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.

Struggling to Survive Brother’s Suicide

Janet writes in: I, along with my sister and now deceased brother, have always suffered from mental illness –  hereditary-based and environmental. We grew-up in an immensely dysfunctional home, with a raging alcoholic father. My sister has bi-polar disorder, and I suffer from depression. I knew my brother planned on killing himself and argued for my parents to look for him after they had had a terrible fight and he left our home in a rage. They said because he was addicted to drugs, he was on his own. He was missing for 2 weeks, until a reporter found him dead in his car, parked in front of the jail where he was inevitably going to serve time due to drug related charges. Knowing his court date was soon, he threatened to “die before he was stuck in a cage.” It has been six years, and my anxiety and depression has only worsened. I have seen numerous doctors and tried many medications. I am married now, to the most kind and supportive husband one could ask for; but, I still feel like when Travis died, a part of me also died. My parents divorced after 34 yrs of marriage, and my father remarried and no longer speaks to any of us. It feels like now, everything I attempt to accomplish, I end up quitting due to anxiety attacks or another bout of depression. How do I pull it together? I’ve tried writing about it, but my pain seems to make my thoughts come out messy, without any order. Meds, doctors, financial support, even my amazing husband, aren’t able to ease the intense yearning I constantly have to see my brother again. People question why I haven’t worked in 2.5 years and I don’t know how to explain the reason. I only do small projects at a time because I can’t escape the utter despair I’ve felt since he died. In many aspects, I myself feel dead at times. I have so much love and passion for people and life, but the pain often engulfs the very essence of who I am, or who I thought I was. How do you regain your life after the death of a sibling, when you yourself suffered from depression prior to the event?

Michelle Linn-Gust, a grief specialist who also lost a sibling, responds: First, I am so sorry for the loss of your brother. He obviously was very important to you, and I’m sure it was like one more thing was added to your pile. I have heard similar stories from other siblings who had dysfunctional homes and lost a sibling from whose death they didn’t feel they could recover.

What I have also seen is an amazing resilience to hold on until things get better. Sometimes you have to take things just one minute at time– even if you have to do that for years. Obviously, while you might not feel so strong, I can see a strength in you because are reaching out, you have survived, you are trying to move forward. It seems that something hasn’t clicked to make you feel like it will be okay. But from what I see on the outside, you are going to be okay. You have made it this far and you aren’t going to give up now.

I bet somewhere in your life, your brother is leaving signs that he is okay and he wants you to be okay. Only in the last few years of the 15 since my sister died have I come to believe our bond is closer now than it was before she died. We had our own dysfunctional family although I don’t think to the degree of what you and your siblings have been through.

I have come to believe that Denise is helping to guide me through my life and the more I am thankful for the signs (a song on the radio that reminds me of her, pennies and dimes she leaves in places, particularly when I’m having a difficult day), the more signs that come.

Ask your brother to leave you a sign that he’s okay and that he’s thinking about you. It might not come right away, but be open and it will. I strongly believe that we need to find peace, hope, and relief anywhere we can find it.

I have the sense that you need something to carry you to sort of the next level of relief. I have been there many times in my life for different reasons and when I reach out, it comes.

I know you’ve tried many ways to find the way and they haven’t worked so I’m just suggesting a little different route. I hope it helps. And you might also check out my web site (www.siblingsurvivors.com) because many sibs just like you leave their stories in the guestbook. And they would be willing to email you and help you in any way they can.
Take care,
Michelle Linn-Gust

Parent of Organ Donor Treated Like Royalty

By Reg Green –

Recently, in the restaurant of a Northern Italian hotel, someone in our group told the waiter I was the father of a seven-year-old California boy who was shot in a bungled robbery while we were on vacation in Italy in 1994. From a nearby table, a voice said “Ah, Nicholas.” Tables around the room took up the theme until it became a topic of general conversation.

It speaks volumes that a boy, and a foreigner at that, who was killed fourteen years ago can still bring a roomful of strangers together. It’s true the circumstances were unusual. My wife and I donated his organs and corneas to seven Italians, all of whom are still living. Even so, the intensity of the emotion after all this time always surprises me.

Last week, in the latest in a series of demonstrations of sympathy that have been held in cities from the Alps to Sicily, the little town of Giussano (pop 25,000), near Milan, was caught up in a flurry of events in Nicholas’ memory, organized by the local branch of AIDO, the dedicated volunteer group that promotes organ donation throughout Italy.

