Why am I writing this blog?

Euclid (Cleveland), Ohio, United States
Here I share the amazing spiritual journey I began on July 19, 2007. I received the diagnosis of a golf-ball-sized tumor on top of the left parietal lobe (motor functions) of my brain. I had severe symptoms all up and down the right side of my body and had received an MRI scan of my brain. In August 2007, I learned that my diagnosis was a Glioblastoma Multiforme (GBM). This is a common form of fast-growing brain cancer with a challenging prognosis. That's the external story about that moment in time. In the spiritual world I found (actually more like it found me) what I came to call the Fact-Based Spirit-Guided Path, and I began an amazing journey. After October of 2008, I lost the use of my right arm, and in early 2009, my cognitive abilities were struggling, and treatment options ended. My wife, Susanne, then began doing most of the blog postings, with my review and input whenever possible. I continued to apply the Fact-Based Spirit-Guided Path as the adventure continued. My soul then flew to the Kingdom of God on July 1, 2009. Thanks for your interest in my journey. Craig

Susanne's Perspective

During this entire journey, my wife, Susanne, had an entirely different kind of experience. Initially she added comments to some of my posts describing her experience of the moments I discussed and offerred perspectives on our relationship. In the latter stage of this journey, she is writing the blog, as I am no longer able to do so. I am truly delighted that she is doing so. Susanne and I work together as marriage educators/relationship coaches and she has written many books on preparing for and strengthening marriages so you can count on her comments to be insightful and poignant.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Honoring Our Marriage on Our Anniversary - August 28, 2009

