The Grief Journey Never Ends

The grief journey never ends, but neither does the journey of hope. There is no proper way to grieve, no matter what you’ve been told or have heard. There is also no magic formula to help with the pain. We each go through our journey as best as we can. For some it will take a year or two, for others, much longer.

We have choices to make as we go through this journey. With each choice we can become stronger. We can face the future with courage, optimism and creativity. At first we may be afraid to do anything, but day by day I personally choose to be happy. I choose not to wallow in my grief. I choose to have goals and to make them happen. I choose a reason to live and move on with my life. I choose to regain control of my life. Having hope for whatever I choose to do is important to me now. I think I’ve succeeded in this goal. Sure, I miss my daughter. She is part of my heart now and always will be. But being happy is a choice that I have made, no matter the roadblocks.

Over the years I have met so many people, heard so many stories of loss, and I have tried to be part of the recovery process. With books and organizations now to help in that process, the end results is a society of thriving individuals who did it themselves. Although others may help, the inner-most part of the person must also want to succeed. By helping others, I have helped myself and I have chosen the path of helping others get through the pain, the anguish, the sadness and find new meaning in their lives. I do this through speaking at national conferences, at local bereavement chapters and writing not only books on surviving grief, but also (at last count) almost 500 blogs on the topics of coping, personal stories and informational helpful articles for the bereaved. What a cathartic help all this has been for me in return! It was a natural choice. I have been a journalist/writer my entire life.

Trust your own instincts no matter what others say is the key to hope and renewal on our grief journey. If you have dreams you have never been able to fulfill, now is the time to take a closer look at your dreams. Take that leap of faith. Someone once said to me, “Dare to dream and believe in yourself.” For example, if you’ve always wanted to travel, now is the time. Go alone if you must; you will find others on your journeys to exotic lands. And who knows what might come of taking that first step. Don’t fear the future. You’ve already lived through the worst thing that could ever happen to you, the loss of a child.

More and more, people are making bucket lists and following them. Not only does it show that you can accomplish great things, but you will find you have gained control over your life again. I am always reminded of the quote by William Shedd I had for many years on the wall of my classroom (along with others) that I found thought-provoking “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.”

Attending weddings, funerals, events after your child's death

Attending weddings, funerals, and special events after the death of your child can be very traumatic for the first year.

I remember two months after my daughter died in a car accident, a dear friend’s son was getting married and I was invited. I agonized for weeks about what I should do. On the one hand, I didn’t want to disappoint my friend, but on the other hand, I didn’t think I could make it through the ceremony without breaking down. You see, my daughter had gotten married five months prior to her death and those wonderful memories lingered in my mind and heart. If I were to see the bride coming down the aisle, would I be able to hold it together or would I think about my daughter’s wedding and be heartbroken?

I finally made a decision. I had to do what felt right for me. Everyone is different. I wanted to go to the wedding, but I just couldn’t. I had to call my friend and explain the circumstances. I thought it would be difficult, but she was very understanding and said she wondered what I would do, didn’t want to interfere, and left the decision up to me. I bought her son a very nice wedding gift, visited him when he got back from his honeymoon and hoped that would suffice. My friend told me her son understood. As time goes on, it does get better.

Attending a funeral of a relative or friend or one of their children is no different as far as emotions are concerned. Again, my mind reverts back to my daughter’s funeral. Many, many people attended, but truthfully, I didn’t see any of them. I was just thinking of what had happened so suddenly. The finality of it astounded me. I would never see her again. How could this have happened to my beautiful child? Children are not supposed to die before their parents.

Depending on when the funeral is (more than a year out is less taxing) and how close I am to the parents or child was one of the decisions as to whether or not I went that first year. I could send heartfelt condolences or offer to send food or flowers to their house if I didn’t feel I could handle going to the service and/or cemetery. 

Unfortunately, there were situations within that first year or so where I knew I must attend to show support and compassion for those grieving. I didn’t have to stay long, just acknowledge and express sympathy to the family and give them all a big hug. After all, I know only too well how I felt during that time in my life. If it is the same cemetery as where my daughter is buried, I use it as a reason to visit her grave. As long as I honored the life and memory of the one who died by attending, I think they understood if my emotions got the better of me and I started crying. Know that there did come a time when I was ready and at peace with these situations, but it does take a lot of grief work and you must do what, in your heart, is best for you.

I remember attending a few special events held for my daughter by her friends months afterwards. This was one area I felt I couldn’t bow out of with any kind of excuse. And to be truthful, I wanted to go to hear what others had to say about her. They were wonderful stories about her life and friendships, some of which I was not even aware. Yes, they tugged at my heart, but I was so proud to know how important she was to others.

We will all at some time in our life, lose someone we love dearly, and there is no way to avoid that. Trust your grief skills to get you through any situation. A loved one may be gone too soon from our lives but never, never from our hearts.

Thanksgiving Memories

Thanksgiving has not been a fun or favorite holiday of mine for many, many years, but it is getting better with new additions to my family.