Giussano has no connection to our family: none of us ever visited it before Nicholas was killed. But a thousand people attended mass in the principal church at which the priest repeatedly linked organ donation to Christ’s teachings on helping others; 350 townspeople attended a conference on transplantation which ran from 9 on a Friday evening until almost midnight; students of all ages took part in contests to produce works of art and slogans supporting organ donation; there were posters in stores and banners in the streets; and the national media covered what normally would have been simply a local event.  

Since Nicholas was killed, the Italian organ donation rate has tripled, a rate of growth not approached by any other country. From being next to the lowest in Western Europe, it is now one of the highest.

Nothing takes away the feeling of grief of losing Nicholas. But I am consoled by the recurring thought that Italians feel so protective of him that he is typically referred to, not by his full name, but simply as piccolo Nicholas, little Nicholas.

The events in Giussano culminated in the naming of a park in the most distinguished part of the city. Two marble plaques say only: The Garden of Nicholas Green 1987 - 1994, a restrained simplicity that both Maggie, my wife, and I appreciate.

It seems fitting that he is associated with a place where children, with all their hopes ahead of them, come to play and where adults go for quiet contemplation. Among others at the dedication ceremony was the first patient in Italy who was saved from blindness by a cornea transplant: he has now been able to see for 52 years.

At the ceremony, Nicholas was represented by two boys — one 7, the other 21 – the age when Nicholas was killed and the age he would be now. The town band played “The Star-Spangled Banner,” children waved American flags vigorously and William Gill, the American Consul in Milan, spoke of the way transplants bring people together.

A unique set of circumstances produced these results. But we all have it in our power to make a huge difference when death comes. Only a few can become organ donors: these are the people whose brains have stopped working - mainly because of head injuries from accidents, violence and strokes — and are on a ventilator in a hospital, so that the blood can be pumped through the system and the organs kept alive for a while.

Given that the decision to donate produces on average three or four organs, the families of these people have in their hands the power to save three or four other families, just like their own, from devastation. Given too that their numbers are so limited and the waiting list is so long each decision is crucial.

The great majority of people who die when the heart stops beating cannot be organ donors but they can donate tissue — corneas to ward off blindness, skin to cure excruciatingly painful burns, heart valves to prevent heart attacks and bone to avoid amputations and straighten spines. Tissue donors can relieve forty, fifty, sixty people of pain and anxiety.

Making those decisions in a hospital when a family member has just died can be very hard. The only thing most people want to do is to go home. That’s why you have to think about it ahead of time. But if you do think about it ahead of time I often wonder: why would anyone say no?

To learn more about organ and tissue donation please go to www.donatelife.net or call 800 355 7427.  For more on the Green family story please see www.nicholasgreen.org.

Enjoying the Holidays … Differently

By Chris Mulligan –

It’s time to party! the television advertisements say this time of year. Party? How could I party when some days I did not even want to get out of bed?

I did not want to go to work. I did not want to confront my day. How could I party when I could not even look at my face to put on a happy one? Getting through one’s days are difficult at best after the death of a child, but enduring the holiday season seems almost impossible to surmount. Depending upon the length of time in grief, some of us cannot or are not able to recognize that the holiday season is upon us, let alone enjoy it. 

In our early grief, some of us are oblivious to the presence of time in terms of days, weeks, months, and seasons. While most of us do not want to acknowledge the rest of the world’s observance of the holiday season and its celebrations, some of us are unable to recognize any of the events happening outside of their own pain.   Grieving is all-encompassing. It renders us incapable of viewing life beyond our own fog, our own pain, our own devastation.  Life is occurring on the inside. In early grief, experiencing life beyond our pain appears physically impossible as we focus on an internal world that has been irrevocably transformed. Is Halloween a scary event to envision with trepidation or is it a time to revisit yesterday’s joys created by the memories of past Halloween celebrations with your loved one?

Thirty days after my son Zac’s October 1^st death, my first holiday without him, it was frightening to recognize how frozen my feelings had become. The next month and my “first” Thanksgiving, I could only be grateful for the numbness that allowed autopilot to control my behaviors and move me through that day and its preparations.

