December 1^st, 1987 changed my life forever; my 9- year-old son Kelly James died from a malignant brain tumor. Twenty-three years later to the day my life inextricably changed again; my granddaughter Olivia Kelly was born. Same weight, same length, same face, same eyes. We were shocked by the resemblance and the incredible timing that she was born on the calendar day of his death, but we were not totally surprised. We knew. A friend, a psychic told me several months before my daughter even knew that she was pregnant; that this was going to happen; and it did.

This friend from high school called me out of the blue circa 2009. We had not spoken or seen each other since 1973 when we both graduated. She had seen my book in a bookstore (Letters to My Son) while browsing grief books, as she had too lost a son recently and felt a psychic connection with him. My contact information was in my book and she called me about using my publisher. While she was speaking with me, she said, wait a minute, Kelly is coming to me now…she then went on to say Congratulations, you are going to be a grandpa again, Kelly is coming back to be born into your family.

I was speechless for the first time in my life. My jaw literally dropped, accompanied by a rush of reactive hormones that seemed to be buzzing throughout my body. I literally could not speak.  I regained my composure within a few moments and I lamely croaked out: Wow, I will have to call my daughter; which I did poste haste. Meagan, what are you not telling me?  I have it on good authority you are pregnant. Her turn to be almost speechless but she quickly managed to say quite vociferously: Your friend is nuts Dad I am not pregnant.

I said honey don’t shoot the messenger and I explained the call. She went on to say that the lady is obviously confused, that’s is just plain bat shit crazy, no one can know that, besides I am on the pill, my husband lost his job, we are losing our house, we have no insurance with a 3-year-old toddler to raise. We are not pregnant or plan to be anytime soon. End of story.

Six weeks later I get a call from Meagan. Dad this is crazy, I missed my period and have taken two home EPT tests that read positive. She met with a doctor who confirmed that her home tests were correct, and she was indeed pregnant with a due date of November 16^th, 2010.  My son Kelly’s birthday. Coincidence?

November 16^th came and went, no baby. I was disappointed it did not happen on Kelly’s birthday but also grateful, as I was out of town at the time. She was now running two weeks late and they were considering an induction but did not have too as she spontaneously went into labor a little after midnight on December 1^st, Kelly’s angel day.  Later that morning my daughter gave birth to a little girl, Olivia Kelly. For her birth and grateful for the miraculous manipulation of the mystery that provided us with such a gift.  Continuing connection.

Fast forward 5 years I find Olivia in our yard hugging a tree and crying. I asked her what was wrong? She replied “I miss Uncle Kelly, and when I hug a tree like this, he talks to me. I simply replied, wow what did he have to say today? She said, he said “we are going to call you Winnie the Pooh now”.  I replied that’s interesting and I dug through our DVD collection and found the movie and we watched it.  The whole 100 Acre Wood characters in this video were trying to fix Eeyore’s grief for the loss of his tail. Epiphany!  I then created a grief workshop “Who are you in the 100 Acre wood? “which is now part of the proactive grieving model used in my presentations ever since. Continuing connection.

December 1^st, 2018 Olivia turned 9 years old, now the same age as her uncle when he died. She is now old enough to articulate better what she is feeling. She said she had a dream a few years back of her being in the ER at a hospital and she was so scared, and she associated it with Kelly.  She told us this spring she had a dream with Uncle Kelly in it and she asked him why she was born on his death day? She said he replied, “so I can see the world through your eyes”. Best thing I have heard in response to her unique birth circumstances.

I share this story publicly as my granddaughter has only known a continuing connection with her uncle by living it. It is not a learned behavior, hidden behavior or wished for, but it just is… as natural as brushing your teeth she has known nothing else her whole life. We keep Kelly in the present tense in a non-physical relationship. Quantum Physics theory supports a that a sustaining molecular relationship is involved in all matter and is not limited to time and space.

