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.

 

Bereaved Mother Feels Like She Can’t Go On

Donna asks for help: My son just died in a car accident last Thursday, Sept. 4, 2008. I don’t think I can do this. He was only 20 years old and still lived with us at home. We worked for the same company and rode to and from work every day. I have to go back to work this coming Monday and don’t know how I’m going to make the drive in without him. He was so beautiful to me. I can hardly look at pictures of him right now. All I can see is the image of him lying in his casket. God help me! I have wonderful friends, family and church supporting me and still I feel like I’m drowning. I can’t breathe. Someone tell me how to face tomorrow when I wake up again without him here. I can’t see how. Jarod was my heart and soul… Please help.

Dr. Gloria Horsley responds: Please have someone drive you to work and pick you up for a few days.  I know it will be a pain but you need and deserve the support.  It is also hell having that empty bedroom and closing your eyes only to see them in the coffin.  Things will ease over time and that last image will lessen.  That picture in your mind of your son in the coffin is a way for the mind to let us know that it is true and that he is gone.  We fight that loss with every fiber in our body and mind.  We go to sleep and wake up to the fact that it is not a dream but a reality.  They are really gone.  Hold on to the love and history that you still have for one another.  You had 20 wonderful years and as time goes on and the suffering eases your memories will shine.

Fondly, Dr. Gloria

I Think I’m Depressed: A Caregiver’s Deep-Dark Secret

By Carol O’Dell

I think I’m depressed.

Have you had this thought but couldn’t say it out loud? Caregiver depression doesn’t always look like depression. That means it can go undiagnosed for a very long time.

Caregivers who are depressed can’t (or don’t) stop what they’re doing. They can’t lock themselves in darkened bedrooms for days on end. They don’t necessarily cry or stop eating. They keep on caring for their loved ones. They suffer in silence.

So, what does caregiver depression look like? It can be tricky. It doesn’t manifest itself in the same way other people display depression.

What caregiver has the time to fall apart? Conservative stats put caregiver depression at 20%. That’s very conservative. I’d say it’s closer to 50%. It comes with the job. We’re dealing with disease, pain, and the end-of-life.

Am I Depressed? Ask Yourself These Questions:

When is the last time you got your hair cut?

Have you gained more than ten or fifteen pounds this year?

Have you stopped calling friends? Do you think they’re sick of hearing you complain and what else do you have to talk about anyway?

Do you feel like all your energy has been drained out your big toe? Seriously, do your legs feel like they’re in cement?

Or…are you so antsy and anxious you can’t sit down? Are you afraid that if you start crying you’ll never stop? Do you feel like you could just crawl out of your skin?

Do you do nothing other than care give?

Fill in the blank: I used to ___________, but I just don’t want to, have the energy, or care about things like that any more.

Have you stopped decorating for the holidays or celebrating birthdays or other special days? Why bother, it’s just more work for me-attitude?

Do you find yourself zoning out-all the time? Can you not think anything through?

Do you get on crying jags and just can’t stop?

Are you stuck in negative thoughts, berating yourself mentally-for hours on end?

Are you waking yourself up with copious amounts of caffeine-or pills-and then forcing yourself to sleep with even more pills?

Do you feel (and look) 15 years or more older than you really are?

Do you feel hopeless? Do you feel you have zero options in your life-you can’t stop caregiving even if you wanted to?

Do you not even want to think about life after caregiving-because you don’t even know what you’d do with yourself?

Is sex a ridiculous concept and even the thought of it takes way too much energy?

Do you flip channels endlessly but never rent a movie or read a book all the way through?

Would a work colleague or old friend even recognize you now?

Are you an insomniac-after years of middle-of-the night emergencies, do you find your sleep patterns all out of whack?

Have you ever thought about taking yourself-and your loved one “out of this world?”

***

If you don’t answer “yes” to at least a few of these questions, I’d be surprised.

