Wendy Selene dissertation

Institute for Clinical Social Work

Young Adult Parent Loss: An Exploratory Study

A Dissertation Submitted to the Faculty of the Institute for Clinical Social Work in Partial Fulfillment for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

By Wendy Selene

Chicago, Illinois June, 2020

Abstract

This retrospective study of parent loss in emerging adulthood describes essential meanings related to the loss and its ongoing aftereffects for the participants. The respondents were between the ages of 19 and 28 at the time of parent loss, and came to the study 12 to 17 years post-loss, allowing for reflective wisdom about their experience.

Using the hermeneutic phenomenology of van Manen, thematic analysis yielded two findings that emerged from transcripts with 12 in-person semi-structured interviews of six participants. The participants each experienced a shattering of their young adult Dream, a developmental step in which one imagines oneself into the adult world. The Dream is experienced as fragile until realized. Some young adult Dreams required the physical presence of the parent, while others did not. Those Dreams that did require the presence of the parent remained the more difficult to reimagine over time. The emerging adults were also confronted with how to adapt their worldview to include the loss of their parent. Those who did had a better resolution of loss, illustrated by moving forward with their lives into satisfying work and life partnerships. Some attempted to reinterpret the loss as compatible with their already existing view, as a way to reduce distress, which led to more limited outcomes. Others were still negotiating their worldview, which as yet felt incompatible with the circumstances surrounding the loss, and which led to persistent ongoing bereavement they were processing at the time of the study.

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For Jim, Kelly, Jason and Nelly

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Acknowledgements

I thank my dissertation chair, Michelle Sweet, Ph.D., for the focused conversations that enabled me to become clear on themes as they emerged. Committee members Barbara Berger, Ph.D. and Erika Schmidt, LCSW also helped steer this project with unfailing confidence.

I would like to also extend my appreciation to Ray Miata and Alison Hamilton who offered me the tools to change course when it was needed.

Finally, I would like to express my gratitude to the study participants who generously gave of themselves. ~WS

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Table of Contents

Page Abstract…………………………………… ……………………………………..……ii Acknowledgements……………...………………………………………………..……..iv List of Tables……………...…………………………………………………...……….viii Chapter I.

Introduction…………………………………………………………………1 General Statement of Purpose Significance for Clinical Social Work Statement of the Problem and Objectives Research Questions to be Explored Theoretical and Operational Definitions Statement of Assumptions Epistemological Foundation Foregrounding

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Table of Contents--Continued

Chapter II.

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Literature Review……………………………………......…………………..…13 Young Adult Development Hermeneutic Approach to Development Shift in the Clinical View of Mourning Young Adult Parent Loss Memoirs of Young Adult Parent Loss

III.

Methods……………………………......……………………………...…………46 Introduction Research Sample Research Design Data Collection Plan for Data Analysis Ethical Considerations Issues of Trustworthiness Limitations and Delimitations The Role and Background of the Researcher

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Table of Contents--Continued

Chapter IV.

Page

Findings……………......………………………………………..………….……58 Introduction to Findings Transitions and Vital Conjunctures Themes If Only . . . The Interrupted Story The Experience of Liminal Space Resolution of the Vital Conjuncture

V.

Conclusions and Implications……………………….………………..…..100 Assessment of the Study Conclusions and Implications Further Research

Appendices A.

Informed Consent Forms…………………………………………………119

B.

Complete List of Codes……………………………………………………122

References………………………………….......……………………………..…….125

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List of Tables

Table

Page

1. Participant Data……………..…………………………………………………..……..65

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Chapter I

Introduction

General Statement of Purpose This study proposes a retrospective exploration of life transitions for emerging adults who have experienced parent loss. Most existing research on parent loss focuses on children who lost parents between birth and age 18, thereby underrepresenting the subjective experiences of young adults past the age of emancipation. With my phenomenological study, I hope to elicit a small number of richly detailed descriptions and retrospective reflections from respondents regarding their transitions into adulthood.

Young adulthood bridges childhood and full adulthood. This transition period is often characterized by the ability to develop one’s own approach to living in the world. One develops this approach by exploring a newfound independence, specifically via making choices to (a) live outside the family home, (b) pursue a career of one’s choosing, and (c) find a life partner.

This study intends to understand the mourning experiences of people who have lost a parent or parents during the developmental period of young adulthood. I hope to help clinicians and researchers better understand how emerging adults progress after the loss of a parent to accomplish the following:

2 1.

Navigate life transitions . . .

2.

Use others . . .

3.

Make meaning from their experiences . . .

4.

Bring understanding to their vulnerabilities and resiliences . . .

5.

Mourn . . .

Significance for Clinical Social Work This retrospective study focuses on a population that is clinically significant for the social worker. Parental death during the young adult period carries far-reaching ramifications. Young adults encounter major life transitions such as (a) moving out of the family home, (b) finding meaningful work, and (c) developing meaningful relationships.

The vulnerabilities and resiliences that typically emerge during these transitions fundamentally change when one experiences the loss of a parent.

Relevant findings of empirical research should inform clinical intervention with this population. Bringing greater understanding to the issues surrounding the life transitions of this demographic after parent loss adheres to social work principles. This study will contribute to the social-work knowledge base by providing a richly detailed in-depth account of specific aspects of the experience of transitions for young adults after parent loss.

Statement of the Problem and Objectives to Be Achieved Arnett (2004) described the developmental period between ages 18 and 29 as

3 “emerging adulthood.” As young adults separate from home and establish an independent household, certain markers of adulthood typically take shape, including: 1.

Choice of college and profession . . .

2.

Marriage . . .

3.

Parenthood . . .

4.

Financial self-sufficiency . . .

These developmental tasks help young adults negotiate a new, more equal relationship

with their parents. They need to strike a balance between establishing a distance between their parents—which both parent and child recognize and respect—and maintaining enough closeness to feel safe. As they reorganize these relationships, young adults must mourn the loss of childhood. These tasks, already difficult, become especially challenging in the instance of parent loss. The child needs the parent to process and mourn the loss of childhood, but the parent is absent, and the absence entails its own mourning that the child must process.

