Grief Digest V10I04

Spring 2013 Grief Digest Quarterly Magazine

“We are all mirrors unto one another.

Look into me and you will find something of yourself as I will of you.”

— Walter Rinder

A Centering Corporation Resource

Volume 10, Issue #4

A Selection of Titles by Kent L. Koppelman from Baywood Publishing Wrestling with the Angel: Literary Writings and Reflections on Death, Dying and Bereavement “It is not often that a friend writes the book that you wish you had written, but . . . Kent Koppelman has done just that [with] the use of poetry, essays, a short story, and an intriguing play . . . I have an extensive library of books on dying, death, and grief, but this is truly a unique treasure.”

—Gerry R. Cox, Professor Emeritus, University of Wisconsin–La Crosse Wrestling with the Angel addresses the struggle to cope with death, dying, grief, and bereavement, exploring common issues related to human mortality and reactions to the expected or unexpected loss of a loved one.

168 Pages, ISBN 978-0-89503-392-5, $44.95

Values in the Key of Life: Making Harmony in the Human Community “A remarkable book! Koppelman uses his skill as [a] storyteller to touch the places deep within us that connect us with others. In its simplicity, this is a book of great wisdom.”

—Christine Sleeter, Professor Emerita, California State University–Monterey Bay Values in the Key of Life is based on the premise that just as the musical scale gives us seven notes with which to create tonal harmony, life gives us seven values to achieve harmony in our relationships and create a sense of community: Altruism, Benevolence, Collaboration, Diversity, Empathy, Forgiveness, and Grace.

200 Pages, ISBN 0-89503-332-1, $56.95

The Fall of a Sparrow: Of Death and Dreams and Healing “Because Koppelman tells his own story so candidly . . . readers are gently pulled deeper into a celebration connecting them with their own lives.”

—Donna O’Toole, The Rainbow Connection, Burnsville, North Carolina This insightful book is a father’s account of his family’s experience of loss and grief after the death of their teenage son. The narrative confronts the harsh realities of death from the hospital to the cemetery and the many mundane yet painful decisions that must be made. The grieving process becomes a struggle to express one’s love for, and yet say goodbye to, a loved one who is not there.

208 Pages, ISBN 0-89503-157-4, $55.95

Robbery and Redemption: Cancer as Identity Theft Craig Fiedler, Edited and with an Epilogue by Kent Koppelman “Robbery and Redemption is one of the most human and riveting books I have ever read. . . . I would recommend it as a heartfelt, honest, and compassionate account, much like The Last Lecture.”

—Dr. Bert Hayslip, Jr., Department of Psychology, University of North Texas Craig Fiedler was an advocate for vulnerable people. He taught about and advocated for people with disabilities until he was diagnosed with lung cancer. Now HE was a vulnerable person who had to resist being defined by his disease and struggle to maintain his identity as professor, lawyer, author, advocate, friend, husband, and father. In the face of death, he could still say: “My cancer has given me FREEDOM I never had.” He used that freedom to write this book, and all who read it will be the beneficiaries of the wisdom, humility, and compassion of this extraordinary man.

172 Pages, ISBN 978-0-89503-473-1, $41.95

Baywood PuBlishing ComPany, inC. 26 austin avenue, P.o. Box 337 amityville, new york 11701

www.baywood.com

631/691-1270 | fax 631/691-1770 toll-free 800/638-7819 baywood@baywood.com

Featured articles . . . . . . . . .

3-29

The Labyrinth of Grief, by Mary Friedel-Hunt 3 The Truth About Grief, by Gerry Cox 4-5 Lessons From A Terrier, by Carole Fiore 6-8 It’s Not Just A Pet, by Laurie Califf and MJ Tucci

9

When Disaster Comes to Town, by Peter Ford 10-11 Have You Ever...Wondered?, by Lori Ives-Baine 12-13 The Gift of a Dream, by Kent Koppleman 14-15 Two Loves Lost, by Nancy Key Roeder 16-17 Twenty-Five Years of Lessons From the Heart, by Elaine Stillwell

18-20

These Three Words by Donna Terrell 21 Grief; Who Will Understand?, by Karen Weis 23 The Gift of Life and Love, by Claudia Grammatico 24 The Capacity to Love Requires the Neccesity to Mourn: 2, by Alan Wolfelt

25-26

Why Hope, Alone, Is Not A Strategy for Healing, by Nan Zastrow

27-29

Contributor’s Info and REsources

A Note from the Editor What gives this magazine its heart and soul are the contributions of the people who know the path of pain. Your stories and experiences and insights bring hope and encouragement to others who may be just beginning their journey into the world of grief. We encourage you to write and share. Write from your heart about what you know because you’ve been there! We like to keep the stories about 1200 words (but we are flexible), and we prefer that you use first person (I, me) rather than (“you should…”) etc. Send your contributions via email (preferred) or snail mail (acceptable) to Janet at editor@griefdigestmagazine.com or mail to PO Box 4600, Omaha, NE 68104. We’ll ask you to read and sign our writers’ guidelines (our permission to print) and we’ll need a recent photo of you and a one- or two-paragraph bio about you. If your material is published, you’ll receive complimentary copies of that issue, and we offer you a full page in that issue to promote whatever resource you’d like to share with our readers. Happy writing!

editor@griefdigestmagazine.com

30-36

Thanks for the Memories

By Andrea Gambill Fishers, Indiana To each of the thousands of you who have submitted articles about your own grief experiences for Bereavement magazine and Grief Digest magazine, thanks for the courage it took to share your pain and your growth. You have enriched more lives and helped to relieve more agony (especially mine!) than you will ever realize in this life.

To each of our regular, professional contributors who have so generously given every one of us the benefits of your education, wisdom, counsel and authority, thank you for taking your valuable time to donate freely and unselfishly for the greater good.

To all the administrative people who have worked tirelessly behind the scenes, making spectacular graphics (a picture really is worth a thousand words), keeping databases correct and updated, providing liaisons with printing companies and other vendors in all aspects of publishing, figuring out how to pay all the bills, and many more details we will never even think of, thank you for your unselfish and often taken-for-granted tasks that are so important. Without you, this amazing resource would never have left the desks where it originated.

To all of you who have never expected a “big check” as your reward, but have willingly received love and gratitude as “payment enough,” an extra big “thank you.” It’s comforting to know that in our trial-by-fire grief world, we rarely encounter dollar-driven glory grabbers, so every one of you has a big star in your crown for all eternity.

To all you who have helped to make my own professional life a soft cushion to fall back on—especially when times got tough and patches were rough—there are not enough words to express the thoughts of my grateful heart. While I worked at what I love doing, you lifted my heart and guided me and taught me deeper lessons than I ever would have dreamed of. You kept me “on track,” inspired and alive!

Now, a bittersweet time has come around in my golden years, and it is with both gratitude and nostalgic grief that I have decided to declare my official retirement. This will be my last letter to you. Since my beloved Judy died thirty-seven years ago, these years have unexpectedly been the richest of my life. Before that tragedy, I could not have appreciated the opportunities that I have been given to work closely and personally with so many people I have come to love so deeply and treasure so much. Every one of you will live in my heart forever.

I know you will all keep the ball rolling and continue on as you have, bringing that same hope and inspiration and encouragement to those who do not yet know how much they may need you one of these days.

Meanwhile, I’ll kick back, relax, read for fun, and enjoy whatever new opportunities life may bring my way.

My health is good, and while I know that someday I will die of something, it will never be from boredom!

So long for now, and thanks for the memories!

With all my love,

The Labyrinth of Grief

By Mary Friedel-Hunt Walking through grief is like walking a labyrinth.

Those who grieve wind back and forth, in and out, day after day as the labyrinth winds back upon itself and then out again around its edge and back to where the path began.

How long does it take to get to the heart of grief?

How many times do we turn and feel as if we are back where we began, or that we have walked through those feelings once before?

And what is it that is in the center?

Just where am I on this long circuitous path?

So difficult to know.

This labyrinth so often feels like a maze with dead ends that trap me, leaving only one recourse— to go back, to retrace my steps.

But there is no turning back as we grieve.

I must draw on my wisdom, that inner voice reminding me that what seems familiar is just an illusion.

I must honor the wisdom that tells me that I can keep going, that what appears to be a wall is not a wall or a dead end.

How much pain can one soul handle?

What am I to learn from this grief teacher that has invaded my life?

Where am I going? Who am I? How broken I am! How lost! How empty! How sad!

As I walk this labyrinth of grief.

a Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –3–

The Truth about Grief

By Gerry Cox

cox.gerr@uwlax.edu

Grief is not easy, nor is it fun! While most of the people around us are motivated by love and compassion, we can also be confronted by some who are not motivated by compassion and who make demands upon us by seeking only selfish profit or power.

One often-neglected aspect of surviving grief is honesty, which becomes even more important when we come face-to-face with those who are motivated by greed, power, demands or perspectives that are different from our own. When critics suggest that we are grieving improperly, or where people seem to be trying to gain power or position over us it is important to respond with honesty, compassion and even humility. By expressing our thoughts, beliefs, and feelings without hostility, anger, or aggression, we can expect others to also respond without anger, hostility or aggression.

There are generally two results of being honest with others when we are grieving. People may avoid us, not return our calls, cease to be part of our lives and continue to argue, manipulate and show mistrust. Or, others will draw closer to us, show greater respect for us and our positions, and encourage us to share our wisdom with them. By being honest about our own suffering, grief can be alleviated, but recognizing and acting on what we believe to be the best path in the struggle for peace and happiness can be difficult.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –4–

It is easier for the harsh critics to try to get us to follow the correct “stages” or paths the “experts” suggest, or for them to just let us “wallow in our self-pity.” They are confused, lost, and hungry for wisdom and answers, but answers and paths are not clear, Thomas Moore suggests that people in therapy often say that they are overwhelmed by feelings and events that are too complicated to handle. He argues, however, that if the bereaved could only think through their values and conclude some theories about life in general (and their own lives in particular), the sense of being overwhelmed might be tempered (Moore, 1992: 247).1

I have been a better parent, spouse, sibling or friend? But was I really so bad; did my loved one love me anyway? Was my loved one perfect?

Could we have loved each other so deeply if either of us was perfect?

The death of a loved one is not the first time we have suffered. Life is filled with both blessings and burdens, and we will continue to have blessings after our loved one has died. While we have each lost someone who is dear to us, we can also continue to have a relationship with them and make them a part of our lives! As with all aspects of life, we can choose to focus on the negative in the world around us, or we can focus on the blessings of life around us. Focus is a choice!

While sadness and pain are a part of our lives, so, too, can be joy, delight and happiness! Wilson Miscamble believes that suffering is a part of our lives that cannot be explained away, and we simply cannot just “grin and bear it.” Rather, we must come to accept the suffering and use it to become more open to the suffering of others (Miscamble, 2000: 56)5.

While it is not productive for us to focus on the faults of others, it is just as important for us to be able to atone for and forgive our own faults, so that we can find an acceptable level of happiness after the death of a loved one. Our absent loved one still loves us; why can’t we still love them?

John Dunne argues that it is the willingness to suffer that enables us to love.

In loss, we may stay detached and fail to grow, but detachment often makes life seem stale and flat. Attachment leads to growth! Rather than becoming absorbed in outside things, we can choose to find joy, life, and sunlight to our souls from deep inside ourselves. Not only do we need to remember those who have died, we need to keep them as a part of who we are, and find joy in the things of life that gave them joy! We need to share our joys as we journey through life without the physical presence of our loved ones, but with them in spirituality of our soul!

Moore also suggests that there may be pleasure in longing for the past and indulging in memories (Moore, 1994: 9)2. In our grief we certainly do that, but we must also be honest that our loved ones would want us to seek happiness and to have a good life even in the face of profound loss.

Henri Nouwin proposes that detachment and brokenness is the approach that most people take when a death occurs. When we are broken, it is common to feel useless or worthless, and the death seems to underline that sense of brokenness. Nouwin further suggests that a better response to brokenness is to put it under a blessing (Nouwin, 1992: 96)4. Is my life better because this person was part of it? Can I smile when I think of them, even though they are not here now? How can I find the blessing in suffering? Is my response one of selfishness in which everything must evolve around me? Am I over-grieving, making myself more miserable than I should be? Is my grief more about my guilt than my loss? Am I making myself even less happy because of my own moral failures? Should

Bibliography 1. Moore, Thomas. 1992. Soul Mates: Honoring the Mysteries of Love and Relationships. New York: HarperPerennial.