Caregiving is hard on the body, spirit, and relationships. These signs of stress and depression are common for anyone, but especially for caregivers. But it’s the severity with which you experience these symptoms. Every day, all day long, the vortex of negative thoughts never ending.

Men are vulnerable in different ways.

They don’t always have the friends and support system that would allow them to let off steam. They relied on their wives and family members to talk to, feel close to. If their wife is the person who needs their care, these men are truly isolated. They may drink too much, flip channels, isolate themselves.

Some men take it too far-if their loved one is dying (or they perceive they are), or in severe pain, they might come to the conclusion that it would be best if they both “leave this world” at the same time. The statistics for elder murder-suicide are startling.

How do you know if the stress and depression has gone too far?

You probably know in your gut. You know how much you’re fooling others. You know how much weight you’ve gained or lost, how little sleep you’re getting, the last time you talked to anyone outside the house. You know how many times you’ve reached for that bottle.

Are drugs the only answer?

In today’s pharmaceutical world, the first thing a doctor is going to recommend is an anti-depressant. But know that anti-depressants come with some risk. These are helpful, and when needed, a god-send. But they usually won’t address the root of the problem.

You need friends, a community, a network. Caregiver supports groups can be a life-line.

Lots of Ideas to Help Ease Depression:

• Get the junk food out of the house-sugar highs and lows can really whack you out.
• Get the guns out of the house! Why risk it?
• Get the alcohol out of the house.
• Join a caregiver support group.
• Get out of the house just for you! Plan one outing this month-go to the zoo, call an old friend, make a hair appointment. Start small.
• Journal, meditate, stretch.
• Walk. Nothing is more healing and takes less time and equipment for phenomenal results. Start with a 15, 20 minute walk. Do it religiously. Don’t wait until you feel like it. Do it like you’re taking a pill. Force yourself if you have to. Don’t worry about walking fast at first, or dressing right, just get out the front door and shuffle down the street. You can leave your loved one locked in the house for 15 minutes. If you can’t, ask a neighbor to come watch TV in your house for that long.
• Wean off the sleeping aids. This may take awhile. Go slow, take less, but at least monitor that you’re not increasing the dosage.
• Get angry! Depression is oftentimes anger imploded. Go outside and throw some old glasses against the side of your house. See if it feels good. Go out to your car, shut the doors, roll up the windows and scream your head off.
• If you’re having dangerous thoughts, tell someone. People will understand. You will find compassion.
• Go for a medical check-up. We can so ignore our health needs that we have a real physical condition we’ve ignored. You might not be depressed-you might be sick!

Important to Consider:

It’s okay if you can’t be a full-time caregiver any more.

Quit. Place your loved one in a care facility. God will not hate you, and if your loved ones hate you, then tell them to come do some non-stop, full-time caregiving!

Sometimes we just hit a brick wall. Cry, and then let go. It’s okay.

As dark and scary as depression can be, it’s our heart’s and body’s way of asking us to deal with something.

Depression can be an ironic gift that leads you to a better life.

Carol D. O’Dell is the Open to Hope Foundation’s caregiver blogger and author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir.

Is It OK to Keep Memento of Son’s Accident?

Susan of Texas asks: My son died in a car accident, and I find comfort from holding a piece of glass from my son’s demolished car. My friend thinks this is strange. Is she right, or do other people do what I do?

Dr. Bob Neimeyer responds: It sounds like your friend is not a bereaved parent.  Many people find solace in maintaining contact with their loved one through cherished “linking objects,” whether these are a child’s favorite toy, a husband’s sweater, or in this case, a piece of broken glass. 

At the core of grief is the urge to restore a sense of loving attachment that was shattered, or at least challenged by the loss. In your case, the broken shard may have special meaning, not only linking you to your son, but also symbolizing, in some sense, the fracturing of the world you knew with the tragic impact of his death. Many years ago when I was an adolescent, I was in a serious car accident in which my car was totaled.  When I was released from the hospital, I went to the junkyard to see the car-an emotional experience for me, as you can imagine-and took away the car’s ashtray, as the one part of the car I could easily remove.  That seemingly insignificant memento reminded me of a car I had loved-my first-as well as anchoring the memory of a difficult chapter in my life as a young person.  I am sure I still have that ashtray somewhere in my attic.

