Life in Death by Regina Moomjean

In short, my Grandfather was my last living Grandparent. Ironically, though he was in my life the longest, it seems he took the longest for me to get to know. His wife of over 50 years, my Gram, was one of the closest and most influential people in my life. We lost her when I was only 13 years old and I am finding that one of the reasons the present loss of my Grandfather has been so layered and complex is because I am going through the emotion of losing her all again, it seems. The warmest and kindest of people, my grandfather was an amazing man. It wasn't that he didn't have time for us, or he was mean or anything awful like that. He was WONDERFUL. Always! But as a child, he was a man of few words. He was often in his back office, spending countless hours working on genealogy, one of his life's true passions. He would always come out to say hello, play for a little while, and then retire back to his room or the den for the rest of the my visit or sleepover with Gram. I didn't think anything of it.

And I would't think anything of it, until I lost her. Her passing was such a difficult time for me for an array of reasons. But most crucially, it was my first real experience with death. Even most of my friends hadn't lost grandparents yet. We were all very lucky. While death was something that I always knew of; I hadn't interacted with it personally, until her untimely death. I remember as a 13 year old being so frightened and genuinely heartbroken at the excruciating loss. I couldn't comprehend that at 13, every single memory I had of her would be the same that I'd have for the rest of my life. I wouldn't gain any new ones. I wouldn't have more. It would be just that. Just what we'd shared in those short 13 years.

Once she was gone, everything seemed to change. Visits to Grandad's felt hollow for me, and more than that, slightly uncomfortable. We would all sit in the front room of his beautiful home in Mission Hills, he'd sit rock in his rocking chair and we'd discuss things we'd been doing. The newest play I was in, my sister's soccer games, mom and work. It was all lovely, but it felt so strange. I would always long to go upstairs, being a person who is so in tune with spaces, and visuals and everything tangible that life has to offer. For me, it felt like Gram was still there if I could just go upstairs and spend time in the places that we would share our time. But I never did, because it would be strange for me to walk upstairs while everyone was sitting together in the front room. And as an early teenager, I didn't feel comfortable enough to explain that desire. More so, I was confused in my own head.

Years went on and we all became so much closer with my incredible Grandfather. My cousin, in particular, lived with him for a few years and truly pioneered a deeper relationship and I think, paved the way for many of us. It was a beautiful thing that she did.

Flashing forward, I am so blessed and thankful for the way everything played out. I would give anything to see my Gram again, and to have had her for so many more of those formative years in my life. But looking back now, I feel there is surely a reason things went the way they did. 

What I've learned in this chapter of my life, losing this person who was such an onion to me; is that my life is at a crossroads. I am finding that the peace and comfort that I am feeling is coming from those stories of the past. And I am so thankful to him for documenting them for us. I've found that I DID get to make new memories with Gram. I am still making memories with both of them. Whether it's the millions of photos they took traveling the world that I've asked to keep. Whether it's the couch I also asked to keep, that was one of my Grandparents first purchases as adults. These are pieces of them that I can cherish and help ease the pain of letting go. They allow me to feel like I don't have to let go. I can have coffee with Grandad on his couch. I can paint with Gram, using her old tablets and brushes.

I asked my mom if we could go to my Grandfather's house the weekend after his passing. It felt strange, being there. Now not only was the void of Gram ever present, but now there was a whole 'nother missing figure. An empty house that once was the scene of every holiday celebration. A place I can truly say I grew and learned about myself. I just wanted to go and be there. In silence. I wasn't even sad. It was more that I was finally saying, it's okay to do all those things you wanted to here. Go explore. Walk around. Take photos. Take hold of the memories and let them be alive and part of you, and not something you feel you have to keep only in your memory. Make them tangible.

For me, it was so cathartic. 

In addition, and I could go on forever…but I won't. I am someone who has always struggled with dealing with loss and sadness in general. I won't even watch 75% of movies, because I can't handle anything sad. I can't watch others suffer, and I can't process sadness. I am an eternal optimist, and what's more, is I am an eternal lover of the light. And so, in all things, my new great loss included; I've chosen to search for all the good that is still left. I've chosen to see myself as part of a long lineage of amazing people, who were artists and dreamers and travelers. I think that they are never truly gone because part of them really is in me. And if I let myself open up enough, they are there all the more.

I was always so scared of letting go. I still have fears, as anyone does, of losing those that I love as life goes on. But I am learning that the best way to deal is the share their stories. Make them still known to the people around you. They don't have to only live in the past. And if my Grandfather instilled anything, SURELY it's that I should always remember my past. It always helps to know where you came from. It gives you strong roots.

I will continue getting to know them better, as I think new thoughts and look at photos of them often.  I will see photos on the day of their wedding; traveling through Europe, spending time at their cabin in Big Bear, and I'll think… "I was there, too." "I wonder what they were thinking?" Unanswered questions can be hard to deal with, but I don't view them as a bad thing. Maybe over time, answers reveal themselves. I think they do. If you let them, and if you truly want to know.

