My Oscy Boy

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened."     -Anatole France

“A dog is the only thing that can mend a crack in your broken heart."   -Judy Desmond

I’ve learned that some of our deepest heartbreak comes from the early stages of life. In those moments, we may not have been given permission to feel the sense of loss. Our childhood losses, for many, center around the loss of a pet. We learned in those formative years what loss looks like, and much of that is passed down to us by a parent or loved one. While some of us may have learned the value of feeling our feelings, many of us did not. So now that we are adults, we lack the ability to express how loss affects us. I’m grateful to have been trained to help people understand their feelings, and even as I process loss, I too am learning.

The quotes above help me convey some of what my heart feels today. Back in 2015, after the loss of our beloved yellow lab, Kassie, a friend on Facebook mentioned that she had saved a pup (he was 5 years old) from going to the pound and was looking for his forever home. We, too, were looking for a pup for our other dog, Scooter, so a meet and greet was set up. She and I discussed that if the meeting went well, we would be keeping him, so there wasn’t a lot of back and forth, and our friend agreed. Well, here we are, 10 years later, with a pup who, in human years, is almost 100 years old. He has been a trustworthy friend- loyal, not much of a snuggler, but faithful and steadfast. The decision and timing have been painful. Honestly, I’ve struggled with it. What I can say is this loss feels different for me, and maybe when I’ve had more time to sit in the sadness of it, I’ll be better at articulating my feelings. For now, what I can say is, Oscar, you have been the best boy. I could not have had a better companion. I will miss you so much, and because all dogs go to heaven, I will see you again. Give my folks and Evan a big kiss. I love you, Oscar. Goodbye!

We want to thank Laps of Love for coming to our home and lovingly escorting Oscar home.

Going Back to Go Forward

October has been a whirlwind of emotions, filled with celebrations and a breathtaking trip to experience the fall colors. In addition, I found myself diving back into facilitating Grief Recovery, both with an in-person group and through several one-on-one sessions via Zoom. Each time I begin these groups, I feel my heart opening up to the reality that I still have work to do surrounding grief and loss. It’s a universal experience; we’re all grievers in our own right, even if we haven't fully acknowledged it.

As I help others navigate their grief journeys, I realize I must examine myself more deeply. Reflecting on this, I am acutely aware that life moves on relentlessly. I'm pushed forward, yet I can't help but look back and address those unfinished emotional pieces. We all experience a shared journey, and it’s perfectly okay to embrace that healing is a continual process that takes time.

During my recent visit to New York, I had the chance to return to my old neighborhood, which I had not seen in over 50 years. Having moved away in 1971, I was struck by how much had changed; in many ways, I barely recognized it. This return also confronted me with a part of myself that I had neglected or tried to silence, reminding me of the importance of embracing every aspect of who we are as we navigate our lives.

So I enter into November having all the feels as it is particularly poignant for me, as I acknowledge that this week marks the eighth anniversary of Evan’s accident and his incredible act of giving his organs to save several lives. I’m so proud of Evan for his sacrifice. That thought resonates profoundly in my heart, especially as I contemplate my own possible need for a kidney in the near future. I’m grateful to be able to process my feelings with tools I’ve acquired through my training in the Grief Recovery Method and as I help others. Every time I’m allowed to help others, I, too, am helping myself.

Reflections on a Cloudy June Day

The sky is covered in clouds today, reminding me that the weather is constantly changing. Even in sunny California, we can be surprised by a sudden rainstorm with big drops falling in late June. As I watch the clouds gathering today, I find myself feeling reflective. I am struck by how time has passed and how much has happened in the past year.

It's hard to believe that just one year ago, I was getting ready for a kidney biopsy on 6/30, struggling with the mystery of my declining health. And now, I'm preparing for an incredible adventure—a river cruise along the Danube and a tour of the beautiful settings from the film "The Sound of Music," which holds a special place in my heart as the first movie I ever watched. I've shared much about my journey and am excited about the new experiences ahead.

I often reflect on the various transitions and losses I have experienced. My discussions about Grief Recovery hold significant meaning to me, as I hope that sharing my experiences may resonate with at least one person. It’s important to acknowledge that loss isn’t solely related to death; it can encompass a wide range of events that evoke feelings of grief.

My journey has been marked by numerous losses, such as relocating, changing jobs, losing pets, navigating an empty nest, and experiencing relationship shifts. Through the process of Grief Recovery, I’ve gained profound insights into myself, and I wholeheartedly believe that this program has been the most beneficial and impactful for my personal growth.