This summer I was asked to provide a full day Proactive Grieving seminar for the Canadian branch of The Compassionate Friends in Winnipeg. The seminar is broken into 4 pods of lecture & interaction; body, mind, soul, and spirit. In the “spirit” pod we focus on the topic of continuing connections, signs, dreams, and synchronicities. We talked about signs on the drive up to Canada from the Twin Cities. She said I want 4 signs this weekend from Uncle Kelly, a purple orb, a feather, a heart and a rainbow. Olivia was on the alert.

The first night at the hotel she scurried over to “the claw” toy machine in the lobby.  I think for the most part, it is impossible to win.  She saw a purple ball and said Kelly I need that orb! Of course, she picked it up!!! She later found a heart rock, and a feather, but rainbows are harder to come by.

At the conclusion of the day we had a candle lighting and we played Alan Pedersen’s’ beautiful and iconic song Tonight I hold This Candle that is used for ceremonies worldwide.  I was on stage performing interpretive sign to the song and was not at the table with my granddaughter, but my wife was and witnessed a miracle. When the lyrics came on…” if your looking down tonight and see this candle burning bright, it says I am wishing you were here” my granddaughter closed her eyes and she saw Kelly smiling at her, coming toward her and he hugged her. She said he had short hair and was wearing a long sleeve white robe with gold trim. She said to me later: It was real Papa; I saw him he hugged me.

That night we go up to our hotel room and we see a huge storm blow in right before sunset. They had not had rain in 6 weeks. Olivia was praying for rain to get her rainbow. We heard thunder and looked outside to an approaching storm. It rained hard briefly, the sun came out and a huge double rainbow appeared outside our hotel room. The look on her face indelible in my mind, one of pure love and gratitude stamped with eternal hope.

Hope is validated by quantum physics. Our thoughts, actions and intentions are not limited to constraints of classical mechanics. Our ability to communicate with our loved ones who died is backed up by the quantum mechanic’s entanglement theory. This occurs when two particles are inextricably linked together no matter their separation from one another. Although these entangled particles are not physically connected, they still are able to share information with each other instantaneously — seemingly breaking one of the most hard-and-fast rules of physics: No information can be transmitted faster than the speed of light…yet it does. And for the bereaved its a miracle. Even Einstein acknowledged the unusual phenomenon in physics…by saying it is real, but just plain spooky.

Continuing connections, communication and even choice is integral to subatomic particles creating matter, which is life itself and eternal. Quantum theory proves it is impossible to be separated; death does not win.

Shift Happens

A Perspective on Change In America

Wow, can you believe it?  We are 19 years into the new millennium, soon to welcome in its second decade with the year 2020. I was born in 1955 the quintessential baby boomer born at the peak of live births in this country with a little over 4 million births in the United States that year.  I am considered a leading-edge Baby Boomer. Who knew? That makes me a full-fledged card-carrying prime product of the 1950’s and proud of it.

My father was a police officer and our local milkman (my parentage obviously secure) who worked two jobs to support 7 kids. My mom did not work but she cooked a lot, times were good, we were well clothed, well fed, well educated. The country was celebrating rock and roll across the nation; post WWII American life was robust, jobs were plenty, technology was booming at unprecedented rates, some folks even had color TVs. Life was good if you honored the flag, understood your role, your age limit, accepted gender restrictions, you respected your elders, worked hard, shoulders back, stomach in, chest out, hair short and you were white. It would be decades before people of color, women, and those with gender identity issues would gain equal footing.  We actually believed we lived in Pleasantville, that is until the late 1960’s when reality came rushing like a Tsunami; The Viet Nam war and the Beatles changed America forever.  Shift happens and we go for the ride.

Protests, psychedelics, marijuana and a man on the moon; peace, love, dove and Boonesfarm wine took over our country like flies at a corn feed and it shook the foundation of our country’s silent generation. The baby boomer’s parents almost lost control of a generation that was 4 million strong, mostly idealists wanting to make a difference. The Viet Nam war and its sociological impact changed our country. Although much good resulted with increased social harmony, better laws for human rights, racial equality and social programs, it also catalyzed derision between political parties that did not support the same views.