But it was the first Christmas, which was previously the most anticipated time of the holiday season, that became the most dreaded and most difficult to experience. Ultimately, in my grief process, I had to make a decision about my life. I had to choose to continue living, and this included living through and celebrating the holidays. 

Getting through the holidays continues to be one of the most difficult hurdles for me. Nevertheless, the passing of each year allows for an accumulated history of experiencing feelings and recognizing the changes in your heart. Each person must find and incorporate what works for him or her. There are blogs, websites, books and newsletters that contain many helpful ideas. Support groups like Compassionate Friends are wonderful resources for sharing and discovering new ideas.   

Time will assist with one’s ability to move beyond the debilitating fog of early grief in relation to surviving the holidays. Acceptance supports us in “living what is.” I know when I eat a Rice Krispie treat in his honor and when I hang “The Judge” ornament on the Christmas tree, that Zac smiles. I can hear him laughing when Lynyrd Skynyrd sings, “Santa’s Messin’ with the Kid.” And, although I still have days in which I miss him terribly, I am now enjoying the holidays…differently.

Chris Mulligan has written about her first year of grief in Afterlife Agreements: A Gift From Beyond and continues to work with adoptive families. She can be reached through her website at http://Afterlifebooks,com.

Grief and the Internet

By Ken Doka —

When we are grieving one needs all the support we can get.  One needs to use every tool, every resource that works.  Grief can be a difficult battle.  One must use every weapon he or she can muster. 

For some people, computers and the Internet are not helpful.  They may feel intimidated navigating a computer or have never sought to purchase a computer or sign up with an Internet server. 

Yet others may find additional resources on the Internet to assist in their struggle with grief.  For those who do, it is important to be aware of both the types of resources that are on the Internet as well as potential dangers and limitations.

While there are a great variety of services offered through the Internet, three seem to be key for persons struggling with grief - information, support, and memorialization.

Yet in each case, just like any other set of services, one needs to be a careful consumer.

First, the Internet is a great source of information.  That is a great gift.  Information is critical in grief since it allows one to understand his or her reactions.  One of the most common questions I am asked in my counseling and speaking is a variation of the question “Am I going crazy?”  As one reads the work of professionals or hears the voices and stories of persons struggling with loss, one often realizes that his or her reactions are normal responses to the very abnormal, new reality that loss brings.  Moreover, information also offers choices.  One may learn from the stories or advice of others how to deal with one’s own struggles.

There is a great range of information available - from professional articles, to inspirational stories, to self-help material.  Yet information on the Internet is like any other information, be it in books, pamphlets, radio or television.  Some of it is good; other information may not be helpful or even may be dangerous.  As one reads it is important to assess the source and carefully consider whether this advice really is in line with one’s own circumstances, beliefs, or comfort.  Talk about it with trusted confidants.

Second, the Internet also offers support and services.  Through the Internet, one could locate local and national self-help groups, counselors, and retreats.  There are even online self-help groups and counseling.  This can be of great value, especially in areas where groups may not be available or one has in not mobile.

Yet here, too, take care.  In periods of grief, one can be vulnerable.  Unfortunately there are those that prey on vulnerable individuals.  I once had a con-woman come to a support group, looking for prospects, claiming to be a grieving widow.  Fortunately her movements were now being tracked by local law enforcement. The Internet is largely unregulated, and one has no ability to assess the appearance and manner of a person when that person is not physically present.

Finally, the Internet can be a source for memorialization.  Every person likes to leave a legacy, a reminder that there life counted, a place to visit and remember.  That is one value of cemeteries.  However, in a mobile society, cemeteries may no longer have that same role.  Cyberspace can.  It can be a place where one can leave tributes and condolences, share memories, and validate life.  This, too, can be one more gift of a technological age.

Originally published in Hospice Foundation of America’s Journeys newsletter, copyright 2008 . Reprinted with permission. To subscribe to Journeys, visit www.hospicefoundation.org or call 1-800-854-3402.

           

Ten New Year’s Eves

By Katy Hutchison —  

December 31^st has come and gone ten times since my husband Bob was murdered in 1997.  While ringing in the New Year with friends, Bob left our dinner table to check on the home of a vacationing neighbor.  It had become apparent no responsible adult was overseeing a party the neighbor’s teenaged son was throwing.  Bob walked in on two hundred drunk and out of control youth.  Within minutes he was dead; beaten to death by two young men angered by his efforts to shut things down.  I was left a widow with four-year-old twins.