At first, I used to love the holiday. Although not that fond of turkey, I never had to worry. My mom always cooked the turkey and dinner and all I had to do was eat it! Easy enough. I must admit that I’ve never cooked a turkey for Thanksgiving in my entire life! Oh, I’ve cooked parts—a breast, a wing and many, many thighs, (my favorite part of the turkey). When my mom died, I still didn’t cook Thanksgiving. Either my sister-in-law did or my husband, at the time, prepared the turkey. I did the trimmings.

One of the last times I saw my family together was Thanksgiving, 1992, when my daughter and her fiance, drove to Tucson from Los Angeles to celebrate with us. Everyone was in a great mood. Always a fair kid, I was informed this was my year for Thanksgiving; next year they would go to her Dad’s in Phoenix. Little did she know that I was not cooking the turkey! The man of the house was doing it and did a great job! We kidded about the engaged couple sleeping in a trundle bed. “Don’t you know,” my daughter said, “that engaged and/or married couples like to sleep in the same bed, close together, not in twin beds.” I replied, “You’re close enough; you’re not married yet! And unless you want to sleep on the floor, this is the only other bedding in the house!” (To this day, it remains the only other bedding in my home, but with new mattresses.)

It was a festive weekend. I did not know it would be my mother’s last weekend alive. She died from heart failure the following week, not much older than I am now. How was I to know that my daughter would only have another year and a half to live before tragedy struck our family again after another holiday season and wedding celebrations, my daughter’s and her best friend’s.

As we celebrate every year, we are always thankful for our health, our families, our comfortable life. But the death of a child changes all that. I do not celebrate Thanksgiving as a festive day anymore. Sure, if invited, I go to a friend’s home, but when I hear others talk about their child, see their grandchildren and hear what they did recently, I always wish they would ask about a story or just mention my child, who they all knew and loved and who also lived a wonderful life for as long as she could. Sure, I wish she was still here, enjoying everyone and everything, but it was not to be.

I do, however, give thanks for what I do have now: a new husband of 10 years, a new step-daughter, who couldn’t be more like my own (born in the same month and on the same day), and recently, her new son, my first grandson, as her proud father, my husband, says to me, “I know you’ll never get over your own loss (and I wouldn’t expect you to), but I’m so glad I could help a little, fill the hole in your heart.”

Happy Thanksgiving to all. Celebrate as best you can with those you love.

Sudden vs. Anticipated Death

Sometimes the question comes up, “Which is harder: sudden death or anticipated death?” Would  it be better to know your child is dying and being able to say ‘good-bye’ and live life filled with lots of things you could do together, or is no preparation in the event of a sudden car accident or such, easier on the parents.

Many people have been interviewed on this topic and all have a variety of opinions. There isn’t one better choice. Death will bring the same shock, whether you knew it was coming or didn’t. What you do need is the same support from others. You will need more support systems with anticipatory loss and not as much with sudden death.

In sudden death, you didn’t get to say good-bye. That is the common complaint. According to death specialist Darcie Sims, “We never say good-bye.” I found this to be so true and the title of my first book reflects this idea.

But no matter how you look at it, there is incredible pain. Regardless of your loss, it is important to get support from those who had someone die the same way. You will feel a particular bond with them. Hope is the main goal of Compassionate Friends and that is what they try to do, give hope, when you feel there is none there. TCF provides the opportunity to connect with others and eventually you will find joy again.

Different people try different ways of self-help. One father had massages, exercised, moved around a lot and did a lot of reflection. One mother felt yoga was very beneficial, as was hiking. She said she would get a sense of serenity in doing one of these activities. Another mother made baskets of stuff for bereaved. She thought it would help others and ended up starting an organization to this goal. She also did a lot of running and just getting out of the house to clear her mind. Another father said that anything that gets you out of bed and taking that next step is helpful. He also said he got great support and information from TCF that allowed him to reach out and help others as well as himself. Still another mother said golf and getting into nature, allowed her to do a lot of searching. With that in mind, she met a lot of fabulous people who helped her and that she also helped.

All these people give a few realistic goals you can set for yourself: (1) self care- drink a lot of water and breathe; take care of your body (2) find a safe person to talk to; family doesn’t want to hear it all the time and (3) find something that brings you joy.

We can grow through grief. Set goals of where you’re going to be in the future and strive to reach them. Some will tell you it doesn’t get better, but it really does. You can find joy in doing what makes you happy and through people coming into your life who truly understand what you are going through.

A wave can knock you down again and again, but one day you’ll get on top of that wave and move on to find hope again.

Sudden or Violent Death

Sudden or violent death of a child - workshop

The Sudden Death of a child is very close to my heart. It is the way my daughter died at age 27, and I always want to hear and read more about the topic.

Parents become paralyzed when their child died suddenly. They are in a state of shock, and it can take a long time to comprehend. There is no opportunity to prepare, resolve misunderstandings or, or most important, to say good-bye. My daughter and I had a wonderful relationship and when she was suddenly killed in a horrific car accident four months after her marriage, I couldn’t believe it. Neither can most parents. Our lives are changed forever.

