My grief journey just reached its sixteenth year. Being this many years in is not an assurance I have moved further away from needing tools to help me through. Having tools means I can be prepared WHEN I do. My son Ben was injured overseas and died stateside eight days later. I held a funeral in our hometown and at Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia. From the day I was informed that he took a bullet from the enemy to his interment date at ANC an entire month had passed. The memories of this time live in the cells of my body and remind me each year as it draws near. I become tired, have little energy, and am emotionally drained and sensitive. It usually takes a couple days for me to realize that the dates on the calendar are influencing how I feel. Then I have the “aha” moment and start sorting through my mental/emotional health toolbox.

 My first experience with grief actually came twenty-seven years before I lost Ben when my eleven year old brother was struck by a car and killed. I had just turned fifteen two months before that. I learned early on that I did not want to let grief take control of my mind and have a negative hold on my life. One of the first things I learned is how to breathe. Taking deep breaths and being cognizant of doing so, kept me from falling off the edge. This tool also comes in handy during childbirth. Two years after my brother died, I watched my sister deliver her first child and witnessed how breath can tame chaos. She delivered her second child only fifteen months later - I witnessed it again. I had Ben thirteen months after that and was able to reach into my toolbox and find calm breathing to get me through a difficult labor and delivery experience. In life and in death, breathing is essential; for its arrival and as a tool to assist in having to say goodbye to loved ones after they’ve breathed their last breath.

“The capacity to withstand or recover quickly from difficulties; toughness”, is one of the meanings you will find in the dictionary for the word resilience.

It has become one of my strongest traits and one that others see in me. It is deep rooted and cultivated through the roots of adversity. A second definition identifies resilience as “the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.”

 When life's circumstances challenge me, the first thing I pay attention to is my breathing. Generally, if my thoughts are spiraling into worries and leaning towards negative outcomes, my heart is also beating faster than normal and my breathing is shallow. This is my signal to slow down and take some deep breaths. After a couple minutes, enlightened and rational thoughts come back to the forefront.

Recovering quickly to a thought process or mindset is resilience defined.
Applying resilience to grief is more applicable to the second definition above -  elasticity. I know it states it's in relation to an object or a substance, but stay with me. This can certainly apply to our mindset when adversity (death, illness, job loss, injury, etc.) comes knocking. Elasticity is being flexible and having the ability to spring back into shape. Or, let’s call it the ability to bounce back from a setback.

I am not calling grief a setback, it is one hundred percent a life altering change that will remain for the rest of your life. However, when it feels ugly, tapping into the roots of resilience will help the dark feel lighter. Applying breathwork to grief will help the roots of resilience grow deep. Now is a good time to take a nice deep breath. Innnnnnnnnnn and Ouuuutttttttttt. Ahhhhhhhhh. I needed that.

 I recently filed a small claim against a major bank for fraudulent activity they were adamant I was responsible for. I had to go to court and chose to represent myself. Despite feeling confident in the evidence I had, I found myself in the downward spiral of negative thoughts and an ever increasing heart rate. As I waited to be called into the courtroom, and even once I was, I started taking deep breaths and practiced the Command Interrupt Technique of breathing. I was then able to speak calmly and clearly to the judge to explain my case. She commended me for my articulation. I would not have been able to do this if I was breathing shallow and falling into a pit of negative thoughts.

 About a month ago I was offered a job with generous pay that is completely in my wheelhouse. It would fulfill my desire for purpose driven work. It was an answer to my prayers and I was very excited to get started and, of course, get paid. As I write this, it has been one month since the offer was made. I have not started working and I have not been paid. Very frustrating. The delay is bureaucratic, has nothing to do with me and there is nothing I can do to speed the process. I simply have to wait. I have been assured the delays will be resolved very soon. Time for another deep breath - innnnnnnnnnn and oouuutttttttttt - ahhhhhhhh.

 Both of the above situations have come during the thirty days of the year when the grief in the cells of my body come alive and challenge my physical and mental health and mindset. Even sixteen years later, I am applying the same tools to my life when it feels heavy on the outside. The court case didn’t resolve that day in the courtroom. It is resolved now and favored me but not as much as I had hoped for.

I am not letting negative thoughts steal the joy I am anticipating for my new job. It will happen when it happens. Nothing has been taken away from me. Both situations are wrapped up in my grief and could easily become added burdens to the things I carry on my heart every day. I won’t let them be overstayed guests. I will acknowledge them, say hello and then introduce them to my toolbox.

 Breathing through, trusting the process and going with the flow are all aspects of being resilient. When I tap into them, I am able to withstand difficulties. I don’t overcome them, that’s a big ask and not always possible, however, resiliency has allowed me to keep moving forward. I refuse to let my mind/body/mindset become a coffin for all I have yet to give. Coffins are for the dead.

