Pain, the Unwanted Gift

By Bernie Siegel, MD – 

At workshops, I frequently ask people if they would like to be free of all pain, emotional and physical. However, I tell those who sign up for what they think will be a gift to take my phone number with them so when they experience the problems associated with feeling no pain, they can call and cancel the supposed gift.

Think about lepers and diabetics with peripheral neuropathy who are losing their limbs because they cannot feel infections or injuries. Then think about our feelings and emotions and how important it is to respond to them. I grew up with a mother whose advice about every problem was always the same: “Do what will make you happy.”

She taught me to deal with feelings so today I have happy depressions. When I am hungry, I seek nourishment, and when I feel gnawing unrest or other painful emotions, I seek the changes in my life which will resolve the unhealthy and painful feelings. Mondays we have more heart attacks, suicides, strokes and illnesses. Perhaps if we responded to our feelings and changed our lives or attitudes, Monday would not threaten our health.

I experience pain but I do not suffer. To me, pain is a necessity, if I am going to define myself and my life; suffering an option. Suffering relates to the emotional needs of the individual which are not being met. When the pain has no meaning and does not lead to healing of the person’s life, the individual suffers greatly.

We have to realize that life is a labor pain of self-birthing. When the pain is something we choose to experience to help us grow, it hurts far less than the meaningless pain imposed upon us by others, including health care provider’s treatments and prescriptions.

I work with people’s drawings, and two people draw may the same treatment, with one showing it as hell and the other as heaven. If surgery is a mutilation and the drawing of the operating room shows a black box with a patient in it but no one caring for them, versus a life-saving gift from God showing flowers and the surgeon caring for the patient, the post-operative recovery will demonstrate the difference. I have done major surgery upon people who awaken and say, “I have no pain. I am a little sore.” I explained to the nurses to please stop writing, “Patient refuses pain medication” in their chart and write that the patient had no pain.

Studies reveal that when you put your hand in a bucket of ice and keep it there as long as possible, you will keep it in the ice longer if loved ones are standing by your side than if you are alone. You’ll probably keep it there even longer if your dog is there. In one study, women who were given loving care during child birth had half the number of Cesarean Sections and a fraction of the need for epidurals than women given good technical care but shown no compassion during labor.

I also know from personal experience with a back injury that when I was operating, or painting a portrait, two activities where I lost track of time and was being loving and creative, I was not aware of my pain. When I stopped either activity, I needed to lie down due to the pain I was now aware of. I think any activity that makes you lose track of time is the healthiest state one can ever be in.

A few years ago, I was visiting a neurologist friend’s office. In a darkened examining room was a woman who had a severe migraine headache and was awaiting transportation to the hospital. I went in to talk to her and asked her, “How would you describe the pain you are feeling?” She answered, “It’s a burden, like pressure.” If she were my patient, I would have asked, “What else in your life fits those words and is a burden causing you pressure?” Instead, I did some guided imagery with her to alleviate the burden and pressure in her life.

I then left her in the dark to rest. A few minutes later, the office nurse came in to tell me the woman’s headache was gone and she was headed home. “And by the way, the burden is her marriage.” I have had others answer with words like draining, sucking, failure, road block. Then they say, “Thank you,” and walk off with a smile of enlightenment on their face.

It is also important to realize people hear you in coma, under anesthesia and while asleep. As my patients awakened after surgery, I would say, “You will wake up comfortable, thirsty and hungry.” It worked so well many of them gained weight after surgery because they were always hungry.

Major abdominal surgery can be done under hypnosis and even acupuncture. To me, this simply reveals the power of the mind to control pain and how personal a sensation it can be.

I do not blame the patient or deny the many painful syndromes that require medications and various anesthetic therapies, but I am saying that one cannot separate the sensation from the individual and their life and beliefs. Two people with the same affliction do not necessarily experience and suffer the same degree of pain.

As I said earlier, when we see life as a labor pain of self-birthing, the pain becomes meaningful and at that time is no longer seen as a curse. For some, it becomes a blessing because of how it redirects the person’s life to find nourishment for their body and soul.

But when we are experiencing pain because of a prescribed treatment or a family telling us what we must go through to not die, we are in big trouble. I find support groups are very helpful because the natives are able to share with each other and not be told what to do by the tourists.