As I look back on the past year, I feel deeply thankful for the stability in my health. Despite the challenges of the year, I am grateful for the ability to continue traveling and for the personal growth I’ve experienced. In addition to the skills I’ve acquired over the years, both professionally and personally, I’ve also delved into the art of photography. Furthermore, I’m proud to have attained the title of Grief Recovery Specialist, with experience with online and in-person groups, which has empowered me to support and guide others through their healing and recovery journeys. There’s more to come, so stand by!

My Word for 2024

In the quiet of the day today, I began thinking about the year's end and my word for 2024. This year has not been precisely what I thought it would be, with my word for this year being "Inspire." My primary reason for choosing this word was that after launching my Grief Recovery in-person groups, I wanted to inspire others to process loss through the Grief Recovery Method. I was able to host three groups in 2023 and help so many folks with their losses. It was a great blessing. Seeing some of the folks who've gone through my groups and the transformation I see in them has been amazing. That is inspiring for me. Yet, in the meanwhile, some other things transpired in my personal life that left me feeling a bit defeated. I'm never sure what the results of my word for the year will be, but I always intend to be the encourager. 

In July of this year, after a kidney biopsy, I was given a diagnosis of Fibrillary Glomerulonephritis https://rarediseases.org/rare-diseases/fibrillary-glomerulonephritis/

It's a long story, but this was after months of tests, which finally resulted in a biopsy in June and a diagnosis in July after confirmation from the Mayo Clinic. With this in mind and a little research, I've stumbled across my word for 2024. Since July, I've been working with my doctor and a few other clinicians to get to a place of stability with my health. For me, this is a good thing. This disease is progressive with no cure, so stability is good. I've had a lot of emotions I've carried for the last year, much of it just in the previous six months. Recently, I didn't realize how much I was carrying until I had a massage, which left me in tears and exhausted from some of what I was holding. Some of what I was holding is the weight of this disease. Some of what I'm holding is cumulative grief that feels heavier during the holidays. Some of what I carry is just life, which doesn't always feel good. Part of my training in Grief Recovery is to be present. Sit with what makes my heart sad and, in time, give it a voice. I'm still processing all of it. 

So, with that, my word for 2024 is stable-not likely to fall or give way, as a structure, support, foundation, etc.; firm; steady. Able or likely to continue or last; firmly established; enduring or permanent. I'm praying for my health to continue to be stable. I also hope to continue to lend my expertise and training to other grievers to help them process their losses in the new year. If it's time to process your loss, please reach out so we can chat. I have groups starting in January.

 https://www.griefrecoverymethod.com/grms/dawn-kincade

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Just Waiting

I started this year with the word "Inspire." Initially, I believed that the year ahead looked so hopeful as I began to help people with their losses and, in turn, reinforced for me the calling I felt to help others and be an excellent listener—a heart with ears. Things seemed to be going along great with me starting my Grief Recovery Groups. I felt that I could share the process with people and, in turn, help others as I continued to hone my skills as a guide and inspire others with undelivered emotional communications.

In early February, I went in for routine bloodwork, and the results of those tests started my care team to look at reasons for some discrepancy; they proceeded to schedule several scopes and other things to figure out the cause. Most of those tests returned negative, which is positive, but I still didn't have a diagnosis. In early March, I was diagnosed with CKD, Chronic Kidney Disease.CKD I am at stage 3, and after many attempts to stabilize my blood pressure, I'm moving toward the numbers I need to be at with medication and some lifestyle changes. In many instances, patients can maintain for a long while in stage 3 just by correct medicines and healthy lifestyle changes. One of the most challenging things impacted by this is that my energy and strength were at an all-time low. I don’t let much get me down or stop me from doing anything if you know me. I’m a doer. This diagnosis has been overwhelming as I just finished having cancer in 2020, and now, to have another diagnosis with such long-term effects has been challenging for me. Even with all of this, my bloodwork has still not bounced back, and in the next week, I'll have a kidney biopsy to get more specific answers as to why my kidneys aren't functioning correctly.

During the last year, I've learned much about how grief and loss affect us emotionally and physically. There are podcasts I've listened to and books I've read that talk specifically about how our body keeps the score regarding grief and loss. As you might guess, this journey with my health has been emotional for me. Health losses can be hard to process as so much information comes at you; sometimes, it's too much. Much of what I help people with in Grief Recovery are the things in our lives and relationships we wish had been different, better, or more, and our hopes, dreams, and expectations as we all have them. It's in these places that we find the most heartache and brokenness. I'm looking to process my health losses using my training in Grief Recovery. I can tell you that this was not how I planned to go into this new year, with my health leading in all my decisions. As you might guess, this has caused great apprehension in me. I appreciate any prayers as I wait for answers.