My research found only seven studies that address parent loss in emerging adulthood, along with how emerging adults navigate life transitions while mourning parental death.

In these studies, most participants were college students. Balk (1997) finds that for a significant number of college students seeking professional help, unresolved bereavement is the presenting problem. Only 11 percent of Americans lose a parent before age 20 (Comfort Zone Camp and New York Life Foundation, 2010). Thus, most college students lack the personal experience to fully empathize with classmates affected by parent loss.

Tyson-Rawson (1996) finds that college women experiencing father loss found an unsympathetic peer environment. Meanwhile, Janowiak and others (1995) note the

4 difficulty of starting a parent-loss therapy group because affected students feared sharing their emotions. Johnson (2009) finds that grieving students feel isolated because of the lack of understanding of their peers, and most wish to return to a feeling of normalcy as soon as possible.

Young adults often return home after the loss of a parent to participate in caregiving for the surviving parent and siblings. McGoldrick and Walsh (2004) find that young adults not yet in permanent relationships might find parent loss particularly difficult because they feel less able to claim their need for autonomy. Gordon (1986), TysonRawson (1993), and Johnson (2009) note the risk of parent loss to the young adult’s ability to fulfill desires and goals. Young adults have a healthier bereavement when given the support of family members with whom they can talk. Some of Tyson-Rawson’s (1993) research participants (a) received inadequate information about the circumstances of the parent’s death, (b) lacked emotional support, or (c) faced unrelenting demands during the initial period of loss; these participants were more likely to use failed strategies in the mourning process.

Many of Tyson-Rawson’s study participants were unequipped for parent loss and struggled to navigate young adulthood. However, some found a well of resilience that propelled them forward. We need more research on the impact of parent loss on youngadult transitions, including the experience of vulnerability and use of coping strategies and adaptations.

Researchers have compiled a large body of work regarding parent loss before the age of 18. The child-subjects of these studies share similarities with emerging adults.

However, the tasks of childhood developmental differ sharply from those of young

5 adulthood. At the age of 18, one reaches adult status in the U.S., where society widely assumes that emerging adults can complete developmental tasks without the help of parents.

Families experience some developmental disorganization when accommodating the emerging-adult child’s need for autonomy; parent loss exacerbates this disorganization and further complicates young adult transitions. Existing research does not sufficiently represent the voices of the young adult demographic.

This study assumes that after a parent’s death, all emerging adults mourn the loss of that parent, and that each person experiences mourning in her own way. With this research, I intend to gather rich, descriptive narratives from participants who lost a parent in emerging adulthood—with the loss having occurred at least five years prior to participation in this study. I hope to discover what vulnerabilities and resiliences participants experienced in their life transitions, and what meanings they made of their mourning experiences. The findings will be directly relevant to clinicians and researchers, as well as lay persons interested in this subject.

Research Questions I designed the following research questions to orient interpretation of participant narratives.

1.

What is the experience of losing a parent during emerging adulthood? . . .

2.

Which transitions activate the phenomenon of mourning in emerging adults? . . .

3.

How do emerging adults experience vulnerability after parent loss? . . .

4.

How do emerging adults experience resilience after parent loss? . . .

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5.

How do emerging adults make use of others after losing a parent? . . .

6.

How do emerging adults experience transitions after parent loss? . . .

Theoretical and Operational Definitions The following theoretical and operational definitions of major concepts will be used in the research: Emerging adult: Jeffrey Arnett developed the concept of emerging adulthood in 2004.

Arnett considered emerging adulthood to be the “. . . age of identity explorations, especially in the areas of love and work.” This is a time of instability but also excitement about life’s possibilities. Arnett describes it as dividing adolescence and adulthood, between the ages 18 and 29, with a focus on the age range of 18 to 25. This range partially includes two of Erikson’s life stages: adolescence (13-19 years) and young adulthood (20-39 years); however, with Arnett the period lacks the conflict-driven nature of Erikson’s model. Instead, to Arnett, “emerging adult” focuses on developmental tasks, such as forays into independent living outside the family home, and choosing (a) a career, (b) a life partner, and (c) an overall approach to living life. In this study, the term specifically relates to the exploration of the experiences of life transitions during the developmental period of 18 to 29 years of age.

Young adult: “Young adult” refers to the individual’s chronological age, specifically between 18 and 29. This study uses “young adult” interchangeably with “emerging adult.”

7 Transitions: “Transitions” refers to embarking on a new endeavor such as moving into a living space outside the family home, or starting (a) college, (b) a new job, or (c) a new romantic relationship.

Parent loss: Parent loss indicates the death of a parent, not abandonment or divorce.

Mourning: Three contemporary theories provide the basis for how this study uses the term “mourning”: (a) George Hagman’s term “new mourning,” Robert Neimeyer’s meaning-reconstruction approach, and (c) Stroebe and Schut’s dual-process model. All three theories are compatible with the research questions and assumptions of this study.

Hagman (2016) views loss as an experience of disruption of self-organization.

Hagman defines mourning from a self-psychology perspective, utilizing an internal and external relationship orientation. When mourning a loss, one requires the active engagement of helpful others, as well as the affirmation of the lost person; on this latter count, the bereaved must transform the departed into an internal sustaining presence.

Hagman sees mourning as the work of self-reorganization, an ongoing process that continues throughout one’s life. Hagman considers all responses to loss as a form of mourning, while recognizing that one may be using failed strategies.

Neimeyer (2002) views loss as narrative disruption. Mourning is defined as the attempt to reconstruct a world of meaning following a loss. One accomplishes reconstruction by first relearning a sense of self (this occurs when one understands the story of the lost object’s death), and second, by rewriting the departed’s life story in a way that imbues the loss with meaning. Neimeyer differs from Hagman in that Neimeyer sees a correlation between the inability to find meaning in the loss and persistent complicated grief.

8 Stroebe and Schut (1999) focus on the dynamic process of mourning. This perspective defines mourning as a dialectical process that oscillates between two types of coping: loss-oriented and restoration-oriented. Loss-oriented coping moves away from the external world while experiencing the difficult emotions associated with loss.