Let me close with a poem I received several years ago:

Nine months seems like a long time

I watch my body change

Tired I sit staring out at life

I live within my mind

Books and music transport me beyond my body

Nine months finally pass

I give birth to my child

All the discomfort and pain is now justified

 

Chemotherapy and radiation

Twelve months seems like a long time

I watch my body change

Tired I sit staring out at life

I live within my mind

Books and music transport me beyond my body

Twelve months finally pass

I give birth to myself

All the discomfort and pain is now justified.

– Bernie Siegel can be reached through his website, www.BernieSiegelMD.com

Surviving Sister Nurses Her Wounds

By Ruby Rose Fox –  

I remember the first time I discovered an ACE bandage. I stole it from the medicine cabinet and quickly hid it in my room. I loved the soft fabric, the way it hugged my arm, and secured my muscles and joints. Like a rock climber meticulously nestling into feeble earth, I slowly curled it around my little arm. Oh, what comfort to be wrapped, to be protected.

I showed my mother my carefully prepared arm and informed her that I sprained it and took care of it myself. She seemed indifferent, and I was just relieved she didn’t tell me to take it off my 8-year-old arm.

The date was January 6^th 1992, four months after the death of my 5-year-old sister, Dalia. The wild rapids of sympathy cards, phone calls, plates of lasagna, house visits, fruit pies, random gifts, and crying relatives had come to an amazing halt. Now it was all so gray. A fizzling nerve and then…silence.  I don’t know what I wanted on that day but I had wrapped an ACE bandage around a perfectly good arm and brought it to school.

I told my friend Maureen how bad it hurt to write, and Katie made me a bracelet during recess because she felt bad I couldn’t play kickball. I told my teacher and she told me to “just be careful.” At no time did I feel a pang of guilt for duping all my classmates. This was my way of saying, “Hey! It’s not over guys! She’s still dead and I’m still sad!”

My older sister Jen had multiple soccer injuries, a broken finger, a softball to the face, and a compound fracture of the radius from a cheerleading accident. She had ridden in an ambulance more times than I had stubbed my toe and it was just not fair. I wanted mine and mine was an ACE bandage!

Crisis…Injuries…Crying? The more the better! Because when Dalia died in August, I experienced the most intimate emotional unity a family can experience. The silence looming over our once bustling house was like a nasty gray scab over our beautiful holy wound.

For me, that ACE bandage was about picking at the nerve. For months and months, I watched my sister’s wounds wrapped and unwrapped, wrapped and unwrapped. I needed to feel close to her again so I let Dalia’s old bandage hold my hand. It told me to remember. I needed to keep it fresh. I would not let it scab for then, perhaps, it would heal and she would be gone forever. My mother did eventually notice when I took it off and asked me about my arm. “Much better,” I said, “but it’s still a little sore.”

I still struggle with this. Why do I feel so at ease with funerals and fire alarms?  Why can’t I stop making art about grief? Why do I find myself in luxurious bouts of depression? 

How does an eight-year-old explain the ACE bandage to her mother? How does family communicate after the death of a loved one? It’s like trying to cry without lips. My family was speaking in symbols and signs; I used an ACE bandage, my dad played Sega all day, my mom started to fit into all her high school clothes, and my sister Jen discovered boys. But we all craved our rooms, late, late at night where we grieved and still believed in God.

Ruby Rose Fox was a bone marrow donor to her sister Dalia who died of Leukemia in August 1992. She is a Boston-based actor, trained solo performer, and musician. She is a recent BFA acting graduate of Emerson College and has performed in Macbeth, Undiscovered Country, A Movie Star has to Star in Black and White, The Shadow, and The Marriage of Figaro.  She is working on Crying Deer with The Boston Experimental Project. Reach her at rubyfx@yahoo.com.

‘Adult Orphans’ Need Not Lose Connection With Parents

By Annette Gonzalez –

I am an adult orphan. I’m not anyone’s child anymore. Both my parents have died. There is no smooth transition from being a child in the family to becoming an orphan. One day you have parents and the next day you don’t. It’s quite a revelation to know that there is no one to approve or disapprove of your actions anymore. You are it!

