Tag: queen elizabeth

Do You Need to Feel it to Heal it

Do You Need to Feel it to Heal it?

“Grief is the price we pay for love…” Queen Elizabeth II

I have no earthly idea where I came up with the phrase you need to feel it to heal it but it’s stuck in my head. Like a flying shard of glass that catches you just behind the ear and you can’t see it to pull it out.

Anyway, so it got me to thinking about what this means in terms of how we come back from the bad places we’re forced to enter in life.

Lately I’ve watched while people close to me including myself have struggled to come back from a painful loss.

Begs the question, what is the best way to cope and is there really any foolproof way to deal with grief?

Does one magic bullet exist for everyone or does each person require a unique method of moving forward toward healing? It also made me wonder, what is healing? How do we know we’ve achieved it without the signs of a visible scar we can actually see?

I like to think I can cope with pain on my own and don’t require any medication to mask the effects.

I imagine myself strong, adept and able to cope without outside help. Then I’m reminded of that box of Godiva I keep reaching for at odd times during the day that seems to calm me with each bite. So, who am I kidding here? Because it doesn’t come in a bottle with a prescription attached is it any less medicinal?

Okay, I admit it, chocolate is my Zanax.

Others need an actual drug to quiet them enough to function. Without help masking the pain and its effects some are lethargic and unable to function in life.

I’ve witnessed this and it can be incredibly debilitating.

The question I’ve asked is how long is long enough to stay medicated until one can face life alone again?

How much Godiva will it take until I can get through a day and go through my normal routine without popping a few caramels and am I simply fueling my addiction to chocolate?

Is my need for sugar better than a Zanax or two to get through the day and isn’t it just as addictive?

Honestly, I don’t know. I like to think because eventually I’ll stop masking the pain with pralines it’s the better option. Yet whether it’s drugs or chocolate it’s still a crutch one uses to cope.

Returning to my original question, does one need to feel it to heal it?

Haven’t you heard people say that we must acknowledge and embrace our feelings to change them? That ignoring the pain merely adds time to its effects and we must go through the pain to get to the other side.

If we ignore pain can’t it burrow deeper into our soul until it’s almost impossible to find? Does it morph into a deep and festering wound that we are unaware exists and manifests itself in ways we don’t understand?

Is feeling and recognizing the hurt a way to battle it on our turf, like a home court advantage?

Know thy enemy is a phrase that never goes away and if we refuse to see what is attacking us can we rise to conquer an unseen enemy?

Sun Tzu said “Know the enemy and know yourself in a hundred battles you will never be in peril. When you are ignorant of the enemy but know yourself, your chances of winning or losing are equal. If ignorant both of your enemy and of yourself, you are certain in every battle to be in peril.”

So we need to know the enemy and know ourselves as well to achieve victory.

What does this mean to someone battling to avoid the pain of loss?

I imagine we must know ourself what weapons will be successful fighting our individual war.

We know sorrow, but how well do we know what it takes to defeat it?

Is it as many believe that time heals all wounds and we need merely to wait it out?

Is it simply medicating ourself and hoping the effects of the drugs will delay the enemy until we are armed and ready to face it again?

Does waiting actually weaken our resolve and the masking create less will and ability to deal with and defeat our aggressor?

Or does time, no matter what we do step in to do battle for us and eventually close the wound naturally?

Can it be a combination of all these; or perhaps none?

Do certain wounds never heal but remain to be opened and felt again, like a battlefield where there is no resolution?

Do some wars never truly end and exist in a state of semi-peaceful coexistence?

I truly believe that grief is fluid. We may go through times when we are coping well and then suddenly a memory attacks from behind and you are caught off guard.

Many spiritual leaders believe feeling the hurt and acknowledging a broken heart is the path to true awakening. To function in the midst of chaos without panic is the right path.

Looking forward to future nicer times can for the moment give you a sense that there can be happiness ahead. This is one way to restore hope life will eventually reach some new normal state.

