The Grass Is Green Enough

Somehow, I mustered the courage to open the box and peek inside. Deep breath, Mary, you can do this. One by one, I unwrapped the ornaments from their tissue paper cocoons and hung them on the branches. Of course, the floodgates opened. Baby’s first Christmas – 1991, a baseball – 1997, computer wizard – 2005, red convertible – 2007, holiday camping tent – 2009. They are gifts from my mother-in-law, “Grandma Connie,” who bought each of the kids a yearly ornament until they reached adulthood. The eclectic collection used to hang on the family tree all together, but when the kids grew up, I separated them into their own boxes so they could take their treasures with them.   What should I do with Adam’s box of ornaments? I wondered. Val suggested I decorate a small tree with them, which seemed like a good idea. That is, until I opened the box. I’ve learned in my support group that we cannot go around the pain that is grief, or over it, or under it – we must go through it. Alan W

I was quite surprised and delighted when he showed up at my front door, green from head to toe, flexing his huge muscles. Two-year-old Connor is all about superheroes these days. I’d seen his Spiderman costume on Halloween, but I didn’t even realize that he had a Hulk costume also. Needless to say, it was a very entertaining Thanksgiving gathering. Most of the time Connor was pretty well behaved – for a sugared up toddler that is. Sure, he had a couple of loud, rambunctious moments, but it happens, especially when you’re channeling the Hulk. As far as I know, Hulk is the only superhero who transforms when he’s angry. It just got me thinking about feelings – particularly the not-so socially acceptable ones. I’ve been receiving daily email messages from GriefShare. They are brief messages of encouragement to help people through the grieving process. For the past several days, the messages have been about anger. They say that anger is a normal feeling after a loss, one that is nei