Restoration-oriented coping involves disconnecting from painful emotions in order to attend to the changes in the mourner’s external world, such as the need to learn new skills and roles. Stroebe and Schut posit that this oscillation helps titrate two needs: the need to experience painful emotions, and the need to master new tasks and roles in the world.

Over time, this dual dynamic leads to a healthier resolution of mourning.

Hagman sees mourning as a process sustained throughout life. Similarly, this study assumes that all participants who lost a parent in emerging adulthood experience manifestations of mourning. Stroebe and Schut’s dialectical model emphasizes the need to examine how participants have titrated grieving and learning new skills and roles because of the loss. Hagman and Neimeyer both see loss as causing disruptions, either to self-organization (requiring helpful inner and outer objects), or to the individual’s life narrative (requiring the work of meaning-making).

Statement of Assumptions The research will use the following assumptions: 1.

The phenomenon under study is the experience of transitions in emerging adulthood after parent loss . . .

9 2.

All participants who lost a parent in emerging adulthood are experiencing manifestations of mourning (using contemporary definitions of mourning as an ongoing process unique to each individual) . . .

3.

The loss of a parent has emotional, psychological, and social impacts on the lived experience of the emerging adult, and these impacts are evident in the narratives of participant life transitions . . .

4.

The discipline of phenomenology explores first-person meanings made from the experience of: i. Events . . . ii. Objects . . . iii. The self . . . iv. Others . . . v. The passage of time in our “life-world� . . .

5.

Van Manen’s (1990) method of hermeneutic phenomenology allows one to study personal meanings, assuming study participants can articulate meaning through the exploration of memories and reflection on experiences. . . .

6.

Studies have found that individuals re-imagine their life stories successively over time to create and maintain a sense of (a) coherence, (b) integrity, and (c) identity.

Participants of this study, who will be at least five years removed from parent loss, will present with less of the immediate rawness of loss, and will have had time to reflect on the loss and its meanings. . . .

10 7.

An interview format that supports a deepening of memory and reflection over time is appropriate for discovering the experience of emerging adults who experience transitions after parent loss. . . .

Epistemological Foundation The hermeneutic phenomenological approach, which van Manen (1990) terms “. . . human science for an action-sensitive pedagogy” comes out of the philosophical traditions of Husserl and Heidegger (1977). Husserl originated the study of phenomenology. His transcendental phenomenology (1970) holds that to reach the essence of a phenomenon in the “lived world,” one must transcend one’s natural attitude, which includes personal prejudices and opinions, to see true reality. Heidegger, a disciple of Husserl’s, developed hermeneutic phenomenology, which eschews the notion that one can suspend personal opinions, and instead focuses on the subjective reality of study participants. It attempts to reveal the life world as experienced through participants’ personal narratives, and seeks to understand how individuals interpret their lives and make meaning out of their experiences.

Hermeneutic phenomenology is ideally suited for research concerned with transitions after parent loss in emerging adulthood. This is because a research methodology needs to correspond to the question being asked. Although there are many studies on parent loss, not many concern parent loss in emerging adulthood, particularly regarding the experience of transitions. In addition, this phenomenological study intends to focus on topics previously considered only superficially, or seen as commonplace.

11 In qualitative research, collected data has emergent meaning, rather than prefigured.

Meaning filters through the perspective of the researcher. My retrospective study aims to provide richer and more nuanced data on the phenomena of young adult transitions while mourning parental loss. With this effort, I intend to help guide clinicians respond in more sensitive ways to patient experiences.

Foregrounding I was profoundly awakened to the impact of emerging-adult parent loss by a young man who presented in my office in 2007 at the age of 32. He lost both parents in a car accident when he was 22, during his last semester of college. He was an only child. A distant uncle helped him sell the family home while the young man traveled 1,000 miles back to his university to complete his senior year. After graduation, he had no home to which he could return. He hid out in his fraternity house and spent other nights in his car.

He had enough money from his parents’ life insurance to afford the following: (a) housing, (b) a start to graduate school, or (c) buying clothes for job interviews.

The experience of sudden loss had left him feeling emotionally paralyzed and too vulnerable to find meaningful work. Within two years of graduation he married a fraternity brother’s younger sister. His fraternity brother and his sister came from a large, very involved family. He successfully recreated a family life, but needed significant others to help him process his parent-loss experience. He also needed others to help navigate life transitions common to young adulthood. In his thirties, he sought help in reflecting on the loss, to better uncover and express his varied feelings. The psychoanalytical process allowed him to move his life forward.

12 When I reflected on my patient’s experience, I remembered two other young-adult parent-loss patients who presented in my office in their mid-thirties. One had also lost her mother at age 22. She coped by moving quickly into marriage to avoid feelings of loss and the need to confront life transitions without her parent’s guidance. My other patient’s father died when she was 24. She felt that her father had been her one ally in the entire family. She wondered why she often changed jobs and relationships with friends and significant others. She came to realize that she adapted to the trauma of the parent loss by avoiding the experience of vulnerability that emerged when she attached emotionally to others.

In a memoir about parent loss, Claire Bidwell Smith (2012) echoed some of the transition experiences described by my three patients: I watch my friends, envying the security they feel in their lives. They don’t even realize they feel so safe, but I can see it in the way they try out different career paths and relationships. In the ways they move toward each mile marker with a seeming confidence that it will be there when they arrive. (p.234) I hope this study will unveil the essence of transition experiences of young adults’ post-parent loss, and that the study will benefit (a) researchers, (b) clinicians and (c) those that identify with the experience of loss.

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Chapter II

Literature Review Young Adult Development Many researchers consider development, including young-adult development, within a systems perspective (von Bertalanffy, 1968; Peterfreund & Schwartz, 1971). The system perspective lacks programmed rules for the progression of maturation. Integration occurs through the simultaneous cooperation of multiple subsystems within the context of a given task. Development is both continuous and discontinuous, and cannot be predicted from the previous stage or state. In contrast to Freud, the systems perspective considers development as an ongoing process that does not end at adolescence.

Development continues throughout the adult lifespan as subsystems continue to elaborate and adapt, but researchers differ as to whether changes pertain to adaptation or further structure building. Emde (1985) and Settlage and others (1988) posit that the psyche can accrue new structural components during adulthood. However, Colarusso and Nemiroff (1981) differ, and maintain that psychic development during adulthood only entails the modification of existing structures.

