Your child has died suddenly. You are in deep depression, you can not express your grief or manage your feelings of sadness and anger, and your use of drugs or alcohol is found not to be the answer. Often, people in these situations don’t know where to turn. Finding a good counselor to help you through the grief process is recommended. Dr. Alan Wolfelt, in an article in Grief Digest, offers advice on how to go about this.
He says first is a recommendation from a friend who you trust. If they have had a good experience and feel you will too, they will want to help by giving you that name. It is worth a try but does not mean you can’t try alternative methods.
A local hospice center may have some counselors on staff or can tell you where to find someone. A hospital, family service agency and/or mental health clinic maintain a list of referral sources.
A self-help bereavement group usually maintains a list of counselors specializing in grief therapy.
Your personal physician is often knowledgeable about bereavement care specialists.
Finally, an information and referral service, such as a crisis intervention center, has lists of counselors who focus on bereavement work. According to Wolfelt, you want to be sure and seek out a good “grief” counselor, not just any counselor that might, for example, specialize in marital counseling, not grief counseling. It is important for the counselor to understand how you are feeling and there are many grief specialists out there who have also gone through the same experience and truly understand.
Wolfelt says to look in the Yellow Pages for those citing grief or bereavement as a specialty. Another credential to look for is certification from the Association for Death Education and Counseling (ADEC).
Finally, he says, ask the following questions during your initial consultation with a counselor:
What are your credentials and where were you trained?
Have you had specialized bereavement care training?
What is your experience with bereaved people?
What is your counseling approach with a bereaved person?
You may find that the grief journey is too difficult to handle on your own, and any help that is in your community is usually appreciated by the bereaved.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
DON'T
There are many “don’ts” in the eyes of a newly bereaved parent. I have heard many of them myself as the years progress, but some of these, written in a TCF newsletter recently, bear repeating and hopefully, once and for all, bring the point home to friends and relatives who want to know how to act and react to your loss. Please share them with others.
DON’T use the word “closure;” there is no such thing as far as the death of my child…that word is an insult to all people grieving a loss.
DON’T tell me to get over “it”…my loved one was not an “it”… I’m forever changed and won’t “get over it;” be prepared to get to know the ‘new’ me. I am on a never-ending journey that has been forced on me. I did not choose it; I did not ask to be on it. It is a journey that lasts forever.
DON’T be put out if I don’t accept your company because I do appreciate the offer. I’m just a mess right now and not good company.
DON’T talk about your children, their honors, their colds, their problems. It just makes me feel cheated/sad/angry. Let time pass and perhaps I can be more responsive at a later date.
DON’T put a shelf life on my grief or a time limit on when you think I should be over grieving. I am doing everything possible that I think I need to do every day.
DON’T use words such as ‘lost’, ‘gone,’ or ‘passed on;’ Just use the word ‘died.’
DON”T tell me about the losses or the coping styles of others. I can only take in my own story at this stage. I don’t even want to watch the news as everything else except my loss seems so trivial.
DON’T be afraid to look me in the eye; I haven’t got a contagious disease.
DON”T change the subject; if I didn’t want to talk of my child, I would not mention him/her.
DON”T push me into making any big decisions and changing too much in the first year.
DON”T panic when I begin to sob uncontrollably and don’t seek to cheer me up or calm me down prematurely. Tears are often very healing and this is something worth crying about.
DON”T say inane things like my child is in heaven or in a better place. I want them here with me!
DON”T try to fix me; most people adapt to loss by ventilating their loss in an accepting and validating environment…so don’t suffocate my ventilating by avoiding the subject.
DON”T try to accelerate the process of my bereavement. Be assured I am doing all I can to work through my shock and grief…just be very patient with me.
DON’T just stay for the funeral and then move on; you might learn a lot yourself from choosing to connect with me ‘little and often.’
DON’T use the word “closure;” there is no such thing as far as the death of my child…that word is an insult to all people grieving a loss.
DON’T tell me to get over “it”…my loved one was not an “it”… I’m forever changed and won’t “get over it;” be prepared to get to know the ‘new’ me. I am on a never-ending journey that has been forced on me. I did not choose it; I did not ask to be on it. It is a journey that lasts forever.
