As a grief coach, I understand what you’re going through.
Let me introduce myself. I am a work in progress. I have had some tragedy, I have had blessings, but most of all, I am on a spiritual journey to bring me closer to God. I have made mistakes in my life, for sure. The great thing is that no matter how badly I mess up, God forgives me. Isn’t that amazing? He is the reason I’m a grief coach today.
My Introduction to Grief
I was born in Waukegan, Illinois, the fourth child of Frank and Rena Grgas. They were Catholics. I was the fourth child in 5 ½ years. They lived in a two bedroom apartment above where my paternal grandparents and aunt and uncle lived. My three siblings and I shared a bedroom together. When I was old enough, I slept on the top bunk with my sister and my brothers slept on the bottom. My Dad was a blue collar worker, working in a factory to support his family. My Mom was a stay at home Mom. They had their first child 9 ½ months after they were married. The first ten years of their marriage, they saved as much as they could. They saved enough to purchase the lot next door, owned by my grandfather, to build their own home. It was a three bedroom, one bathroom ranch style home, with a full basement. It was a great day when we moved in. My Dad took such pride in being able to provide for his family. I shared a bedroom with my sister. My two brothers shared a room. Life was good.
When I was 11 ½, almost 12, my younger brother came along. My mother was not happy, as she thought that I would be their last one. And then, 14 months later, my younger sister came along. My Dad was thrilled, but my Mom, not so much. She did not want a repeat of the pattern of the first four children. After consulting with the priest and getting his blessing, she had her tubes tied so that there would be no more children.
My younger brother, Paul, was born on our Dad’s birthday. It was glorious. I remember when one of my brothers and I were sitting at the table after his birth. We were telling Dad how great it was that he and Paul shared the same birthday. His comment was that the day no longer belonged to him, that it belonged to Paul now. It was prophetic, unbeknownst to us.
Sadly, three years after my younger brother was born, we learned that my Dad had cancer. It was mesothelioma, a cancer he got from having worked with asbestos 20 years before. We were devastated. He was a man who never got sick. He took pride in being able to support his family. Once it was discovered that he had cancer, he did not go back to work, much as he would have wanted to. They removed his lung and part of the lining of his rib cage. To no avail. The year was 1968. On November 3, 1968, he succumbed to the cancer. It was something that forever changed our family.
I dearly loved my Dad. Was he perfect? Not at all. One thing that I knew about him was that he loved the Lord. He loved to laugh and joke around. He was a strict disciplinarian, too strict in the beginning. Without a doubt in my mind, I knew that he loved me. His love for me was unconditional.
And I needed someone to help me.
God Was With My Dad In His Grief
We lived just a block from the Catholic church and elementary school. Before my Dad got sick and died, my Mom was there all the time, helping out. I attended the Catholic school, along with my siblings. The priest would come to our class and talk about stories about the Bible. We went to mass every school day before school and always on Sunday. We listened to readings from the Bible, but never actually took it out and read it. And yet, during that time when my Dad was sick, before he died, he read the Bible from cover to cover. He was not afraid to die, as he knew where he would go. He did worry about what would happen to his family without him.
Grief For the Rest of Us
My Mom did the best she could. I am sure that she was scared. The thought of having to raise my younger brother and sister on her own was daunting. My oldest brother John was almost 20, my sister Pat was 18. They were both away at college when Dad died. My brother Bill was 16, I was 15. We were a junior and sophomore in high school when he died. My brother Paul was 3 and my sister Andi was 2. It was a difficult time for all of us. That is just one of the events in my life that shaped who I am today.
I will write more in future blogs about my life and things that happened that shaped who I am today. I am definitely a work in progress, making mistakes along the way. I continually look for guidance from the Holy Spirit, along with God the Father and His Son. For Jesus is the Way and the truth, and the Light.
Grief Coaching
One thing I’d like you to know is that there are people all around you who are grieving. Everyone has suffered loss in one way or another. You may feel so alone right now. But you don’t have to be. I’m here for you…Let me be your grief coach.
Sign up for my newsletter below and receive more encouragement to your email inbox.
Blessings to you all.