The KKK and other covert melanin challenged interest groups went underground; they did not disappear, some discreetly graduated from law school to maintain the status quo in the legal arena keeping their hair short, their necks red and their mission intact. Others with less opportunity and less financial means grew out their hair & beards to hide their red necks and blend in with the hippie’s movement of love. The summer of love produced partisans of social equanimity and compassion, but also produced partisans of social destruction and hatred. Newton’s third law of physics: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

The extremists from those days on both sides of the fence have now elevated to high levels of politics and/or support grass root organizations that represent the continued passion for their personal political world view. They are the mentors and direct influencers on our millennial generation that will soon oversee all facets of our country, from top to bottomness; to embolden and prepare the country for the next shift in social consciousness. The pendulum keeps on swinging and why a two- party system is inherently a good one.

Our left-wing love bunnies and our right-wing red necks are now back at it again, polarizing our country. Many on both sides are hard to detect especially dressed in a suit. Left- wing tree huggers are now missing their ponytails and are dressed in pastel shorts with Under Armour T-shirts and are very effective capitalist with a splash of socialism; eventually hippies had to get jobs.  The red necks found a great resource in the internet to spread their virus of hate and bigotry which is gaining momentum by increasing numbers of there are those who are acting upon their nefarious intentions now bolstered to rise by current political support. Is it coincidence since the last presidential election in 2016 mass shooting incidents with fatalities in this country has almost tripled? This year 2019 is on pace to be the first year since 2016 with an average of more than one mass shooting a day. The sleeping giant of a nihilism,apathy and discontent was awoken, and they elected a president from their end of the gene pool.  Shift Happens. Its time clean up the shift.

The Silent Generation gave birth to the Baby Boomer generation, they in turn gave birth to our Millennial Generation who are now raising and nurturing our Centennial Generation.  These children of the Centennial Generation will inherit the shift we find ourselves in now, as well as the condition of the planet and its resources that we leave for them. It’s time to get our shift together and make America the model of the great democracy that it once was to the world.

“Be the change that you wish to see in the world.”