2, 3. Moore, Thomas. 1994. Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life. New York: Happer Perennial.

4. Nouwin, Henri J. M. 1992. Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World. New York: Crossroads Publishing Company.

5. Miscamble, Wilson D. 2000. Keeping the Faith: Making a Difference. Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press.

Volume 10, issue #2–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –5–

Carol’s dog, Toto

Lessons from a Terrier

By Carol Fiore

“This is about more than the dog.” Those were the words spoken to me by my best friend, the day after my Cairn Terrier died. I’d just spent the previous evening and early morning hours at the emergency vet clinic. Watching Toto die transported me back to my husband’s hospital room, twelve years ago, after the plane he was testing crashed on takeoff.

Toto was epileptic for most of his life. It was not easy, living with his seizures. The smell of urine and feces greeted me on many mornings and on my return from school and work. Toto didn’t understand what had happened; only that he’d made a mess. Countless rugs were ruined and I became one with my mop. I tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but he groveled in remorse, despite my soft words.

Walks were the highlight of Toto’s day, and people often stopped to remark that he looked just like the famous dog in the movie. Toto never met another dog he didn’t like and seemed surprised when they didn’t like him back. He thought every repair person that came to the house was there to play with him.

He was loyal to a fault, once protecting me from a neighbor dog by putting himself between the attacker and me. At 22 pounds, Toto was a third the size of the other dog. I owed him for defending me, I reasoned, so I paid for medical tests and expensive medicines to control the seizures. I let him be my guardian because the previous one—the only man I’d ever loved—was gone. ©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –6–

My husband Eric had tried to protect me from all the storms that flew my way. Whether it was rude people, medical problems, or drama at work, he was there. An intense former F-15 fighter pilot and then an experimental test pilot, he liked to be in control of every aspect of his life. He lived with painful migraines but carried on bravely, in spite of them.

He was sociable and funny and treated people with respect—from salespeople to the mechanics who worked on his plane, he gave everyone a chance. But he was a difficult man to understand: complicated, passionate, and opinionated about even the most mundane things.

I often say that I don’t understand dogs. I adore them; I just don’t get them. As a former bird zookeeper and lifelong bird watcher, I get birds.

They see the world visually, like we do; my pet birds are easy to figure out. Toto was not. His nose was always busy, and I found myself constantly wondering how different the world would seem if I saw it through a highly developed sense of smell.

Toto was a clown, much like Eric, and liked to be the center of attention. I think they both delighted in making me laugh.

I didn’t laugh for a long time after Eric died. I remember one of the first times I did: I saw Toto bury a bone in the backyard. It was like watching a cartoon. I didn’t know dogs really did that. I laughed because of the sheer rightness of it. Here, in my shattered world, was something so normal, so predictable. As the years passed, I tried not to let Toto dig his way into my heart. I was simply not going to love an animal with a relatively short life span because I knew when he died, I wouldn’t hurt so badly if I kept my heart secure behind a steel wall. I’d let my Moluccan cockatoo behind that wall because with a life span over 60 years, she would outlive me. I would never have to watch her die. I was adamant; Toto would not get behind the wall. He was epileptic, caused me much work and expense, and was, after all, only a scrappy little dog.

Eric never protected his heart when it came to his Collie, Penny. She died in his arms when he was 16, and he never got over the loss. What was it about dogs, I often wondered, that one could have such a hold on Eric, even after so many years? After Eric died and Toto came into my life, I was determined never to find out. If you don’t love, you don’t hurt.

Eric’s accident taught me that no matter how deeply you think about a loved one’s possible death, you can never really be ready, not if you open your heart completely. Because that’s what love is— throwing your whole being straight into the abyss and hoping it’s filled with happiness, rather than pain. When we love we expose ourselves, tie a part of ourselves to another. If we lose them, it can be like sitting at a baseball game and being hit with a 90-mile-an-hour fastball just as you take your eyes off the game and reach into your bag for something.

You never saw it coming.

Toto took medicine for years to control his seizures, but the pills had a bad side effect. They reduced his liver function. As the years passed, I watched the numbers worsen, and I knew liver failure could happen. I tried to prepare. It would be okay, I reasoned. I took care of him, sure, but I didn’t really love him. And then, one Saturday night, Toto’s spleen ruptured and a catastrophic series of events followed. It was like Eric’s plane crash. You’re never ready.

Eric used to say that the way we deal with obstacles in our lives defines us. It was his definition of character. The way we love defines us too, because loving another with no reservations may be the way in which we truly live. Toto taught me that even a heart hacked into pieces can be mended. I didn’t realize it was happening, and against all my best intentions, Toto made me fall in love with him.

Maybe it was the way he greeted me, as though I was the most important person in the world. Maybe it was the glorious abandon with which he romped through a fresh pile of soft snow, rushing back to me with glee, encouraging me to play, to forget all my worries just for a moment. Maybe it was the years of gently burying his head in my lap when he saw me crying for Eric.

When I came home, Toto would launch himself into my open arms, without holding anything back.

At night if I’d go out into the dark garage, Toto would be waiting by the door when I returned; a bit worried, perhaps, that something out there would eat me. I’m sure he saw it as his job to protect me.

But he never protected his own heart. He gave of himself openly and joyously every minute and trusted that I would take care of him.

Volume 10, issue #2–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –7–

Eric showed me that the world is an exciting place, full of adventure, full of love. Toto taught me that simple joys could still be found after a tragedy. But I lost them both.

Toto’s vet repeated some of the same phrases I’d heard from Eric’s surgeon: He won’t make it through surgery. He’s acidotic. His systems are failing. The tests look bad. It’s time to say goodbye.

At the end of 36 days in the hospital, after the plane crash, when Eric was just a shell on life support, with catastrophic organ failure, missing body parts, burns so severe he had no face, I refused to let him go. I loved him, and I selfishly thought of myself. I couldn’t live without him; the pain would kill me. Do anything—everything—to save him, I demanded of the medical people, no matter what.

I signed the paperwork for over $7,000 worth of tests and surgery for Toto, even knowing the terrible odds. We were going to travel down that same road again. I wasn’t going to let him die, not when he’d stolen my heart. I wasn’t going through the grief-thing again. We’d save him, no matter what.

Later that night, when the vet told me there was nothing else to do for Toto, that it was time to say goodbye, I thought of Eric. I sat in the waiting room staring at the ceiling, the floor, the clock. I was flooded with feelings, memories and promises. I knew Toto was barely hanging on and that he was in pain.

I shuffled into the back room of the clinic. My little man, as the family called him, was lying on a table, tubes of medicine and monitors hooked to his small body. He couldn’t raise his head, but his dark pleading eyes fell on me.

Holding Toto’s paw, I told him how much I loved him—because oh yes, I did. How could I have fallen so hard for a scruffy Terrier? Perhaps the greatest gift Toto gave was in teaching me to love and laugh again.

I thought of how much Eric would have adored my little man. Dogs were his favorite animals and he often said he didn’t trust anyone who professed to hate dogs.

Kissing Toto, I thanked him for bringing joy into my life. I didn’t think I could ever go into the garage again without thinking of him, but I knew that as time passed the tears would be replaced with thankfulness that such a beautiful creature had chosen to bestow his love on me—unconditionally.

And then I let him go.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –8–

“It’s not just a pet”

By Laurie Califf and MJ Tucci In today’s society, more people are living singly; families often live apart or at great geographic distances.

Employment demands long hours and less time with friends and family. A new society is being created, and living alone is the “growing population.”

More and more people are choosing companion pets as a way to meet the need for unconditional love, and our animal world is graciously stepping up to the plate to fill the gap where our two-legged friends leave off.

We have pet spas, pet hotels, pet sitters, pet cemeteries—the list goes on and on. Animals have been companions to us for centuries, so why have we not accepted the fact that we love them and grieve for them when they die as we do our human families and friends?

This grief (otherwise known as disenfranchised grief) continues to be uncomfortable, unaccepted and unspoken. Experiencing the death of a human loved one is commonly accepted as a valid reason for grief, but that grief may be surprising when the loved one is a companion pet. This is a loss that is felt daily, and often the struggle becomes how to process the feelings associated with such a pain.

When we accept the fact that the grief process demands our attention and our work, we can move toward healthy healing. Too often people are told, “It’s just a dog, or just a cat.” Or, “You should get another one, and then you won’t feel so bad,” or “What’s wrong with you? Get over it; it was just an animal.” Messages like these hinder the grief process, leaving pet lovers feeling isolated, alone and frustrated. Grief involves both our heads and our hearts.

When we move from making sense of the death to acknowledging and validating our emotions and our pain, we allow the healing process to move to a more peaceful and accepting place.

We have designed a seven-step, supportive guide that will allow grief-stricken pet companions a way to validate the pain, explore feelings associated with this loss and help to navigate through the grief in a healthy direction.

A Peaceful Path is designed to be a seven step process that allows one to move at one’s own pace. It is our hope that during the journey through grief, the richness of remembering experiences of how you met, what your first days together were like and the many experiences shared are awakened through remembering stories. It is through this remembering that hearts are lightened, pain is softened and the joy of life together warms the heart and fills the mind with positive thoughts and feelings.

The journey through this book will also explore those “what-if’s” of those last few days, the “if only’s” and feelings associated with the pain of separation. We acknowledge and validate the range of emotions and feelings as a necessary part of the healing process, and we hope this process brings comfort and healing to those willing to have the courage for such a journey.

Please visit us at: www.apeacefulpathpetloss.com Co-Author’s and Pet Loss Certified, Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –9–

When Disaster Comes to Town

By Peter Ford

Disasters have become such a part of life that there is a very good chance that your community, or the community down the road, will experience a school shooting, mall shooting, hostage taking, bridge or building collapse, or airliner or bus crash. Not to mention as well, the traditional community disasters such as fires, tornadoes, hurricanes or floods. Fire and rescue, emergency medical services, law enforcement, and American Red Cross first responders will provide for emergency needs to preserve and protect life during the crises. But besides the need for food, shelter, medical care, security, and communication, disaster response planners are realizing that disaster victims and their families also have critical mental, emotional and spiritual needs as the disaster suddenly strikes and shatters a part of the life of the community.

This means that if you are a counselor, chaplain or religious leader, you may be called on to serve as a mental, emotional or spiritual care first responder to your friends and neighbors—whether you feel able to do it or not. To make things more difficult, as a member of the community, you may experience the same shock of the disaster and the sudden and painful losses it brings to your own life. But your community needs you—like it never has before. So, what do you do?

There are several things you need to know if you are called to provide emotional or spiritual care when a community disaster strikes, and during the period shortly afterward. ©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –10–

4Know yourself. You may be hit by a chaos of sights, sounds, smells, noise, dust and dirt that you have never experienced before. The disaster may deliver a direct assault on your senses, your emotions, your physical strength and your spiritual reserves. In the face of all this, can you act effectively as a spiritual or emotional care first responder? Think it over. Pray, meditate, or reflect about it. It is not moral failure or lack of faith to conclude that spiritual care is not the way you can help others when a disaster first strikes. It might just be common sense. There may be other ways you can help during or after a disaster, but if you might be able to provide emotional or spiritual care, you can provide a vital service or ministry. You can serve a critical need for your friends, neighbors and other members of your community when the comfort, stability and hope of their world is shaken or destroyed.

4Provide for your family. You will need the reassurance that your family is taken care of, so you are free to respond quickly when a disaster strikes. Develop a disaster action plan in which another member of your household, such as your spouse, knows what to do. If adolescent children live with you, you might want to include them in the planning to help channel their activity when a disaster strikes. Visit your local American Red Cross office or community office of emergency services for guidance in procuring essential supplies, clothing, and equipment.

4Prepare yourself. Become part of your community’s disaster response organization that provides a structured, controlled disaster response that protects the safety of everyone and ensures that basic survival needs are met. Prepare your inner emotional, psychological and spiritual resources because your own healing presence is the essential contribution you make to the survival of victims, families and workers as they begin to cope with what has happened.