The first year after Bob’s death was a blur of just getting one foot in front of the other.  I focused my energy on putting meals on the table for my children, easing them into the routine of Kindergarten, and crying myself to sleep. 

Having the anniversary of Bob’s death fall on a holiday magnified the dread I felt as the first Christmas season approached.  I made arrangements to take my children away that first year; something we had never done before.  Just the thought of snow, the familiar boxes of decorations, the smell of turkey and one less place set at our table made me want to fall off the edge of the earth.

We spent the holidays on a beach in Mexico.  My children were kept busy by the impossibly happy recreation staff while I hid my swollen eyes behind sunglasses and pretended to read a trashy novel.  While the rest of the resort gaily counted down the minutes to midnight I pulled the covers over my head and prayed the next year would be easier.

The next year was not any easier, but it was different.  I had remarried and my husband Michael had two children of his own.  We made a real effort to create new holiday traditions which would honor our freshly blended family.  I began a different repertoire of Christmas baking and lay to rest some of Bob’s favorites. 

Michael’s daughter is bi-racial.  Her beautiful almond shaped eyes and shiny black hair show off her Asian heritage and it was her suggestion to celebrate Chinese New Year.  We held off popping the champagne in December and ate duck and oranges in February instead.  I still felt myself bracing for the holidays weeks in advance, but the jagged edges were smoothed somewhat by the curiosity of new rituals.

In the years that followed my sadness was more about the realization of how much Bob was missing.  Our twins had grown into adolescence and offered reminders of Bob’s character with ever increasing frequency. The arrival of each New Year simply served to remind me of his absence in our world. 

I learned to be good to myself as the holidays approached; not over-committing the family socially and building in lots of time and space to look after one another’s hearts.  I made a habit of going to bed before the ball dropped.

We endured an additional layer of pressure in the fact our tragic story had been very public.  For many years the media would contact us to ask what New Years felt like in the distancing wake of Bob’s murder.  No magic number of times turning over the last page of a calendar would make his death any easier to bear. 

A few years ago on December 31^st, I found our kitchen crowded with an impromptu gathering of friends and family.  A close friend’s marriage had just fallen apart and she had brought her children along to get away from her own holiday grief. 

I realized that night that life does move forward.  It brings with it new circumstances to celebrate, as well as new circumstances to mourn.  I was grateful my grief for Bob had shrunk to allow room in my heart to help my friend get through her own loss.  Before I knew it, it was midnight; the first time in many years I had seen the New Year in.  My arms encircled my friend on one side and Michael on the other.  Our children danced with sparklers on the lawn while our tears of joy flowed amidst tears of sadness.  Life and death are messy.

Now our twins are in their teens, and New Year’s Eve has become an exciting social event among their peers.  They confessed to me a concern I would never let them go out to celebrate.  On the contrary, I am grateful for their healthy, normal and very typical teen need to be with their friends.  I explained to them they have a lifetime of New Year’s Eves ahead of them.  They deserve to look forward to that night with eager anticipation, for it to be special and enjoyed safely in the company of good people.  They deserve it to be the start of something wonderful rather that a reminder of a horrible moment in time.  Bob would be the first to agree.

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Reach Katy Hutchison at katy@katyhutchisonpresents.com

Football Movie Handles Grief With Sensitivity

By Abel Keogh — It’s hard to find a movie that effectively deals with the subject of grief. Occasionally however, there’s one that really deals with the subject in a realistic way. The most recent movie that does an excellent job dealing with the subject is We Are Marshall.

We Are Marshall is about the tragic plane crash that killed the players and coaches of Marshal University in 1970. Though it’s hyped as a sports movie and the difficult task of rebuilding a college football team from scratch, We Are Marshall is really a movie about dealing with death and loss and how individuals and communities cope with the loss of loved ones. It’s a movie about those who choose to move on and those who want to let the past hold them back.

And the desire to be held back by some sense of mourning is tempting. The university considers canceling the football program but only the quick thinking of one of the surviving football players convinces the board of trustees to let the football program continue.

Then there’s Red Dawson (Matthew Fox), the only member of the coaching staff who wasn’t on the plane because he opted to drive home and make a recruiting stop on the way. He’s wracked by survivor’s guilt, the loss of his mentor Marshall’s head coach Rick Tolley (an un-credited roll by Robert Patrick) - and the fact that he personally recruited many of the players who died after promising their mothers he’d watch after them while they were on the team.