The following researchers view development through the lens of qualitatively distinct developmental stages, similar to progression in child development: (a) Erikson (1950), (b) Vaillant, who also utilized Erikson’s life phases (1977), and (c) Gould (1972).

14 Neugarten (1975) and Colarusso and Nemiroff (1981) moved away from discrete stages into more loosely grouped periods described as (a) early, (b) middle, and (c) late, with specific developmental tasks associated with each third of the adult lifespan.

Settlage (1990) noted that adult development is not initiated by biological maturation, unlike child development, and therefore the sequence of developmental tasks accomplished can vary in age and order and may not include some tasks usually associated with adulthood, such as marriage or child rearing. Settlage took an object relations non-stage process view of development, defined as a function and structureforming process that derived from developmental interaction. Settlage emphasized the idea that development in adulthood occurs via interaction with significant others.

Mahler’s 1974 theory implied a push for autonomy. This implication has been replaced by the assumption that interdependence is a more accurate representation of developmental goals. Some researchers think that parents hold a greater stake in the parent / child bond, and thus parents primarily maintain the ties between themselves and their adult children. More recent studies suggest that both adult children and parents maintain the bonds and contribute to an alteration in its more subtle features, which supports the primacy of interdependence (Cohler & Geyer, 1982). For instance, many adult children choose to live near their parents (Troll, Miller, & Atchley, 1979).

Reciprocal contributions include parents serving as financial resources and providers of childcare, while children give emotional support and companionship (Hill et al., 1970).

Also, adult children can serve as a “cohort bridge,� a link to changing social environments (Hagestad, 1981).

15 Arnett (2004) suggested that emerging adulthood, occurring between ages18 and 29, should be considered a discrete developmental stage in which young people explore and eventually choose (a) intimate, long term partners, (b) meaningful work, and (c) a worldview. Arnett argued that during the last 50 years in the United States, the median age of certain life events has increased dramatically. These life events include (a) getting married for the first time, (b) becoming a parent for the first time, and (c) settling into a career. This increase, Arnett argued, owed to: 1.

The availability of contraception . . .

2.

More years spent in higher education . . .

3.

Greater job opportunities for women . . .

4.

A desire to maintain options for identity . . .

Researchers generally agree that the period of transition to adulthood has extended

over time. This might indicate that the process of moving into adulthood has become more involved; it does not necessarily mean that young adults are developing more slowly than their peers from previous eras. Historical studies of social change and the transition to adulthood (Modell et al., 1978) reveal through census data for white populations in the 1880’s that the permanent movement into one’s own home took place over a similarly protracted period. Due to intervals of domestic and apprentice service, adolescents and young adults moved in and out of the family home.

Today this transition is more concentrated and abrupt as emerging adults leave for (a) school, (b) work, and finally (c) marriage. A large swath of the young-adult population now experiences simultaneous life tasks (Neugarten & Hagestad, 1976). In addition, today the young adult has less expectation to contribute to the income of the family

16 (Greene and Boxer, 1986); this could be an additional factor that helps today’s emerging adult keep identity options open.

Some theorists dispute Arnett’s designation of emerging adulthood as a new developmental stage, and instead consider emerging adulthood as a process, citing an absence of phenomena to support Arnett’s position. Others suggest that stage theory after biological maturity in adolescence has no coherent meaning; and still others see development as non-linear, no matter the age.

Hermeneutic Approach to Development My research requires a discussion of the literature on the hermeneutic approach to development because study participants will all be at least five years removed from parent loss. A reflective approach will establish distance from the raw feeling states that occur directly after parental death. The addition of time also allows for more nuanced reflections and meaning-making that will become apparent in the individuals’ narratives.

Donald Spence’s Narrative Truth and Historical Truth (1982) challenges some basic assumptions about psychoanalysis. Specifically, Spence argues that the creation of a coherent narrative represents the curative factor, rather than a quest for historical truth.

Spence questioned Freud’s view that every effective interpretation must contain a “kernel” of historical truth that is “. . . liberated from its distortions and attachments” (Freud, S.,1937, p. 268).

Spence argued that Freud’s archeological metaphor assumes that analysts work to reconstruct an accurate historical past, instead of searching for narrative truth. Narrative truth is “. . . the criterion we use to decide when a certain experience has been captured to

17 our satisfaction; it depends on continuity and closure and the extent to which the fit of the pieces takes on an aesthetic finality” (Spence, 1982, p. 30). A well-constructed narrative is as valid as any other version of the truth and contributes to the patient’s well-being.

Roy Schafer (1982), another major contributor to the narrative approach, agreed with Spence’s basic points, but also designated a role for theory to construct the story. As the narrative is lived out within the analytic transference, this different experience allows for meaning to be reworked into a new coherent story, co-constructed through analysts’ theoretical orientation and patients’ responses.

Cohler and Hostetler (2003) expand the hermeneutic approach with the idea that human beings rewrite their life stories successively over time to “. . . create and maintain a sense of coherence, integrity and / or identity” (p. 556). The life story is defined as the autobiography in the present, which interprets the experiences of the self and others within relationships and historical events. It points not only to the past but also to actions the person is likely to take in the future. The story is mediated between the teller and the listener, whom we presume influences the teller. The life story gives a sense of personal cohesion and helps manage the tensions that arise in periods of uncertainty.

Lifespan researchers have been interested in how human beings reconstruct their life stories to maintain meaning and coherence. Cohler and Freeman (1993) studied developmental shifts and concluded that: . . . the life course may be better understood as a series of abrupt transformations, with little necessary continuity over time . . . it is difficult to assume a determinate relationship between the experience of self and others in earliest childhood and subsequent experience across the life course. (p. 113)

18 Freeman (1984) notes that the life story utilizes both prospective and retrospective narratives. He reminds us that the narrative can be constructed retrospectively by rewriting it, without a precise differentiation between the fictional and the real. He states further that patterns are not detectable until after the fact, and that we need to read the evidence backwards as well as forwards. Further, he notes that there is an “. . . ineradicable asymmetry between knowledge that derives from looking forward in time and that which comes from looking back. Even if outlines of what is to happen in the future are given, meanings are clearly not” (p.14).