It is also hard to face that I now represent the older generation. I was the oldest child and the oldest grandchild in my family. I am now the oldest adult. It is my duty to carry on my family’s values, traditions and cultural roots. It is an awesome responsibility to make certain that the inter-generational links, from my great-grandparents to my children and their children, are not severed.

For those of you whose parents are older or in ill health, here are some suggestions from an adult orphan:

* Treasure your parents. Make the time to spend it with them. Listen to their concerns. Value what they have to tell you.

* Provide them with special things that they need: books, phone calls, visits. Have no regrets.

* Encourage an inter-generational link. Ensure that your children and grandchildren have opportunities to spend time with your parents. After your parents have died, tell younger generations stories about your parents and grandparents. Prepare food that the older generations ate. 

* Record an oral history of your family members and provide it to your children and grandchildren.

* Every day, take time to think about a wise saying or direction your parents once gave you that made a difference in your life.

* Carry a memento of your parent(s) to keep them close to your heart.

It is important for us to do the best we can while our parents are still alive and to honor them after their passing. I may feel like an orphan now, but no one can take my memories away. I choose to write about my memories in order to help others through the pain of losing their parents and as a result, it will ease my pain.

Reach Annette Gonzalez at annetted.gonzalez@yahoo.com.

After Mom’s Death, Daughter Struggles With Dad’s Girlfriend

Heather asks for advice: In November, it will be two years since my mother died after a prolonged illness. My father started dating a woman this summer. I supported him finding companionship. He and Mom were together for 35 years, so it had been a long time since he was alone. Unfortunately, I have not dealt well with the reality of his girlfriend. He wants to include her in all of our family gatherings and has told me that he expects me to become friends with her. My mom and I were very close before she got sick and got even closer during her illness, so this feels like a violation to me in so many ways. I have tried to explain to Dad that I am not comfortable with this but he seems to not care. I feel like I am alone in this, and it is very hard for me to be a grown up about it. Ever since we lost Mom, I have felt like I no longer belong in my family, and this just makes it worse. How do I deal with my father’s need to include his new girlfriend in all of our family activities?

John Pete, certified grief counselor and founder of MyGriefSpace.Net, responds: Hello Heather: Please accept my sincere condolences for the loss for your mother. What you are going through is understandably painful and confusing to you right now. While you want your father to find happiness and companionship, it also feels threatening to the memory of your mother, and an intrusion to your family unit as it was. It’s not unusual for unintended resentments to arise in situations such as yours, and it may be helpful to know that you do have some control over this situation.

You can continue to struggle against the choice your father has made, or you can seek ways to help yourself accept this new situation. First, it’s important not to view this new person as a replacement for your mother, because she is not now, nor will she ever be. So it’s important not to get caught up in a trap of constantly comparing the two or making them a nemesis of one another when one is living and one is not.

Your mother will always be your mother no matter what, and no matter who else comes into your life or your father’s life.

One way to help yourself adjust to this situation is to spend some one-on-one time with your father’s new girlfriend to get to know her better for who she is. Try to establish a friendship with her for her own qualities and so you can feel comfortable talking to her about the loss of your mother and your grief. This can open new lines of communication and reduce the threat you feel that she is somehow replacing your mother.

Two years is not nearly as long as many people might think when it relates to the loss of a loved one. So, please continue to allow yourself your grief, but also proactively seek the healing support from others and also through new experiences. If you can find it in your heart to open yourself up to get to know your father’s new girlfriend better and strive to establish a real friendship with her, then you will also open the opportunity to accept her as the individual she is, and not a replacement for your mother.

John Pete, GC-C

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Month

By Nina Bennett –

I know all too well the devastation of pregnancy and infant loss. My precious granddaughter Maddy, after a healthy full-term pregnancy and normal labor, with no indication of fetal distress, slid still from her mother’s womb. She was a perfectly formed, beautiful baby, with every indication that she would survive delivery. But she did not. As you can imagine, our entire family was devastated.

It turns out that Maddy was one of more than one million babies in the U.S. to die in pregnancy or in the first few months of life last year. For a long time, this was a loss that was rarely talked about. Fortunately, in 2006, October was officially designated Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day (H.Con.Res.222), and is marked by each year by ceremonies, memorial services, and efforts to raise money for research and education.

