down the street, you’ll recall a fond memory and in that instant, the sun will peek out from behind a cloud and shine on you. And you’ll know, I mean absolutely know without a doubt, that it’s a sign that your departed is thinking about you.

About six months after my dad passed away, my mother and I adopted our first cat. The cat had been abandoned, taken in by a relative of my friend, but hadn’t settled with the cats she already had. My friend couldn’t take the kitten, and so by a series of random events, Smudge came into our lives. One day, Smudge looked at me in a way that made me speculate if he could be the reincarnation of my dad. Crazy, right? Perhaps, but the possibility gave me a lot of comfort.

One day you wake up and can’t remember what they looked like

The dead never age. My mother is almost 85 now. She has white hair and her body has lost its strength. But my dad will always be young and vibrant, his body lean and strong from running, and his face slender and tanned.

For a long time, I couldn’t shake off the images of the last time I saw him on the night he died. But over time, I replaced those with fonder memories of him at the beach or walking in the hills. I’m no longer sure if I remember him this way in real life or just from the photographs I have. But I do know that there were days when I woke up and could not remember what he looked like. Those were terrible moments, filled with panic. But they passed because you never really do forget.

You never fully get over losing someone

Losing someone you love changes you forever. You immediately feel like you don’t fit in, that you are the sole member of a club that even your closest friends aren’t eligible to join. Eventually, you learn to live without your loved one, you get on with your life, and you even love other people. You don’t drag around your grief forever.

But you never really get over losing that person. You always have a little hole in your soul that no one else can ever fill. But somehow you learn to live around it.

March 13, 2017 - Lisa Manterfield 4 Comments

Remembering to Savor the Moments

Things are suddenly getting very real around here. After months (okay, years) of writing and revising A Strange Companion, it’s suddenly a real book.

I know it’s a real book because:

It’s available for pre-order on the major bookseller sites.
A printed proof arrived and I have held it in my hand.
I’m throwing a Publication Party, and I couldn’t do that without a real, published book.

It’s all been a bit of a whirlwind these past few weeks and I’ve been living or dying by the task list. I’ve eaten meals but, more than once, I’ve looked at my empty plate with no recollection of cutting, chewing, or swallowing food. My husband has asked me questions and I’ve found myself staring at him as if he’s speaking an alien language, while my brain spins to catch up. If someone asked me my plans for the weekend, I’d say, “Oh, nothing special,” but I’d be thinking, Duh. I’m working on my book!

I think it’s supposed to be this way. A book launch is supposed to be a crazy time of preparation, of dotting i’s and crossing t’s, of smoothing the way for the shiny new book to burst out into the world.

As insane as it’s been, it’s also been a lot of fun. I’ve had some incredible moments, such as:

The moment I finished inputting the proofreader’s final edits and realized I’d never have to read this book again. (I still love it; I just don’t want to read it again for a very long time. Plus, I know what happens at the end!)
The day I arrived home to find the printer’s first proof copy sitting on my doorstep.
When I read the first review and realized that someone other than me and the people who care about me loved my book.

So, in all the swirling madness, it’s these moments that I’m trying to remember and savor.

Now for some details:

If you’d like to pre-order the book, grab it by April 3^rdfor a special bonus gift. All that information is here.

Here’s the wonderful first review I received from The Reading Wolf.

Here’s my video of the unboxing of the proof.

And, if you happen to be in the L.A. area, I would love for you to join me at my Publication Party. It’s at {pages} a bookstore in Manhattan Beach. 7 pm, Friday, April 7^th. There’ll be drinks and hors d’oeuvres. And of course, there’ll be the closest thing I can find to Owen’s legendary chocolate cake. (And if you’ve no idea what I’m talking about, you’d better take a look at the sneak peek of the book here.)

February 13, 2017 - Lisa Manterfield 3 Comments

For Those Who Don’t Love Valentine’s Day

It wasn’t until I hurried into the card shop to buy a birthday card for my brother that I realized I was going to be solo for Valentine’s Day this year. Mr. Fab had made travel plans and when he’d asked if we had any conflicts on the calendar for those days, I’d said no.

The thing is, we really don’t make a big fuss out of Valentine’s Day. We don’t join the throngs of couples in local restaurants and we often poo-poo the whole thing as over-commercialized nonsense. But now that we couldn’t celebrate together, the occasion suddenly seemed more important and I was disappointed we’d be spending the day alone.

I’ve always had an odd relationship with Valentine’s Day. As a girl, I loved it. The British custom of giving cards was a little different to the U.S. custom of handing cards to everyone you care about—friends, siblings, parents, and teachers. Growing up, Valentine’s cards were sent anonymously, an annual chance for secret admirers to overcome awkwardness and tell someone they fancied them. The fun came in using detective skills, analyzing postmarks and handwriting to guess the identity of the sender, both of which the truly bashful worked hard to disguise.