Freeman expressed concerns about the defensive use of coherence. A person can use a narrative to create a fabric of certainty about one’s life. However, one can also become entrapped and frozen in a narrative that is destructive or false. Cohler pointed out that the salient feature of a life story is “narrative intelligibility.” This follows Ricoeur’s (1984) ideas that the narrator’s personal identity factors into the narrative, and that narratives gain believability via plot unity and clarity. Believability does not necessarily mean that the memories are historically accurate. Cohler (1982) noted that memory consists of “. . . present reflections on earlier experiences, successively transformed across childhood and adulthood . . . at any one point in the life course . . . representing a narrative interpretation experienced as internally consistent, leading to successive reorganizations” (pp. 212-213).

The Process of Change Study Group (Stern et al., 1998) also addresses how narratives can be reorganized over time. The group’s observations, growing out of infant research, highlight the procedural aspects of relationships that occur within the therapeutic dyad.

The subsequent theory of therapeutic change relies on a relational, contextual shift that

19 leads to a reorganization of the person’s past to fit with the new context. An alteration in implicit relational knowing creates a new intersubjective environment in which there can be a change in defensive responses, allowing a new narrative to emerge.

Psychic trauma poses unique problems for the creation of narrative coherence.

Subjective experiences of psychic trauma include “. . . being overwhelmed, the sense of having suffered a catastrophe, loss of a sense of security and fears of injury and death” (PDM Task Force, 2006, pp. 100-101). Also, the individual can experience “. . . shock, helplessness, vulnerability and terror” (p. 101). Clinically, this may involve: 1.

Problematic affective states . . .

2.

A shift in cognitive patterns . . .

3.

Somatic experiences . . .

4.

Changes in relational patterns . . .

Possible affective outcomes include anhedonia or an inability to tolerate affective

experience. Cognitive patterns concerned may include (a) feelings of guilt or betrayal, (b) dissociated memory of the trauma, or (c) preoccupation with the trauma. Somatic disturbances may present as (a) sleep disruption, (b) self-medication through substance abuse, or (c) repetitive body experiences related to the sensations at the time of the trauma. Examples of changes in object-relational patterns may consist of a decreased sense of security and / or fear of placing trust in the ongoing presence of primary relationships.

Trauma cannot be integrated into the life story because one experiences trauma outside of chronological time. Although many traumatized people appear to have very good adaptive psychosocial responses, they react to stressors as if they are re-

20 experiencing the original trauma. During the event, the individual’s brain chemistry, under intense affect, undergoes changes that are possibly permanent. These changes inhibit “. . . proper evaluation and categorization of experience” (van der Kolk, 1994).

The memories become dissociated because they are not coded in the brain in the normal way. Under hyperarousal, the memories return only as (a) affect states, (b) somatic sensations, or (c) visual images.

These symptoms exist outside of chronological time and interfere with the individual’s experience of living in the present. Psychoanalytic therapy strives to enable the acquisition of an observing ego. This ego function can help lessen the intensity of the trauma by allowing the individual to reflect on the experience, which also brings in the sense of time.

The hermeneutic approach affirms that narratives can be reconstructed. One of the challenges for people who have experienced trauma is how to incorporate the crisis or experience into a coherent narrative. Contemporary developmental theory, studies of the life narrative and infant studies of implicit relational knowing suggest that through new experiences, narratives can be reconstructed both prospectively and retrospectively, giving continuity and meaning to life experience.

Shifts in the Clinical View of Mourning The clinical view of mourning remained mostly static for a half century after Freud wrote Mourning and Melancholia in 1917. Freud’s original conception of normal mourning involves a profoundly painful experience that one overcomes given time. Freud does not consider it helpful to intervene in an individual’s mourning process, and further

21 posits that intervention could possibly be injurious to the mourner. Freud considers normal mourning as a loss of an unambivalently loved object; this does not include what we now recognize as usual complexities of feeling within our closest relationships.

Therefore, Freud refers to reactions outside of his definition of the normal mourning process to be pathological, such as self-reproach and lowered self-esteem tied to ambivalent feelings.

Freud posits that the normal process of mourning occurs for everyone in proscribed stages. First, one undergoes reality-testing to determine that the loved one no longer exists. Then, the individual withdraws, and, hoping to protect against the immense pain of the loss, initially opposes the demand of reality that “. . . all libido be withdrawn from its attachments to that object” (1917, p. 244).

Over time, the individual submits to the reality of the loss until detachment eventually takes place and the freed ego pursues new object connections. Freud posits in both Totem and Taboo (1912) and Thoughts for the Times on War and Death (1915) that ambivalence exists as an unconscious hostility in all our close relationships. However, in Mourning and Melancholia, Freud persists in giving the mourner’s self-reproaches “a pathological cast” due to ambivalence (Siggins, 1966). Freud saw the work of mourning as completely intrapsychic. Nowhere in Freud’s definition of the normal mourning process does he include the need for helpful others.

In Mourning and Melancholia (1917), Freud viewed the mourning process as coming to an end with the tedious work of hypercathexis of every memory of the lost object and the final act of total decathexis. Twenty years later, at the end of Freud’s life, his views of the permanence of analytic work changed. In Analysis Terminable and Interminable

22 (1937), Freud noted that the analysand’s narrative didn’t end with the termination of the analysis, but would need to be reworked in the face of new challenges. He foreshadowed current thinking about the need for the ongoing reworking of each individual’s mourning narrative over time.

During the last 50 years, reconsideration of the mourning process has slowly led to profound changes in how clinicians work with patients presenting with significant loss.

Although no researchers or analysts deny the significance of intrapsychic dynamics, the conception of mourning now includes social and relational aspects. George Hagman, in his paper “The Role of the Other in Mourning” (1996), clearly articulates the essential importance to the mourning process of surviving love objects and other supportive caregivers.