When Maddy died, one of my responses was to seek information and support about this kind of loss. This added yet another layer of pain.

According to the March of Dimes, stillbirths occur in about 1 in 200 pregnancies. Each year in the United States more than 26,000 babies are stillborn. That means that every day, 71 babies are stillborn, 142 mothers and fathers return home with empty arms, and 284 grandparents are devastated and often unable to comfort their grieving adult children.

The medical-care providers are left shaken and mourning as well. Up to half of all stillbirths occur in pregnancies that had seemed problem free. The International Stillbirth Alliance reports that “unexplained stillbirth in late pregnancy is the single largest cause of death in perinatal life in the Western world.” And these statistics are only for stillbirth. This may actually be an underestimate, because there are no national standards for reporting stillbirth.

Imagine my family’s distress when we found out that Maddy would not be issued a birth certificate. My son and daughter-in-law were given the paperwork for Maddy’s death certificate, but no acknowledgment was made of the baby’s life. My daughter-in-law embarked on her journey of healing by becoming an advocate for legislation that would change this additional injustice.

Arizona took a commendable step by passing legislation in 2001 to issue a Certificate of Birth Resulting in Stillbirth. Since then, 19 other states have joined Arizona. Beyond the psychological benefit to parents, which is enormous, this legislation allows for increased accuracy in tracking and reporting stillbirth.

As a society, we have made great strides in acknowledging and supporting family members bereaved by cancer, which once was an unspoken illness. It is time for our society to take action to reduce the incidence of perinatal loss and infant mortality, to speak openly about the void left by the death of a baby, and to acknowledge the large numbers of its citizens who struggle to rebuild meaning in a life challenged by the most horrific loss of all.

Nina Bennett has 4 grandchildren, one of whom was stillborn following a healthy full-term pregnancy. She has worked in reproductive health since 1976, and was a childbirth educator for nearly 10 years. A healthcare professional and frequently requested guest lecturer, Nina presents talks and workshops locally and nationally. She is the Principal Investigator of an IRB-approved research study looking at how grandparents incorporate perinatal loss into their family. Nina is the author of Forgotten Tears A Grandmother’s Journey Through Grief.  Proceeds from her book are donated to MISS Foundation/AGAST, and other agencies supporting families bereaved by the death of a baby. Reach Nina at Ninabde@aol.com.

 

 

 

Joe Biden a Model For Dealing With Death of Spouse

By Abel Keogh –

On November 7, 1972, a relatively unknown lawyer named Joe Biden pulled off a big political upset. By just over 3,000 votes, he defeated two-term incumbent U.S. Senator J. Caleb Boggs and became, at age 30, the fifth youngest Senator in U.S. history.

Despite the amazing victory, he almost never took the oath of office. On December 18, 1972, while Biden was in Washington D.C. looking at his new office space, his wife, Neilia, took their three children to shopping for a Christmas tree and was involved in a fatal automobile accident. Neilia and his infant daughter, Naomi, were killed. His two sons, Hunter and Beau, were critically injured.

His life suddenly and unexpectedly changed, Biden suddenly found himself as a young widower and single father. He also found himself filled with anger and doubt. In his memoir, Promises to Keep, Biden wrote, “I began to understand how despair led people to just cash it in; how suicide wasn’t just an option but a rational option … I felt God had played a horrible trick on me, and I was angry.”

A career in the U.S. Senate suddenly didn’t seem as important as being there for his two sons. He considered resigning before even taking the oath of office.  Beau recalled his father saying, “Delaware can get another senator, but my boys can’t get another father.”

Eventually, other U.S. Senators like Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield and Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy convinced Biden to take the job the people of Delaware elected him to do. In January of 1973, he took the oath of office at his sons’ hospital bedside. However, because he still wanted to be there for his sons, he gave up his the home he and his late wife were planning to buy in Washington D.C. and commuted by train to and from his home - a practice he continued all the way until being selected last month as the 2008 vice presidential candidate for the Democratic Party.

Still, life wasn’t easy for the young senator. At first he did the least amount of work required for his job. “My future was telescoped into putting one foot in front of the other … Washington, politics, the Senate had no hold on me,” Biden wrote. Senate staffers began placing bets on how long Biden would last.