SHOCK

Shock is our first response to news of a sudden death. We can’t believe what has happened, nor can any relatives or friends. It can take days, weeks and in some cases, months, to comprehend emotionally what has happened. You may have a fear of going crazy: what could you have done, should have done. This can lead to anxiety in your chest, lack of sleep, and an inability to function normally. We are angry at the injustice of it all; we anguish that the loss is forever, we yearn to be with the child; we might also focus our anger on those responsible. In my case, the man who smashed into them was never caught.

Bereaved parents also want to reach out for a “sign” from their child, and can be highly susceptible to the power of suggestion.

GUILT

We ask ourselves “if only” and “What if.” We have guilt about what might have saved our child. Our job is to protect our child and not blame ourselves for what happened. Four important points to keep in mind are (1) talk out your feelings with the family, (2) talk with those who have been there, (3) keep a journal where you can address unfinished issues and say things left unsaid, and (4) the need to blame oneself will move from a main focus of grief to a level of acceptance since many tragedies in life are not preventable or foreseeable.

ACCEPTANCE

My biggest focus was on Anger towards those responsible for my daughter’s death. There are often yearnings to die in place of your child. It is suggested you surround yourself with like-minded people, create special ways to remember, talk about your child, keep a special memory album, hold special memorial gatherings to remember and honor the child, hold blood drives, donate toys, become a spokesperson for a cause, have a birthday party every year and do a memorial tattoo on your body. A good site to set up a memorial website for your child is Legacy.com.

Many families say that one of the most difficult things is to see the world go on when the child is gone. But there are many ways to remember. Include your child’s name in a conversation. Even if friends are shocked at first, they will get used to it and perhaps feel better about their own memories of your child. Tell stories, make a special memory album others can look at. Honor the child in any way possible. Give back by helping a newly bereaved person.

REORGANIZATION OF LIFE

We learn to accept the death. It can take a very long time because each person’s grief is different. Complete recovery is a myth. We never get over it. The family unit is changed forever and they need both short and long term support when the death comes suddenly. You will find your pain slowly changing from intense to warmer memories and a commitment to lead our lives in honor of our child and in a way that would make that child proud.

These ideas and thoughts are all constructive, representing some good that can come from a tragedy. Reinvest in love, work and living.

Grieving With a Spouse Who Did Not Raise the Child Who Died

Grieving with a spouse who did not raise the child who died - workshop

When you are grieving the death of a child and your spouse is not the mother or father, it is difficult for you to talk to them because they feel you don’t understand. They did not raise your child, they did not go through life’s experiences with the child, so how can he/she share this journey into the past with you, you might think.

Trying to grieve with a spouse who did not raise your child adds an element of loneliness to an already isolating loss. How do you keep this reality from wedging a deep crevase between the bereaved parent and the current spouse? It is true that some couples do okay coping, but at this workshop, parents shared some thoughts about how they deal with this problem.

One husband puts a shield up and doesn’t share his anger and deep grief with his wife. The wife says she suffers for him and tries to imagine what he’s going through. The wife was told by the moderator of the workshop that she shouldn’t expect to understand; that it’s inconceivable to relate to the one who is isolating himself.

Another man who had four children and told his wife to be, "If we marry, we're in this together, She chose to be his children's mother after the death of one of the children. Their marriage is strong because of patience, understanding and good communications.

Whether it’s the mother or father who is suffering, they will never be the same person. We have to recreate a new life to stay together in a different world. It takes a long time to realize you’re a different person and to actually function again. But eventually you do realize that.

Another spouse said her family broke completely and were never the same after the death. They found it impossible to talk to one another and share feelings. They divorced when it became impossible for both to communicate.

One mother said she sat down and wrote a letter explaining her feelings after her child’s death, saying this will all take time, that you are fighting this grief and want the relationship to continue, but it will take time. Let the spouse read it and understand that she, too, was suffering in her own way. She realized things would never be the same but didn’t want the relationship to falter, that there was hope for them. Sometimes a written form of communication can open channels to understanding.

This is also true for siblings left behind, who think parents favored the one who died and react accordingly. They cry around their friends and say they are not loved. This is simply not true, but sometimes a mother or father doesn’t have the capacity to let go of his/her grief for a very long time. If they sat down and explained this to the sibling, matters might improve significantly until things become closer to creating a new normal.

An exercise suggested by the moderator to help calm you down to talk is as follows: sit relaxed on a chair or on a sofa, breathe in through your nose slowly and hold it for a minute. Exhale through your mouth slowly. Do this three times during the day for as many days as needed. It is a form of Yoga. If you can do this in a quiet place, it is a great way to quiet the mind.

Lessons Learned From Grieving

We all learn from tragedies in our lives. Some tragedies we get through after time; others we never get over. This is true for the death of a child. I like to think that we carry these helpful thoughts with us for the rest of our lives. Here are some of them.

1.      Grief is forever. We may be able to eventually move on with our lives as the pain gets softer with time, but we never forget. We should not be embarrassed about our grief. When you love something or someone with your entire being, it is okay to be sad at times. Don’t let people tell you that it’s time to get over it and move on with your life. You have a right to your feelings no matter what society says.