Hagman quotes Fleming (1972), Furman, (1974), Bowlby (1980), and others who concur with the crucial roles played of significant others in helping the bereaved child or adult cope with loss. Fleming (1972) notes the significance of the pre-loss relationship but also acknowledges the importance of supportive others, particularly the surviving parent. Furman states, “Mourning alone is almost an impossible task even for a mature adult” (1974, p. 114). Bowlby (1980) notes that mourning requires more than the presence of significant others, pointing out that non-helpful others can impede the mourning process. These examples show that contemporary psychoanalytic thinking considers psychological life as both intrapsychic and relational.

Clinicians and researchers have gradually expanded the definition of normal reactions to the loss of a significant other. Deutsch (1937) affirmed Freud’s model of mourning in terms of the economics of psychic energy, and the understanding of grief as a necessary

23 bodily function. For the first half-century of psychoanalysis, grief became the marker of the appropriate response to loss of a love object, and its absence was a predicate to psychological illness.

Siggins (1966) points out the limitations of Freud portraying grief as the only appropriate response to mourning, instead of one of many possible reactions. Siggins notes that in the process of normal mourning, an individual can experience: 1.

Anniversary reactions . . .

2.

Guilt . . .

3.

Anger . . .

4.

Feelings of freedom, relief, and anxiety . . .

5.

Somatic symptoms . . .

Scholars now consider this list incomplete, but it indicates the normal ambivalence

experienced in significant relationships. Shane and Shane (1990) describe how children can be “. . . stifled by the unempathic criticism and unrealistic standards for mourning behaviors” (p. 115), including the need to be seen expressing grief. Contemporary clinicians include all reactions as individual idiosyncratic expressions reflecting the person’s experience of their own mourning process.

Children and young adults do not just experience the loss of the loved object as a separate subjectivity. In the view of self-psychology, a loss is also a selfobject loss including its mirroring and idealizing functions. The bereaved individual may feel a lack of security in relation to their: 1.

Importance . . .

2.

Power . . .

24

3.

Security . . .

4.

Connectedness . . .

Supportive others assist in shaping a compensatory self-structure capable of sustaining

the process of development. Clinicians no longer consider locked or truncated mourning as pathological, but as an expression of mourning. In this instance, the individual’s mourning strategies might not move their psychological life into the present and future.

An individual’s personal narrative has become the contemporary guide for the process of mourning.

Three contemporary theories of mourning are compatible with the study of youngadult transitions after parent loss. These theories emphasize different characteristics of the mourning experience. George Hagman’s theory utilizes a self-psychology perspective. Neimeyer is concerned with narrative disruption. Stroebe and Schut’s dynamic-oscillation approach attends to the need to titrate the mourning process.

George Hagman conceives of mourning as an ongoing, lifelong process. This definition includes the need to reaffirm the experience of the lost other as an internal sustaining presence in all its vicissitudes. Hagman utilizes a self-psychology approach, which acknowledges the importance of helpful others in the process and normalizes the individual’s mourning response: Mourning refers to a varied and diverse psychological response to the loss of an important other. Mourning involves the transformation of the meanings and affects associated with one’s relationship to the lost person, the goal of which is to permit one’s survival without the other, while at the same time insuring a continuing

25 experience of relationship with the deceased. The work of mourning is rarely done in isolation and may involve active engagement with fellow mourners and other survivors. An important aspect of mourning is the experience of disruption in selforganization due to the loss of the function of the relationship with the other in sustaining self-experience.

Thus, mourning involves a reorganization of the survivor’s sense of self as a key function of the process. Finally, and most importantly, I assert that there is rarely a full resolution to mourning. Healthy, normal mourning after bereavement often involves an on-going and vital sense of loss, even painful longing, which can accompany us throughout life. Ultimately each of us responds to bereavement in our own way, and our experience must be understood and respected for who we are, not according to some standard of normalcy” (Hagman, 2016).

Robert Neimeyer, clinical psychologist, defines a central process of mourning as “. . . the attempt to reaffirm or reconstruct a world of meaning that has been challenged by loss” (Neimeyer, 2002). Neimeyer utilizes a constructivist approach, viewing the mourner as “meaning-maker.” Motivated by the fundamental human desire to seek order and significance in our life events, the individual constructs a self-narrative.

Neimeyer perceives meaning reconstruction as a two-fold process intended to first “. . . process the event story of the death in an effort to ‘make sense’ of what has happened and its implications for the survivor’s ongoing life,” and which subsequently allows the individual “. . . to access the back story of the relationship with the loved one as a means of reconstructing a continuing bond” (Neimeyer and Sands. 2011).

26 The event-story narrative focuses on the death itself. It affects the survivor’s sense of life’s meaning and encompasses the areas of body and emotional experience as well as spiritual and philosophic beliefs. The back-story narrative brings up questions concerning reconstructing a sustaining two connections: to the lost other that survives the physical death, and to the lessons of the shared life with the lost other. Neimeyer points to research findings that a higher level of meaning-making predicts greater well-being following loss.

Stroebe and Schut are Dutch clinical psychologists who specialize in bereavement and coping. Their Dual Process Model (1999) focuses on the dynamic process of grief and mourning. They identify two types of stressors, loss- and restoration-oriented, and a dynamic, regulatory coping process of oscillation, whereby the grieving individual at times confronts, at other times avoids, the different tasks of grieving. This model proposes that adaptive coping is composed of confrontation-avoidance of loss and restoration stressors. It also argues the need for dosage of grieving, that is, the need to take respite from dealing with either of these stressors, as an integral part of adaptive coping.

Loss-oriented stressors include: 1.

Accepting the reality of the loss . . .

2.

Experiencing the pain of grief . . .

3.

Adjusting to life without the deceased . . .

4.

Relocating the deceased emotionally . . .

Examples of restoration-oriented stressors include:

1.

Accepting the reality of a changed world . . .

2.

Developing new roles, identities, and relationships . . .

27 3.

Taking time off from the pain of grief . . .

4.

Mastering the changed subjective environment . . .

Stroebe and Schut postulate that oscillation is a necessary dynamic for a more positive

bereavement outcome over time. Their model also suggests that complicated grief can result from a disturbance in the oscillation process wherein the individual cannot take a break from either loss-oriented or restoration-oriented coping.

Young-Adult Parent Loss Young adulthood, for the purposes of this study, occurs between 18 to 29 years of age.