No one would have blamed Biden for quitting. After all, he has lost half his family. But Biden didn’t quit. Despite his grief, Biden he hung on and slowly began rebuilding his shattered life.

In 1975, Biden met Jill Jacobs. Falling in love again renewed Biden’s interest in life and politics. “It had given me the permission to be me again,” Biden wrote in his memoir. Two years later, they married.

With his renewed passion, Biden continued what was to become a successful political career. He was re-elected five times to the Senate. He served as Chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee from 1987-1995 and currently serves as Chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations.  In 2008, after a second failed attempt to become the Democrat’s presidential nominee, he was asked to be Sen. Barack Obama’s vice presidential running mate.

“Failure at some point in your life is inevitable but giving up is unforgivable,” Biden said during his Vice Presidential acceptance speech at the 2008 Democratic National Convention.

It’s impossible to say what would have happened to Biden if he had decided to give up. But he didn’t.

For those who have lost a spouse, Joe Biden’s story is one of hope. If you continue to put one foot in front of the other, no matter how difficult it may be, there are better days ahead. Despite the challenges and obstacles he faced as a 30-year-old widower, Biden rebuilt his life and his family.

Each day we make the decision to push forward or give up. Each day, that decision will bring us closer to rebuilding our lives or falling back into darkness. Though difficult, Biden chose to live and reaped the rewards of his efforts.

You have the same choice to make.

Abel Keogh is author of Room For Two, and writes for www.opentohopedeathofaspouse.com. His personal website is www.abelkeogh.com.

 

 

21-Year-Old Wonders How to Deal With Pain of Mother-Loss

Sally from California asks: I lost my mother two months back. I’m 21, the elder child and suddenly feel that my world has been turned upside down. I’m studying away from home and have blocked my grief out completely. But on the days it makes an appearance, the pain is unbearable. Will the pain ever reduce?

Carol O’Dell, author of Mothering Mother, responds: Yes, the pain will subside, give it time. Lots of time.

But also know that the grief you’re experiencing is absolutely normal. You lost your mom. You shouldn’t have lost your mom so soon. Your grief tells me that you loved her and you miss her. And as overwhelming as it feels right now, let it happen when it happens. It’s your body’s and mind’s (and heart’s) way of dealing with sorrow and it should be allowed to run its course.

I lost my dad when I was 23 years old, and sometimes the grief would overwhelm me. I’d get in my car somewhere and I wouldn’t even expect it. A friend of mine explains grief as an open window–most of the time you don’t even notice, but every once in a while you’re hit with this blast of air (grief) that takes your breath away.

I cried almost every day for seven years-and I don’t tell you that to make you feel like you’ll never get over your grief. My tears at first were that overwhelming sense-of-loss kind-I felt such a void. And by crying, I don’t mean a few tears! I would sob and double over in physical pain sometimes. Other times, I just felt like my nerve endings were on fire-I was so short with everyone and nothing seemed enjoyable-not a movie or dinner out with a friend. But as time went on, I began to see these periods of grief as a way to release my tension, and eventually the sorrow gave way to sweet memories. I cried, yes, and I talked to my dad in the sanctuary of my car or I’d journal. I began to realize that while I deeply missed his physical presence, it did really feel like he was with me in the best of ways.

You’re doing everything right. You’re in school, you’re moving on and building your life-and those are healthy things to do. Sometimes you just have to make yourself keep moving. Just know that when you have a swell of emotions, and you can, let them happen. Don’t fight them. They will ease in time-and you’ll be so much healthier for allowing your thoughts and emotions to “let loose,” for honoring your love (and your anger even) and your experience. Grief isn’t always pretty, but it isn’t meant to destroy us-it’s a journey that gets us from our darkest nights to the light of day.

I still miss my dad, and I hardly ever tell a story about him (and I do, often) that I don’t tear up. But I’m glad I do. I’m glad I know how to love big and risk the hurt. I’m grateful I still have that connection to him. He’s still very much a part of my life and who I am. You don’t ever have to let go of that.