4Disaster inflicts multiple or even mass losses of life. These losses may occur simultaneously and instantaneously with no warning within a period of minutes or even seconds.

The initial grief reaction of individual victims, families and the community will be strong or even overwhelming in its intensity. As an emotional and spiritual care provider, you are on the front line to respond to this explosion of grief in a way that comforts, sparks hope and points toward eventual healing.

4Stay away until you are called. Do not automatically or impulsively go to the disaster response site. Go only if you are called by the Incident Commander or designee. Otherwise, you are not likely to be helpful; you may get into trouble yourself, and wind up being taken care of by already overstressed first responders. You owe it to everyone to stay out of the way unless there is a designated way you are called to assist.

4Identify yourself at the disaster scene. There are two excellent reasons for letting everyone know who you are and why you are there. First, security personnel will not let you in to the disaster-response area unless you can prove you are authorized to be there, with an officially issued identification

badge. For all they know, you could be a terrorist or a local trouble maker. Second, when you are inside the disaster response site, you need to be constantly identifiable so that other disaster workers, victims and family members can call on you when your assistance as a spiritual or emotional care provider is needed.

4Listen first and act later. Do not attempt to “fix” things.

Other disaster workers are responsible for fixing problems.

You are not. You are there to listen, observe and respond to spiritual and emotional distress. Usually, the most immediate and acute spiritual distress of victims and family members is to not know what has happened to their loved one(s). Listen to them, affirm their need to know, support or assist them in finding answers if possible, and be present at any reunions or viewings if possible. Listen and respond in a similar way to other spiritual needs. Basic to everything you do as you listen and respond is to bring your own inner peace or emotional strength, whatever you call it, as a healing presence.

4You are in service, not sales. You are not there to show a better way to disaster victims, families or workers, or to share your wisdom, or to convince them of your religious or spiritual correctness. They do not need another challenge.

They are already facing one of the most frightening and tragic challenges of their lives. They need your support and assistance to activate and strengthen their own emotional and spiritual resources to cope with the situation. Do not pray with them automatically. Prayer may be helpful or it may not be helpful. Let them tell you if they want you to pray with them. Also, be careful about following any habits you have for offering comfort, such as hugging. Emotions can be so raw during a disaster that if you startle somebody by trying to hug them, they may knock you down.

4Control your own reactions. You must not display your own feelings of being overwhelmed in the presence of victims, families or workers. If you do, you will increase their fear and distress and undermine their attempts to cope. You will lose your effectiveness as a spiritual care provider, and you might need to be taken care of yourself, or be removed from the disaster response site.

4Take care of yourself. You can provide disaster spiritual care for only so long before you need relief. Be aware of your limits. If you are not scheduled for relief, then request it when you need it, remembering that your co-workers are also being steadily stretched to their limits, and they need your consideration as much as you need theirs. For your own physical and spiritual survival, you need time to get away to do what you need to do, such as eat, take a shower, sleep, talk to someone who will listen, cry, argue with or swear at God (God can take it), spend time at home with family and pets, etc. Consider accepting assistance if it is available, such as Critical Incident Stress Management (CISM).

4Be ready to participate in the recovery period during the days, weeks, months, and possibly years after the disaster as your community rebuilds the parts of its life that were shattered by the disaster.

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –11–

Have you ever wondered…?

By Lori Ives-Baine, RN, BScN, MN (CPB) with the support of Dr. James Edward Pugh, lbaine@sympatico.ca Shayann Family speaking to their extended family in Pakistan

By Lori Ives-Baine We use technology all the time without thinking a thing about it. Today, I emailed my son a reminder about a package that would be arriving while I was working. I thanked him for looking out for it and told him I would see him later.

Then, I responded to a friend’s Skype chat request. She wanted to chat about a new idea she had for clinical care, so we talked online for a couple of hours. We hashed out our ideas “face-to-face” and came up with a plan we could take to our manager.

Later, my mother sent me a joke on Facebook, and I responded with a hearty LOL and my love to her.

We do these activities on a daily basis, but have you ever thought about incorporating the simple task of connecting loved ones with end-of-life issues?

I am a nurse clinician who focuses my in-hospital care on dying infants and their families. We have an awesome team in an amazing center, and family-focused care is our priority. We have been able to provide families with opportunities to meet their babies and participate in the end-of-life experience with parents from across the country—even across the world.

One of my neonatal fellows and I wrote about this in the International Journal of Childbirth Education (Pugh & Ives-Baine, 2012). Since we know that this journal may not have been available to some of you who work with families in other areas, this article summarizes our thoughts and some of our key findings.

I have watched while a family introduced their tiny, critically ill son (still on a ventilator) to his grandparents on the other side of the world. I have watched love blossom, connections being made and grief that is openly shared. I have asked tough questions of these parents and offered them time to think about their responses and be glad they were given options. Once, I had to find out if the parents preferred that the time of the extended family’s online visit be limited to before the final removal of the breathing support, which would mean that death would happen soon afterward. Instead they chose to ask their parents, in their own language, if they wanted to stay online. All stayed together, laughing, crying and celebrating this too-short life. When their child’s heart stopped beating, the grandfather, eldest in the clan, held up his hands toward the screen and the parents wordlessly placed his grandson in his hands as they held him on the other side of the screen. The ritual prayers were said, tears fell again (including mine and those of my neonatal fellows), and the family decided their “jobs” had been accomplished as they would have been if they could have been together for the funeral ritual. While thousands of miles apart, they had given love, shared experiences and launched the journey of grief. ©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –12–

I

n the months to come, I learned that this opportunity was very helpful to the grandparents, because they were able to do more than just look at photos. They were able to see how sick and medically fragile their grandchild was. They had the opportunity to talk to their grandson and impart the wisdom of their ages to him in their own language. They heard, saw and felt the pain that their own children were experiencing and supported them with better understanding of the things these new parents were going through. Recently, the same family had a beautiful new baby, and the extended family used video-conferencing to connect with mom and dad during the pregnancy, to share the news of this baby’s health and to get to know her after she was born.

They had been through difficult experiences, but they could also share good ones.

Is any of this applicable outside the Newborn Intensive Care environment? It certainly is! Imagine a family, separated by distance, while grandma is receiving treatment for an aggressive cancer. When she is too sick to travel or when her family and friends can’t afford to travel to be with her, why shouldn’t she be connected with those who care about her? These online opportunities give the family a chance to better understand the condition. If end-of-life is the probability, they also have the chance to be present with each other.

If only this technology had been available when my own grandparents were aging, I really believe that we would have had better opportunities to be “together” in a more personal way.

Video-conferencing through social media technology can also give the dying an opportunity to speak with loved ones about what is important to them in a way that is more personal and intimate than writing a letter. If patients are nearing end-of-life, taping these opportunities could be a wonderful gift in continuing the stories and building the connections.

With today’s technology, this is a simple task that starts with the click of a button. In fact, families are now able to connect online even more easily because of the network capabilities that are currently in place. With Skype, Facetime, Messenger, and many other platforms at their fingertips, it is not even something that requires the support of a health-care team.

• Find out about your organization’s policies on the use of videoconferencing technologies. You may need to invest some time and energy in creating or updating policies and procedures to protect confidentiality and privacy—possibly private rooms or screening.

• Make sure that people know before entering the room that taping is occurring, Educate and empower staff to consent to or refuse videoconferencing if they do not

want to participate.

• If a family asks you to help this happen, communicate with your leadership. Do they want to help; will they ascertain the safety and security needed? Our hospital has a family portal so that parents can go into a safe online space that does not compromise clinical care or provide access to confidential information. But, as I have said, they don’t even really need to use the organization’s system, because smart phones already have these technologies.

• Find out if the family can use their own computer/ smart phone/tablet. They know their own passwords, and you don’t have to take any responsibility for whether systems are working or not. It is also likely that they have whatever social media platform they prefer already in place.

• Make sure you have appropriate signage everywhere.

Also ensure that your front desk knows that this is happening in the patient room. To protect confidentiality and not interfere with the intimate connection, they may choose to call the nurse they would normally use.

• When planning for the family’s experience, make sure that you are taking time differences into account.

International time differences may mean these opportunities are happening at times that may not be convenient for clinicians, but they work for the family.

• Preplan the interaction as much as you can. If the family is engaging in a ritual, make sure all people and items are in place in advance. Encourage the family to invite the online extended family to participate actively, rather than just watch. One of our families had the grandfather do two of the readings for the baptism.

The chaplain had offered that option to the dad, but he emailed the service and readings to grandpa before the baptism.

• Reflect on the experiences after each time you help a family link through. Share the positives and the challenges with your colleagues, leadership and others.

Get feedback from the families, and share that as well.

• If this is already happening in your environment, it may be happening around your clinicians without their knowledge and consent, so make sure you are aware and advocating for a transparent social media system, to protect everyone!

I hope that this article provides some insight into options for families who are beginning to say goodbye to their loved ones, no matter what the age!

References: Pugh, J. & Ives-Baine, L. (2012). Using technology to connect families—should we? International Journal of Childbirth Education, 27(2); 83-85.

Volume10, 10,issue issue#4–Phone: #2–Phone:1-866-218-0101 1-866-218-0101 Volume –13– –13–

The Gift of a Dream The Gift of a DreamThe Gift of a Dream The Gift of a Dream The Gift of a Dream The Gift of a Dream The Gift of a Dream The

The Gift of a Dream

By Kent Koppelman, Ph.D koppelma.kent@uwlax.edu

In all the years since my son, Jason, died in a car accident, the most difficult part of bereavement for me has been to accept his absence in my daily life.

For a time I used to pretend that somewhere there was an alternate universe, and my son had simply passed into it. In this alternate universe, Jason was doing all the things he should have done during his life in this universe—graduating from college, falling in love, getting married, pursuing a career, having children, growing old, and spoiling his grandchildren. In this alternate reality I did not attend Jason’s funeral; he attended mine. In part, this fantasy was so attractive, because my reality seemed so surreal. An alternate universe made much more sense than my reality as a father of a son who was suddenly gone.

The absence of someone loved simply adds to the burdens already on one’s shoulders, making the load even harder to bear.

Fortunately, a person doesn’t carry this weight around constantly. While there are distractions at work and at home, occasionally something would happen to remind me of Jason; sometimes something as simple as seeing someone who looked like my son, or being in a public place and hearing someone call the name, “Jason.” If I was in the grocery store and heard a boy calling for “Dad,” I would turn to look, not see Jason and be painfully reminded that he was gone.

Perhaps the greatest relief from this burden of grief came from an unexpected phone call.

It was after 11:00 p.m. when the phone rang; I answered it nervously because calls at such a time almost never have good news.

It was my cousin calling, a Presbyterian minister who had also lost his son several years earlier. He was calling to tell me of the unusual experience he had during his back surgery a day or two earlier. He was given an anesthetic and as the drug took effect, he began to see shapes that became gradually more distinct. He didn’t know if he was dreaming or having a vision, but he saw our grandmother who had died almost thirty years ago. There were two figures standing next to her. On one side of Grandma Mary was my cousin’s son, and on the other side, was my son.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –14–

While my cousin recounted numerous details in this dream or vision, only once did he recall Jason saying anything. Near the end of the dream, Jason stepped toward him and said, “Tell my dad not to worry about me,” and ask him to “look at page 875 in the Bible.”

As my cousin finished describing the end of the dream, he was emotionally exhausted and said that was all he wanted to say for now. He apologized for calling so late, but he had been so moved by the dream, and had been thinking about it so much, that he felt he had to share it with me right at that moment. Before he hung up, I wanted to make sure I had the right page number, so I deliberately gave him the wrong number, asking if Jason told me to look at page 835. He corrected me: “Page 875,” he repeated.

After hanging up the phone, I puzzled over this curious reference. As my cousin (and any Bible reader) would know, it is common to cite a book of the Bible by the chapter and verse, such as John 3:16, but Jason wouldn’t know that, because he had not been raised in any religious tradition. Although I went to Sunday school as a child and was confirmed in what is now called the United Church of Christ, I always felt that my children should choose whether they wanted to be involved in religion or not. My daughter went to Sunday school a few times, but Jason never did. During his first year at college, Jason told his mother that he had started to read the Bible, but he had never talked to me about it. Such were the thoughts that disturbed my mind for much of that night, and sleep was slow in coming.