DON’T be put out if I don’t accept your company because I do appreciate the offer. I’m just a mess right now and not good company.
DON’T talk about your children, their honors, their colds, their problems. It just makes me feel cheated/sad/angry. Let time pass and perhaps I can be more responsive at a later date.
DON’T put a shelf life on my grief or a time limit on when you think I should be over grieving. I am doing everything possible that I think I need to do every day.
DON’T use words such as ‘lost’, ‘gone,’ or ‘passed on;’ Just use the word ‘died.’
DON”T tell me about the losses or the coping styles of others. I can only take in my own story at this stage. I don’t even want to watch the news as everything else except my loss seems so trivial.
DON’T be afraid to look me in the eye; I haven’t got a contagious disease.
DON”T change the subject; if I didn’t want to talk of my child, I would not mention him/her.
DON”T push me into making any big decisions and changing too much in the first year.
DON”T panic when I begin to sob uncontrollably and don’t seek to cheer me up or calm me down prematurely. Tears are often very healing and this is something worth crying about.
DON”T say inane things like my child is in heaven or in a better place. I want them here with me!
DON”T try to fix me; most people adapt to loss by ventilating their loss in an accepting and validating environment…so don’t suffocate my ventilating by avoiding the subject.
DON”T try to accelerate the process of my bereavement. Be assured I am doing all I can to work through my shock and grief…just be very patient with me.
DON’T just stay for the funeral and then move on; you might learn a lot yourself from choosing to connect with me ‘little and often.’
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Moving Forward
When I first started going to Compassionate Friends conferences, I met a TCF board member and president that I considered to be an eloquent speaker and a fabulous writer. He did eventually write a book about his son who died from a man’s perspective, “Into the Valley and Out Again.” I so enjoyed his wonderful words of wisdom at each conference and looked forward to them. Like everything else, nothing lasts forever and Rick Elder suddenly died a few years back. We lost a compassionate, friendly person who wanted, like many of us, to help others through the grief journey. Occasionally, we are blessed with some writings he left behind that TCF, their magazine and the various chapters reprint in their newsletters. A recent one I read had some thoughtful lessons for those bereaved, five years down the road. Below, I summarize his thoughts and what they meant for him, me and others.
People enjoying themselves, laughing at a TCF meeting, greeting each other with hugs, appearing so normal after their child died. At first this irritated Rick, as it did me, when I would see someone actually enjoying themselves and acting like they didn’t have a care in the world. But both he and I have learned three valuable lessons over the years.
1. Life goes on and we must too. Gradually the pain eases and the warm memories replace the sadness. Time is a great healer. I was teaching school at the time my daughter died and realized that on many days it was 6-8 hours that I didn’t think about her. At first, I felt surprise and then guilt as most of us do. But then I realized, as he did, that we are moving forward. We are looking to the future. We will never forget, but our child’s death is not the all-consuming factor in our life. We choose to enjoy friends again. We choose to go out to dinner or to parties again. We choose to laugh again. Isn’t this what our children would want us to do? They would not want us to sit around, crying and mourning their death forever. Nothing we do will bring them back, so moving forward is the best alternative.
2. We become grateful for what we have, not focused on what we have lost. There are many people I know who say they will never get over their loss and some even contemplate ending their lives. They ignore other family members, causing many additional problems. But Rick says these people should also think about the ways they have been blessed, as well as hurt. Most people have more to be thankful for than they realize: health, other children, a loving family, a career they enjoy, financial security, life in a free country, a faith that works for them, a true best friend and a spouse they love. Nobody has it all, but compared to the rest of the world, we have a lot.
3. The life we now lead will be better than it would have been. He emphasizes this does not make our child’s death a good thing. Our child’s life mattered; in some small way the world will be better because our child lived and we are the ones who can make it so. We have been changed forever, and we have different goals and priorities. We don’t “sweat the small stuff.” What was once important to us is insignificant now. We know what matters because we know what is irreplaceable. We understand how others who have lost a child feel because we have been there too.
We will never forget our child nor should we. Sure, we would give anything to have our child back again, but that will not happen. It is up to us now to go forward and create a new normal, which we can do.