 

Beginning Again After the Loss of Parents

By Pamela Gabbay —

When I was 25 years old, I learned about life and death in the same month.  At the beginning of July, I had my first child, a precious baby girl.  By the end of July, my 49-year-old father was dead.  He was a truck driver who fell asleep at the wheel of his truck in the middle of the night.  He crashed and died instantly.  When he died, my world crashed in.  I walked around in a stupor trying to make sense of this new, foreign world.  I didn’t know what to feel.  I didn’t know what to think.  I didn’t know how to act. 

I couldn’t take the unbearable pain.  I couldn’t handle this new reality, that of having no father.  I decided to stuff my pain.  I stopped listening to country music because it reminded me of him.  I put away all of his photos.  I thought that I was doing the right thing.  I thought that I could outrun the grief.

A few years and a second child later, my 51-year-old mother was diagnosed with cancer.  She died two weeks after her diagnosis.  Again, my world was shattered.  Again, I was thrown into this foreign world of unbearable pain.  I missed my mom and dad so much.  Now, neither of my children would know my parents.  I struggled to come to terms with the magnitude of my loss.  I longed for someone to take away the pain and the aching. I longed for the connection to my parents.

Adding to my pain was a somewhat unkind society, including those who had not experienced this pain.  As grievers, we are taught not to show our pain.  We are taught to “be strong” and are complimented if we appear to be strong.  At times, I felt a silent mandate from society; I needed to “move on” and “get over it.” 

Some friends stopped calling.  It seemed as if they thought that being close to me might cause this to happen to them.  Also, they didn’t know how I felt.  Most of my friends were in their twenties and they still had both of their parents.

In the weeks and months after my parents died, I found that the most mundane chores became almost intolerable.  During trips to the grocery store, I was surrounded by moms and daughters.  They were laughing, shopping and talking.  During the holidays, my parents’ favorite Christmas carols caused me to have such intense longing for them that I often had to leave the store.

As a result of my parents’ deaths, I was forever changed.  My life was like a “before” and “after” photo; before the deaths of my parents and after the deaths of my parents.  As a grieving daughter, each day I had to make decisions about how to deal with my pain.  Some days I was able to make tentative steps forward.  Most days, I just wanted to pull the covers up and stay in bed.  I didn’t have that option because I had my own children to care for.  In addition to being a grieving daughter, I was also a mother to my own two children.

Over time, I began to wonder, how do I begin again?  How do I find happiness again?  When will this pain end?  I learned to get through my grief by wading in the muddy, murky water for as long as I needed to.  At times, my grief felt like a raging river that seemed impossible to cross.  At other times, it felt as stagnate as a cesspool.  

The death of my parents caused me to reevaluate my life.  What was my true purpose?  I decided to change careers and return to school to become a grief counselor.  I was very fortunate when a center for grieving children opened in my own town.  I started volunteering my time with the children of the center.  I found that helping others helped me.

Just as their deaths taught me many things, so did their lives.  My parents were wonderful teachers.  They taught me to laugh and be silly; to love music; to dream big.  They taught me the value of a friend and the importance of being true to oneself.  My parents also taught me that love never dies.  Just because they died, my relationship with them didn’t die.  Our relationship, just like our love, continues even though they’re no longer physically here with me. Ultimately, they have taught me that grief takes as long as grief takes.

 

 

Eighteen Years Later, Father Confronts Daughter’s Killer

By Lew Cox –

In October 2005, I attended a California State parole hearing for the slayer of my daughter, Carmon. Carmon was 22 years old when she was murdered in 1987 in Los Angeles. The drive from Tacoma, Wash., to the Soledad Prison in central California was a philosophical time that gave me the chance to reflect on the ramifications this crime has had on my family.

This would be the first time that I would face Carmon’s killer. When he was sentenced for his crime, I was not informed by the L.A. District Attorney’s office that I had a right to attend the sentencing and the right to give an impact statement. At this point, I wasn’t sure what emotions I still had stuffed down inside of me that I may not have dealt with.

The Hearing

The purpose of a parole hearing is for a convicted felon to establish a realistic parole plan that proves to the Board of Prisons that the public would be safe if this person is released.  The hearing opened with the following people present: two parole board commissioners, the inmate, his attorney, the D.A., me, and a prison-victim advocate. There were two prison guards standing behind the offender at all times.