I am still very much alive. Creativity and purpose still live in me: in my work, my habits, my hobbies, my relationships, etc.

 The day after my Ben’s angel day I spent some time alone in nature. I stumbled upon a public access to a large lake about thirty minutes away. The roadway leading to and around it were recently flooded due to heavy rains. As I walked around I found a small stump that had clearly been broken in the storms. A cluster of new growth stood tall from the top of it. It was nature's reminder to me that broken things can be renewed. Thanks God!

 I will keep going. What I focus on becomes the compass of where I am headed and who I am becoming.

Only God knows the details. I trust Him to lead me there.

 The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts. -Marcus Aurelius

 The energy of the mind is the essence of life. -Aristotle

 Our breathing is a fragile vessel that carries us from birth to death. -Dr. Frederick Leboyer

 The breath is the guardian to the heart. There's a reason why your lungs are wrapped around your heart...every breath is a prayer, every breath is a blessing. -Dan Brule

 P.S. Please note that my journey is mostly about grief and the loss of my son. I have experienced other forms of loss too. What I speak of can be applied to situations deemed difficult, challenging, traumatic, etc. Mine is not a one size fits all opinion, however, my wisdom and knowledge were earned through the many faces of adversity.

Hello friends! In honor of it being the time of year for graduations, for my inaugural blog I thought I would share the story of how my son Ben got his high school diploma. 

How Ben got his diploma: Trusting the dots of your life

On June 12, 2005, Steve Jobs delivered the commencement speech at Stanford University. In all aspects, it was profound, however, one part of it struck a chord and has stuck with me for years. The first story he told was about connecting the dots of your life. He said, “You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward. You have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something – your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.” Pretty powerful words coming from a man who knew more wealth than most of us ever will from the age of twenty-three until his death at fifty-six (he was fifty-one when he gave the speech). Connecting the dots made all the difference in his life, not the nearly ten billion dollars he was worth when he died.

I have connected the dots in my life between a great number of events. Some were many years apart, some closer together. The experiences of my past helped prepare me for what was to come. Being cognizant of connecting the dots has given me more aha moments than I would have known otherwise. I have put pieces together for my own life and for the life of my son, Ben. I had to learn to look back to see how things fit together, yet once I had this knowledge, it changed how I walked through life. As I became aware of this notion, I began to see, as Jobs stated, that trusting your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever, can happen daily, not just in fleeting moments. Believing and trusting that everything will connect to my future has made me a better person and opened my eyes to how ethereal life truly is. After Ben died, hindsight revealed connections from both of our lives to how and when his ended and where I would be led in the aftermath. As the sixteenth anniversary of his passing draws near, I could write a book with stories of the connections that have been revealed since.

 Grit and good nature got Ben his cap and gown and would ripple into things no one could have predicted. Yet, more than one thing in his story would impact and connect to his future and touch countless lives. How Ben got his diploma is one of my favorite stories.

When he was in seventh grade, Ben was horsing around with a buddy in his science class and broke a scale. The teacher knew it was an accident, but it was an expensive piece of equipment  that would need to be replaced. Ben and his friend were sent to principal Mary Thompson’s office who doled out a sentence of one month’s worth of Saturdays working with the custodians in the school. It was dubbed “community service” because it was a punishment for misbehaving and was restitution for the cost of the scale. It was hardly that for Ben. Having spent a lot of time with his great grandfather (my maternal grandfather), he knew the value of hard work and loved talking with “old guys” and tapping into their wisdom. He enjoyed every minute of the work and did such a great job that the school hired him to work with the custodians beyond his one month of community service. As he moved from middle school across the road to the high school he stayed in contact with Mrs. Thompson. He would stop into the middle school as he walked home and say hello or exchange pleasant conversation if they ran into each other in the hallways of the high school. Despite having punished him that one time, he never viewed her as mean or bad. He liked her and told me so.