Participating in a Married Couples Weekend, February 2003
It’s difficult – no make that impossible – to write this without crying along with letting the words flow. The last two wedding anniversaries that Craig and I had, he was in the hospital with infection surgeries. Last year he was in Intensive Care and didn’t remember later the little party we had in his room. This year Craig is probably more with me than he was last year! However, I’m still mostly commemorating the occasion by myself…with a little help from my friends. Am I feeling self-pity? Sorrow for the change in my circumstances? Pissed off that I’ve been “abandoned”!? Yes, yes, and yes. And yet, others are encouraging me to honor the good and celebrate that we actually stayed happily married for these 10 years. I can be in that frame of mind, too. I loved Craig’s smile, his hugs, the warmth of him against my cold feet, his passion, his singing and music, his thoughtfulness in making us tea in the mornings and evenings, his enthusiasm about yard projects, his commitment to keep trying to build unity even when it seemed impossible to me, his loyalty, his steadfastness, his peacefulness…. I have been so incredibly supported and encouraged and championed in these years. Whatever work or goal I wanted to take on and do, Craig made it possible for me to try. When we met, Craig was well known for impulsively jumping into situations. He was willing to totally shift this pattern, and we learned together how to be very proficient at making consultative decisions. He was willing to transform his relationships with his family, and working together with me, he made great progress in healing them. He had the strength and confidence and love to allow me to greatly influence him in positive directions. And I did my best to allow him to do the same for me. I’m a far better person today because of the years I spent with Craig and the gentle touch of his nature on mine. We did many types of service to others separately, but we did many together. We loved “projects”! We realized early on in our marriage that we were both very capable people, and others asked both of us to do much. We agreed to not say “yes” to others without consultation, and we created a set of decision-making questions to help us determine whether anything we said “yes” to would have a detrimental effect on our marriage. We felt that maintaining our marriage was a primary form of service to ourselves, our families, and to others watching us be happy together. So, it was important to us to not be on overload and overly outward-focused. Balance and moderation were vital. Craig and I were very compatible in many ways. We didn’t like watching television, preferring to read. We did not want pets in our home. We loved to pray together, and did our best to do it daily, even when one of us was traveling. We liked to be hospitable, although he was always more relaxed about it than I was able to be. He loved to give house tours, and it took some coaching for him to give me a few minutes to hide underwear or tidy up! We were highly intentional in creating a marriage that would work for us both. Before marrying, we wrote down a list of commitments for what we wanted our marriage to look like (see below). Before these years of illness and now absence, it was our practice to re-visit our list on our anniversaries to assess whether we were on target or needed to set goals to address something that wasn’t going the way we wanted. Our biggest ongoing challenge was being too serious and having difficulty with lightening up together! One year at a marriage conference, we learned that it was vital for couples to have fun with one another to stay happily married. Once we realized that it was the responsible thing to do to have fun, we did very well with almost weekly date nights! Doing the Marriage Transformation Project together was both a joy and a challenge (www.marriagetransformation.com). We were honestly thrilled to be making a difference for so many couples. However, we ended up using most of Craig’s vacation days traveling to do workshops. So, vacations got pretty non-existent in later years or we did runaway weekends. Gradually over time, the day-to-day passion of the project became mine more than Craig’s, and we were beginning to have consultations about whether there was another passion that might draw him more fully into participation. With the marriage project, he became primarily background support with finances and planning discussions. I wonder now what his passion will be as an angel!? Craig and I were committed to having a happy, low-conflict, peaceful marriage, and I think we did great at achieving this. He did learn the skill of letting me know when he was upset at me. I had less trouble in that area! But both of us were good at clearing things up promptly, forgiving, and moving on. Being good at consulting and sharing together helped a lot. We had some pretty heavy issues over the years…finances, my parent’s divorce and father’s re-marriage, his father’s death, his son’s brain tumor, running a home-based business, kids living or staying with us, blending families, the parental consent for marriage process with two of our children, and finally Craig’s own brain cancer. So, it’s not that there were no issues in our lives. It’s just that we did well at facing them and holding one another as we worked through them. Before we got married, we recognized that we were likely to have a handful of challenges living with one another. He wasn’t all that into cleanliness and thought I’d be obsessive about it. I eased up…somewhat…and also showed him lots of benefits for it, so he adjusted well J. He was concerned about my judgmentalism…well, what can I say…it’s still pretty automatic, but I’m much better now at shifting into being loving and accepting after years of his example and influence. It took time within our marriage to recognize that while Craig was very gentle and laid-back in temperament, he never liked to do anything slowly. He walked faster than me, always eager to get to the destination. I mostly learned to call him purposeful instead of impatient! But, it was a test for me at times, as we then didn’t hold hands on walks as often as I would have liked. I suppose when I reflect on moments