When I got up the next morning, I immediately went to the shelf with my religious books where I realized that there was a problem in being given a page number from the Bible rather than the chapter and verse. Although I no longer attend church, I have read the Bible and books about the Bible. I own five Bibles, and each is a different translation, so I had no idea which Bible I was supposed to use. I thought the page number might refer to the passage in Matthew where God is described as concerned for even the fall of a sparrow; that passage was the reason I used The Fall of a Sparrow as the title for my book about Jason’s death. I took my King James Bible from the shelf and found the passage in Matthew, but it was on page ten because the pagination started over where the New Testament began. If the last page of the Old Testament was 865, that would make the tenth page of Matthew the 875th page, but the Old Testament section ended on page 848. There was no page 875 in that Bible or any of the others.

As I tried to make sense of this, I wondered why give me a page number? It made sense only because Jason would not have known the convention of giving a chapter and verse reference, but a page number meant that I had to look for a particular Bible.

But I had no way of knowing which translation. Why hadn’t Jason just shown up in one of my dreams and tell me what he wanted me to hear? Why was he in my cousin’s dream? I even began to feel a little resentful that Jason appeared in my cousin’s dream instead of mine. And then I remembered my cousin’s gift.

When Jason graduated from high school, my cousin sent him the gift of a Bible that ministers often send on such occasions. I knew immediately that this was the Bible that must be used to locate page 875. That might explain why Jason had appeared in my cousin’s dream—so that I would know which Bible to use. I found Jason’s Bible on a shelf in his old room; it was under several other books. Since it was the “New International Version,” which included extensive footnotes, after 800 pages, it was only up to the Psalms.

On page 875, two thirds of the page was devoted to footnotes, but it was on that page that I read the beginning of Psalm 84:

How lovely is your dwelling place O Lord Almighty!

My soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God. Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself…

Had my sparrow found a home; was that what Jason was trying to tell me? Such questions can only be answered with uncertainty or by the conviction of faith. I can choose to believe in a God who has created immortal souls that return to their creator after death. I can choose to believe, even if that choice may not be true. I think of this dream as a perennial Christmas gift, and having opened it, I can honor the dream and accept the hope it gives me, embracing the words of Aristotle, that “Hope is a waking dream.”

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –15–

Husband, Joe

Husband, Dave

a Two Loves Lost

By Nancy Key Roeder nroeder06@comcast.net Within nine years, I lost two spouses. While not a unique cohort, we who have become widows the second—or even third time around—comprise a small but significant minority of a growing senior population. No strangers to grief, we experience each loss in completely different ways. As we lose, and sometimes lose again, our sorrows rise more easily to the surface. Each new grief stabs deeper, for it triggers memories of the previous one. How can we survive the loss of two loves?

My husband Joe of nearly twenty-four years, died peacefully at home in October of 2002 after a long battle with prostate cancer. We had time to tell each other of our love for one another, and to cry together knowing that these fulfilling and happy years were coming to an end. Joe told me that he was not afraid of death, but he was terribly sad to leave behind the human relationships he cherished so much. I never said it to him, but I felt that once he was gone, I could not bear the emotional chasm of his departure.

Joe was a minister, a pastoral care counselor and an adult education teacher; a wise soul with a compassionate heart who was beloved by his congregation. The collective outpouring of support during his last few months was a testament to the caring congregation he served. My friend, Susie, constructed a schedule of both his needs and mine.

Equipment appeared, no questions asked. Members with nursing home and physical therapy experience taught me how to lift him without straining my back. Others came to sit beside while I shopped for groceries or took time from caregiving to attend church services. Our fallen leaves and piles of apples got raked and bagged. One young man arrived to play the Native American flute on a day in which Joe slept restlessly in a reclining chair, agitated with discomfort. But slowly, as the ethereal sounds pervaded his consciousness, his furrowed countenance relaxed into a peaceful, beatific smile as if ancient spirits were communing with him.

To this day, images of Joe pervade my thoughts and dreams. Among many other talents, he was a landscape painter.

I see him in his cubbyhole studio sketching a southwestern landscape onto a blank canvas, holding his brush just so, mixing his colors: cerulean blue, carmine, brown whitened to tan, black muted to gray. He tilts his head, checking on whether he has captured the proper proportions and created a three-dimensional illusion. This one works; the tracks move away in the snow. Or there he is at his computer, composing a sermon, writing his book, or preparing a class presentation, his two index fingers crisscrossing each other on the keyboard at amazing speed. I also have memory flashes of camping by a stream or lake. Joe loved to fish. With innate patience, he would wait until the precise moment when fish and fisherman unite, and “snap” goes the line. “Got him!” I think it was fishing that restored his soul.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –16–

I scattered his ashes in several of the places we had enjoyed together, along the dusty banks of an acéquia (drainage ditch) in Albuquerque, near a giant ponderosa on a trail at the foot of Mount Robson in British Columbia, and in Chalk Lake, a favorite fishing spot located partially up Mt. Princeton, an imposing fourteener in Colorado.

Dave’s fondest passion was baseball. I learned how true that was the day he proposed in the fall of 2004.

To prove his serious intent, he clicked the TV remote to “off” while watching a baseball game. But he added impishly with blue eyes twinkling, “In the future, if you want to talk with me, you’ll have to wait until after the ninth inning.” I was startled but starry-eyed.

Life after Joe assumed a routine with many preoccupations. One month after Joe’s passing, my mother died at age 103 in a nursing home. By that time, I was teaching part-time. The financial details and disposition of household effects from two estates had to be dealt with simultaneously, squeezed in between lesson planning and paper grading. Grieving had to wait. Finally, in the summer of 2003 between school years, I spent a few days away in a motel, giving myself permission to cry and wonder how to reconstruct my life.

We attended many baseball games together including the World Series played at Coors Field (Denver) in 2007.

However, the summer of 2011 brought an abrupt halt to keeping score at the ball park. After numerous hospital stays during the previous eighteen months, Dave’s deteriorating health prompted us to travel to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, where he underwent risky surgery to repair a heart valve. He surmounted several setbacks over a month post-operatively and seemed to have turned the corner, until a capricious blood clot took him rapidly.

One summer later, the universe unexpectedly opened a new path when Dave, a high school and early college “best friend,” appeared in my life. He, too, had endured a wrenching loss; his beloved wife of thirty-seven years had died a year earlier. Reunited by a mutual friend, we spent time during the summer months of 2004 reviewing photos in our high school yearbooks, recycling happy memories. My inscription to him in his senior annual said that I expected him to win the Nobel Prize in Mathematics. After all, he had scooped up every math and academic award possible. That did not come to pass, but he did spend thirty-four years teaching mathematics at Colorado College (Colorado Springs, Colorado) where he served for ten years as department chair. He was known for being incredibly detailoriented, for building the department into a first-rate operation, and for possessing a probing mathematical mind.

Family members arrived within twenty-four hours to help me deal with the shock, sorrow and a plethora of practical matters. Walking into our home in Denver after the two-day drive from Rochester was the loneliest day of my life.

Before I could understand what was happening, love blossomed again—just as Joe, who wisely accepted the universe in all its mysteries and complexities, could have predicted. Neither Dave nor I could explain it.

Dave sent me a card with a heart on the outside and one word on the interior: “Destiny.”

Dave had many interests with deep knowledge: classical music and jazz, live drama, movies and trains. A favorite pastime was walking along a deserted track, binoculars in hand, train spotting. His dream, never realized, was to set up a model railroad and “run” some of the 3,000 N-scale trains he had acquired. We shared a common love of symphony concerts, plays and books full of challenging ideas, and we each brought to our relationship some special interests of our own.

Even as my memories of Joe come and go, I now have new triggers that bring sadness but also waves of gratitude for the few but meaningful years I spent with Dave. They jolt me each time I hear a Beethoven symphony or a train whistle at four a.m. or remember Dave’s excitement on Rockies’ Opening Day.

People speak of “closure” after the loss of a loved one. I have not experienced that. Rather, I think of “aperture,” an opening to let in the light, as descriptive of a deeper appreciation of the blessings of close relationships and the tender fragility of life. Bits and pieces fade, slowly or rapidly; we have no control over their speed. Sometimes, they blur together, “Did I go there or do that with Joe, or with Dave?”

I carry around the memories two distinctly separate relationships that have graced my life. With a jeweler, I have created a memorial ring with three birthstones: mine, Joe’s and Dave’s. I wear it on my wedding-band finger. At holiday time, I created a special place on my bookcase where I set out a miniature, six-inch Christmas tree under which I placed five ornaments: an angel with a paint palette and friar (for Joe); a nutcracker in baseball uniform and a crystalline train (for Dave). The fifth ornament is a crystalline owl representing me, for being wise enough (and lucky enough) to have been married to two wonderful men.

There will always be moments of sadness and regret; these are part and parcel of the grand bargain. We get to be here for a while, we live, we love, we lose, we go. But always, love stays.

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –17–

Twenty-five Years of Lessons from the Heart

By Elaine E. Stillwell Our Compassionate Friends Chapter recently celebrated its twenty-fifth birthday since its very first meeting in 1987. When my husband, Joe, and I founded this chapter after losing our two oldest children, twenty-one-year old Denis and nineteen-year-old Peggy in a 1986 car accident, we never gave a thought to how long the chapter would exist or dreamed that we’d still be Chapter Leaders a quarter-of-a-century later.

Our meetings have grown from thirty-six bereaved parents at that very first meeting to over seventy who attend each month now. Counselors, social workers, hospitals, schools, churches and agencies refer bereaved parents to TCF of RVC because of its long-standing, sterling reputation, earned from years of reaching out to so many persons. For all those years, we have met at the same local college, same time, same night, never canceling a meeting.

Whether the death is from disease, car accident, heart attack, overdose, suicide, homicide, or any other cause, parents find the blessing of not having to walk alone. They generously share what helps them cope and what knocks them over during our discussions each month. They proudly adopt the chapter’s mantra, “If their song is to continue, then we must do the singing.”

At our monthly meeting celebrating this milestone occasion, our members shared what they have learned at TCF meetings and via our newsletter that has helped them cope and survive the loss of their child.

Their comments certainly validated that “grief is an education.” Perhaps their thoughts will help make your grief journey a little easier. Here are a few of their suggestions:

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –18–

Tell your story.

Talking is the best medicine. “Share your child with the world,” as I call it, so that the death becomes “real” to your heart and head and also to insure they will never be forgotten. Tell their story again and again, on the grocery line, bank queue or to the captive person in the window seat on the airplane, making sure your child’s memory is never “erased.”

Express your feelings.

Don’t be afraid to tell people that you are struggling to survive, that you really are not “fine.” Be honest so you can help educate others to understand the grief process. It takes time to find the right words and to be comfortable explaining your feelings, rather than folding into yourself or biting someone’s head off with a snappy answer.

Reach out to your spouse.

Venus and Mars do collide. Even though you grieve differently and feel as if you are living on different planets, respect each other’s method of grieving and be sure to spend time together each day, even if it is just for a hug, holding hands, a quick kiss, walking around the block, watching TV or sharing a cup of coffee. Give yourselves time to get on the same wave-length and to avoid the blame game. Dwell on what you love about each other, what made your heart go pitter-patter in the first place.

Cry.

Release all those emotions instead of stuffing them down inside to explode later. Crying is healing, and is a vital part of our mourning. You never have to apologize for crying because it is the price we pay for loving someone.

Read grief books.

Visit the public library or book store, 155.937 section, and discover those wonderful books written by persons who “walked your walk,” and find out what helped them survive. Inspiring words and stories will fill you with positive ideas, validate your feelings, suggest useful coping skills and offer the hope to have a meaningful life again.

Choose Life.

You have a choice to either dwell on the death or to choose life, honoring your child by living your life with honor, compassion and enthusiasm, making them proud of you.

Pamper yourself.

Take good care of yourself, not out of selfishness, but out of wisdom.

Do what helps you the most.

Carefully pick and choose things that are refreshing to you. Until you are stronger and can handle them skillfully, avoid situations that drag you down.

Keep a journal.

Try to write your thoughts and feelings each day in a special notebook. Record what brings you a moment of joy or what causes turmoil in your life.