The lead commissioner opened the hearing by asking all present to introduce themselves. Then, the commissioner asked the inmate’s attorney if his client was going to speak. The attorney said his client would talk about his crime. However, when the commissioner asked him to talk, he responded by saying that he wasn’t going to talk about the crime. He was told if he wasn’t willing to talk about the murder, the hearing wouldn’t go well for him. I believe he wasn’t willing to talk about how and why he killed my daughter in front of me.

Since he refused to speak about the crime, the commissioner could not proceed with the questions about the murder. I was the last person to speak at the hearing after the Los Angeles County D.A. read a letter from the L.A. Police Department stating their reasons for not wanting this killer released.  The D.A. then stated why his office did not want him released as well.

Impact Statement

I had been waiting 18 years to give my impact statement. This was a surreal moment for me. I couldn’t believe that I was actually sitting a few feet from my daughter’s killer. I was soon to find out what kind of emotions I still had stored up inside of me. As I gazed into his eyes, with my jaw quivering and my voice cracking, I spoke to him and the commissioner about the moment I received the call from my son that Carmon had been murdered. I talked about the father-daughter relationship we had, including teaching her to water-ski, drive a car and fly an airplane.

My Emotions

Halfway through my statement, my voice became paralyzed. I was saturated with emotions. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and dropping onto the table. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to pull myself together and complete what I had to say. Then, I fixed my eyes on the large clock at the end of the room and I asked the Lord to give me the strength to continue. It took more than a minute for me to regain my composure and resume speaking. That minute seemed like an eternity.

I finished by saying, “We cannot change what has happened to Carmon. I am not Superman, I cannot turn back time. But my family and I are gravely concerned that if this man is ever paroled he most likely will kill again if he is rejected by another woman.” We know that he was not high on drugs or alcohol that night he killed her because he didn’t use them. He murdered her in pure rage, in a brutal fashion by shooting her six times with a pistol. First he shot her four times in the back. She was able to turn and fight for her life, and then he shot her two more times in the chest. I told the commissioners, “We do not want another family to have to go through what the Cox family has had to endure because of his fatal actions.” After I finished speaking, the commissioners broke to discuss their decision to grant or refuse him parole.

The Decision

 

After a five-minute recess, the hearing resumed. The lead parole commissioner was very direct as he faced the inmate. He told the inmate that parole was denied. Among many things, they believed that his crime had been committed with extreme cruelty, and that he lacked sympathy for shooting and killing a young woman. He had expressed no remorse for his crime.

 

The commissioner asked him if Ms. Cox had attacked him? He said that she attacked him after he shot her and the reason he shot her was because he was afraid that she might take the gun from him and shoot him. That statement did not go over very well with the commissioners. The hearing concluded and the commissioner set his next parole hearing in two years. It seems that I will have to deal with this man’s parole hearings every two or three years for the rest of my life.

 

History of Crime

 

The person who murdered Carmon was charged with first degree murder after being at large for two weeks. In the winter of 1989, the D.A.’s office accepted a guilty plea of second-degree murder with a life sentence, with the possibility of parole after 15 years of hard time. In January of 2007 my two other daughters and I attended his third parole hearing. He was once again denied parole and he was given an additional year (3 years) before he can petition for another parole hearing.

 

 

Lew Cox is the founder and executive director of Violent Crime Victim Services in Tacoma, WA, which  provides direct services to co-victims of homicide. Lew is a Certified Trauma Service Specialist and a Certified Victim Advocate Specialist. Mr. Cox has extensive experience as a homicide victim advocate, peer court companion, and a peer support group facilitator. He is trained in Critical Incident Stress Management (CISM) and debriefing. He is a Chaplain with the Des Moines, WA Police Department. He served in the capacity of a chaplain at the World Trade Center disaster site, Christmas week 2001. Lew is a survivor of the 1987 murder of his twenty-two year old daughter Carmon, and is the co-author, along with Dr. Robert Baugher PH.D, of the book, Coping with Traumatic Grief: Homicide.