2.      Know that as dark as your days may be, keep telling yourself that you will survive. At first you may think this is not an option, but with the help of friends, family and counseling, you will discover there are others who need you, who care about you and who want you to move on with your life. I used to say to myself after my daughter died, what choice do we have? We either lay down and never get up again, or we find that our spirit proved resilient. I chose life, and so moved on.

3.      When someone you love dies, anger builds up inside you. Anger is normal, but don’t let that anger carry you to another level that would be hard to come back from. Don’t take out your anger on everyone and everything. This horrible event has happened to you and although no one else can understand it, don’t complicate matters with your anger, whether it be at God, at the person who caused it to happen, or to your spouse or family. You will realize in time that no one could have stopped what happened, so be kind to others. It will help you feel good about yourself.

4.      Your priorities and goals may change. That is to be expected. What was once important to you may no longer have any meaning. You may have, at one time, wanted to climb Mt. Hood in Oregon and even planned it for a future date. You both loved climbing and did it quite often. Without your child to accompany you, the goal lost all meaning and was eventually forgotten. Don’t beat yourself up for the fact that you never got to do that. You did other things that at the time seemed to be important. And one day, when you climb another mountain, your loved one will be with you, pushing you to do your best.

5.      Take control of your life. Don’t try to run away from your grief. Don’t travel until you feel ready; don’t go to your loved one’s favorite restaurant until you’re ready and don’t think this will last forever. When you find yourself smiling and even laughing at a joke someone tells, you will know you are on the road to recovery.

You can’t undo what has happened, but you can take what you’ve learned from your experience and relate in a healthier way.

Orlando Thoughts

As I watched another tragedy unfold, this time in Orlando, FL, I feel for the families of the victims. I know what it’s like to lose a child; in my case, it was a car accident. Like a murder, it’s sudden, it’s unthinkable, it’s unbearable, like any tragic death. I watch the news everyday and my heart goes out to the families and friends of the victims, as it does in any sudden death.

 I remember saying to my loved ones when Marcy died, “What a waste of a beautiful life. What a waste.” I remember repeating that over and over for the first few months as I dealt with the trauma and then year after year as I move on with my life, never forgetting what happened, how a split second could have made all the difference. Why was this driver going 70 mph and swerving through a residential area with no thought of the consequences? Why my daughter? She died instantly; at least she didn’t suffer. I doubt we can say that about most of the Orlando shootings.

As each day of the reports of identifying the dead and injured goes by, many are recovering. Others are not so lucky. I know exactly what these parents are facing now and for the rest of their lives. It will never be over. They will never forget what happened to their loved one, nor will they ever forget their child. It all becomes part of their being that they will learn to live with year after year.

Learning about those at the nightclub (most of them between 20-35 years old) is important to me. I want to know who they were, where they came from, how they lived their lives. I want to put a face to each story. As a former newspaper reporter, I have always been curious about people, always wanting to understand others, so that I can help them wherever possible.

Some families and relatives will need the help of specialists and counselors to get through this, and I hope they get the help they will need. Some things they can do for themselves include: seeking out a grief support group, try online support at www.compassionatefriends.org, talk with friends, family or clergy about how this has affected them, exercise daily, and eat three meals a day for strength and good health.

I grieve for all of Orlando involved in this shooting. Know that there is hope after loss and each person will eventually find theirs.

A Grandmother's Grief

Editor’s Note: I have rarely written of the emotional aspect of a grandparent’s loss. This article was in the TCF chapter of Livonia, Michigan’s newsletter and written by Margaret Gerner.

I am powerless. I am helpless. I am frustrated. I sit here and cry with her. She cries for her daughter and I cry for mine. I can’t help her. I can’t reach inside her and take her broken heart. I must watch her suffer day after day.

I listen to her tell me over and over how she misses Emily, how she wants her back. I can’t bring Emily back for her. I can’t buy her an even better Emily than she had, like I could buy her an even better toy when she was a child. I can’t kiss the hurt and make it go away. There’s no band aid large enough to cover her bleeding heart.

Can I tell her it’ll be okay in one or two years when I know it will never be okay, that she will carry this pain of “What might have been” in her deepest heart for the rest of her life?

I see this young woman, my child, who was once carefree and fun-loving and bubbling with life, slumped in a chair with her eyes full of agony. Where is my power now? Where is my mother’s bag of tricks that will make it all better.

Why can’t I join her in the aloneness of her grief? As tight as my arms wrap around her, I can’t reach that aloneness.

What can I give her to make her better? A cold, wet cloth will ease the swelling of her crying eyes, but it won’t stop the reason for her tears. What treat will bring joy back to her? What prize will bring that happy child smile back? Where are the magic words to give her comfort? What chapter in Dr. Spock tells me how to do this? He has told me everything else I’ve needed to know. Where are the answers?

I should have them. I’m the mother.

I know that someday she’ll find happiness again, that her life will have meaning again. I can hold out hope for her someday, but what about now? This minute? This hour? This day?

I can give her my love and my prayers and my care and my concern. I could give her my life. But even that won’t help.