This developmental period is also referred to as emerging adulthood (Arnett, 2004) and extended adolescence (Smith, 2003). All these terms describe a decade-long experience.

Arnett’s use of the term “emergence” indicates a developmental process. Smith’s “extended adolescence” describes a protracted process. This study considers the span between 18 and 29 as developmental and non-linear; thus, some coping strategies and adaptations may be more successful than others.

Emblematic indicators of adulthood occur as young adults move toward separation from home and establishment of an autonomous household. These indicators include the selection of: 1.

College . . .

2.

Profession . . .

3.

Marriage . . .

4.

Movements into parenthood and financial self-reliance . . .

28 Little research exists on parent loss during young adulthood. Seven qualitative studies include young adults who experienced parent loss, but often not exclusively, as these studies include subjects who lost parents prior to young adulthood. These studies are also limited by small sample sizes: five had 4 to10 participants, and two had 18 to 20. The participants were mostly Caucasian women who were college-educated and from the United States or Western Europe.

Less is known about non-college educated men and women, and the experiences of a more racially, ethnically, culturally, and socioeconomically diverse population. Most of the participants in existing literature had not found permanent life partners, so the studies offer no findings of how parent loss in young adulthood affects the choice of life partners.

The studies in question include: 1.

Gordon (1986) . . .

2.

Tyson-Rawson (1993) . . .

3.

Balk (1997) . . .

4.

McGoldrick and Walsh (2004) . . .

5.

Schultz (2000) . . .

6.

Johnson (2009) . . .

7.

Newton (2012) . . .

Parental death during young adulthood has far-reaching ramifications. Young adults

are working on the developmental tasks of separating from dependence on family and shaping a new, more equally balanced relationship with their parents. They need to create enough freedom from their parents to discern parental characteristics with which both

29 children and parents can identify and differentiate, but still preserve enough connectedness to maintain a feeling of security.

As young adults restructure their parental relationships into newer, more interdependent ways of being together, they must mourn their lost childhood. It is far more difficult to integrate those developmental tasks if the young adult still needs the lost parent to work through and mourn the loss, especially if no other useful objects are accessible. Contemporary understanding of young-adult development is that the goal is not full separation, but finding one’s own identity while still maintaining important early relationships.

The pre-loss state of the family impacts the young adult’s ability to successfully negotiate bereavement. Following the loss of a parent, the surviving parent and siblings often need caregiving from the emerging adult, which entails remaining at home for an extended duration. McGoldrick and Walsh (2004) found that families might not recognize the autonomy needs of single young adults. These young adults may risk assuming filial responsibility that jeopardizes their own desires and goals (Gordon, 1986; Tyson-Rawson, 1993; Johnson, 2009).

Separation and loss lead to experiences of disorganization that must precede reorganization (Bowlby, 1980). Young adults have a healthier bereavement when able to talk about the lost parent with family members. Tyson-Rawson (1993) reported an increased likelihood of mourning truncation among subjects who (a) received inadequate information about the lost parent, (b) lacked emotional support, or (c) experienced overwhelming demands during the initial period of loss. In addition, those who felt abandoned by the deceased parent were less likely to trust in new relationships. If a

30 family has difficulty allowing for the normal developmental disorganization inherent in changes in the young adult-parent relationship, a parent death can increase family dysfunction.

Many young adults who experience parental loss are in college and living away from home, far from people who knew the deceased parent. Balk (1997) found that unresolved bereavement is the presenting problem for a significant number of college students seeking professional help. Balk describes this situation as a “hidden reality” on college campuses. Balk also observes that college students who have not experienced the loss of a significant person exhibit both lack of knowledge and apprehension when faced with grieving peers.

Tyson-Rawson (1996) found that many of the women in her study on father loss felt their peer environment was “. . . at least, unsympathetic and, at worst, hostile” (p. 170).

Janowiak and others (1995) speculated that they had difficulty recruiting students for a bereavement group because students were fearful of showing their emotions in front of others.

Schultz (2000) observed that participants in her study did not want to feel different from their peers. Johnson (2009) reports that participants found friends unempathic, leading to feelings of isolation and a need to return to a feeling of normalcy as quickly as possible. Newton (2012) notes young adults rarely show vulnerability to peers, which further complicates grief and mourning. This phenomenon is supported by LeGrand (1986), who suggests that bereavement brings up feelings of shame in adolescents because of their need to belong within their peer groups. A support system, so important in dealing with parent loss, is often not available to college students.

31 Clinicians understand the difference between bereavement and the normal developmental tasks of separation among young adults. Young adults can rejoin their families in new ways when separations evidence the ambivalences of the adults’ relationships with their parents. Separation from a deceased parent also involves the discovery and processing of ambivalences, but the parent is no longer available to titrate this process. For young adults whose parents have died, the memories and identifications with a lost parent can help resolve bereavement and promote new attachments. Youngadult parent loss confronts clinicians with both kinds of separations simultaneously and posthumously, which adds to the difficulty of discerning which developmental process is more at play at a given moment.

As Fleming and Adolph (1986) note: Activity-passivity, pleasure-pain, love-hate, dependency-autonomy are conflicts bereaved people share, and they are also acutely present in each phase of adolescent ego development. In effect, the work of adolescence and the work of grief are similar, for both involve adapting to the loss of cherished objects (either an inner image or a person) both involve coping with changed inner and external realities and both must encounter the ambivalence and conflicts inherent in the phases of separation and loss: protest / searching, disorganization, and reorganization. (p. 102) These dichotomies, which are present in unexplored ambivalences and problematic identifications, can lead to unresolved mourning in the developing young adult who has lost a parent.

Clinicians are also influenced by prevailing theories. The 1980s brought a contemporary feminist critique to Mahler’s (1958) idea that separation-individuation

32 must precede identity formation, and Erikson’s (1950, 1968) concept that identity formation necessarily precedes the capacity for intimacy. Gilligan (1982) theorized that female identity forms through interconnected close relationships, including those with parents. Josselson (1987), in a longitudinal study on women’s identity development, asserts that women find it crucial to preserve parental connectedness while adapting to newer forms of interdependence. This concept, as well as the culturally sanctioned role of women as caregivers, has led some researchers to conclude that parent loss is more difficult for daughters than sons (Newton, 2012).