Write the things you wished you had said, ask for forgiveness if that is necessary, or simply tell about what your days are like now. Your journal will become a roadmap of your feelings, your own GPS for survival.

Think Positive.

Put on those rose-colored glasses and look for the silver lining. God did not take our children, but lovingly received them. Instead of thinking, “I’ll never see my child again,” each day say, “I’m one day closer to seeing my child.” Practice gratitude for the years you had with your child rather than complaining about their absence.

Give anger a voice.

Anger is part of grief so channel it in the right direction. The good part of anger is that it catapults you into action, reinvesting all that love you have for your child. We do things in memory of our children that can help others, things like working for safer roads, speed limits, driver responsibility, liquor/drug abuse, boating safety and mental health legislation. We join groups like MADD, Ronald McDonald House, Cancer Care, AFSP, Scouting, sports teams, church committees, and funding scholarships. Those things help us feel that our children did not die in vain, that something good came from this tragedy.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –19–

Wear a Linking Object.

Feel the comfort of wearing something your child loved, a favorite sweatshirt, t-shirt, bathrobe, jacket, baseball hat, watch, bracelet, necklace, school ring, or whatever can bring you some joy and make you feel closely connected to your child.

Join a support group.

Find one that makes you feel comfortable and not alone, a safe place to talk about your child with people who understand your pain, a place to receive hope and encouragement and get energized, a place to make new friendships, to get helpful info and resources, to offer a forum for healing and to provide avenues for reinvestment.

We found The Compassionate Friends.

Enjoy a pet.

They are gentle therapy, their loving presence and unconditional love can help fill the void in your life. They bring noise and antics to your home; they snuggle, offer loving companionship and are a healthy distraction. If you are lucky enough to have a dog, they get you out of the house a few times a day, which is a feat in itself, and they help you notice the beauties of nature: flowers, trees and change of seasons, while giving you a chance to wave to neighbors. You begin to be social again.

Develop new routines/ traditions.

Create a “New Normal.” Do things in a different way. Try some new things that develop new pleasures, whether it is new seats at the table, new hobbies, new ways to celebrate the holidays, delighting in new friends, doing all those things you put off or just taking time “to smell the roses.”

Lean on your hobby.

Use a favorite activity to renew your spirit, to give your grief a little rest: knitting, gardening, painting, writing, cooking, photography— whatever is dear to your heart and provides a happy distraction.

Exercise.

Enjoy an activity that gives you a way to refuel or a way to release your anger and frustration, such as chopping wood, playing tennis or racquet ball, jogging, swimming, rock climbing, golf, planting a garden or simply walking the dog.

Collect comforting items.

Sometimes we discover things that make us smile; it could be angels, butterflies, rainbows, frogs or getting a tattoo. Whatever works for us, we learn to do. For me, it was collecting angels, inscribing them and giving them to everybody to remember my Peggy and Denis.

Delight in music.

Music can soothe an aching heart and speak to our grieving souls. Poignant lyrics or simple melodies can add a glow to our lives. Joining a choir or group dancing lessons allows us to express those deep-seated feelings that scream to be expressed, releasing frustration and pain.

Pray.

Praying is simply talking and talking is healing.

Pray to God, our loving listener who is always with us, or your higher power, or to your child, and feel the strength that enfolds you and carries you through tough days and when making difficult decisions. Find prayers that help you. A prayer for those people who hurt us with their insensitive comments is our TCF chapter’s most popular prayer, lifted from a Lenten liturgy: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.

Assholes! Amen.” It empowers you to no longer feel like the victim, since insensitive comments are the number one complaint of bereaved parents.

Enjoy.

This is our birthday gift to you, twenty-five years of “life-giving” wisdom from the experts: parents who have lost a child and know the pain and struggles and have learned to survive and have a meaningful life again.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –20–

Donna and her daughter, Quaya

These Three Words Donna Terrell

www.donnaterrell.tv

It’s been one year, four months and thirteen days since cancer killed my daughter. There hasn’t been a single day since that I haven’t thought about her. I still hear her voice, imagine her smile and feel her touch. During her last two years of life, I cared for her the same way I did her first two years. As tough a job as it was, it was an honor to care for her. On that very last night, I lay next to her in bed and watched her struggle to take her last breath. I was helpless to do anything but try to talk her through it.

Afterward, I watched the funeral home attendants respectfully wrap her body in a blue-velvet blanket and carry her out of our home for the last time.

At that point a new journey began—dealing with grief. Several places offered different roadmaps to guide me in this journey. One roadmap led me to people who had been on a similar path; another had heard about the journey but had not personally traveled down that road. Most everyone seemed to have ideas and suggestions on what they thought I should do to get to my destination… wherever that was.

Then, just as I felt myself veering off the path and into depression, one of my roadmaps led me to a grief counselor. It was there that I learned skills I needed to manage my grief. As I continued to follow the grief road, there was one map that focused simply on these three words, “It gets better.” That was like a road sign telling me what was ahead, but I ignored it and stayed on my journey through pain, sorrow and disappointment.

One day, not so long ago, I met a neighbor in the elevator in my building. I knew her husband had been very sick, but I wasn’t sure whether he had passed away. As she stepped onto the elevator, I reached out and touched her elbow, asking if she was okay.

She turned to me, tears swelling in her eyes, and said it had been exactly one month (which let me know her husband was gone).

As she reached over and put her arms around me, she whispered, “Does—it—get—better?” Up until then, no one had ever asked me that question, so I never imagined having to answer it.

When she posed that question, my response was immediate; I didn’t have to even think about it. It came from a place deep down inside my soul and from many therapy sessions. My grief counselor had told me that would need to cry “one hundred thousand tears.” I haven’t counted every single one, but my guess is I’m at about five or six thousand, and that’s nothing when you think about it! I have lived through my own private hell. I have cried myself to sleep at night wondering why my child had to suffer.

I’ve called out to her so many times asking her if she’s now okay, if she can help me with a problem I’m dealing with, if she could just…. Well, you know. Losing my only child is the toughest thing I’ve ever dealt with, and it’s only been a little over a year. I think you get the point. I’m not over this, and I never will be. Honestly, I don’t want to be. I’m a griever on my own personal journey. I’ve been told I’m part of a community of tortured souls, so don’t block my road!

But the words I whispered back to the lady on the elevator have caused me to think over and over again about this journey and the roadmaps I’ve been following. I whispered these three words to her: “It gets better.”

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –21–

When a parent loses a child there is an isolation that seems to shroud their now broken world. Life goes on and at times this reality can take your breath away. Knowing full well this devastating reality, Karen E. Weis, the author of I’ll Cry to Understand...a piece at a time, provides grieving parents guidance, helpful information, and spiritual enlightenment. Providing a personal connection with the reader, the author assists them in navigating their new world.

Karen’s personal journey through grief left her with the desire to help parents going throug hthis loss. Her wish is not to emphasize the grief but to learn how to come back from it. Learning to live through the loss is very difficult. But then we must learn how to live with it. Parents, family, and friends will be given ways to move forward with hope.

BOOK REVIEW

by Sandy Curran Bereaved Parents USA, St. Louis

It has been 19 years since I lost my son,

Michael. I have read many a book on grief.

I did not think there were any words left to describe our grief, pain, and emotions, but Karen Weis found more. Her words hit home soooo many times. Feelings, thoughts, and emotions were given a whole new validating description. She also manages to incorporate the feelings and emotions of family members and friends which is difficult to understand for a bereaved parent while we are in that early grief. If spirituality and the bible are a comfort to you, that is also strewn throughout the book. This book is a must read.

hard cover $27.95 paperback $17.99 and eBook $7.99 www.lulu.com/spotlight/karenweis You may email the author at story4nate@ gmail.com also available on amazon.com Volume10, 10,issue issue#3–Phone: #3–Phone:1-866-218-0101 1-866-218-0101 Volume

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –19– –19– –22–

Grief; Who Will Understand?

By Karen E. Weis story4nate@gmail.com

P

arents bring children into the world to love, nurture and protect. Most of them will care for and be devoted to their child more than any other person in that child’s life. So what becomes of this perfect concept when a child dies before his parents?

Thousands of young people die every year, and parents are left behind to grieve, causing the most personal and painful assault a parent can experience. Bereaved parents need comfort and understanding as to what they are supposed to do next. Lost in an emotionally alien world, they desperately seek solace. They often wonder if God is still with them, or if He has deserted them in their time of need. Grief is a journey, so finding someone to talk to along the way, and perhaps help to guide us, is very important in the healing process and in being able to feel God’s presence again.

Disease, war, natural disasters, drug abuse and many other life altering events exist in the world today. That is a reality, but the memory of how that beloved child was taken sometimes makes parents feel abandoned by everyone, including God. But, as “life” goes on, that reality can take our breath away. However, if we are given the right tools to cope, our world can become less painful and more manageable.

There will never be a sufficient amount of information and support to completely mend a parent’s broken heart, but significant comfort can be accomplished.

The changes in personality, problems with social settings, confusion with beliefs, even behavior toward immediate family and friends is more probable than one may have realized. The right to “not be ashamed of” normal thoughts and emotions is an important step in healing. Parents needing direction and understanding can clamber hopelessly in any and all directions, but in time, and with help, their search for some kind of “new” normalcy and peace can begin.

Helping parents understand that is possible to overcome the mental, emotional and spiritual struggles that are all a part of the healing process can increase their hope and ease their burdens. In in the muddled minds of the bereaved, there is a need to be reassured that their behaviors are common and natural, and time alone cannot be a factor in trying to re-create their lives. While there is no “cure,” it is beneficial for them to understand that there is a pattern. If the bereaved are handled with care and compassion, they can emerge even stronger than before.

The old phrase, “If you can’t walk the walk, then don’t talk the talk,” often resounds in the minds of bereaved parents. Talking with others who have experienced the same kind of pain and loss can be very comforting. Grief is cruel, daunting and exhaustive, but as we look toward those who have suffered a similar loss, we can find comfort and understanding. Those who have walked this road ahead of us are usually more knowledgeable in offering ways to cope, because they have lived it.

Reflecting on thoughts and feelings in a positive way is crucial, and looking toward those who have learned to cope in constructive, healthy ways is encouraging, because they know, on a personal level, the daily anguish and constant reminders that can grip the heart of a parent. They can offer genuine compassion, because they perceive through their own eyes and their own viewpoints (empathy instead of sympathy), and they can offer wisdom and inner peace that will help to overcome the circumstances that are new to the more recently bereaved.

The healing journey can be long and arduous. An important means of survival is learning to cope, and looking to others for words of comfort where we can relate is advantageous on many levels. We become familiar and more trusting with each another, since we are both sensitive to this new and meaningful bond. One who has lived it can offer invaluable advice about what will help and what will not. As mourning parents, we need time, and another (perhaps more experienced) bereaved person understands the importance of that. They usually know that tears of frustration and newfound insight will slowly trickle in. When we allow these comforters to walk hand in hand with us, trust ever so slowly grows between us. This is a “safe place” for us.

As we keep our eyes and ears open, perhaps to someone we don’t even know yet, God has a way of bringing special people into our lives. He knows when we are at the weakest points in our lives, and that in the beginning learning to make sense of the tragedy we have endured is plenty difficult. Allowing another to walk with us through this journey is a blessing that can provide strength and insight to this new world we have been thrown into. When we can’t even see a flicker of light through our grief, others are there to offer a ray of hope. “…don’t forget to be friendly to outsiders; for in so doing, some people, without knowing it, have entertained angels.”

Hebrews 13:2 (CJB)

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –23–

The Gift of Life and Love

As I leave Paul’s empty room, I am sorrowful at the thought of his unfinished life. The reality that I will not see, feel, smell or embrace my child again on this earth is virtually intolerable and incomprehensible to me. That thought can never be fully grasped!

Now, however, I live a “new life” that I could never have imagined before. On each death anniversary, my heart is overwhelmed by the absence of my child, but I am also inspired that Paul’s life has been transformed into “continued life with movement” because of organ donation. I trumpet my voice in support of this immeasurable Gift of Life.

My attention is now diverted from what was lost to what remains. Life for Paul’s organ recipients has changed them and me forever. We are new and open people.