 

Mom Remembers a Son Who Died Too Young

By Debra Reagan –

Everyone was so excited when Clint came into our lives that beautiful day in May. While we were at the hospital the day he was born, the contractor began work on our new home. We were a young family with many hopes and dreams. Clint was a delightful child and made our family of four complete. He was very affectionate and loved the touch of those around him. Clint’s older brother, Blake, told every visitor, “He is our baby and you can’t take him with you.” 

As Clint grew from our baby to our little boy, his love for animals grew. The line in the poem, little boys are made of snakes, snails and puppy dog tails, could have been used to describe Clint. As a small boy, he could spend the afternoon outside carrying around a caterpillar so he could share it with his dad when he got home.  We purchased one hamster from the pet store and a few weeks later, we had a cage full. One of his favorite things to do when he was young was to carry a baby hamster piggyback in the hood of his sweatshirt.

We had our share of pets: dogs, cats, hamsters, a rabbit, ducks, chickens, and fish. Years later I learned the stray dog we had for 16 years, had a little coaxing when she chose our house out of all the others in the neighborhood.  Our pet population continued to grow. Later, Clint was so proud when he was able to locate an orange kitten that needed a home because his brother had always wanted one. Of course, he chose a kitten for himself also. Clint was always bringing home treats and toys for the cats.

Many years ago, while on vacation Clint’s love for fishing began. At the beach, he could spend hours walking along the water’s edge catching small fish in his net. The fish were always released for another day. We got a kick out of the time we were fishing from a pier, and Clint made it a fishing competition with Nanny. He tried to keep up with every fish she caught so he could make sure he caught at least one more.

Clint’s love for fishing continued, and a love for other sports grew. He was a team player on the school basketball team. What he lacked in skill, he seemed to make up with enthusiasm. He seemed to be able to lift the spirits of his teammates whenever he went into the game. During those elementary school years, Clint also played baseball. He found pleasure in everything connected to sports; playing, watching, and collecting cards. When he was young, he would practice signing his name in hopes of one day being a famous baseball player that would be asked to autograph baseball cards. Perhaps now he will be the angel in the outfield. 

Our son always had many good friends and they were important to him. Although Clint was not a morning person, after a good hug he was anxious to go to school and be with his friends. I think Clint viewed school as a place to spend time with one’s friends instead of a place to learn, but he liked reading and attended summer reading programs at the local library. He also excelled in spelling and became our personal spell checker.

During the high school years, Clint had some ups and downs. He ran track his freshman year and sports were still a part of his life. His enjoyment of fishing continued; although, it was during a fishing trip that he sustained a serious and permanent eye injury. This did not keep him from other activities. One summer, Clint visited Australia and New Zealand as a People to People Ambassador Representative. He cherished those memories and hoped to return to Australia one day. He was proud how he kept himself well when others on the trip became sick. The leaders of the trip had cautioned the parents against expecting too much communication from their child during this very hectic and activity filled trip. We were pleased to hear from Clint often.

We have the memories of many family activities to hold in our hearts, but they will never be a substitute for having him here with us.  Clint enjoyed many things: board games, video games, miniature golf as well as white water rafting. He also found joy in collecting items. Over the years he collected Pez dispensers and he had sizable collection of them. We learned the hard way they can be like dominoes lined up; when one fell, they would all fall.

After high school, Clint signed up to attend a community college. He had dreams of one day designing video games, but in the meantime he worked with his father at an engineering company. He considered his father his best friend. Clint spent his spare time like most young people: listening to music, playing video games, looking at cars, spending time with his girlfriend, talking on the phone and shopping at thrift shops for vintage T-shirts.

We were blessed to have shared a wonderful childhood with Clint and to have had 20 years together. But our beloved son and brother left us too soon. We miss his big hugs and bright smiles.  We miss his singing, his whistling, his laughs, and the smell of his favorite cologne. We also miss the joyous moments he brought to the family. We still look for him to come walking through the door; instead he walks through our hearts. We miss the way he filled a room and filled the house. Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote, “The presence of that absence is everywhere.”  This is very true for us also.

Debra Reagan lives in East Tennessee with her husband of 28 years and surviving son, Blake. Their lives changed forever when Clint died on August 6, 2005, at the age of 20 of an accidental overdose and bronchial pneumonia. Debra can be reached through the website she maintains for her son at www.clint-reagan.memory-of.com.

 

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