People enjoying themselves, laughing at a TCF meeting, greeting each other with hugs, appearing so normal after their child died. At first this irritated Rick, as it did me, when I would see someone actually enjoying themselves and acting like they didn’t have a care in the world. But both he and I have learned three valuable lessons over the years.
1. Life goes on and we must too. Gradually the pain eases and the warm memories replace the sadness. Time is a great healer. I was teaching school at the time my daughter died and realized that on many days it was 6-8 hours that I didn’t think about her. At first, I felt surprise and then guilt as most of us do. But then I realized, as he did, that we are moving forward. We are looking to the future. We will never forget, but our child’s death is not the all-consuming factor in our life. We choose to enjoy friends again. We choose to go out to dinner or to parties again. We choose to laugh again. Isn’t this what our children would want us to do? They would not want us to sit around, crying and mourning their death forever. Nothing we do will bring them back, so moving forward is the best alternative.
2. We become grateful for what we have, not focused on what we have lost. There are many people I know who say they will never get over their loss and some even contemplate ending their lives. They ignore other family members, causing many additional problems. But Rick says these people should also think about the ways they have been blessed, as well as hurt. Most people have more to be thankful for than they realize: health, other children, a loving family, a career they enjoy, financial security, life in a free country, a faith that works for them, a true best friend and a spouse they love. Nobody has it all, but compared to the rest of the world, we have a lot.
3. The life we now lead will be better than it would have been. He emphasizes this does not make our child’s death a good thing. Our child’s life mattered; in some small way the world will be better because our child lived and we are the ones who can make it so. We have been changed forever, and we have different goals and priorities. We don’t “sweat the small stuff.” What was once important to us is insignificant now. We know what matters because we know what is irreplaceable. We understand how others who have lost a child feel because we have been there too.
We will never forget our child nor should we. Sure, we would give anything to have our child back again, but that will not happen. It is up to us now to go forward and create a new normal, which we can do.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Labyrinth of Grief
I read an article recently by Sandra Howlett, grief specialist, who talked about walking through a labyrinth, like a maze that eventually leads to the center if the right path is chosen. In a labyrinth, there is but one choice to make—to enter or not. The labyrinth is a metaphor of the journey inside oneself to gain understanding for living in the world. In this case, Sandra became increasingly aware of the parallels between walking the labyrinth and the journey of grief. I found the comparisons she makes startingly familiar for myself. I thought of my friends who have gone through this and even those I don’t know personally who are on a grief journey. I hope everyone reading this gets a personal insight into this particular labyrinth: the labyrinth of grief.
Some of the points Sandra makes:
She saw a single way in and out but no quick way to get from here to there. As you walk in a labyrinth you can lose sense of how long you have been there. Grief time can get convoluted…from standing still to totally losing track of time.
Other’s footprints were in the sand reminding her that she was not the first nor would she be the last who would walk this path. It was a comfort to know someone else had been there. At other times there have been others in the labyrinth with her, each on his own journey at his own pace, silently stepping aside to allow each other to pass if they meet in the same "lane." It is possible to be in the same lane and going in opposite directions. Such is grief, as everyone does it a little bit differently.
The design of the labyrinth includes what appears to be backtracking switchbacks on the way to the center as well as to the exit. Grief often feels like two steps forward, one step back—taking a lot of time or effort with indiscernible results. There were moments of impatience and frustration that she wasn’t moving ahead (aka healing) as fast as she wanted to, meeting switchbacks on the path and wondering when she would get to the end. She reminded herself to simply put one foot in front of the other and trust that she was going to get to where she was going. The faith in that simple strategy helped her squash other worries, concerns and distractions…just one step at a time.
A couple of times she stumbled and almost fell, but caught her balance. Her first thought was to look around to see if anyone saw her. Why do we concern ourselves with what others might think when we are struggling and doing the best we can?
At the ‘halfway’ point of the labyrinth is the center, an open area. For some reason, the walk out seems faster than the journey inward much like returning from a trip. One recognizes some of the terrain and feels a little bit clearer in the navigation. Familiarity of knowing the way or an eagerness to find ways to integrate any insights gained may be the reason.