For now, that's all. It's the realization that life is a journey, for all of us. Always. We all take turns going through the hard times, and we'll all take turns being strong for those we love when they have their turn. But I know the answer isn't shutting the hurt out. I know the answer isn't weeping and pain. I think the answer is to be ever searching and establishing all that you are feeling throughout the entire process. Sharing it, giving it a voice. Acting on what your heart is telling you to do. 

There's freedom in that. And for me, in this process, that's been the ticket.

I think I've read this at least fifteen times; is it not the loveliest? Do yourself a favor and follow this eternal lover of the light on Instagram at @ginamoom—your days will be that much brighter.

The Answer Is Love: An Essay by Brenda Smart

When our post on violence got over four hundred views in one day, I knew Love Force had touched on a topic that rang significant for a wide spectrum of people. In response, I reached out to social work clinician Brenda Smart, who's devoted much of her life to helping survivors and perpetrators of violence. Read on as Smart shares why she chooses to open her heart to all parties, and how love can be the most powerful force in the world.

While in my clinical social work masters program, I wrote a paper titled, “What About the Men?” I worked in a shelter in Southern California helping women and children get back on their feet after fleeing domestic violence. I saw first hand the damage that these male abusers had on their victims. However, being a mother of four boys, I often thought to myself, “What about the men? Who is helping the abusers?” I know that question can trigger a lot of negative emotions from women; and I understand. Let me clarify.

I listened to woman after woman share their horrific story of abuse. Although I put on my professional face, my heart would sink as I watched the women physically shake, look terrified, and appear broken as they entered the shelter and had to provide me with details of their abuse. I must stop here and explain what I mean when I say the word "abuse". Most people immediately think of physical abuse. And while it is damaging, the majority of the clients that I worked with often reported that bruises, cuts and scrapes could heal, leaving little visible damage over time. However, they explained that the damning effect of emotional abuse is relived over and over, leaving unseen scars that are never healed yet are always present. Words such as, "You're stupid, ugly, worthless" (and many more too vulgar to share) corrode the spirit. These women were left downtrodden and questioning if their existence mattered. I could write much more on my thoughts of "abuse", but I truly have come to believe that anything less than nurturing can be abuse to the spirit of a person.

One day I discovered a little insight to my question, "What about the men?” I remember meeting with this particular abuser as if it were yesterday. He was around twenty-five years old. I was his seven-year-old daughter's counselor and it was court ordered that he visit with me. I had conducted interviews with my client's mother (24) regarding the horrific abuse she endured and my client witnessed. I was also provided a picture of the abuser that showed a shaved head, gun carrying, heavily tattooed and angry man. I will admit that I was scared to meet with him. Because of my love for the men in my life, I went into the meeting with an open heart to try and learn from this man, to hear his story. He came in equipped with excuses, stories, and anything he could to "sell himself as innocent." As I listened, I felt inspired to show him empathy, kindness and understanding. I was amazed what happened next. He took a sucker that I had set out for my child clients, and he proceeded to suck on it as if it was a pacifier (at least it seemed to me that it offered him that same comfort). He curled up in a ball and cried as he shared with me details of his terrible, loveless childhood. He was shaking, and apologizing profusely for crying. He was embarrassed. I reassured him that it took a strong, brave man to show the vulnerability he had. He too was a victim of abuse. 

Abuse is cyclical. I would guess that 90% of the women that I taught in parenting classes and domestic violence education raised their hands when asked how many of them grew up with domestic violence in the home. And the same amount raised their hands stating that they swore to themselves as children that they would NEVER repeat the same cycle of abuse, yet here they were in domestic violent relationships (side note: on average, a women will go back to her abuser seven times). A majority of those who grow up in a home with domestic violence either identify with the abuser (and grow up to be abusers) or identify with the victim (often finding themselves in relationships with abusers). Unfortunately, we fall back on what is familiar. 

I’m grateful that we have made some positive strides as a society in understanding domestic violence, evidenced by outreach programs, domestic violence education, and many classes in helping the survivors. Although I believe law enforcement has a long way to go (still requiring physical proof of abuse before an arrest can be made), they are making strides in taking domestic disputes seriously. However, I believe as a society we are a long way off in understanding the abuser. We raise boys to "man-up", tell them not cry and suck it up, and the list goes on. The anger that we see released in boys is very often penned up emotions that they do not know how to express, therefore it shows up in bullying, fighting, etc. Depression is often masked as anger in men, while women often show symptoms of depression manifested by crying, laying in bed, feeling overwhelmed. Very seldom do men show those same symptoms. Society tells them that they cannot. They are left confused, not heard or misunderstood. 

We need to unite in opening our hearts in empathy and understanding, not condemnation when we hear a story of domestic violence. I am not saying that we should justify any form of abuse, but I believe our hearts must be open to both women and men in these situations. Government gives grants that help support outreach, shelters, classes, etc. for the women. Yet the jails seem to be the only way out for the men. Therapy is offered to both, but the majority of men have been told that they are less-than or weak if they seek help. They are left stranded with uncontrolled emotions. We must remember that there just may be a little boy inside that abuser with a story of pain that none of us understand. 