I wrote this piece out of deep feelings of powerlessness. It seemed that no matter what I did, I could not take away my daughter’s pain at the death of her 3 year-old daughter, Emily. Were that not enough, I was devastated by my own grief at the loss of my precious granddaughter.

I could relate to my daughter’s pain. I, too, had lost a child. In 1971 my 6-year-old son, Arthur, was killed by an automobile. At that time there were no support groups. I didn’t know how to grieve or that what I was feeling was normal. I thought I was losing my mind. The psychiatrist I saw after Arthur’s death reinforced my belief by giving me drugs for my depression.

I tried to do what people told me to do; count my blessings and be strong. That meant not talking about Arthur, not crying, and not expressing any other emotions I felt. The result was five years of distorted, prolonged grief which eventually had to be resolved with the help of a professional who had training in bereavement.

I was shattered by Emily’s death, but my grief lessened sooner than Dorothy’s. Since Emily was not my child, I recovered many months ahead of my daughter. What didn’t lessen was seeing Dorothy’s pain. That continues, at times, even today.

As a parent of a grieving child, you have a unique opportunity to cement a deep and lasting relationship with your child. You have the opportunity to walk with your child through the most difficult life experience they will endure. You have the opportunity to help your child in a very special way and the bond that forms will never be broken.

It will not be easy, and the process is long and hard. You will feel powerless, frustrated and helpless many times. But you CAN help!

To Lose a Child

Do you find that others feel they know exactly what is right for you and how you should grieve and how you should feel? Sometimes it makes me angry to hear other’s opinions. If a person has never lost a child, he or she doesn’t understand one bit what it is like or how I feel. There are no words to describe the pain and the suffering I have endured, but I know in my heart that I have a right to feel whatever I am feeling about my loss, even all these years later. 

My grief will never end. I understand I must live with it always, and I can do that, but for someone to say something like, “It’s time to move on” doesn’t sit well with me. I will grieve any time I want, for any reason, and for any amount of time.

There is no right or wrong way to grieve. We are all different and the way we grieve is unique to us. As long as you are emotionally and physically stable, there is no particular way to do it. I believe whatever you decide to do, whether it is inviting your child’s friends over to celebrate the birthday or keeping the clothing in the closet or even wearing the clothes, is okay to do whatever you feel comfortable in doing.

If someone says to me, “Okay, you’ve grieved long enough,” it will anger me. Bereaved parents should understand there is no time limit to your grief. Certainly, others should also. For some parents, it may take a few months before you can move on, for others it could be a year, two or even five! Although your grief will be never-ending, hopefully, as time goes by, it will be a softer grief, one that is easier to deal with. I have found that to be true over the years.

I will never be the same person I was when my child was alive. I accept that. I have found new friends, new love, new goals and new priorities for my life. It took a long while for this to happen, but anyone who has experienced great love and then tragic loss understands that pain and peace can exist together eventually.

I want everyone to never forget my daughter. I will mention her name frequently, whether others want me to or not. She existed; she was real; she was a beautiful, gracious child who started doing wonderful things with her life before it was ended for her. She brought love and friendship to everyone who knew her. I will always carry her memory with me wherever I am or wherever I go, for she was the light of my life. “We Remember Them” from Gates of Prayer, Reform Judaism Prayer Book says it all.

In the rising of the sun and in its going down, we remember them;

In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, we remember them;

In the opening of buds and in the warmth of summer, we remember them;

In the rustling of leaves and the beauty of autumn, we remember them;

In the beginning of the year and when it ends, we remember them;

When we are weary and in need of strength, we remember them;

When we are lost and sick at heart, we remember them;

When we have joys we yearn to share, we remember them;

So long as we live, they too shall live, for they are now a part of us as we remember them.

Please Let Me Mourn

I’ve never lost a child before, and I don’t understand all these emotions I am feeling. Will you try to understand and help me?

Please let me mourn. I may act and appear together, but I am not. Often times it hurts so much I can hardly bear it.

Please let me mourn. Don’t expect too much from me. I will try to help you know what I can and cannot handle. Sometimes I am not always sure.

Please let me mourn. Let me talk about my child. I need to talk. It’s part of the healing. Don’t pretend nothing has happened. It hurts terribly when you do. I love my child bery much, and my memories are all I have now. They are very precious to me.

Please let me mourn. Sometimes I cry and act differently, but it is all part of the grieving. My tears are necessary and needed and should not be held back. It even helps when you cry with me. Please don’t fear my tears.

Please let me mourn. What I need most is your friendship, your sympathy, your prayers, your support and your understanding love. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I never will be. Hopefully, we can all grow from this shared tragedy.

Please let me mourn. God gives me strength to face each day and the hope that I will survive with His help and yours. Time will heal some of the pain, but there will always be an empty place in my heart.

Please let me mourn. Please let me mourn and thank you for helpling me through the most difficult time of my life.

by Lonnie Forland, TCF, Northwood, IA. Found in the Livonia, Michigan Newsletter

After Ten Years...

After 10 years and many phases of grief, a few parents explained how they now feel, how they are coping and whether it really ever gets better.