Does staying connected to loved ones through pictures, memories, birthdays and so many other reminders help and deflect from the loss.

Maybe there is no one way to feel the pain and get past it that works for everyone. If needed some should reach out for help as part of their journey back to wellness.

In the end we all fight our own war, grieve our own way and slay the monster with the weapons we find most useful.

Hearts break and time heals to some extent, or so they say. Just how much it heals is not universal and differs within us all and we know wounds can reopen.

So if you need to feel it to heal it and get past it, arm yourself for battle and slay that dragon. And if you need to call in your army of loved ones and friends to help you do battle, that may be a huge help as well.  

And the Winner for Worst Grandson of all Time Goes to Prince Harry, of Course

And the Winner for Worst Grandson of all Time

Goes to Prince Harry, of Course.

It’s difficult for any thinking person to avoid wanting to retch when hearing Prince Harry’s stories of his so-called tragic life as a prince of England. I imagine and Lord knows I’m not speaking from experience here, it must be awful to just be a prince instead of being the prince who will someday be king. My sympathies.

Poor Harry, his plight is unequalled in the sad stories that man shall repeat throughout time and history. Just think what comfort it is to those poor children around the world who are hungry and sick to know Harry shares their pain because he is merely a Prince who lived a royal life and not the heir apparent? Just a moment while I wipe the tears from my eyes and fight to control my sobs so I can continue typing.

Okay, that’s better now I’m back.

We can only be grateful that a third-rate American actress showed up looking for attention on her way to bit parts in Hallmark Channel movies to point out how horrible his life has been as a member of British royalty.

Speaking as one of the common folk and a grandmother to two amazing human beings I am indeed surprised, despite the focus on the tripe Harry wrote in his, excuse the expression book, that no one has pointed out the obvious…Harry assumed his grandmother the Queen would still be alive when his book was published and was well aware of the untold harm and pain it would bring to her.

And the winner is…worst grandson of all time Prince Harry.

I’ve watched the Crown like everyone else so I’m aware that the Queen is often portrayed as somewhat of a cold fish toward her children, choosing duty and country before hugs and snuggles. No one ever accused her of being warm and fuzzy except her grandchildren.

Anyone who has grandchildren understands well the concept that there is a very special bond. The lack of responsibility toward their upbringing frees one to simply reap the benefits of all the love and attention one can foist on these marvelous little miracles.

Your grandchildren are easy to love, accept and unconditionally forgive anything. They are the ultimate reward for surviving your own teenagers, for the fact your boobs have dropped like two rocks in a stream, that getting out of bed takes a whole lot longer than it once did and that now with so many more TV channels to watch working the remote control is damn difficult due to carpel tunnel.

You don’t have to clean their fingerprints off walls, but instead you leave them there as artwork, you needn’t care if they stay up later than usual because you love spending more time with them and they are willing to listen to the stories of your childhood and look at you like you are imparting the wisdom of the sages.

You don’t have to worry your ignorance about parenting will screw them up for life for they have their own parents to do that. You are Grandma, giver of hugs and lover of all things they do and say.

They are your best buds, great supporters and simply the loves of your life.

As a grandmother I have no doubt whatsoever Queen Elizabeth felt no different about her offspring. I’m certain she was the president of all their fan clubs and judging from what I’ve heard from her grandchildren she was devoted to them. I’m sure she went out of her way to be especially mindful of the fact Harry and William had suffered a great loss early in their lives and she in her way paid even closer attention to their needs.

Whether or not one agrees or disagrees with Harry’s pathetic whining and diatribe about his sad life as a prince is not really my concern. I’ve been around enough narcissists in my life to understand the harm they do to those around them and their constant craving for attention and disregard for other’s feelings. This is not the point I wish to make.

I am simply taking issue with the fact Harry had so little love for his grandmother he would write such a mean and spiteful book and trash the people and institution she so loved. What kind of grandson has so little regard for his grandmother’s feelings?