There are no ‘dead ends’ in a labyrinth, only switchbacks and changes of direction moving closer or further from the center. There are no dead ends in grief work either, only paths than move us closer or further from a peaceful heart and healing.
After lots of back and forth, going over the same roads and finally making progress, the opening to exit always seems to come up quickly. While the entrance and the exit are one, it is the experience and wisdom of the journey that makes all the difference.
Some of the points Sandra makes:
She saw a single way in and out but no quick way to get from here to there. As you walk in a labyrinth you can lose sense of how long you have been there. Grief time can get convoluted…from standing still to totally losing track of time.
Other’s footprints were in the sand reminding her that she was not the first nor would she be the last who would walk this path. It was a comfort to know someone else had been there. At other times there have been others in the labyrinth with her, each on his own journey at his own pace, silently stepping aside to allow each other to pass if they meet in the same "lane." It is possible to be in the same lane and going in opposite directions. Such is grief, as everyone does it a little bit differently.
The design of the labyrinth includes what appears to be backtracking switchbacks on the way to the center as well as to the exit. Grief often feels like two steps forward, one step back—taking a lot of time or effort with indiscernible results. There were moments of impatience and frustration that she wasn’t moving ahead (aka healing) as fast as she wanted to, meeting switchbacks on the path and wondering when she would get to the end. She reminded herself to simply put one foot in front of the other and trust that she was going to get to where she was going. The faith in that simple strategy helped her squash other worries, concerns and distractions…just one step at a time.
A couple of times she stumbled and almost fell, but caught her balance. Her first thought was to look around to see if anyone saw her. Why do we concern ourselves with what others might think when we are struggling and doing the best we can?
At the ‘halfway’ point of the labyrinth is the center, an open area. For some reason, the walk out seems faster than the journey inward much like returning from a trip. One recognizes some of the terrain and feels a little bit clearer in the navigation. Familiarity of knowing the way or an eagerness to find ways to integrate any insights gained may be the reason.
There are no ‘dead ends’ in a labyrinth, only switchbacks and changes of direction moving closer or further from the center. There are no dead ends in grief work either, only paths than move us closer or further from a peaceful heart and healing.
After lots of back and forth, going over the same roads and finally making progress, the opening to exit always seems to come up quickly. While the entrance and the exit are one, it is the experience and wisdom of the journey that makes all the difference.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Three T's for Grievers
If you are a bereaved parent, I have what I call the three T’s for grievers.
TEARS
Crying is a natural and healthy emotion. You will shed many tears for your child now and probably forever. That is okay. Tears cleanse the body and soul. After a good cry, you are able to resume what you were doing. Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s been long enough; that you should not shed tears anymore. Cry whenever you like or whenever you get the urge. Good friends will always understand. After 17 years I still cry at the smallest, most insignificant things that remind me of my daughter: a beautiful day where the sun shines, a beautiful sunset, a special song, a movie, a play…all the things that my daughter is missing because she is no longer here. I pick up seashells on the beach as she used to, but quickly throw them back. The intensity of the moment brings tears to my eyes. Most bereaved parents can think of many similar times. But when the tears dissipate, you, like me, will feel drained but better able to cope with another day.
TALKING
You need to talk, to let others hear your story, to let others know you want to talk about your child. Your child lived, was a beautiful human being, and you want him/her to be remembered. Let others help you through the grief process by being supportive. Talk to your spouse, your parents, your friends, your religious leader or a grief specialist. Don’t tell them “how” you are feeling. Tell them “what” you are feeling. Certainly, don’t pretend you are fine. You are not fine and will never “get over it.” You may lose old friends who don’t understand, but you will be challenged to find new ones who do understand and want to help. Those further on the grief journey can help you learn how to cope and will gladly try to be of help, because, in turn, by helping you, they are also helping themselves.
TIME
Time is the great healer of human beings, but time does not heal our grief over the death of a child. It only softens the intensity of the grief. Hopefully, you won’t always feel a 10 pound weight on your chest. You will eventually find a new normal, but life will never be the same as it was before this tragic death. Your grief is not on a timetable. Others can not expect you to heal in a few weeks, a few months or even a year. Everyone grieves differently and at different times and is entitled to move at his or her own pace. Others should understand you will always have a hole in your heart for your lost child.