For one father, helping others was his reason to move on. “Rest assured, the pain never goes away. It gets softer and more bearable, but that hole in your heart is always there. Time helps soften the grief but never heals it.”

One mother said, “It feels like it just happened yesterday. And the time factor of when she died becomes important: everything is measured by before or after the child’s death.”

“I am a different person and a better person 10 years later. I found joy again both in my private and professional life. Little things don’t bother me because the worst thing has already happened and I have been able to slowly move on.”

“I found that over the years I lost some friends who couldn’t deal with my grief, but I think that showed me they were never really friends to begin with. And I have made new friends yearly, particularly by being able to share my feelings with other bereaved parents. We try to help each other.”

“In the 10 years since my son’s death, I have gone through various phases of grief. In the beginning, it was very raw, and I found it difficult to go on living. Over time, I have come to spend less time grieving, and the grief is less intense than it was. The process was very gradual.”

“Over the last decade I have worked to move my life forward in a meaningful way, said another mother. I want to honor my daughter in all areas so that she will never be forgotten by others. I have done this through scholarships, a foundation, planting trees and having plaques all over in her memory. This helps me move on with my life and allows me to do things I never even considered before her death.”

There are those who have more trouble than others, and I would advise seeking help through professional means: a grief counselor, a clergy or a psychologist. Don’t forget grief groups like Compassionate Friends with over 600 chapters across the U.S. where you can meet others who have lost children can be very helpful.

We ,who are bereaved, will never forget our children. By honoring their memory, their principles and ideals, they will always be with us, no matter how many years go by.

Reflections on a New Year

When I read an article that I strongly agree with and can relate to, I like to share it with all of you. Recently I received a newsletter from a TCF chapter who reprinted this article from "We Need Not Walk Alone," the national magazine of The Compassionate Friends. The article is entitled “Reflections on a New Year” by Paula Staisiunas who wrote it in memory of her daughter Melissa and the daughter’s husband Jeff Schultz who both died in a car accident seven weeks after their marriage in 1999.
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We begin a new year, one that many of us enter with reluctance. After all, it means another year away from our child and another year to be lived without the physical presence of the one we have lost. Apprehensive about any new challenges that we may be called upon to face in our broken condition, we call out, “Wait, I’m not ready yet!”

The death of our child changed the course of our life; nothing will be the same again. But it also has shaped us into who we are today. And it will continue to do so as we learn to incorporate this loss into who we are to become.

Have you found that you have already begun to live differently? Compassion toward others is more profound. Trivial things are no longer important. Appreciation for life and those in our lives, is paramount. We’re living the same life—differently.

Tragedies, disappointments, and heartaches combine with beauty, love and joy to fashion our life. These are all a part of life, and our challenge is to incorporate them into our world. The difference that our child’s life has had upon the world continues through us.

So, rather than being fearful of the challenges that lie ahead, perhaps a better question to consider at this time might be: What opportunities will present themselves in the coming year to honor this loss that is already a part of our life? Our child has become more integrally entwined into our being than ever before. We bring him or her to every situation that we encounter. How can we make that situation better because of this bond?

The start of a new calendar year is a good time to remember that we are in the midst of life. It is not perfect. Nor is it one that we might have chosen. But, our struggles do not put life “on hold.” Rather they are a part of life itself! Our life is ours to make the most of, with many gifts that we can share with others. There is no better time than the present to gather up the pieces and recognize the uniqueness that we each call “me”—uniqueness made more wonderful because of our child’s presence in the life we choose to live.

Perfect Christmas Gifts

Editor’s note: I have asked my friend Sandra Howlett, grief specialist, for permission to use one of her writings during this holiday season. This is directed at everyone, bereaved or not, about what you can do to make this a special holiday for everyone. At the same time, bereaved parents can honor their child who died with many of these deeds. Happy Holidays to all.

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This is the season where many people spend tremendous energy and money on gift giving. This can be stressful and worrisome in addition to the strain on your credit card. What if you had an alternative? What is the ‘perfect gift’ and how much would it cost? There are a host of alternative gifts that are sure to fit your budget and your heart.

The Gift of Your Time—Being with someone, giving them your undivided attention, is perhaps one of the most precious, priceless gifts you can offer. You may put together a puzzle with a child or go for a walk or visit someone in a nursing home. Whatever you choose, you are creating a memory of caring and sharing.

The Gift of Listening—Good listeners are rare treasures. You have an opportunity to allow someone to tell their story and pay full attention to them. This means no interruptions, no chiming in with your story…only listening to theirs and asking questions for more details.

The Gift of Your Talent—What do you do well? You don’t need to be perfect, just a cut above some others? Do you make great banana bread? Can you fix a leaky faucet? Can you take a letter for someone unable to see or write anymore? What can you do with ease that you could share with others?

The Gift of Your Smile—Have you noticed the faces of others while you are out and about? Some people seem distracted, frustrated or borderline miserable while going about their daily doings. Offer them your smile—a free gift of encouragement. Make eye contact and connect with a smile and a gleam in your eye. You just might be the person who turns their day around…and it is sure to lift your own spirits along the way.