Fast forward five school years. Ben is eighteen and graduation is a few months away. He has signed a contract with the Army in the delayed entry program, which meant that shortly after he received his diploma he would leave for basic training. In the later part of his junior year and up to this point in his senior year Ben had chosen sleep over participation. I quit waking him up for school reminding him that he was an adult and his choices had consequences. He would reap what he sowed. The lesson would come slamming home when he was called to the counselor’s office and was informed that he was at risk of not graduating because he was short credits. There was a special program he could enroll in to fast track the required courses he needed. He agreed and got to work. The classes were held at the local technical college. One hundred percent attendance was required, and all assignments had to be completed. Also, the Army would only accept Ben with a diploma in hand. A GED would not suffice. Not getting his diploma on time would delay or deny his acceptance to the Army. The teacher for the special program loved Ben. So did his counselor. Together they helped him as much as they could. Patti, the teacher, even had Ben do some heavy landscaping for an entire Saturday at her home to earn one of the credits. As graduation day got closer, Ben had worked really hard to earn the credits he needed, however, he was still one credit short. Patti and his counselor told him that they had done all they could to help him. It was up to him to find a way to earn the final credit to receive his diploma. It was suggested that he think of a favor he could call on from someone in the community he had done something he thought was worthy of a school credit for or any type of community service he may have completed. He came home and shared the news with me and asked for suggestions on what he should do. I reminded him that he had got himself into this predicament and it was up to him to figure out how to get out of it. Before any worry or panic could set in, a lightbulb went off in his head as the words “community service” repeated in his thoughts. He was back in seventh grade getting punished for breaking that scale. Mrs. Thompson’s words of completing community service to pay back his debt echoed in his head. He wasted no time and went to see her the next day. He explained his predicament, reminded her of his community service and then poured on the charm as he asked if she would give him a school credit so he could receive his diploma. She said yes! He was saved! Mrs. Thompson’s agreement to Ben’s request would change the trajectory of lives neither one of them would ever know. Ben’s diploma would get him into the Army and connect the dots to his great grandfather’s service during WWII.

The commencement ceremony for the Rosemount High School class of 2006 was held indoors due to rain. When I found Ben in the lobby afterwards, I hugged him tight and told him how proud I was. I told him he had earned his diploma by the hair of his chinny chin chin. He responded by saying, “No mom, that one fell out and I grew another one!” We both laughed. It was true.

One month after he was handed his diploma, Ben left for the Army to join the ranks of the Infantry just like his hero and mentor, his great grandfather, had done almost seventy years earlier.

I purchased the photo of Ben receiving his diploma while shaking the hand of the high school principal, Greg Clausen. Ben shook Mr. Clausen's hand so hard, his own hand was visibly blue in the picture. Ben sluffed off in high school, but in the end, he worked hard and earned every letter on that diploma. His pride was evident in the grip of his hand shake, captured forever in a 5x7 photo.

Grit is that 'extra something' that separates the most successful people from the rest. It's the passion, perseverance, and stamina that we must channel in order to stick with our dreams until they become a reality. -Travis Bradberry

My grandfather was Ben’s hero and mentor. He had served in the Army during WWII. Ben admired everything about him as a man and wanted to grow up and be like him. He remains the only offspring to follow in his footsteps and join the military. My grandfather’s and Ben's military service connected over seventy years. Ben joined the Army out of reverence and respect for his service. Ben was accepted into the Army because he had earned his high school diploma.

Ben would sacrifice his life across the globe three years later during his third deployment at the age of twenty-one. In the battle that cost him his life, he saved six of his brothers in arms. Upon his death, he donated his organs and directly saved the lives of four people, including a 57-year-old woman from suburban Chicago. She lived fifteen years and seven months with Ben’s heart. Without Ben’s diploma, death was imminent for her, and she would not have had those extra years of life.

To accommodate the expected crowd, Ben’s funeral was held in his high school gymnasium. Mrs. Thompson came. She made a point to find me and offer her condolences. I told her how her kindness and liking of Ben altered the lives of the men Ben saved on the battlefield and of the people who received his organs, bone, skin and tissue. She was weaved into the dots of his life. Her love of Ben showed in the tears that poured out of her eyes as we hugged.

Eight years after Ben's death, the high school principal, Greg Clausen, helped write a bill to have a bridge memorialized in Ben’s name a few miles from the high school and from where Ben grew up. There is a sign on both sides that says “Corporal Benjamin Stephen Kopp Memorial Bridge”. That firm handshake he and Ben exchanged eleven years earlier was another dot in Ben’s story that would contribute to the legacy he left behind. The bridge signs are a permanent fixture in Dakota County, Minnesota. People have gone out of their way traveling through the area just to have the opportunity to visit and drive across Ben’s bridge.

What we do for ourselves alone dies with us. What we do for others and the world remains and is immortal. -Albert Pike

Ben knew at the age of thirteen that he wanted to join the Army. His determination to become who he aspired to be became the true north in his life. He never took his eye off that goal.

The fortitude in his DNA and gut would connect to his future and eventually cost him his life, yet not before he saved lives and gifted time to people he would never meet. A direct line can be drawn through my grandfather, me, Ben, Mrs. Thompson, the brothers in arms Ben saved and the people who received his organs. We are all dots in each other's lives, none of which hold a monetary value. Ben could have strived to become rich like Steve Jobs. That's not what mattered to him. He accepted responsibility for his actions and stayed focused on his goals despite the challenges they entailed. Along with his great financial wealth, Steve Jobs was rich in character and has influenced scores of people. My son did the same by following where life led him and connecting the dots. I have also done this, because like Jobs said, what matters most in life is trusting in something greater than yourself.