We, as bereaved parents, are dealing with the worst thing that can ever happen to us. We need friends to be there for us through our tears, to hear what we have to say, any time of the day or night, no matter how long that journey takes. If you have friends who will do that, they are, indeed, true friends and you are very lucky.
TEARS
Crying is a natural and healthy emotion. You will shed many tears for your child now and probably forever. That is okay. Tears cleanse the body and soul. After a good cry, you are able to resume what you were doing. Don’t let anyone tell you that it’s been long enough; that you should not shed tears anymore. Cry whenever you like or whenever you get the urge. Good friends will always understand. After 17 years I still cry at the smallest, most insignificant things that remind me of my daughter: a beautiful day where the sun shines, a beautiful sunset, a special song, a movie, a play…all the things that my daughter is missing because she is no longer here. I pick up seashells on the beach as she used to, but quickly throw them back. The intensity of the moment brings tears to my eyes. Most bereaved parents can think of many similar times. But when the tears dissipate, you, like me, will feel drained but better able to cope with another day.
TALKING
You need to talk, to let others hear your story, to let others know you want to talk about your child. Your child lived, was a beautiful human being, and you want him/her to be remembered. Let others help you through the grief process by being supportive. Talk to your spouse, your parents, your friends, your religious leader or a grief specialist. Don’t tell them “how” you are feeling. Tell them “what” you are feeling. Certainly, don’t pretend you are fine. You are not fine and will never “get over it.” You may lose old friends who don’t understand, but you will be challenged to find new ones who do understand and want to help. Those further on the grief journey can help you learn how to cope and will gladly try to be of help, because, in turn, by helping you, they are also helping themselves.
TIME
Time is the great healer of human beings, but time does not heal our grief over the death of a child. It only softens the intensity of the grief. Hopefully, you won’t always feel a 10 pound weight on your chest. You will eventually find a new normal, but life will never be the same as it was before this tragic death. Your grief is not on a timetable. Others can not expect you to heal in a few weeks, a few months or even a year. Everyone grieves differently and at different times and is entitled to move at his or her own pace. Others should understand you will always have a hole in your heart for your lost child.
We, as bereaved parents, are dealing with the worst thing that can ever happen to us. We need friends to be there for us through our tears, to hear what we have to say, any time of the day or night, no matter how long that journey takes. If you have friends who will do that, they are, indeed, true friends and you are very lucky.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Dreams and Their Meaning
Four months after my daughter’s marriage, she was alive and well and planning the move to a new home they could call their own. It was one of the things I loved to do… look at homes, analyze them and make suggestions. So, when my daughter said, “Come out to L.A. mom, and help me look. I’m having trouble finding just the right house for us,” I decided on a whim to go. I knew that if we looked and found a suitable place, I’d give her a down payment for the home, even though she expected nothing from me.
We spent a whole weekend looking; the homes were out of sight price-wise in 1994 (but by comparison to homes 10 years later, a real deal). A two-bedroom small older home that needed a lot of work was $800,000, far more than most could afford. When we saw a $600,000 home on the market, we’d get into the car and drive over. In most cases, we were disappointed…too much remodeling needed, a new roof and paint job, and two bedrooms was just not enough. They wanted a family.
“But Mom,” she’d say, “You’re looking at a very typical home for that price. We’ll have trouble even affording that, but what choice do we have.” I could see that a fixer-upper would be their only hope of something affordable. I went home, disappointed that weekend that we couldn’t find the perfect fit. Less than a month later, Marcy died in a car accident. I would never see that beautiful house that I pictured in my head, nor would I ever see my daughter in it.
Why, then, so many years later did I have a dream about Marcy and her husband buying a home? What was the significance of that dream? Experts such as Dr. Patricia Garfield in her book, “The Dream Messenger” says that visitation dreams tend to be “warm and fuzzy” and provide a way for us to keep connected with our child. They leave us feeling as if we really talked to or held our deceased loved one. We can smile because these are good dreams, according to Dr. Garfield, not disturbing nightmares or bad dreams.