I’m certain he was well aware of the damage it would do to her when the book was published and he and his wife taped the television special complaining and trashing everyone. Yet he didn’t care. He was oblivious to his grandmother’s potential pain and suffering from these remarks and turned a blind eye and deaf ear to what would have been devastating for Queen Elizabeth to hear and read. Would be to any grandmother in that situation and in her last years of life no less.

If there is one thing I’ve learned in this crazy life it’s that there are three sides to every story: yours, mine and the truth.

Harry and Meghan’s constantly whining about their “truth” when they are fully aware no one on the other side can respond is shameful and over the top self- absorbed behavior, even for these two.

I feel sad as a grandmother that the last years of the Queen’s life were so colored with negativity and anger leveled by two such shallow people. That after a lifetime of service to her country, her people and her family she had to suffer the slings and arrows leveled at her by an ungrateful grandson. This I find truly sad.

No grandparent should have to be treated in such a fashion, especially one who obviously loved and cared for her grandchildren.

In case you are wondering I am not writing this rant because I am some kind of over-the-top royal lover or super fan of the Queen. As a matter of fact I’m still working on being okay with the fact she never visited Israel during her entire reign, so please do not think this is colored by my opinion of Her Majesty. I am also sympathetic to the fact Harry has serious issues that need addressing, but lashing out at his grandmother and those she loves won’t cure his ills.

It is simply colored by the revulsion I feel as one grandmother watching a grandson displaying total and complete callousness toward his own grandmother.

As a Grammy and proud to be I feel I must speak up for us all. Grandparents are a very unique person in someone’s life. I know my grandfather was very special to my brother Marty and I and we always felt blessed to have had him in our lives. I would never have ever knowingly hurt him or tried to destroy the things he held dear.

I’d like to think all grandchildren feel as we did.

Despite watching what I can only call the most ungrateful grandson of all time I still believe the relationship between grandparent and grandchild is sacrosanct and extraordinary.

There is an expression, “how sharper than a serpent’s tooth the sting of an ungrateful child.”

Well sting away, Harry, you can’t do her harm anymore.

No Queen Elizabeth, All Americans Aren’t Meghan

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No, Queen Elizabeth, All Americans Aren’t Meghan

With so much attention these days on the royal family and no millennials, I’m not talking about the Kardashians; I’m feeling immense sympathy for Queen Elizabeth. Why you ask, would Norma Zager feel sorry for the Queen?

With very good reason actually. She is a queen it’s true, but she is also a grandmother. Incidentally a very involved one since Harry and William lost their mother so young and it fell to her to become the female authority figure in their young lives. It must be very difficult for her to watch her grandsons unhappy or making bad decisions, just as any grandmother would.

William seems to have towed the party line. Despite his enormous pain at the loss of his mother, he rose to the occasion and selected and fell in love with a woman who in all aspects reflects a royal demeanor. Kate not only won William’s heart but she succeeded to win over the English people and the world. Her grace, refinement and charm have succeeded in creating a mate for the Prince that most deem highly appropriate and positive for a future queen.

Harry as we all have seen, has not dealt well with his position and tragic history. The loss of his mother took a large chunk out of his soul that he has been unable to repair and of course could never replace.

His behavior has been erratic, embarrassing and decidedly un-royal, but the public forgives his weaknesses and trespasses because he is loved.

Enter Meghan Markle. Oops! Now we have a new wrinkle in the royal laundry.

From all accounts the Queen Grandmother seemed to be welcoming because as we all know, what makes our children and grandchildren happy, is fine with us.

Yet, things quickly took a negative turn when Meghan’s family exhibited the signs of, how shall we put it, less than classy and talked to a hungry press about their dirty family secrets.

However, instead of placing the blame where it belonged with the Markle clan, she chose to deride the royals. Poor pitiful Meghan no one stood up for her as she was being attacked by her own family.