When a life is saved by the Gift of Life, it breaks through death’s bond. Two extremes meet in death: divine love and human misery.

While the unselfish gift is wired for miracles, “brain dead” becomes “brainwave.” The Gift of Life is a glorified transformation—the majesty of all donor heroes. Their final act of giving on earth is a sacred, holy gift of thanksgiving!

When Paul died, I felt crucified, but by a simple “yes,” I felt as if I had returned to life and birthed him in a new way that would hold the most hope for the best outcome in the worst circumstance.

Now, whenever I stand next to Paul’s heart recipient, I can feel Paul’s heart beating in Joe’s chest. Paul’s heart once grew under my heart, and this compels, connects and galvanizes me each day in connection, advocacy, work and compassion.

I have learned profound lessons as a donor mom. Through Gift of Life I can and find a different kind of joy because of my child’s death. Saying “yes” was my chance and choice to help others live and to give the comfort of continued life. On my darkest day, this “gift of choice” became light for others.

Saying “yes” was the moment when those who were perched on the edge of death became the celebration of a second chance with opportunity, revival, hope and renewal. Donor families and recipients are united in spreading the good news, and they rejoice in the miracles, much like a fire that jumps from log to log. As we say in Gift of Life, “Do not take your organs to heaven; heaven knows we need them here.”

Every day that my son is gone, I am reminded of the tangible aspects of organ donation. We do not have to know who our recipients are; it is enough to know that we gave something positive and comforting. If we discuss donation with our families and others, and enroll in the donor registry, the true measure of these gifts will be realized on earth. If we become educated about organ donation, fear becomes faith. Twelve people now breathe life because of Paul’s death. Recipients

By Claudia Grammatico

hold grandchildren; crippled children walk; burn victims thrive; and sight-impaired can see.

Some have asked me, “How will you feel if one of the recipients dies?” I lovingly respond that these fortunate folks were given additional life that they would not have had otherwise, because a donor family chose to step out of their sorrow for a moment and listen closely to what was being asked of them.

Because I walk the walk and talk the talk of the cross, I am more open to what transforms death. Today, I rise with my son and dance to his song. I have ‘Presence in his Absence’ and life remains. My healing is enhanced, and there is purpose to my own life. The challenge in surviving is not to get back to where I was before, but rather to choose an altered journey that makes the best of a tragic situation. I am reminded of new-life resurrection, and that makes his grave empty and open ended! It is a highway beyond my wildest imaginings and I’m along for the ride!

Statistics Although there have been advances in medical technology and donation, the demand for organ, eye and tissue donation still vastly exceeds the number of donors.

For more information, read the summary below or create a detailed data report on the UNOS Web site.

• More than 114,000 men, women and children currently need lifesaving organ transplants.

• Every 10 minutes another name is added to the national organ transplant waiting list.

• An average of 18 people die each day from the lack of available organs for transplant.

• In 2011, there were 8,127 deceased organ donors and 6,017 living organ donors resulting in 28,535 organ transplants.

• Last year, more than 42,000 grafts were made available for transplant by eye banks within the United States.

•According to research, 98% of all adults have heard about organ donation and 86% have heard of tissue donation.

• 90% of Americans say they support donation, but only 30% know the essential steps to take to be a donor.

114,712 Patients Waiting* 64,292 Multicultural Patients* 1,737 Pediatric Patients* 28,535 Organ Transplants Performed in 2011 14,144 Organ Donors in 2011 More than 46,000 corneas were transplanted in 2011 More than 1 million tissue transplants are done each year and the surgical need for tissue has been steadily rising *as of July 2012. www.donatelifeamerica.net

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –24–

The Capacity to Love Requires the Neccesity to Mourn, Part Two

by Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph.D.

“We are all mirrors unto one another.

Look into me and you will find something of yourself as I will of you.”

— Walter Rinder Love is a sacred partnership of communion with another human being. You take each other in, and even when you are apart, you are together. Wherever you go, you carry the person inside you.

Communion means the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially on a spiritual level. When two people love one another, they are connected. They are entwined.

The word “communion” comes from the Old French comuner, which means “to hold in common.” Note that this is different than “to have in common.” You may have very little in common with another person yet you can love them wholeheartedly. Instead, you hold things in common—that is, you consciously choose to share one another’s lives, hopes and dreams. You hold her heart, and she holds yours.

This experience of taking another person inside your heart is beyond definition and defies analysis. It is part of the mystery of love. Love has its own way with us. It knocks on our hearts and invites itself in. It cannot be seen, but we realize it has happened. It cannot be touched, yet we feel it.

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –25–

When someone we love dies, we feel a gaping hole inside us. I have companioned hundreds of mourners who have said to me, “When she died, I felt like part of me died, too.” In what can feel like a very physical sense, something that was inside us now seems missing.

We don’t mourn those who die from the outside in; we mourn them from the inside out.

The absence of the person you love wounds your spirit, creates downward movement in your psyche, and transforms your heart. Yet, even though you feel there is now a “hole inside you,” you will also come to learn (if you haven’t already) that those you love live on in your heart. You remain in communion with those you love forever and are inextricably connected to them for eternity.

Yes, you will grieve the person’s absence and need to express your feelings of grief. You must mourn. You must commune with your grief and take it into your heart, embracing your many thoughts and feelings.

When you allow yourself to fully mourn, over time and with the support of others who care about you, you will come to find that the person you lost does indeed still live inside you.

Love abides in communion—during life and after death. And mourning is communion with your grief.

With communion, comes understanding, meaning and a life of richness.

Greater Than the Sum of Its Parts “Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”

—Marcus Aurelius When you love another person, it can feel like one plus one equals three.

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” Love is like that. Two people can come together and form a partnership that enables each person to be “more” in so many ways.

Here’s another way to think about this idea: Love is like an orchestra. You may be a clarinet—a strong, fine wind instrument all by yourself. But when you surround yourself with other instruments, each of whom do the work of carrying their own parts and practicing their own music, together, as a group, you can blow the doors off the place.

I much prefer this expansive concept of love over the long-held reductionist belief that “two become one.” If two become one, both participants in the relationship

are diminished. Conversely, what truly feeds the soul of a loving relationship is expansion, mutual-nurturance and growth.

Without doubt, being part of a synergistic, two-makesthree relationship requires a conscious commitment.

Did your relationship with the person who died feel enhancing or diminishing? In synergistic relationships, there has to be space and encouragement to be real and authentic. Were you empowered to be your true self or disempowered to be something you were not? Did your two make three, or did your two make you less than one? If so, perhaps you are now faced with mourning what you never had but wished you did. How human is that?

If, on the other hand, your relationship with the person who died made you greater than the sum of your parts, what happens now that one of you is gone? You may feel diminished. You may feel empty. You may feel “less than.” Your self-identity may even seem to shrink as you struggle with your changing roles. If you are no longer a wife (or a mother or a sister or a daughter), what are you?

Also, the experience of mourning can feel piecemeal—a cry here, a burst of anger there; a deep sadness today, a crush of guilt tomorrow. You might feel a sense of disorientation from the scattered and ever-changing nature of your grief.

But when you trust in the process of grief and you surrender to the mystery, you will find that mourning, like love, is also greater than the sum of its parts.

Leaning into your grief and always erring on the side of expressing rather than inhibiting or ignoring your thoughts and feelings—no matter how random and disjointed they might seem some days—will bring you to a place of transformation. You will not just be different from the person you were before the death.

You will be greater. Your experience of love and grief will create a changed you who has not only survived but who has learned to thrive again in a new form and in a new way.

And just as love connects you to others, so should grief.

You need the listening ears and open hearts of others as you express your thoughts and feelings about the death.

You need the support of others as you mourn.

Yes, love and grief are both greater than the sum of their parts. The lesson I take from this is that whenever you engage fully and openly in life, experiencing both the joys and the sorrows head on, you are living the life you were meant to live.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –26–

WHY HOPE, ALONE, IS NOT A STRATEGY FOR HEALING

By Nan Zastrow Wings1@charter.net

Clem clung to hope when the flood waters were rising. As the Mississippi river flooded over its banks, and the levy breached, Clem watch the water rush through his neighborhood drowning the homes around him. The waves of rushing water in its fury continued to rise, and two men in a row boat sailed Clem’s way. They called out to Clem and asked him if he’d like to come aboard. “No, thanks,” Clem shouted. “My God will save me. He climbed to the second story of his home as the waters washed the sides of his home and continued to rise. A speed boat came by and the driver called out to Clem to rescue him. Clem answered, “No thanks. My God will save me.” Finally, in a desperate attempt, Clem climbed onto his roof to escape the rising flood water. A helicopter flew over and dropped a rope calling to Clem to hold on. “I’ll be okay,” Clem shouted, “My God will save me!” But, Clem drowned. At the Pearly Gates, St Peter asked him why he arrived so soon. Clem told his story and said, “I thought for sure my God would save me.” St Peter was a little surprised, and responded… “What more did you want? We sent you a row boat, a speed boat and a helicopter?”

Clem’s actions serve as a lesson about “hope.” Hope is a positive attribute, don’t ever think otherwise. We live our lives with hope, most often we hope for small things. But hope without some backup plan or some strategy may be disappointing and even threatening in times of crisis. In its simplest terms, hope is a wish or a desire. It doesn’t make things happen all by itself. Hope must be developed, cultivated, and nurtured to benefit from all it has to offer.

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –27–

When a loved one dies, we are encouraged to look for hope. I’m a great believer in hope. I’ve written dozens of articles about the pursuit of hope in grief. Only recently have I accepted that hope doesn’t always come easy; and it often doesn’t “just happen.” Maybe we expect it will bop us on the head to notify us that it is present. But hope may not come with a symphony of trumpets to announce its arrival. Like many things in life (and just like healing grief), hope typically requires some action on our part. Hope is achieved through perseverance, self-direction, planning, and commitment. In grief, hope is ultimately found through a strategy of healing. Hope alone is not the strategy.

Instead, it is the catalyst for making a difference in our lives.

Looking for Hope in the Wrong Places During grief, we may feel empty and helpless. We’ve lost our zest for life. The world has changed and unless we can grasp something that can give us meaning and purpose, we may be vulnerable. We can choose to drown in our sorrow or pursue a strategy. Sometimes we may be looking for hope in all the wrong places:

Hope cannot be found: •By placing blame on someone or something—believing that if we could substantiate the blame, we would have hope that things would get better.

•Expecting to be rescued. Maybe we expect others to come to our rescue and bail us out from the helplessness we feel. In truth, others can be our companions, but they can’t do the required healing work for us.

•In speaking negatively about our circumstances in life.

If we continue to seek sympathy or pity after a period of time, our family and friends may isolate themselves from us because they fear that nothing they can do will take away our sorrow.

•Expecting our family and friends to be responsible for our future happiness. Though they show us love and support, they can’t heal our pain. It’s up to us to reconcile with our regrets, guilt, and the anger that controls our grief.

•Expecting the wounds of the loss to be obliterated just through the passage of time. Time alone does not heal the pain. Without pursing a healthy outlook for the future, our wounds will only fester and deteriorate our emotional and spiritual self.

What is an effective strategy for hope?

Progress is made when we self-motivate ourselves to seek answers, understanding, and healing . Choosing positive ways to take action will heal our grief.

How to find hope in all the right places An effective strategy for hope comes from within. It begins with a desire to find a turning point after the death of your loved one that allows you to accept the challenges handed to you and honor your life and your loved one by making a difference.

Each of us has the ability to find hope that is unique to each of us, individually, when we are motivated to actively move beyond the pain we feel. It begins with the mindset that “things” need to change. I remember thinking, after the death of our son, “ I can’t go on like this anymore. Wallowing in my grief will only make me miserable. I won’t allow it to destroy my relationship with my husband and family.” This was the initial strategy for hope for me.

Another strategy for finding hope may be to honor with purpose your loved one’s life. Consider what he or she was passionate about. What was his or her personal “cause?” Then continue the “cause” or passion as a tribute. For example, perhaps your loved one cared for animals. Volunteer at the Humane Society. Or maybe cancer caused the death. Do a walk for cancer. Perhaps a flower garden was his or her passion…allow yourself to bloom in the beauty of a garden. Determine what you can do to carry on the purpose and memories of your loved one’s life.