We want so badly for these dreams to be real because in them we held our child and talked to him or her. Upon waking, we may lie there in the morning and may cry because we want our child to be with us in our waking life also.
I have found that most of my dreams about Marcy are good ones. I do not know that much about dreams or their meaning, but can tell you this: record your dreams and keep a journal of them. You may one day meet someone who can interpret them for you and you may be surprised and delighted as to what you are told they mean.
Editor’s note: If there is anyone reading this who can enlighten us with more information about dreams and their meaning, please send it to me and I’d be happy to print it in an upcoming issue.
We spent a whole weekend looking; the homes were out of sight price-wise in 1994 (but by comparison to homes 10 years later, a real deal). A two-bedroom small older home that needed a lot of work was $800,000, far more than most could afford. When we saw a $600,000 home on the market, we’d get into the car and drive over. In most cases, we were disappointed…too much remodeling needed, a new roof and paint job, and two bedrooms was just not enough. They wanted a family.
“But Mom,” she’d say, “You’re looking at a very typical home for that price. We’ll have trouble even affording that, but what choice do we have.” I could see that a fixer-upper would be their only hope of something affordable. I went home, disappointed that weekend that we couldn’t find the perfect fit. Less than a month later, Marcy died in a car accident. I would never see that beautiful house that I pictured in my head, nor would I ever see my daughter in it.
Why, then, so many years later did I have a dream about Marcy and her husband buying a home? What was the significance of that dream? Experts such as Dr. Patricia Garfield in her book, “The Dream Messenger” says that visitation dreams tend to be “warm and fuzzy” and provide a way for us to keep connected with our child. They leave us feeling as if we really talked to or held our deceased loved one. We can smile because these are good dreams, according to Dr. Garfield, not disturbing nightmares or bad dreams.
We want so badly for these dreams to be real because in them we held our child and talked to him or her. Upon waking, we may lie there in the morning and may cry because we want our child to be with us in our waking life also.
I have found that most of my dreams about Marcy are good ones. I do not know that much about dreams or their meaning, but can tell you this: record your dreams and keep a journal of them. You may one day meet someone who can interpret them for you and you may be surprised and delighted as to what you are told they mean.
Editor’s note: If there is anyone reading this who can enlighten us with more information about dreams and their meaning, please send it to me and I’d be happy to print it in an upcoming issue.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Highlights of the TCF Conference
Friendship, understanding, workshops, banquets, speakers, sharing sessions, the walk to remember, and getting key information to take home with you, made up the 34th 2011 Compassionate Friends National Conference that I attended this past week in Minneapolis. I also spoke at two of the workshops.
The conference started Friday morning with keynote speaker Mitch Carmody, bereaved parent and author of Letters to My Son. He lost his son Kelly to a cancerous brain tumor and is a twice bereaved sibling to a brother with cerebal palsy and a twin sister and her two young boys in a car accident. He is the popular workshop presenter of “Whispers of Love, Signs from Our Children.” Mitch also performs interpretive sign language.
Other keynoters included: psychologist Carol Kearns, author of Sugar Cookies and a Nightmare at the Friday luncheon. Her daughter was swept out to sea by a rogue wave. Saturday evening speaker was David Morrell, author of the poignant Fireflies and best known for creating Rambo. His son died of a rare bone cancer. Finally at the closing ceremony on Sunday was Mary Westra, who recently published her memoir After the Murder of My Son, following the senseless and brutally violent death of her son in 2001.
Over 100 workshops for parents, siblings, and grandparents covered most topics related to the death of a child. This includes many workshops for parents with no surviving children. A butterfly boutique, silent auction and raffle, reflection room (providing a peaceful atmosphere to withdraw into private reflection), a remembrance candle lighting Saturday evening and a special Friday evening performance of “Best of How to Talk Minnesotan The Musical” that has played to over 1 million visitors highlighted the conference.
Each evening sharing sessions in small groups divided into types of deaths were held so that those who wanted to share feelings and ideas could speak to others with the same loss.