After the program is reinstated, Dawson is offered the head coach job. He turns it down and spends his time building a shed in his back yard. Returning to football - a game that he loves - is something he doesn’t have the heart or strength to do.

Jack Lengyel (Matthew McConaughey) takes the job that no coach in the country wants: building a football team from scratch in the shadow of dead players and coaches. Not only does he have to field a team, he has to help Dawson (who finally agrees to be an assistant coach for one final year) and the university president, other players, and members of the community to know that the best way to accept their loss and climb out from under the shadow of the dead is to play football.

In one emotional scene following the blowout loss to Morehead State, Dawson tells Lengyel that they aren’t honoring the dead because he thinks the team is playing poorly and losing. Lengyel fires back that the Marshall football program isn’t about winning right now but healing the community and the individuals who are still mourning over loved ones. He tells Dawson that building a football program, even one that’s only marginally successful is about giving the people a chance to rebuild their lives. He tells Dawson:

One day, not today, not tomorrow, not this season, probably not next season either but one day, you and I are gonna wake up and suddenly we’re gonna be like every other team in every other sport where winning is everything and nothing else matters. And when that day comes, well that’s…that’s when we’ll honor them [the dead players and coaches].

In another scene, the morning before Marshall’s home opener against Xavier, Lengyel takes his team to the resting spot of six unidentified players. He gives them an inspiring speech about the dead players and coaches but at the end proclaims, “The funerals end today!”

His message is clear: stop living in and thinking about the past. Instead start doing what you were put on Earth to do and start living again.

Despite the dark and sad feeling that penetrates the movie, we see how players, individuals, and the community cope with the loss of spouses, friends, and loved ones and begin moving on with their lives.

There’s an unopened case of beer that was to be used to console the players before 1970 teams’ win before the fateful crash, sitting untouched until a new player opens a can and is joined by others. We see the fiancé of one of the dead players take the advice of the should-have-been father-in-law and leave Hunington, West Virginia to move on with her life and not be held back by the past. And we see how the community celebrates the re-built team’s surprising victory against Xavier by staying on the field for hours after the game. Not everyone makes the decision to move on, however, and we see how their decisions to be held back by grief and memories contrast with those who move forward.

Losing a loved one can be difficult and We Are Marshall portrays that agony in very heart wrenching scenes. But it contains a message of hope and shows how an individual and community can move on after the tragic death of a loved one - even many loved ones - and become stronger in the process.

Helping Boyfriend Deal With His Mother’s Death

Vanessa writes in:

On November 27, 2007, my boyfriend’s mother died suddenly at age 43. She was found dead in her bed by my boyfriend and his 13-year-old brother. It was something that no one expected and she had no health problems whatso ever. She was the center of her family’s universe. She was and always will be the most amazing woman I ever met in my life.

That day, my boyfriend had the day off. He woke up to find that his mom was still sleeping, so he decided to clean that house for her. After cleaning, he left to get a haircut and start his Christmas shopping. When he came home, he found his little brother standing outside the door waiting to be let in the house. As they walked in, my boyfriend walked in his mother’s room and didn’t hear any snoring, which was unusual. He walked up to her bed and tried waking her up but got no response. At that moment he pulled the covers off her to find her covered in what seemed like blood. He then grabbed her and put her on the floor and started to perform CPR on her, but it was too late. During that time he yelled for his little brother to call 911. His little brother ran upstairs to find that has mom had passed away.

It will be a year on Thanksgiving Day since his mother¢s passing. It has been a really tough road for him and his family in trying to deal with this terrible thing. Words cannot describe what he is going through and I wish there was someway I could make the pain go away.

I am asking – even begging – someone to please help me help my boyfriend. He has not been dealing with his grief the right way and he even blames himself for what happened to his mother. He believes that if he would have stayed home that day, she would still be alive. He also blames himself for calling his little brother in the room and letting his look at his mother’s lifeless body.

So if there is someone out there that could give me advice, recommend any books, or anything else that might help him would be greatly appreciated. Thank you very much in advance.

Dr. Gloria Horsley responds:

Dear Vanessa,

What a tramatic experience your boyfriend and his little brother have gone through.  Losing a mother as wonderful as this one is a huge loss for a family.  The fact that you are still worrying about your boyfriend and his brother says a lot about you.  Also, the fact that he was close to his mother means that he is close to you and enjoys that female energy and support that you bring to him. 