The Gift of Your Forgiveness—Forgiveness is highly personal and should never be forced on anyone. Consider for yourself, is there something that you have carried too long and paid too high a price for? Who could you release from judgment today? Maybe it is yourself.

The Gift of Your Acceptance—Sometimes the greatest gift we can offer someone is to love and accept them—as is. We could give the same gift to ourselves. Rather than harsh comparisons with others that are inevitably hurtful to someone, what if we allowed ourselves to hold pure, unconditional acceptance of another person…and let them know that?

The Gift of Your Remembrance—This could be a card or call to someone you do not see often with a simple ‘thinking of you’ message. These spontaneous remembrances are some of the sweetest in life. Enclose a story, article of interest, clipping or a favorite memory. What a terrific surprise this can be.

The Gift of Your Treasures—What do you have that you are willing to share with another? I’m not talking about donations to the local thrift shop. I mean items of interest or beauty in your home that have served you well, given you pleasure and you are now ready to share them with others. If you have things that you want to eventually bequeath to your loved ones, go ahead, give them a gift now so that they can properly thank you and you can live to see them enjoy the treasures!

The Gift of Your Anonymous Good Deed—Do something for someone else anonymously. Be creative and have fun with this. You could pay for someone’s meal, leave a pot of flowers on someone’s doorstep, wrap one of your favorite books and send without your return address---the list is endless and exciting!

The Gift of Your Appreciation—Make a list of 10 things you appreciate about a specific person and send it to them. Combine personal, serious and humorous attributes of your friend. I guarantee  this will be one gift that is neither discarded nor forgotten.

Dancing In the Rain

I have used the quote “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain” in some of the speeches I give at Compassionate Friends National Conferences since 2008 because the image of a storm is a good analogy in understanding our grief and moving forward.

I relate this quote to coping techniques. I talk about such things as making sure you do something for yourself, having a positive attitude, and laughing again. I recently read an interpretation of this quote in a Michigan chapter Compassionate Friends newsletter (no authorship was given for the interpretation) but I thought it worthy of telling my readers this one analogy and see what you think.

Storms can come out of nowhere, like a tornado, seemingly destroying everything in its path and leaving our lives in complete and utter shambles. The darkness and dreariness stay, while lightning continues to flash, stabbing our heart with pain. Thunder clamors constantly, reminding us that our children are gone. The wind howls, imitating our screams and wailing. The rain seems to be endless.

Those who haven’t lost children, who are living in sunshine, cry out to us, “Come in, out of the rain.” They don’t understand that often we’re not able to move. The storm has become our world, for however long we need or choose to live there. But, we do have a choice. We can stay hunkered down under the false protection of denial. We can lock ourselves up in a protective shell and never come out. Or, we can learn to dance in the rain.

However, each bereaved parent must decide what feels best to them. This anonymous author finds herself thinking, “It’s hard to crawl, walk or breathe without my child, and she wants me to dance? I realize she’s not referring to my ability when the child says, ‘Dance, Mom, dance. Dance in the rain. Dance  because you can’t change what has already been done . You have the choice to sit it out or dance. Listen for the music, keep your eyes wide open, go forward, follow the music and dance. Follow me. I am not behind you. I am in front of you. I’m free and I am dancing.’ ”

This child taught her mother to hear the music and her song continues on. “Without it, I couldn’t dance," she says.

If we allow our children to lead us to dance in the rain, they will eventually dance us out of the storms of pain and into the sunshine of peace.

Grief Over a Sibling's Death

You never think it can happen to your perfect family. And then it does. How do sibling’s grieve and what are some paths or directions you can follow or have your parents talk to you about. Parents need also to understand how your grief is different from theirs.

Like every other kind of grief, it will take time to work through it. Everyone’s grief is unique. No two people or siblings grieve alike, so it may take you and your other loved ones different time indicators to work through your feelings of loss or hurt. If you were very close to the one who died, it could take you longer than other family members.

During the initial loss, you may feel anger at the sibling for leaving you, sleep disturbances, tiredness or restlessness at times, trouble paying attention, mood swings, feelings of rejection from parents who are irritable or distracted, or guilt.

Guilt can be complicated if you feel you have done something to cause the death or that you should have been able to stop what happened. On the other hand, you may feel guilty for having a good time or laughing too soon after your sibling’s death, and even for just surviving. All of these things can be talked over with others who understand.

You and your sibling may have been very close and had a unique relationship. Other members of your family may not understand your feelings of love and loss, and you may feel you can’t talk to them. If this is the case, seek out a friend, relative, teacher, counselor, minister or another bereaved brother or sister. They can offer advice on how to move forward. But also be patient with your parents. They are suffering also.

Know that it is okay to cry and feel depressed after such a loss. On the other hand, it is okay to laugh and have a good time with friends. You are not dishonoring your sibling either way.

You may want to live in the past for a while remembering all that you have lost, but don’t forget to continue to move on with your life. Forgive yourself for any fights you had together or mean things you said to each other that were never resolved.