that I loved the best, at least those which can be mentioned publicly!, I am transported to places where we traveled and spent time. I remember our being in Hawaii early on in our marriage with our four parents. The helicopter over the lava flow, swimming with the dolphins, diving among tropical fish, jumping into enormous waves, and watching the waterfall…it was splendid. We branched off of a business trip of Craig’s and did a weekend on the Outer Banks of North Carolina by Cape Hatteras, where he got his Native American flute. We celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary at Lover’s Point near Monterey, California. We traveled to China and Florida to visit family. Later in our marriage was Israel and spending days together at the Bahá’í Shrines praying together. We recognized at that time that Craig was feeling very challenged spiritually, desperately wanting to feel more connected to God. The trip got him started on that reconnection, and the journey with cancer completed it. We began our marriage with the struggle to re-balance after our need to be together collided with the speed at which we connected after Craig’s separation and divorce. The whole family had healing to do. Craig and I made the conscious choice to not have further children, although at times it was a sorrow to not have one together, particularly for me. We’ve done our best to love each other’s children, and that’s been good. When the first grandchild came, Karida, we were delighted to be together as grandparents. When the second one came, Aidan, both Craig’s son (the baby’s father) and Craig were dealing with brain tumors, and it was more challenging to spend time together and to bond. With the third one, Giuliana, Craig is with her spiritually, but I’m being Nana “by myself”. Craig being gone as a grandfather for both the current and the future grandchildren is a major sorrow for the kids as well as for me. We ended our physical marriage with the family hugely healed, but with the test of Craig’s illness. We did our best as a couple to keep our marriage strong during cancer’s disruption. At times, I felt more caregiver than wife…but then taking care of his needs was part of being a wife. Throughout his cancer journey, as best as we flexibly could, we still dated, we still made love, we still consulted, we still prayed, we still moved forward with our spiritual development as people, and we still served others to the best of our ability. I then did the final physical service to him of helping his close friends with his body washing and shrouding and letting him go into the ground. Now he’s spiritually surrounding me, in guardian angel/protector/helper mode…just as he was here, but so much more powerfully. I have moments where I feel as if I’m having a normal conversation with him. There are times when I’m floating in the ocean and feeling surrounded by sunlight that I feel the light of his soul very present. Then at other times, my own grief or periods of intense emotions get in the way of feeling him near. It’s all part of the adjustment process. From a Bahá’í perspective, Craig and I are married for all eternity…our souls are connected because of the bond of love and friendship between us. From a family perspective, we are all adjusting to what this means. Some days I feel as if I’m still part of the blended family, and some days I wonder whether the rest of the family thinks I’m still part of them. I wonder about blood connections, marriage connections, love connections. Craig asked me to do my best to stay connected to his family, I promised to try, and I’m doing my best. Craig and I talked about whether I would re-marry (the Bahá’í teachings allow for this). We agreed to make no promises on the matter but simply to trust that the future would unfold and be clear as we went forward. He really wanted to ask me not to, though, which was simply a great testimony to how happy we have been together. I’ve been sad this week as our anniversary approached. It’s hard doing an anniversary “alone”. I was determined not to tie grief to certain calendar dates…and here I am doing it. It’s good for me to take this time to grieve, though. It’s also good to take this time to celebrate the really extraordinary accomplishment that our marriage has been and will continue to be. I’m grateful for the family and friends who encouraged me to do this writing. Much love, Susanne p.s. Here is my funeral tribute to Craig in case you missed it: www.claricomm.com/SpouseTributetoCraig.pdf FROM OUR WEDDING PROGRAM: Honoring Their Union: Susanne and Craig United in mind, heart, and soul, we affirm that the intent of our relationship is to create an extraordinary family. Our commitment is to: · Treat each other with love, honor, respect, courtesy, and integrity. · Support and encourage each other's personal growth and transformation and the transformation of others. · Honor and respect our own and each other's physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual needs and assist each other in meeting those needs wherever possible. · Fully express and share all aspects of our selves and our lives. · Deal with issues that arise as soon as possible. · Be fully conscious, fully present. · Maintain some time alone. · Cherish, honor, and respect our children by nurturing bonds of communication and love. · Build and maintain loving and open relationships with all family members. · Enrich our lives with separate and mutual friendships. · Pray separately and together daily. · Read and deepen on the Bahá'í Writings together daily. · Be examples of service to ourselves, each other, our families, friends, and communities. · Be playful, have fun, and incorporate humor into daily life. · Act with integrity in all things, particularly in our finances, our work, and our service commitments. · Enrich our lives with the arts. · Be patient, accepting, and nurturing, maintaining the constancy of our relationship through times of adversity and when we are not being our best selves. Fill Thou, O God, our homes with harmony and happiness, With laughter and delight, With radiant kindliness and overflowing joy. That in the union of our hearts, Thy love may find a lodging place And Thou Thyself may make this home of ours Thine own. ~ George Townshend