A complete bookstore was provided by Centering Corporation, who only deals with grief books brings audio and video CDs and DVDs, books and other items of interest to the bereaved.
On the last morning a two-mile Walk to Remember was held for all conference attendees. Everyone participating wears the special t-shirts designed from this year’s logo and theme, “Shining Stars, Guiding Hope”.
Said one attendee in relationship to the logo, “We look at our children as shining stars who remain for us beacons of light and hope in the darkness.”
My two workshops I gave were “Dealing With Difficult Situations As a Bereaved Parent” and a panel discussion with those more than 7 years into their grief journey. Some other workshops offered included such topics as finding hope after a loss, sudden death, dealing with a suicide or drug overdose, loss of an infant or adult child, communication issues within bereaved families, surviving the first year, what do I do now, the bereaved parent five years later, scrapbooking: remembering our children, finding healing by telling your story, humor and grief, journaling as a healing tool, writing and publishing your book, anger, guilt, holidays and grief, what to do with child’s possessions and many many more.
I also tried to attend other workshops when possible and enjoyed them all. I reunited with parents I met at other conferences as well as meeting new attendees. I found the conference to be informative, and I could see how others were able to find help in dealing with their grief journey.
If you couldn’t make it this year, plan to attend next year’s conference in Costa Mesa, California, at the Hilton Hotel, Orange County/Costa Mesa, July 20-22. You will not be sorry.
The conference started Friday morning with keynote speaker Mitch Carmody, bereaved parent and author of Letters to My Son. He lost his son Kelly to a cancerous brain tumor and is a twice bereaved sibling to a brother with cerebal palsy and a twin sister and her two young boys in a car accident. He is the popular workshop presenter of “Whispers of Love, Signs from Our Children.” Mitch also performs interpretive sign language.
Other keynoters included: psychologist Carol Kearns, author of Sugar Cookies and a Nightmare at the Friday luncheon. Her daughter was swept out to sea by a rogue wave. Saturday evening speaker was David Morrell, author of the poignant Fireflies and best known for creating Rambo. His son died of a rare bone cancer. Finally at the closing ceremony on Sunday was Mary Westra, who recently published her memoir After the Murder of My Son, following the senseless and brutally violent death of her son in 2001.
Over 100 workshops for parents, siblings, and grandparents covered most topics related to the death of a child. This includes many workshops for parents with no surviving children. A butterfly boutique, silent auction and raffle, reflection room (providing a peaceful atmosphere to withdraw into private reflection), a remembrance candle lighting Saturday evening and a special Friday evening performance of “Best of How to Talk Minnesotan The Musical” that has played to over 1 million visitors highlighted the conference.
Each evening sharing sessions in small groups divided into types of deaths were held so that those who wanted to share feelings and ideas could speak to others with the same loss.
A complete bookstore was provided by Centering Corporation, who only deals with grief books brings audio and video CDs and DVDs, books and other items of interest to the bereaved.
On the last morning a two-mile Walk to Remember was held for all conference attendees. Everyone participating wears the special t-shirts designed from this year’s logo and theme, “Shining Stars, Guiding Hope”.
Said one attendee in relationship to the logo, “We look at our children as shining stars who remain for us beacons of light and hope in the darkness.”
My two workshops I gave were “Dealing With Difficult Situations As a Bereaved Parent” and a panel discussion with those more than 7 years into their grief journey. Some other workshops offered included such topics as finding hope after a loss, sudden death, dealing with a suicide or drug overdose, loss of an infant or adult child, communication issues within bereaved families, surviving the first year, what do I do now, the bereaved parent five years later, scrapbooking: remembering our children, finding healing by telling your story, humor and grief, journaling as a healing tool, writing and publishing your book, anger, guilt, holidays and grief, what to do with child’s possessions and many many more.
I also tried to attend other workshops when possible and enjoyed them all. I reunited with parents I met at other conferences as well as meeting new attendees. I found the conference to be informative, and I could see how others were able to find help in dealing with their grief journey.
If you couldn’t make it this year, plan to attend next year’s conference in Costa Mesa, California, at the Hilton Hotel, Orange County/Costa Mesa, July 20-22. You will not be sorry.
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