A strategy for hope is grief education. Learn all that you can about what you are going through. Understand the ramifications of allowing grief to control your life.

Recreate who you are and who you were meant to be. We are changed by significant grief experiences.

Sometimes our world before isn’t the kind of world we want to live in after the death. We discover more meaningful relationships, opportunities, and possibilities that can change us into someone we never dreamed we could be. I never dreamed I would write or talk publicly to people. And even if I did, talking about death and grief was the furthest thing from my mind.

Share your healing with others. Telling your story and sharing your grief journey with another bereaved person can aid them through the dark days of abandonment and fear. We all need someone to put a hand on our shoulder and say, “You can make it through this. How can I help?” Oh, what hope you give!

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –28–

Giving back and sharing your compassion and empathy with those who need it. The world is hurting in so many ways, not just the death of a loved one. Many people need support , comforting, understanding, and maybe just someone to talk to. Kids and youth need to be understood. The elderly need to be acknowledged for their contributions and made to feel worthy in every stage of their lives. Food shelters require stocking. The poor and the sick need guidance to resources and healing. Lend a helping hand.

Reconnect and value family and friends. Family should be our focus in our recovery. The importance of our roots to our biological family and strengthening the ties that bind us to extended and “chosen” family will always be home base. Mend fences. Build bridges. The power of love in a circle of family and friends can be the strongest source of hope.

Faith, of course, is our greatest source for hope. It’s the power that reaches beyond the ability to understand, and simply trust. When we believe that “this too shall pass”, we step off into the abyss of the unknown with the power and ability to fly.

The Power of Hope: I believe in the power of HOPE. I believe that through our grief everyone has the ability to find hope.

I believe hope is found in • saying yes instead of no; • loving the concept of living; dying can wait; • turning the sad memories, to stories of the living soul; • forgiving the unforgivable, not planning for revenge; • counting your blessings; not your challenges; • mending relationships instead of replacing them; • saying, “I’ll always remember”, not “I’ll never stop missing you;” • getting up, instead of laying down; • giving in gracefully, when you have nothing to gain; • letting go, when you can’t change the outcome; • looking for the miracle; not just waiting for it to happen; • strengthening your spiritual self, not being angry at God for your lack of faith; • counting your steps forward; not the ones that sometimes drift back; • saying, “what next?” instead of “why me?

Hope begins your journey. Believe in it. Trust in it. Imagine it. Build a strategy! Feel the energy! Allow yourself to be enveloped with its radiant embrace. You have begun. You will see dignity and grace in others. Compassion in the human touch. Faith in a power far greater than you. Peace in the order of all things. Wonder in the roads not traveled. Promise in what is yet to be.

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –29–

The Writings of Dr. Alan Wolfelt www.centerforloss.com

Visit ou website r an online d booksto re!

New in 2013, the complete Mourner’s series of gift books!

The Mourner’s Book of Hope

The Mourner’s Book of Courage

30 Days of Inspiration

30 Days of Encouragement

To integrate loss and to move forward with a life of meaning and love, you must have hope. Hope is a belief in a good that is yet to be. In this beautiful book, Dr. Wolfelt offers his heartfelt thoughts on ways to discover and carry hope in the midst of grief.

His reflections are interspersed with meaningful quotes from the world’s greatest philosophers.

When someone you love dies, you must find within yourself the courage to embrace the pain and go on living without them. In grief, you must open your heart to your innermost feelings and, instead of retreating from them, boldly befriend them. For it is befriending your grief that you heal.

The second in Mourners series, The Mourner’s Book of Courage is written for those times in grief when you feel you don’t have the courage to do the hard and necessary work of mourning. Filled with Dr. Wolfelt’s compassionate words about finding courage deep within yourself, it also features quotes on courage from some of the world’s greatest thinkers.

The first in the Mourner’s series, The Mourner’s Book of Hope invites you to spend a month befriending hope, one day at a time, as you journey through the wilderness of grief.

978-1-879651-65-4 • 200 pages • hardcover • $15.95

ISBN 978-1-61722-154-5 • 200 pages • hardcover • $15.95

The Mourner’s Book of Faith 30 Days of Enlightenment

When someone you love dies, it is natural to question your faith and wonder why God has taken this person from you. In this compassionate, day-to-day book, Dr. Wolfelt explains that the essential need to mourn and question the meaning of life and death are not inconsistent with faith but rather a reflection of your ongoing and ever-deepening relationship with God. The third in the Mourner’s series, The Mourner’s Book of Faith contains a month’s worth of inspiring words and quotes to be revisited over and over again anytime you need a new dose of enlightenment.

ISBN 978-1-61722-162-0 • 200 pages • hardcover • $15.95

To Order Call (970) 226-6050 Or Visit www.centerforloss.com/bookstore ©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –30–

DEATH AND THE AMERICAN INDIAN

By Gerry Cox, PhD

Death and the American Indian is a sociological analysis of the culture, dying and death practices of Native Americans. It is written from a sociological perspective based upon a lifetime of experience and study of the American Indian, oral histories gathered from visiting over forty reservations, the work of many scholars, the contributions of many friends and kind strangers who provided knowledge that would have otherwise not been available. It is my hope that it will offer an analysis that will allow others to appreciate and better understand the plight, hope, and practices of some American Indian groups, and that it will allow those who study the material to better face their own dying and deaths as well as those of others.

To order Call 866-218-0101 or orderVolume online 10, at www.centering.org under the Grief Illustrated Press option issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –31–

    Visit the website: www.wingsgrief.org

Since 1993, Nan & Gary Zastrow, Founders of Wings—a Grief Education Ministry provided education and support for bereaved families as well as caregivers. After the death of their son, Chad, they created the non-profit organization to help others who grieve.

Wings™ celebrates its 20th year of community service this year.

 Sign up for the free quarterly Wings ELetter  Read articles about healing grief in Grief Digest, and various sites on the web.

Nan is a published author and writes about her journey through grief. Nan demonstrates the power of words. She creates vivid pictures that allow the reader to be present to the moments she describes. She writes about rebuilding identity after loss, transformed relationships, and the small victories leading to hope.

 Like Wings on Facebook and get occasional grief tips  Has Wings™ touched your life in any way? If so, let us know. We are gathering feedback as part of the 20th anniversary of Wings.

Email: wings1@charter.net

As certified grief educations, Nan & Gary facilitate annual education and grief support classes, give presentations, host an Understanding Grief Spring Seminar, present a holiday When the Holidays Hurt community workshop, and speak by invitation for events. Nan has authored a variety of written materials including 5 books and holiday program guides.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –32–

Elaine Stillwell Author and National Presenter, Columnist, Grief Digest, Chapter Leader, TCF of Rockville Centre, NY Wife, mother grandmother, educator, author and speaker, Elaine E. Stillwell, M.A., M.S., shares her gifts of hope and inspiration with the bereaved, simply by telling what she has learned to cope and survive following the deaths of her two eldest children, 21-year-old Denis and 19-year-old Peggy, in the same 1986 automobile accident.

In addition to being Founder and Chapter leader of The Compassionate Friends of Rockville Centre, (Long Island) NY, 1987-present, with her husband Joe, Elaine has been writing for Grief Digest since it’s first issue in July 2003, and was Bereavement Coordinator for the Diocese of Rockville Centre, 19982010, working closely with 134 parishes and local agencies, where she spearheaded programs for the bereaved, designed and offered trainings for support group facilitators, maintained a website listing all available support programs in the area, and chaired the annual bereavement conference each spring.

Known for her passion and zeal, Elaine shares her unique gifts of caring and humor with audiences across the United States at workshops and seminars, in radio and television appearances, and through her magazine articles, DVDs, books and pamphlets.

Elaine believes “If their song is to continue, then we must do the singing.”

A Forever Angel

By Elaine E. Stillwell, published by Centering Corporation, offers children the magical healing of creating angels for different occasions and major holidays in honor of their loved one who died. Designing angel cards, frames, pillows, candles, cookies and more, children share these homemade Forever Angels with people they choose, keeping their special person’s memory alive. A special gift for grieving children, the book offers a subtle way to have them open up and talk about the person who died.

Recommended for use by teachers, counselors and support groups.

Ages 8-16. $8.95 Available at Centering Corporation, www.centering.org, and www.amazon.com www.centering.org

Stepping Stones for the Bereaved

By Elaine E. Stillwell, published by Liguori Publications (also available in Spanish), is a 24-page pamphlet filled with inspiring Christian meditations inviting Jesus into your heart as you share your sorrow with Him and ponder ways to empower yourself to walk the stepping stones to a place of comfort and peace within yourself. Its handy size is perfect to tuck into your pocket or purse, to attach to a bouquet, or slip into a card or note to a grieving friend, sharing comforting thoughts and healing ideas. $1.00 (discounts on 50 or more pamphlets) Available at Liguori Publications (toll-free 1-800-325-9521)

http://www.liguori.org

The Death of a Child: Reflections for Grieving Parents

By Elaine E. Stillwell, published by ACTA Publications, offers hope and peace for the heart, simply sharing what has helped her and many other bereaved parents to cope, survive and have a meaningful life again. Speaking through the experience of losing her own two oldest children in a car accident, the book is “user friendly” (and actually helpful for all losses, we are told). In a warm, conversational voice, like sitting and talking together in your living room, Elaine guides bereaved parents through the roller coaster ride of grief, offering positive thoughts and ideas to try. Walk with Elaine as she “sings her children’s song” of life-giving lessons to your heart. $10.95, 160 pages. Available at ACTA Publications (toll-free 1-800-397-2282), Centering Corporation, 1-866-218-0101.

Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –33–

Contributors

Andrea Gambill

Peter Ford

In 1976, Andrea’s seventeen-year-old daughter, Judy, died after a five-month coma, as the result of a car-truck crash. A year later, she formed one of the earliest United States chapters of The Compassionate Friends and helped to establish the first TCF National Board of Directors.

In 1987, she founded Bereavement magazine and owned that business and publication until 2000. The years of grief counseling, support group leadership, writing and editing have given Andrea an education and insight she had never dreamed possible. Over the years, she has worked closely with various kinds of support groups, and she has spoken to conferences, churches, civic groups, support groups, medical/hospital groups, schools and funeral directors around the country. Andrea authored the booklets Tinsel and Tears (a guide to getting through the holidays) and Do and Don’t Suggestions for the Bereaved and Their Caregivers, and she has written two booklets for Abbey Press on the death of a child.

Contact Andrea at andrea.gambill@gmail.com.

Lori Ives Baine Lori is a nurse and the Palliative Care and Bereavement Coordinator for the Neonatology Program at The Hospital for Sick Children.

She has been in this role for the past eighteen of her twenty-two years at the hospital. She feels very blessed to be able to provide support to families and staff in her workplace and beyond, as well as mentoring, education and research at the hospital and internationally.

She is married to her best friend, Jeff Baine, and is mother to Brian, who is now twentyone and a music production student. Lori has her Master’s Degrees in Nursing (Pediatrics) and Bioethics from the University of Toronto and is on the Board of Directors for PLIDA (Pregnancy Loss and Infant Death Alliance www.plida. org), a networking and advocacy organization for professionals and parent-advocates dealing with perinatal death. She is presenting at the International Conference on Pregnancy Loss and Infant Death in Minneapolis in April of 2013. She is also an RTS Coordinator (www. bereavementservices.org) who educates professionals and volunteers caring for families when a pregnancy ends and a baby dies.

Peter Ford has been Director of Pastoral Care and Lead Chaplain since 1977 at Winchester Medical Center, a Level II Trauma Center in northwestern Virginia. He is a member of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) and is a recorded (ordained) Friends minister. He holds a Master’s degree in Pastoral Counseling, is a Board Certified Chaplain in the Association of Professional Chaplains (APC), is certified in Thanatology by the Association of Death Education and Counseling (ADEC), and is a member of the American Academy of Experts in Traumatic Stress/National Center for Crisis Management (AAETS/NCCM).