Parents: please allow your sons and daughters safety when sharing their thoughts, feelings and emotions. Show them physical and emotional love. If they are raised in an environment of love, there is a much greater chance that LOVE will be the familiar that they fall back on when they are in a relationship.

A portrait of love. Brenda currently lives in Hong Kong with her husband Dave, and makes it a point to spend time with her four sons, four [new] daughters and beautiful grandchildren whenever possible. (While counselors in the United States need to be licensed, Smart was preparing for her state boards when they found out they were moving to Hong Kong. Fortunately, a masters in social work is recognized throughout the world.) She currently volunteers as a counselor in Asia.

The Lights of Her Life: An Interview with Lauren Andrus

Family is often a tricky subject. Siblings, moms, dads, babies, daughters, sons, in-laws, stepchildren, stepparents, half-siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandma and grandpa. Some are with us, some aren't. Some are parents, others aren't. Some are single, others are married, others are divorced. Some are irritating, others you can't get enough of. Some aren't related, but are family in every other possible way. No matter the amalgamation, it seems as if any time you group humans together in one way or another there's bound to be a bit, or perhaps an abundance, of chaos.

And the wild thing is, everyone experiences it differently. A friend of mine recently pointed out, "every member of a family belongs to a different family." It took a minute for the wheels to start turning with that one, but I found it fascinating once my brain gears clicked into place. Realities and perspectives differ from human to human, so of course our worlds would be perceived differently within family units. At Love Force, we want to capture all of that.

We're kicking off this series in one of the best ways we know how—some realtalk with momma-to-be (round two!) Lauren Andrus about the importance of sensitivity, some truths about parenthood, and at the end of the day, what makes her feel the most complete.

LF: You’re expecting a baby boy this July. What piece advice would you offer him about the life he’s about to begin?

This is hard for me to answer, I really don’t think there is one thing that I would tell him.  I try to take each day at a time and teach my kids to become strong, sensitive and kind. I want them to know that I will be there for them no matter what and love them more than they will ever be able to fathom. 

LF: You mention "strong, sensitive and kind"—why those three attributes in particular?

I think it's a balance. I want my children to be confident and decisive, and I also want to teach them that it's more important to be kind than to be right. I think it's a mistake when people equate strong and confident with being a jerk. And I don't think sensitivity is a weakness; it's so important to show emotion. I want to know what makes them happy, sad, upset, etc. I want them to feel comfortable communicating that with me.

LF: Would you talk more about the value you see in showing emotion and being able to communicate your feelings?

I see great responsibility in raising my children to make this world a better place. It's heartbreaking to see or hear about kids (and adults) that are being mean or bullying others. If I can do my part in teaching my kids to be both strong and sensitive, I think they'll have great influence in the world by modeling for others to be the same way.

LF: What has been challenging about parenthood?

In the beginning, it was so hard. I didn't think I could do it. Honestly, I don't think I expected to give my everything. I don't think I really understood what that meant before becoming a parent. It's indescribably selfless. When Park was first born I remember thinking, "Wait a minute, this isn't fun. This isn't enjoyable." The first few weeks were difficult, I truly wondered why people even did this. I was so used to doing anything and everything I wanted, whenever I wanted to do it. But now I wouldn't want it any other way. The good absolutely outweighs the bad. If Park is kicking and screaming and telling me he doesn't want to go inside the house, I'll be frustrated thinking I couldn't have a more stubborn child. But then a few hours later, he'll put his arms around me and rub my back and cuddle me. It's all completely worth it and I find that those moments give me patience for the tantrums.

I think it really just depends on where you're at as a parent. It definitely ebbs and flows. My friend said the other day, "You go to hell from a party real fast." For example, when my husband comes home from work, Park gets so excited. He calls his name and runs up to him to hug him and it's the absolute best. But then you're trying to put his shoes on to go outside and he starts screaming "No! No! No! No!" at you. And it's been such a long day and you're finally putting him to bed and he's drowsy and falling asleep in your arms and it's the sweetest thing. Sometimes I'll look at his monitor late at night and think, "Can I go wake him up?"

LF: So amidst the down times, the discouraging times, who or what helps you the most when you’re in a challenging period of your life?

I usually make a call to my sister. I know that I can call her and no matter how crazy or irrational my thoughts are, I know that she's there to listen and give me advice to help me.  I also go to the beach a lot, even if I’m just walking where I can see the ocean. It gives me the peace I need to get through life’s speed bumps.

LF: What do you consider your greatest accomplishment?

Being a mother, hands down. I struggled so much with where I wanted to be in life when I was younger, but when I first held Park in my arms my life felt complete. For me, there's no feeling like it.

Follow Lauren and her budding family at @lauren_andrus on Instagram for some guaranteed adorableness, and even more adorableness come late July. Congratulations on the plus one, Andrus family.