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Susanne’s New Blog – August 13, 2009

Shortly after Craig’s soul flew to the Kingdom of God, the family agreed that I should stop posting messages to this blog. However, recently through an intuitive friend, Craig asked me to keep blogging so that all those who had been reading of our journey would know how I was doing. I’ve agreed. However, I’ve decided to set up a new blog instead of continuing this one.

You can subscribe to receive postings via email or simply check the blog on occasion. The link to Susanne’s Boat Ride is www.myboatride.blogspot.com. You’ll have to read the first posting to know why I picked that name!

Love,

Susanne

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Michelle's 1-Month Tribute to Her Dad, August 1, 2009

Dear Friends:

We decided as a family to end blog postings for Craig's blog, but sometimes there are worthwhile exceptions! For those who are wondering, I'm doing well...having a granddaughter on July 16th helped! My emotional experience is much like Craig's daughter Michelle describes below...except that I also have the "practical triggers" of emotion going on while doing thank you notes, reading condolence cards, and handling the myriad of details of completing the affairs of someone's life. Craig's bedroom is now back into being a prayerroom and is far more special for his time spent in it. I'm grateful for the comfort of having his soul nearby. I hope you'll appreciate Michelle's reflections.

Love, Susanne

Reflections on the life and death of my dad

It’s the one month anniversary of my father’s passing and I had the bounty today of reliving the whole story for a dear friend of mine, and decided that it was time to write about my experience for myself and anyone else for whom this will touch.

I will start recounting my journey by saying that I am comforted by my belief/certainty that my dad is not gone – he is just in another spiritual world, but that (as I tell my daughter) he can still see me with “special eyes”. Therefore I still have my father – I will just have him in a spiritual sense until I join him one day in that other world. It is hard to realize that I won’t see him physically, and that will always be painful (especially at significant occasions, or maybe just silly or inconsequential ones..) but I have to say that his death was such a blessing…a blessing to have had the healing time we all needed in our relationships with him and each other, a blessing to have had him as a father, a blessing to have been with him at his deathbed while he moved to the next world, a blessing that he did such an amazing job of dying…

This is not something that we tend to talk about – dying well. But since all of us have to do it at some point or another, we might as well do it well. And my dad did, and his journey to this point was incredible.

As you probably know my dad was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago and journeyed well with it (he refused to call it a fight because that denotes a struggle/war and he was peaceful by nature). He was strong, courageous and radiant through the whole process. He spent MANY hours in prayer and meditation and was content with God’s plan for him. I use the word content when describing him many times and what I mean by it is not happiness (who actually is happy to leave behind one’s loved ones?) but a inner serenity/calmness/peace that God will provide and protect him and his loved ones. When word came from his doctors in February that there was nothing more they could do, he was content and spiritually radiant. Of course he was sad, sad for what he would be missing here: being with his children, seeing his grandchildren grow up, having more wonderful years with his wife, being able to have more years of service to others (something that always gave him great joy). But since the verdict was given he was determined to die well.

Many times people die with things unsaid, unresolved, unfinished. My dad (and all of us) had the opportunity to say what we needed to say, resolve things that were not, and finish every thought, emotion, and story. In the months after my dad’s prognosis was considered terminal, he went through a spiritual transformation – something that he had always yearned for. He had always yearned to feel close to God, to feel in His embrace, to express himself emotionally and spiritually to those around him – yet he always felt like he got in his own way. He had a hard time expressing his feelings and never truly felt the connection to God the way he wanted to (even when on spiritual pilgrimage to the Baha’i Holy sites). In the remaining months (we had about 5 months with him as he was dying) he was finally able to express what he wanted to, he became physically affectionate (the first time in my life that he stroked my back or freely held my hand), much freer in saying “I love you”, “I’m sorry”, and “I’m proud of you”. These last two were for my brother who had been estranged from my father for many years. They were finally able to make amends and truly love (or at least finally express the love they always had) for each other after 15 years of misunderstanding and pain. This healing was so important to them and to all of us – and my dad made sure to make it happen. Each of us in our turn (my sister and I, my mom and others) also spent time clearing up old issues, forgiving him for past things (no parent or spouse is perfect), asking for forgiveness for things we had done, etc… There were many tears but at least we had the chance to do these things while he was still with us. And that forgiveness allowed me to truly let him go when the time came…

Many people become bitter, depressed and sad in their final time here on earth, but he was determined to die with “his eyes wide open”. Spiritually he was so radiant and content in his final months, weeks and days. At a special “going-away” party that we held for him where 300 people attended, he was the one consoling everyone who came to see him. He was content, he was thanking them for all the things they had done for him over the years, he said he would miss them and would pray for them from the next world. I cannot really explain it because it seems so surreal that he would be so calm, in a world where people fear death or can’t bear to think of it. But he knew that he would not be going into oblivion, he would be in the next world, which as Baha’is we believe is as close to us in this world, as we are to a baby who is still in the womb. He would not be able to physically touch or speak to those whom he loved, but he would be near and reunited when they joined him in the next world.