Carol Fiore Carol Fiore is the widow of Bombardier Experimental Test Pilot Eric E. Fiore and a licensed private pilot in single-engine land airplanes and gliders. Carol holds three science degrees; she has taught students of all ages including the university level. She is currently looking for a publisher for her book, Flight Through Fire, and she is writing a teen, fiction trilogy with environmental themes. Carol lives in Colorado with her two daughters and a menagerie of animals. She maintains scholarships and programs in her husband’s memory and teaches environmental education classes in her community. She is an avid long-distance runner, birdwatcher, and animal lover. Carol invites readers to view her website at www. carolfiore.com.

Karen E. Weis Karen lives in Missouri with Danny, her husband of thirty years. She is the devoted mother of three children, Kristina, Nathan and Kyle. Their twenty-year-old son, Nathan, died in a car accident in 2006. Eight months later, Karen decided to start writing. She says, “The most important thing is to be sincere in what I write.

Parents need to know we can survive with help from God, family and time. I understand what they’re going through and truly want to help.”

Karen devotes her time to her grandchildren, family and friends. Her book, I’ll Cry to Understand…A Piece at a Time is available from www.lulu.com/ spotlight/Karenweis. She can be reached at story4nate@gmail.com.

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –34–

Elaine Stillwell

Gerry Cox

Wife, mother, grandmother, educator, author and speaker, Elaine E. Stillwell, M.A., M.S., shares her gifts of hope and inspiration with the bereaved, simply telling what she has learned to cope and survive following the deaths of her two eldest children, twenty-oneyear old Denis and nineteen-year old Peggy, in the same 1986 automobile accident. In addition to being Founder (1987) and Chapter Leader of The Compassionate Friends of Rockville Centre, Long Island, New York, (along with her husband Joe), she is also a Charter Member of Bereaved Parents/USA since 1995. From 1998-2010, she served as Bereavement Coordinator for the Diocese of Rockville Centre, NY, reaching out to the bereaved in 134 parishes, organizing and training the bereavement facilitators through special enrichment programs and chairing the annual bereavement conference.

Elaine shares her unique gifts of caring and humor with audiences across the United States at workshops and seminars, in radio and television appearances, and through her numerous magazine articles.

She is the author of two crafts books for grieving children, Sweet Memories and A Forever Angel (Centering Corporation), a pamphlet of spiritual meditations, Stepping Stones for the Bereaved (Liquori Publications), and a book filled with suggestions for parents who have lost a child of any age, The Death of a Child (ACTA Publications).

Alan Wolfelt Alan Wolfelt, Ph.D., is an author, educator and grief counselor. He serves as director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition in Fort Collins, Colorado and is on the faculty at the University of Colorado Medical School in the Department of Family Medicine.

Recipient of the Association for Death Education and Counseling’s Death Educator Award, Alan writes and teaches about the philosophy of “companioning” versus “treating” people experiencing grief. He has contributed over 25 books on grief and loss, including The Journey Through Grief: Reflections on Healing, Understanding Your Grief, Healing the Bereaved Child, Healing Your Grieving Heart and Creating Meaningful Funeral Experiences. He enjoys offering small-group retreat-oriented learning experiences at his Center for Loss. Alan presents dozens of workshops each year throughout North America. Alan and his wife, Susan, a family physician, are the proud parents of three children, Megan, Chris and Jaimie. His three Siberian huskies take him for walks on a regular basis. He also enjoys architecture, interior design and vacations near water with his family. You can contact Alan at wolfelt@centerforloss.com.

Check out the eMagazine Online Grief Digest is viewable online at http://griefdigestmagazine.com

Gerry R. Cox, Ph.D., is a Professor Emeritus of Sociology at University of WisconsinLa Crosse. He served as the Director of the Center for Death Education & Bioethics.

He has over ninety publications including sixteen books. He has served as editor of Illness, Crisis, and Loss and for The Midwest Sociologist. He is a member of the International Work Group on Dying, Death, and Bereavement, the Midwest Sociological Society, the American Sociological Association, The International Sociological Association, Phi Kappa Phi, and Great Plains Sociological Society, and the Association of Death Education and Counseling. He serves on the board of Directors of the National Prison Hospice Association.

Nan Zastrow On April 16, 1993, Chad Zastrow, the son of Nan and Gary died as the result of suicide.

Ten weeks later Chad’s fiancée took her life.

This double tragedy inspired the Zastrows to create a ministry of hope. They formed a non-profit organization called Roots© and Wings. Through workshops, seminars, group presentations and other methods, Nan and Gary create community awareness about grief experiences. Additionally, they host an annual Spring Seminar and Holiday workshop. They also facilitate a Sudden Death Learning Series.

Nan is the author of a book, Blessed Are They That Mourn, and over thirty Editor’s Journal Articles in Wings and other publications. The Wings non-profit organization is the recipient of the 2000 Flame of Freedom Award for community volunteerism. In May 2002, Nan & Gary earned their Certificate in Death and Grief Education from the Center for Loss and Life Transition in Fort Collins, Colorado.

Nancy Key Roeder Nancy Key Roeder, from Denver, Colorado, is a retired high school English teacher. She grew up in New Mexico, and began her work career as a reporter and feature writer for The Albuquerque Tribune. Subsequently, she published numerous free-lance articles and essays in local and regional newspapers and nationally distributed magazines. She holds a B.A. in English from San Francisco State University and a Master of Social Science degree from the University of Colorado at Denver. She is the author of a recently published book, Going to the Well: A MotherDaughter Journey (Plain View Press, Austin TX 2011) based on twenty-two interviews she did with her mother, who died in 2002 at age 103. The seeds of this work were planted long before her first husband, Joe, passed away, and she received her copy of the justpublished work three months after her second husband, Dave, died.

Both men encouraged her writing endeavors, each in a specific way.

She is grateful for their unique legacies, which are intertwined in her ongoing creative projects.

Post comments, visit author pages and view the magazine in FULL COLOR! Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101 –35–

Kent Koppelman Kent Koppelman earned a Bachelor’s degree and Master’s degree in English from the University of Nebraska State University in Ames. He taught undergraduate and graduate courses in foundations, diversity issues, ethics, and multicultural education.

In 1988, Wisconsin’s Department of Public Instruction selected him as the “Teacher Educator of the Yearm” but the following year was marred by tragedy when his son, Jason, was killed in a car accident. His experience with loss and grief was the subject of his first book,The Fall of a Sparrow: Of Death and Dreams and Healing (1994, Baywood Publishing Company).

Kent’s second book, Values in the Key of Life: Making Harmony in the Human Community (2001, Baywood Publishing Company) consisted of essays about the need to choose between conflicting values and the implications of those choices in everyday life. In 2005, he published a diversity textbook that is now in its fourth edition, and he has continued to explore the experience of grief in journal articles and book chapters. His most recent book entitled, Wrestling with the Angel: Literary Writings and Reflections on Death, Dying and Bereavement (2010, Baywood Publishing Company) explores grief and human mortality in essays, fiction and poetry. After 28 years at UW-La Crosse, Kent retired in May of 2007, and the College of Human Sciences at Iowa State University presented him with the Virgil S. Lagomarcino Laureate Award to honor his “distinguished achievements.” Kent and his wife Jan have been married for over 40 years, and their daughter, Tess, is a broadcast journalist in Kansas City.

Mary Friedel-Hunt Mary Friedel-Hunt is a licensed clinical social worker who lost her beloved husband/soulmate to Alzheimer’s disease on March 27, 2010, following several years of caregiving. Bill died at home in Mary’s arms. He was a clinical psychologist, and the two of them worked together at their Wisconsin clinic until Bill was no longer able to see clients. During the time since Bill died, Mary has worked with their Golden Retriever Bentley to become a registered therapy dog and the two of them are now ready to visit patients in hospitals, Hospices and nursing homes as well as those homebound in the village where they live.

Mary devotes a great deal of her energy to helping those who are dealing with end-of-life issues as she also prepares to return to her practice in the fall focusing now on grief counseling. Mary practices and believes in meditation as a stress reduction tool; has taken up watercolor; and she is a volunteer at a local food pantry. Her poem, The Labyrinth of Grief, is one of many poems Mary has written about loss and grief. One of the greatest resources Mary used early on (and still uses to assist her in her grief healing) is the on-line grief forum provided by Hospice of the Valley (http://hovforum.ipbhost.com/).

Claudia Grammatico Claudia Grammatico is a charismatic dynamic inspirational speaker. She wrote and produced the song The Gift of Life and Life and The Gift of Life-Mosaic CD. Her song has received two Bronze Telly Awards. Claudia established and facilitates the Parental Bereavement Support Group in Warwick, NY, and the Orange County Donate-Life Support Group in Goshen, NY. She is on the New York Organ Donor Network Advisory Council and the Orange County Crime Board Victim Impact Panel. She is also recognized for her Humor and Grief workshops at bereavement conferences.

In addition, she is a Sister of Mercy and Union of the Catholic Apostolate Pallottine Associate. Claudia lives with her husband of forty-one years and is a proud Mom to Christine and loving Nanny to granddaughter Carissa.

Donna Terrell Donna Terrell is simply Donna, a successful television news anchor in Little Rock, Arkansas.

But more than that, she was—and still is— Quaya’s mom. Donna’s only daughter took her final breath with her mom holding her on March 19, 2011. Quaya had battled colon cancer for many years, and Donna was her caregiver during the last two years of her life. Since the death, Donna has found solace in writing, something her daughter, a journalism major, was much better at doing. However, it’s as though Quaya has given her mom new abilities to write, create and share life experiences to help others who are grieving. Throughout her broadcast career, Donna has been honored with many regional and national awards. Most recently she received a Regional Emmy Award recognizing her talent as a television news anchor, an award she has sought for many years. She gives the credit to her daughter and tells the story of the life-altering experience on her blog in the article titled “And the Emmy Goes to...” Donna has also suffered the loss of her mother and father but has never quite experienced grieving the way she has since the death of her daughter.

Donna does speaking engagements about grief and hopes her words and writings will inspire those who are suffering and missing the people they love. To read Donna’s blog visit www.donnaterrell.tv.

Affiliate Program Help Centering help grievers you know...

With this program, you gain commissions without the trouble of keeping inventory, processing orders, or shipping packages. It’s a free program open to all kinds of web sites.

For more info or to sign up, visit www.centering.org/affiliate

©Grief Digest Magazine–www.griefdigestmagazine.com –36–

credits “A picture is worth a thousand words” is more than just a quotation. We are proud to present the illustrations (credited below) which add such beauty and elegance to the wonderful words of our contributors. We are so grateful for the abundant talent that has been given to this magazine, and we know that their amazing gifts will bless and enrich many lives.

Magazine design and layout by Janet Sieff, Centering Corporation.

Reprint Policy: We love it when you like our material well enough to pass it on to others, but we’d really appreciate your letting them know where you found it. There is no charge to reprint material from Grief Digest, but we do require that you include the words, “Reprinted with permission from Grief Digest, Centering Corporation, Omaha, Nebraska, 866-218-0101.” Also, please don’t change anything in the copy you are reprinting. Thank you for your continued support and your cooperation.

Color eMagazine: Do to printing costs, the full-color Grief Digest edition is available at www.griefdigestmagazine.com. For weekly articles, author updates, promotional coupons, and same great content, visit Grief Digest online!

Grief Digest is a Centering Corporation Resource The Centering Corporation was founded in 1977 by Joy and Dr. Marvin Johnson, National Presenters. We started out with nine little coloring books for hospitalized children and a couple of workshops for nurses. Today we have over 150 of our own grief resources for children and adults, My Friends Emotion Dolls, a Memory Bag for children and five videos. Pictured are Nick Sieff, Kelsey Novacek, Janet Sieff, and Ben Schroeder.

www.centering.org To order contact: Grief Digest Magazine, PO Box 4600, Omaha, NE 68104 Phone: 1-866-218-0101 Fax: 402-553-0507 Email: CenteringCorp@aol.com $30.00 Annually/Quarterly Magazine – Code: 3PEC $24.95 Renewal (no resource package) – Code: 1PRC $49.90 2-year subscription – (resource package) – Code: 2PRC Subscribers get a 10% discount on all Centering Corporation orders while active.

www.griefdigestmagazine.com

Non-Profit Org U.S. Postage PAID Omaha, NE Permit #1423 PO Box 4600 Omaha, NE 68104 Phone: 866-218-0101

www.centering.org www.griefdigestmagazine.com

Sprint 2013 $7.95 US Funds