― Mahatma Gandhi

Mitch Carmody October 7, 2019

     Planes Trains and Automobiles to Planet Grief and Back
It has been 26 years since our son Kelly died, and what a ride it has been. He had just turned nine in 1987 and was actively dying of cancer with only a few short weeks to experience his life. In those last 8 months of his life, we flew to Disney world, Disney land, Denver, North Carolina, Hawaii, Mexico; we took the train to Chicago and a taxi to “Ripley’s Believe or Not Museum”. We drove to see Paul Bunyan, the Jolly Green Giant and the giant ball of twine. We cashed in our savings and did what Kelly wanted to do; we were proactively living and learning to proactively die at the same time and seemingly for the most part we did it in planes, trains, and automobiles. Then the movie came out on the big screen and Kelly absolutely loved John Candy movies. Although very weak and frail, the day before he died we took him to see “Planes, Trains and Automobiles”. He laughed until it hurt, and despite the small doses of morphine -it did hurt; that was the last time I heard him laugh or smile.
Kelly’s sister Meagan was only six years old when she saw this movie and when her brother died. Today she is 33 years old and the mother of two girls ages four and seven. She is the same age I was when my child died and it’s impossible for her to conceive of this happening to her, yet she has witnessed it in us. We are bereaved parents and will always be bereaved parents as she will always be a bereaved sibling. She wanted to come with us to participate in the conference for the first time…and for us all to take the train to Chicago; the last time she was on this train was with her brother.
We made plans early, purchased train tickets to Chicago on the Empire Builder and we had good friends in Chicago who would drive us around when we got there. We would then catch a plane back on Sunday. It was our own Planes, Trains and Automobiles adventure, which it turned out to be. The evening before we were to depart we drove to our daughter’s house in Red Wing Minnesota. She lives only blocks from the small train depot where we would catch it in the morning. Later that evening checking my email I saw one from Amtrak stating that the train had been canceled and that they had made arrangements with their bussing service to provide us with an 8 hour bus ride to Chicago. We all screamed no way! There is no Bus in the title of the movie and busses make me car sick. We asked for a refund and I bought the last three flights on American Airlines to Chicago. I know Kelly is laughing his butt off, we should have known, that’s what the movie was about on the surface -a traveling fiasco. It was a hilarious movie but we also see someone (John Candy) who is grieving deeply for his loss but keeping it a dark secret and is the really the most important tenet of the movie.
In his role Steve Martin clearly had no idea about the man’s loss; he knows only that he is stuck with a very odd fellow who irritates him to no end. He tolerates him as many do with us in our grief, and we wear masks or practice avoidance to cover up our aching heart, becoming clever at faking it until we make it. The movie clearly shows how sometimes we as the bereaved relate to the world with unique survival strategies and the fortunate others seemingly have no clue to our inner pain. At the very end of the movie Steve Martin’s character starts reflecting in an almost whimsical way; not out of anger or irritation but with honest love and compassion; then and only then does he see the clues of the grief beneath the surface.
We all have those same mirror neurons that fire in our consciousness that makes compassion a physical reality and empathy a healing tool. It is the love that neutralizes the defense neurons and changes the neuro-pathways and our system is flooded with the hormone oxytocin. This is when our heart takes control and we feel that lump in our throat, our eyes mist up and our mind takes the back seat; we get it. When that happened to Steve Martin at the end of the movie on the city train in Chicago is what most would call an epiphany; a confirmed hormonal response that drives the need to do the right thing without regard to self (hero); changing both their lives in an instant when he responded to the revelation.
In many ways this is what happens at The National Conference of The Compassionate Friends it brings out the hero in us. We become heroes when we provide light in the darkness; we become heroes when we get it; we become heroes when we validate; we become heroes when we listen; we become heroes when we hold the elevator, we become heroes when we speak their loved ones name; so many opportunities to be a hero at the conference. When we save someone else we save ourselves, its hormonal we cannot help it.
So many come to the conference scared, apprehensive, even begrudgingly but the love and authenticity of so many attendees is almost overwhelming and it can be felt physically in many ways; it is palpable and very real. It can enervate you, as well as wipe you out. One must realize that with the group energy level of so many people and the extremes of hormonal and emotional responses it can be chaotic, unpredictable and even painful. Emotions will be all over the map, but we find unification and validation that we are not alone; we are not crazy, and we are not over it. We are doing the best we can to discover how to live with our loss and still have a meaningful life. Coming to a Compassionate Friends National conference can help us do that.
I want to conclude with an article below that I had penned following The Compassionate Friends National Conference held in Costa Mesa California in 2012.
Traveling to Planet Grief and Back
I am continually amazed at the choreography of the dance that I experience at a TCF national conference and the huge impact is has on my body, mind and spirit when I walk off the dance floor and return home. From spending 3 or 4 days on “planet grief” we return home to the mundane realities of the real world and try to blend in with its preoccupied inhabitants who for the most part know nothing of our secret planet. They don’t wear buttons of a dead child pinned to their clothing; they don’t wear name tags around their neck identifying their loss, and for most part don’t wear butterfly clothing or shirts with a broken red heart.
When I return to work I get surprised looks from people who are caught off guard when I hug them good morning without thinking. I feel a deep separation anxiety for my fellow travelers to planet grief with its honest hugs, cathartic kisses, and deep seated dialogues. The heart I wore on my sleeve now feels vulnerable and exposed to the harsh elements of the daily routine and the machine of the workaday world. I am jonesing for my friends, my family of wounded survivors who succor my soul and I theirs in our dance of the broken hearted. In a word I feel “drifty” and lost for a few days; like getting your land legs back slowly after a week at sea I feel unsteady and unbalanced and I weep easily. I miss my family from planet grief and feel the impact of its loss for another year.
Today I am decompressing, degriefing so to speak, remembering and cherishing the magic moments of the weekend and thanking God for the privilege to be there and serve the bereaved with every quark of my being. I help to facilitate healing in the most sacred of places, the human heart and sou. I am always humbled and healed myself by the experience. Cost Mesa California with its oceans of love and mountains of memories was an incredible experience and I had a lot of quality time with my family of the heart. I met many newly bereaved and made new friendships wish I will cherish as much as the old.
We all come to planet grief from many different worlds. Worlds of all kinds; a plethora of differences in race, age, religion, occupation, economic class, intellect and political views, yet we congregate as one family and find a common ground in compassion; finding common ground in love. It is in helping to heal that we are healed ourselves, like one beggar sharing his bread with another beggar both are sustained for another day.
On the walk a few years ago held in Washington D.C. it was revealed to us that TCF had to register our Sunday TCF walk as a protest if we were to walk as a group on the streets of our nation’s capital. First I was surprised and then I thought about it…and you know that’s quite alright -we are protestors. We have our signs, our banners, our bibs, our T-shirts, our name tags and buttons. We all arrived from a network of paths and losses as varied as the stars and together on common ground we protest society’s ignorance of our forever journey and the injustice to our hearts.
Together we are changing the world views of grief and loss. We are educating the fortunate others of our journey and how we survive. We are intentional survivors who are working on our grief proactively, living our loss, not letting go, not get over, not becoming bitter, but becoming better and turning loss to legacy and honoring of loved one.
God bless you all and until we meet again…like Brigadoon “planet grief” appears for a few days in the summer and for a short time we find the camaraderie of hope, hugs and heart to sustain us for another year.
Peace, love and light
Mitch Carmody