From what we are learning about continuing bonds, it seems that the main question is how we can not only hold onto reminders of what was, but also reach forward to what might yet be. 

Our lives will never be the same after such a tragic loss as yours, but we can find purpose nonetheless, often in a way that extends the presence of our loved one in the world by living in a way that he or she would value and appreciate, but including them in our thoughts and conversations, and in general giving them a continued existence in a life of our own that reaches for fullness and meaning.  As we do so, we may find it easier to keep them with us in our hearts, in the back of our minds, and in our lives with others, and as we do so we may find that positive emotions of love and joy begin to leaven the grief, and make it more bearable.  Across time, the role of our concrete linking objects may change, and represent cherished mementos, but no longer serve as the major avenue toward contacting our loved one’s memory.  I wish you well on this long journey.

Robert A. Neimeyer, PhD

Author, Lessons of Loss:  A Guide to Coping

 

Dealing With the Death of a Boyfriend

A website visitor has this question for author Comfort Shields:

Q: I saw that the author C. Comfort Shields will be on your radio program next week. I am grateful for this and can’t wait to tune in. I spent years searching for a book specifically written about surviving a partner’s (in my case, it was my boyfriend, too) suicide and can’t begin to tell you the relief that Shields’ book, Surviving Ben’s Suicide, has brought me since reading it a couple months ago.

In Ms. Shields’ memoir, she talked about how cruel people often were when she told them her boyfriend committed suicide. They didn’t take her grief seriously, because she “only” lost a boyfriend. My question is, what would Ms. Shields say to those people now, all of these years after her boyfriend committed suicide, knowing what she knows now?

Comfort Shields responds:

Thank you for your excellent question. I am so sorry about the loss of your boyfriend to suicide.
 
I often felt disenfranchised after my boyfriend, Ben, died. Upon telling people about Ben’s death, they would often say, “His poor family!” and not mention me or ask about my grief. It seemed as if I didn’t have a right to feel such pain or to be included as one of the nearest and dearest survivors of Ben’s suicide, since I was not related to him or tied to him by marriage. As you know, not being validated as someone who deserves to grieve can be extremely painful for survivors.
 
Even to this day, fifteen years after Ben took his life, people still sometimes dismiss my experience as being somehow peripheral. When this happens, I remind them that, when death occurs, one must not simply assume that the only people close to the deceased are tied by kinship. I also talk about the very special role a partner has, when coping with a suicide.

Partners are often the most intimate with the deceased. We tend to be the confidante and the shoulder to cry on. We are also the people who witness many of the deceased partner’s final struggles and have accompanied him or her on a journey of highs and lows. In some case, like mine, we even endure abuse (mine was verbal) due to the suicidal partner’s mental illness.
 
Then, left in the wake of a partner’s suicide, we are often left with a tremendous sense of guilt, abandonment and stigma. We often feel that society is judging us for what we were not able to do and that we are somehow tainted by the “taboo” of suicide.

We also may look at ourselves and ask why we weren’t good enough to “make” our partner “stay”. Of course, these questions are not always rational, but nevertheless, many of us ask them as a way of making sense of our role in our partner’s life and death.
 
Usually, once I explain how close I was to Ben and what I went through with him before his death and alone after his death, people begin to understand just how intimately affected partners of suicide are. This is a topic that I feel very strongly about and I hope to answer in more detail soon.

Comfort Shields will appear on “Healing the Grieving Heart” radio.

MAY 24, 2007 – THE DEATH OF A MOTHER: INTEGRATING PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL KNOWLEDGE: DAVID BROWNING.