I’m sure it hurt in fact I know it does, but what was her reaction to this unpleasant piece of Markle business?

She became defensive instead of understanding that it would never do for the Queen or Prince Charles to come out swinging at anyone.

It is simply not done.

Meghan believed that because she is an American, she can open her big American mouth, as we all do and state her opinions. So sorry Honey, but you’re not in Kansas anymore.

Perhaps the press might have reacted more favorably toward you had you not been so obvious in your distain toward all things royal. It is what it is, get over it.

The royal family lives by a far different standard. Oh, of course they are well compensated for their lack of ability to speak their minds at all times, but sweetie get a grip. A crown is not free and comes with a cost.

Obviously Kate understood this truth and it’s why she’s a beloved member of the royal family.

While poor Meghan was crying into her Hermes handkerchief, she was also slathering her negativity upon Harry. Hasn’t he been through enough? And hasn’t the Queen?

Few people can resist the pomp and circumstance of the royal family. They are the reality television of England and watching their foibles and fashions is a guilty pleasure shared by countless Americans.

The viewing audience for the Kate and Wills’ wedding was astronomical and of course we all sat transfixed to the screen as yet another Windsor regaled us with the possibility of an English happily ever after, despite the grave feast of disappointment offered up by Charles and Diana.

Americans were nostalgic at how much Kate reminded us of our own royal Princess Grace, and aside from the gowns and uproarious chapeaus donned copiously on that royal day, I was struck by something perhaps most overlooked.

Of course as a grandmother, I see things differently and through the lens of all things grandchildren and

I was surprised to witness the fact the Queen of England seems to feel the same way.

Although the wedding was beautiful I managed to escape teary moments, romance aside, until for one split second I found myself face to face with a grandmother’s love and then the tears flowed like water.

Yes, right there in St. Paul’s Cathedral as William and Kate stopped after their nuptials to bow in respect as they headed back up the aisle, the Queen bowed her head and I saw the Grandma lip quiver as clear as day.

Oh she caught herself of course as any self-respecting and quite contained royal would do. Elizabeth more than most is dedicated to composure as the monarch, yet for one brief second she couldn’t contain her grandmother’s love for her grandson.

Her lip quivered and she looked down to hide the rush of emotion only a grandma could feel watching her beloved grandchild heading out into life, a married man, a new wife and a new life.

I imagined it must have been especially difficult for her as perhaps a fleeting memory of William’s pain at losing his mother washed over her and forced her to stand staunch against the tide of emotion attacking from all sides.

And of course Elizabeth in her well-practiced and inimitable way retained composure and caught that tear before it escaped her eye to fall onto a careworn cheek.

Yes, despite all of our differences at that moment we bonded as grandmothers, and I knew for certain Elizabeth is quite human after all. She has her weaknesses and one of them is William.

Her façade, her inner strength, her public persona all fell away when faced with the emotions of grandma love.

Shame on me for my utter surprise when so many of her grandchildren have praised her devotion. Princess Eugenie for example recounts how, “Granny would take us raspberry picking, and we’d have the raspberry jam that we picked that day on the table for tea.”

Kate first meeting her was surprised to learn the Queen played video games.

And yes part of my surprise does relate to the reputation of the English for being more affectionate with their dogs than their children.

I now know I was wrong and proven so by a quivering lip.

Imagine my surprise when I realized that indeed the Queen of England and I, an American cousin, have so much in common.

We are both no more than grandmas and that is a powerful and positive bond no matter who or what you are.

Now as her new great grandson, Archie, is removed to a country far away I’m certain she is saddened. A face-time chat is only second best to holding your grandchildren and great grandchildren in your arms and coochy-cooing them in person.

Since we can’t always choose our loved ones’ partners, even royalty, it’s more evident than ever to me that life doesn’t always turn out as we planned for any of us, even if you’re the Queen of England.