Step out of the Dark, Step into the Light; Proactive Grieving

Being born a twin or multiple is a unique experience not afforded most of the population. Although it has been on the rise for the last 30 years, it still only represents 3% of live births in the nation. I was born a twin with my twin sister in 1955 the last of 7 children that my mother gave birth to. I was born a twin, that is all I knew. I was born with a buddy; a relationship I took for granted; I had no idea no one else shared this wondrous kinship which was our world. That is until she died and I was untwinned. As in the lyrics from the old Joni Mitchell song Big Yellow Taxi :…you don’t know what you have till it gone…

On March 23rd of 1984, eleven days after my twin sister Sandy and I celebrated our 29th birthday together; she and her two boys were killed in a terrible auto accident. She left behind a very distraught husband and a set of thirteen-month-old boy/girl twins. This event took the whole family by shock;  We had three caskets in front of the altar. I was devastated and could barely breathe. A short time later my 9 year old son is diagnosed with terminal cancer; I had to breathe; I had to put the grief for my twin and her boys on the back shelf…where it stayed for a long, long, time.

My son Kelly died in 1987 after two years of fighting cancer; it won. I was exhausted and on grief overload and I retreated from the world. Lost for awhile lost in excessive work and alcohol I functioned at a base level. A level where there is no joy, no zest, no initiative, no anticipation, just getting done what had to be done. Apathy ruled the day;tears ruled the night. The alarm clock my nemesis. I was not alright.

Eventually I found my path out the darkness of nights and  processed the grief for my son proactively and shared it with the world publically with a book about our journey. Published in 2002 it propelled me into a world of grief and loss I was unaware even existed. I eventually became a national speaker on grief and loss, presenting Proactive Grieving seminars in almost every major US city with for grief support groups, non profits and foundations.

In 2015 I was asked to speak at the Twinless Twins National conference held in Nashville. This was 30 years following the Death of my twin sister. Most of my presentations in those years were with bereaved parents, as my sisters loss was overshadowed by my son’s loss. My grief for my sister was still on the back shelf. Not forgotten; not denied; but postponed, and delayed. Imprisoned by survival in a purgatory of forgotten dreams and nightmares my grief was filed deeply away in the amygdala of my brain…waiting.

I keynoted about my twin, our life, her death, my life before, my life after, my life today, my hopes for tomorrow.