Never think that doing drugs or alcohol is the answer to your grief. You are only hurting yourself when you do this. The same is true when you do things out of anger and don’t really mean them. Don’t fight with your parents; talk to them and let them see how badly you are hurting.

Share your feelings with other bereaved siblings you know or at a workshop or conference. How they coped can give you ideas for your own life.

Always remember you are not alone. Many siblings have struggled through feelings similar to yours. Allow the emotional bond you had with your sibling and your other siblings have a positive effect on your future. They have survived and so can you.

May Love Be What We Remember Most

Darcie Sims, bereaved mother, was a special person to everyone who knew her. She has given so much to so many that we each have a part of her legacy within our hearts. As a grief counselor, we have her wisdom about life and death and as an author we have her words, emphasizing that she was one of us and knew our hearts. She always had wise counsel and good advice for those who grieve.

I wrote a blog last year the week after Darcie died suddenly. I listed all her accomplishments which I won’t repeat here, but if you didn’t know her, read the March 9, 2014 blog. Some of her thoughts will endure forever because of her down to earth, realistic attitude towards losing someone you love, especially a child. Below are some of the thoughts I remember most.

“We can heal from the terrible hurts of grief, but only if we allow ourselves to claim every hurt and learn to live through them, not avoid them. There are no short cuts through grief.”

“As we listen to each other, we begin to hear our own grief and we begin to build those support systems that will help us through the darkest night, in the most silent moments.”

“Learn to look for moments. You will not forget a single moment of your life. They are all stored somewhere in the recesses of your mind. But we can choose which ones come forward to support us or defeat us.”

“Few books tell us it’s normal to hang on to tiny momentoes of the past, but no one thinks it’s weird to keep the old high school yearbooks.”

“No one can tell you how to grieve or when to heal. I just want to let you know you can find hope and healing and you can find joy once again.”

“Breathe in love and find the memories and the magic of those who have loved us. Love is the magic that heals us all.”

“Each time we reach out across our own pain, to find another hand searching in the darkness, we begin to lighten our own darkness.”

“One day, if you work hard enough and allow it to happen, you will wake up and remember first that your loved one lived, not just that he died. And that is a great day!”

“I found a wonderful old box in the attic and decided to bring it back to life by dusting it off and giving it a good lick of polish. I’ve placed a pad of linen-like paper and a beautiful pen next to it and it sits on my kitchen table, in the center. I can see it every day. Now whenever I think of a blessing in my life, I write it down on one of those lovely linen sheets of paper, fold it and place it in the Blessing Box. I have found myself saying a silent thank you as I placed the paper in the box. Now you will always be reminded of the treasures in your life. These memories and blessings are yours—to treasure, to cherish, to keep, to hold, to share. May love be what you remember most…in your Blessing Box.”

Richard Edler Words of Wisdom

I only met Richard Edler once. It was at a Regional Conference in Scottsdale, AZ, 15 years ago. For the first time since my daughter died in 1994, I listened to a man who made so much sense to me; what he said, how he acted, his humor, his whole being radiating warmth, compassion, and the caring attitude of one who wanted to help all of us who sat there listening intently, hungry for some knowledge and words that would help us move on with our lives. Clearly, those words came, and I treasured them, for not many years after that, he died suddenly, joining his son Mark, who had died 10+ years earlier.

Richard Edler was a popular and brilliant, eloquent speaker at Compassionate Friends conferences, husband to Kitty and father to Mark. Kitty is still active and a staunch supporter of The Compassionate Friends where she lives and also on the national level.

Below I have printed some of what I call Richard’s “words of wisdom,” three valuable lessons he learned going through the grief journey. Read them and see if you don’t agree and if they help you understand what you are going through.

“Life goes on and we must too. Gradually the pain eases and the warm memories replace the sadness. Gradually, we return to life. One day we find that it is 11:00 in the morning, and we have not thought about our child yet. At first we feel guilt. But then we also realize we are going forward. We will never forget. But we decide that the loss of our child will not be the all-consuming factor in our life. We choose to enjoy friends again. We choose to go out to dinner again. We choose to laugh again. I am convinced that this is what our children would want for us. The pain does not bring our child back. It only makes us miserable without end.

“Become grateful for what we have, not focused on what we have lost. I see people in our chapter meetings who have gone through every parent’s nightmare and want no part of life again. But, I ask that these compassionate friends also think about the ways they have been blessed, as well as hurt. In my experience, 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, a spouse who they love. Nobody has it all. But compared to most of the world, we have a lot.

“The life we now lead will be better than it would have been. That does not make our child’s death a good thing. It just means that our child’s life mattered, and it has changed us forever. It means that 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 a new sense of priorities. We don’t sweat the small stuff. We know what matters because we know what is irreplaceable. And we know how deeply other people hurt because we, too, have been there. We know how they feel.

“And when our life is different and better because our child lived, then that child is never forgotten. Each of us would do anything in the world to go back in time, but we can’t. It is up to us now to go forward, and we can.”

Note: Next Sunday I write about another very popular speaker's words of wisdom for bereavement groups across the country and also one who died far too young: Darcie Sims.