I would firstly say that you need to take very good care of yourself so that you can continue to be of support to him.  The first year is very rough and the second is difficult in that we realize that this is the life we are going to have.  You do need to give him a lot of support during an anniversary.  If you can bring other family members, friends, or the religious community together for support it would be great. 

If you can talk him into it, see if he is up to having a small event on the annaversary of her death.  You could plant a tree, rose bush, read poems, or tell stories about her life.  Remind him that he is an example for his little brother and that how he reacts to mom’s death will impact how his brother responds.  If this is all too much for you, reach out as you have today and ask for support and advice.  Look to your family, friends, and professional community. 

Thank you for being such a caring person.  The world needs more Vanessas.   

Warmly, Dr. Gloria

You WILL Survive the Holidays

By Kay Bevington –

Those first few holiday seasons after the death of child can cause the parents great pain. That was certainly the case for my husband and me after we lost our daughter Rhonda when she was 16. Here are some things that we did (and some that we didn’t) that helped us gain some pleasure from the holidays. It will never be the same without your child/children but you will learn to cope and reinvest in others and have a life again.

PLAN AHEAD

Think about and plan for these next few weeks.  Decide what you want to do and let those who are close to you know what you need. 

CHANGE

Sometimes changing where and when holidays are celebrated helps. Perhaps your family would agree to have one gathering this year between the two holidays. Just because you’ve always hosted the gatherings at your house in the past does not mean it has to be the same. Inform your family that you’re unable to do this and tell them you will be having it at a restaurant this year or ask another family member to do it for you.  Often, we have found, the intensity of the pain lessens in a different environment. 

HELP OTHERS

Some people decide to work in local food kitchens on these special days.  Many who have done this say it helped them focus on what they have and see that life is often more painful and difficult for others.  It also makes us feel so much better when we give of ourselves to others.

DECORATING

If you feel your home needs to be decorated for the holidays but you can not muster the courage or energy to do it, then ask a friend or family member to assist or do it for you.  You may want to consider decorating the gravesite instead or in addition to what you do at home. 

ATTENDING SPECIAL EVENTS

Go to special events if you’d like to but inform your host or hostess that you may need to “escape” inconspicuously if you can not handle it.  Think about and look for others who are having a difficult time during the holidays and plan to attend or sit with them.  It helps to have someone nearby who truly understands.

ATTENDING WORSHP SERVICES

Often bereaved parents will say that music and worship services are the most difficult to attend after a child’s death.  We may be angry at God, and we most definitely feel cheated when other families seem to be intact and ours is not.  Loneliness and unfairness are our feelings and often cause despair.  If you are able to attend the annual services of your place of worship, you may want to sit near the aisle or at the back so you can have an easy escape route and not be “hemmed into the middle.”    

REMEMBERING YOUR CHILD

You might want to purchase a special candle in memory of your child.  Light the candle daily from Thanksgiving through Christmas.  You also may want to take an item of your child’s clothing and have them cut and designed for a doll or bear.  Jewelry can be melted, redesigned and sized for others to wear.  Be creative and think of ways that you can use the belongings of your child to create something new that will help others to remember him or her. 

Whether this is your first year of bereavement or if it has been several years since your child died you will find that you WILL survive the holidays  You can gain some small pleasures if you plan to include the memories of your child in your holidays.

Reach Kay Bevington at www.alivealone.org.

Take Part in Child Bereavement Research (for Parents)

As you may have heard on “Healing the Grieving Heart”, a new child bereavement study is being conducted by a doctoral student at Seattle Pacific University. This study investigates the positive and negative personal and relationship outcomes of parents who have lost a child based on questions about you, your present relationship with your partner, your social support following your loss, and your personal experiences following your loss. If you have lost a child, you are invited to participate in this 20 minute survey. Participate is confidential, and you may change your mind at any time.

If you think you would like to participate, please go to www.lossresearch.webs.com. Or, if you have any questions or would prefer the questionnaires be sent to you, please contact Hillary Van Horn by phone at 1-530-902-4562 or by email at hvanhorn@coh.org.

Thank you for your time and consideration.”

THANK YOU AGAIN!!

Hillary Van Horn-Gatlin

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