There was a fly in my romantic ointment. My dad hated Valentine’s Day. His father had died on February 14th several years before I was born, and my dad didn’t even like to hear word of any joy on that day. I was sad about my granddad’s death, but I’d never even met him and it didn’t seem fair that my happiness should have to suffer. I also suspected that my dad might be using it as an excuse to express his displeasure at his young daughter being courted by boys. So, on Valentine’s morning, I’d listen for the postman and sneak downstairs to rescue my cards before my dad could rain on my parade.

Only years later did I come to understand how hard that day must have been for my dad. No matter how much time passes and how well we do with moving past our grief, anniversaries can remain painful for a long time, even more so when they fall on days when others are celebrating.

Had I been older or had the benefit of hindsight, I might have reached out for my dad, instead of being annoyed at his grumpiness. I might have suggested we go the cemetery on Valentine’s Day and taken my granddad a red rose. It’s too late for that now, but the experience has made me aware that, for people grieving lost loved ones, or those spending the day alone, it might not always be a happy Valentine’s Day.

January 30, 2017 - Lisa Manterfield 4 Comments

The Strange Course of Grief

My dad passed away more than 30 years ago and there was a time I thought I would never get over losing him. It seemed as if everything I did and everything that happened to me was filtered through that loss. I felt, at 15, that people looked at me differently and that it was obvious to everyone that I was different.

For a long time, I couldn’t talk about what had happened without my voice catching in my throat and my face burning. In fact, I think it was close to a decade before I could talk about my dad at all without having to forcibly keep my emotions under control.

Even now, after all this time has passed, I often find that my grief for other losses is amplified. On several occasions, I’ve been to funerals for distant relatives or acquaintances, people whose passing shouldn’t leave a significant hole in my life, and found myself disproportionately upset.

Sometimes people ask how long it takes to recover from a loss and I always think it’s like asking, “How long is a piece of string?” It takes as long as it takes and, even though our society seems to have an unspoken timeline for grief, nobody else can dictate when it’s time to be “over it.”

When Life Hands You Lemons…

I’m a firm believer that no experience is ever wasted, so I’ve lent some of my experiences with grief to my fictional characters. Although Kat’s story in A Strange Companion is very different to mine, I have borrowed a lot from my own emotional journey for her. I’ve also written parts of my story as essays or melded them into short stories. I recently published a story about my dad that I first wrote for the spoken word event, Spark Off Rose. You can read Lost and Found on Wattpad.

I hope to share more of these stories with you soon. Stay tuned!

January 3, 2017 - Lisa Manterfield Leave a Comment

Reigniting an Old Passion: Orienteering

I have a new short story out on Wattpad this week. Lost and Found is a true story about loss, finding strength, and the importance of telling the people you care about that you love them. I hope you’ll give it a read.

Rediscovering an Old Passion

In the story, I write about one of my old passions: orienteering. It’s a sport I discovered by chance as a teenager and rekindled my love for more recently.

Orienteering is a sport of navigation and speed. In traditional events, competitors must visit a series of checkpoints, in order, in the fastest time possible. There are also score events, with a scattering of checkpoints, each with a points value based on difficulty, and a goal of gathering as many points as possible within a set period of time.

What I love about orienteering is that you don’t have to be a mega athlete to compete. This works very well for me! As I wrote in Lost and Found, you can be in the greatest physical shape, but it doesn’t do you a bit of good if you’re running in the wrong direction. Navigational skill and accuracy, plus the ability to read the terrain and make a decision about the most efficient route, is often more valuable than speedy legs. The top orienteers, of course, have both. But at most local events you’ll find people of all athletic abilities and ages, competing individually, in pairs, or in teams. And while you’ll always find serious contenders, most people are out there for fun.

A New Dimension to Walking or Running

I’ve always been a runner, albeit a slow one, but orienteering adds an additional dimension to traveling by foot. I love the opportunity to get outdoors and attend events in new parts of my local area. I love the challenge of navigating my own route and choosing whether to follow the trail or take a more direct route over rougher terrain. Scrambling down an embankment or clambering over an unexpected fallen tree trunk makes me feel tough. Sprinting over the finish line covered in dirt and a few bramble scratches makes me feel alive. Misjudging a route and getting lost makes me humble, and finding my way to the next checkpoint anyway makes me feel resilient.

Last year, I won my age group in a local Valentine’s Day score event. Okay, so maybe there were only two of us in my category and maybe my performance wasn’t much to write home about in the grand scheme of things, but I took home a prize—a box of chocolates—which made me feel extremely proud of my non-athletic middle-aged self.

Give it a Go

If you fancy a go at orienteering, Orienteering USA has lots of great information, including a directory of local clubs and tips on getting started. If you happen to be in the Los Angeles area, Los Angeles Orienteering Club is a wonderful, friendly group with events around the county. You can usual rent a compass and e-stick (for checking in at the controls) at events, and find someone to do a quick explanation of how to find your way around.

And if traveling by foot isn’t your thing, you could try a mountain bike or cross-country ski orienteering event. I’m thinking of making a ski event one of my goals for this year. It’s a pretty ambitious goal, as I’ve only ever been on a pair of cross-country skis once, and it didn’t end well, but I can see how I could really fall in love with it.

Let me know if you try orienteering and how you liked it.