 When David Browning was thirteen years old, his mother Harriet died after an extended struggle with lung cancer. Like many children who lose parents, the trajectory of his life was then shaped by the impact of that loss. A practicing therapist and educator for twenty-five years, David has sought to understand what it means to be a professional caregiver when one’s own identity has been fashioned by loss. He has published several essays and articles articulating the need for healthcare professionals to better understand the rich intersection between personal experience and professional knowledge. Currently, David is Director of the Initiative for Pediatric Palliative Care (at Education Development Center, Inc.), a national project aimed at transforming the culture of healthcare for children with life-threatening conditions and their families.

David Browning:  I was close to my mom, and as is true in a lot of families, children get particularly often closer to mothers especially in that generation than with fathers so the loss was kind of like other grieving people talk about these kinds of losses.  You’re really not quite sure who you are after a death like that and you’re not quite sure about your own survival after a death like that. Read more

Dr. Heidi Speaks About the Divorce Rate among Bereaved Parents

I was glad to see that Wayne Loder cited several studies done on behalf of Compassionate Friends showing that the divorce rate among bereaved parents is 12%-16%, far below the national average.  Further, I agree with my mom (Dr. Gloria) that grieving parents, do not need to be told that their marriage cannot survive a profound loss.  However, I also think it is important to present the other side of this discussion, and  to say to those of you that are divorced or are in the process of getting divorced, that in most cases this will not destroy or ruin your child’s life.  Many children today are growing up in families of divorce.  These children have gone on to lead happy, healthy, productive lives.  There are several things that you can do as parents to alleviate your children’s anxiety, and insure that they will fair well following a divorce. Read more

Men & Women’s Responses To Death

From Dr. Gloria

The following stresss rearch study is very important for all of us who have lost family members.  Again the message to me is that the fact that Phil, my husband, and I had different responses to Scott’s death was NORMAL.    Phil shut down and lost  himself in work while I talked to friends, collogues and anyone who would listen.

If you have been to a grief conference or support group you will find that around 3/4 of participants are female.  Results of this study done at UCLA find that the reaching out may be hormonal.  We know that the hormone testosterone—which men produce in high levels when they’re under stess—seems to reduce the effects of oxytocin. Estrogen adds.  Oxytocin also accounts for the fact that women tend to cry more easily than men. 
 
UCLA Study on Friendship Among Women
 
By Gale Berkowitz
10-29-06
 
A landmark UCLA study suggests friendships between women are special. They shape who we are and who we are yet to be. They soothe our tumultuous inner world, fill the emotional gaps in our marriage, and help us remember who we
really are. By the way, they may do even more. Read more

Krystal’s Bench

Dear Heidi and Dr. Gloria,

 

I wanted to send you these pictures. Krystal’s Bench is located in St. augustine, FL at the Mission of Nombre De Dios and La Leche Shrine. (About 7 miles from our house.) I am not Catholic, but chose this place because of its beauty and sacred atmosphere.

Jo Ann Webb, Krystal’s Mom

 

Dear Dr. Gloria and Dr. Heidi

I feel like I am going into the pit again. As you know, the grief is with me everyday, but I was beginning to have moments of joy and even lightness of heart. But now the Pain is overtaking me again. I try to lean into the pain, relax, breath, go for walks on the beach every day, pray, sit in silence, read, but finally the pain overcomes me and I have to retreat to the guest room, close the door and let the pain engulf me.
I actually feel such physical pain that my chest feels like it has been ripped open and my heart is lying in my chest, bleeding, and in indescribable pain. Tear flow and flow and flow. Hu ge tears that feel thick and oily, not salty like “regular” tears. I pray for the strength to be with the pain and lean into it. I cry so much that I actually wear myself out, and usually fall asleep. I then get up, it usually has been about 2-3 hours since I went into the guest room, and go downstairs to spend time with Don. It has been 3 years since Krystal died, and I still feel so broken. Monday, March 5, is Krystal’s birthday, and I will be at Compassionate Friends on her birthday. I have thought of bringing a birthday Read more

Next Page »