In his final few months he increasingly lost his ability to walk and speak (the effects of the brain tumor) but his eyes still sparkled. He did everything he could to not be a burden on others (though of course he was dependent on us (mostly my step-mom) for care). He would get frustrated, especially when we would try to get him into bed, help him eat, etc.. (things he’s been able to do since was a child!) but he would never take it out on anyone or really get grumpy. His greatest frustration came from not being able to express himself in words anymore (now that he had gained the ability to finally express himself!) but as his speech diminished, the expressiveness in his eyes got stronger. Until finally on his deathbed his eyes were the only way he could communicate.

In his last week he had chosen to stop taking his medication and to stop eating – this is not uncommon for someone who is nearing death as they lose interest in these things – and my step-mom honored his request (which must have taken great courage/detachment on her part!). A few days later it seemed that his hours were numbered and all of us kids assembled (I drove in from Dayton, Ohio, my sister from Washington DC and my brother lived locally). When I came into the room I remembered being struck by two things 1) how still his body was (he was not able to move any of his body anymore) 2) how expressive his baby-blue eyes were. He was clearly with us and was very “present”. He was not agitated, he was not in pain, he was – as always - content. I was very sad when I saw him – it is very tough to see a parent (especially one who is so young) in such a state. I held his hand and cried for a long time.

We (myself, my sister, step-mom and another dear friend) ended up having the bounty of being with him for 2 days and were there at the amazing moment when he passed. It was such a spiritual moment though physical all at the same time. It was as if we could feel his soul moving on, while we were there to hold his hand and cry, and sing him to the next world (his greatest joy was music!). I feel blessed to have been able to “birth” him into the next world. I was originally worried that I would have a hard time of it. I’ve never been near someone who is dying nor had to deal with death much in my life. But being able to serve him in those two days was such a blessing. I sat with him, sang to him, held his hand, prayed with him, laughed with other people who were caring for him, wiped his forehead. And he died with a smile on his face…

I will always miss him and will always keep his memory alive by telling stories about him to my kids. About how he would sing every day, how he played the guitar, flute, dulcimer and recorder. How he was always generous with his time, energy and resources. How he showed his love through his actions and would always do everything he promised to do. How he was watching his grandchildren grow up from the next world and that he loved them and were proud of them. That he was always working towards creating unity between people, creating positive relationships, creating better communities. How, as his headstone says “He lived to serve.”

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In this last month since his passing, I have been doing better emotionally than I expected – in fact, it seems that some of my dad’s contentment has rubbed off on me. Not all the time though: I have times where I am sad, where I cry, when I am upset about what we won’t get to see him at (my daughter’s next birthday, my sister’s wedding). But on the whole, when I think back to those last days and hours with him, I am happy. Sometimes I feel guilty saying that, but if this journey allowed my dad to have the spiritual transformation he always wanted, the healing our family needed for so many years, and the blessing of peacefully helping him into the next world, then why shouldn’t I be happy? Death has to happen to all of us, and his could not have been more amazing or more of a blessing for those he loved. True happiness is spiritual and all of our family (now in two different worlds) have been blessed with what we needed for our spirituality and personal growth. And when it comes down to it, the spiritual life of our souls is what matters in the long run, long after our physical bodies return to the earth.

I know my dad will always be with me and always loving me and my whole family. I miss you Dad...

Michelle (Farnsworth) Tashakor