Benjamin (1999) extends her theory to include men as well as women, stating that self-awareness occurs through recognition of the unique subjectivity of the other. This intersubjective capability for “mutual recognition” is a developmental achievement and is important for the capacity for intimacy, a task of young adulthood. Contemporary theories emphasize the importance of identity formation for interrelatedness of both one’s family and separation needs.

In line with contemporary theory, several researchers (Bagnoli, 2003; Cait, 2008; Newton, 2012) have observed that identity formation is supplemented through memories and imaginary dialogue with the lost parent. Bagnoli (2003) used a constructivist dialogic view of identity formation with the imagined lost other, finding that reconstructing that bond in memory increased a sense of identity in the group of 10 men and women in Great Britain and Italy. Even so, many participants found reconstruction to be “difficult and often painful.”

Cait (2008) finds that when women learn about their mothers’ talents and favorite activities, the relationship to the lost parent is enhanced. This discovery increases

33 identification with mothers in a way that augments identity. Newton (2012) also observes that participants draw on memories of the lost parent to support identity development, and they imagine the relationship as a source of comfort. Young adults still need their parents as significant and useful others, even when deceased, to help form and strengthen their own identities.

The process of identity formation involves crafting life narratives from experience.

Parent-child interactions, as well as peer interactions, help late adolescents create life stories, which they tell to both themselves and others. A feature of the life story is meaning-making, which can be seen in the ways young adults cope with the challenging situation of parent loss. Pre-loss relationships with the parent and experiences after the parent’s death factor into the emerging narrative. Tyson-Rawson (1993), Schultz (2000), and Newton (2012) note that in relation to their peers, participants often report feeling (a) wiser, (b) more mature, and (c) more autonomous. This pertains to the individual’s ability to reorder the importance of life elements, including the awareness of the possibility of future loss. Eight out of 10 participants in Newton’s (2012) study were working or training for work in caring professions, as a way of integrating parent loss into their professional identities.

All young adults in these studies feel that their identities have been permanently affected by the loss and that it required a reorganization of their lives and life views.

Newton reports those who find positive meaning in identity shifts post-loss have better bereavement resolutions than those who did not. Parent loss in young adulthood remains a challenging event across the lifespan, with shifts and adjustments in meaning-making

34 occurring over time. Meaning-making is universal, influenced by many socio-cultural factors including the individual’s: 1.

History . . .

2.

Temperament . . .

3.

Gender . . .

4.

Class . . .

5.

Race . . .

6.

Ethnicity . . .

7.

Religion . . .

Time prominently factors into the resolution of bereavement. Both Bagnoli (2003) and

Balk (1997) note that young adults find grieving more difficult and long-lasting than expected. Retrospective studies (Tyson-Rawson, 1993; Schultz, 2004; Cait, 2008; Newton, 2012) show that a feeling of peace is possible over time, but requires at least three years, and more often eight or ten years. In these studies, participants recognized that they would continue to feel an inner sadness that would not go away, but the sadness did not diminish their ability to experience happiness on a daily basis. Most anticipate developmental moments in the future in which further mourning would be necessary; for example, one daughter anticipated not having her father give her away at her wedding (Tyson-Rawson, 1993).

Other research subjects recognized that they would miss the opportunity for an adultto-adult relationship with the lost parent. Bereavement is never entirely over. Certain inevitable moments in life necessitate the reworking of earlier losses. These moments include (a) anniversaries of the parent’s death, (b) poignant moments with grandchildren

35 the parent will never know, and (c) personal development of qualities that the parent would have shared. The mourning process also depends on a person’s inborn temperament and ability to tolerate the pain of grieving. Parent loss remains a feature of one’s narrative across the lifespan.

Memoirs of Young-Adult Parent Loss Clinicians can understand young adults’ descriptions of experiences before, during, and after parental death as important contributions to existing literature. Dorothy Gallagher (2002), in a New York Times article, called the act of writing memoirs “problem solving.” Memoirs are narratives that young adults can use to problem-solve life-altering experiences. As constructed stories, narratives rely on an individual’s memories, usually at some distance from the events and images under review. Parent loss in young adulthood has special developmental implications because young adults are on the verge of entering adulthood and consolidating their adult identities. Narratives present an opportunity to reflect one’s psychological experience. Memoirs privilege narrative over historical truth. Spence (1982) and Schafer (1992) both emphasize the narrative as that which gives the writer’s story cohesion and meaning.

To better understand the power of memoir, we can consider three memoirs that attempt to solve parent loss and its defining qualities: (a) A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers (2000), (b) The Rules of Inheritance by Claire Bidwell Smith (2012), and Walking the Night Road: Coming of Age in Grief by Alexandra Butler (2015). All these authors were emerging adults when they lost both

36 parents. They wrote their memoirs between five and nine years after the loss of the second parent.

All three memoirs explore the period of loss in the author’s life, highlighting relationships with significant others and their own internal experience of grief and mourning. The experiences of loss take shape in regard to (a) quality of the pre-loss bond with the parents, (b) emotional and physical support available for caretaking of the dying parent, and (c) relational shifts that occur with the surviving parent. Additional affected relationships include (a) filial, (b) romantic, and (c) peer. The authors’ responses of grief and mourning ranged from manic defenses and feelings of vulnerability to the discovery of resiliences and the movement into meaning-making. In addition, the memoirs explore identifications with the deceased parents, including aspects of the authors’ eventual choice of professions.

Each of the three memoirs refers to the pre-loss relationships with the author’s parents. Eggers’ memoir gives the least detail, referring briefly, but vividly, to his father’s heavy smoking and the terror of his drunken rages. Of his mother, Eggers remembers that she directed plays at his school and for kids going through difficulty, she had an “. . . effortless kind of understanding” (p. 15).

Eggers also recalls the joy of making his mother laugh. Her laugh stopped Eggers’ constant rumination over his mother’s decision to remain with his father, and her denial about the family’s darker issues. In this regard, her laugh stood out in Eggers’ mind; in fact, he found “. . . no greater thing, no achievement so great, so stirring” (p. 404). What originated as his effort to make his mother laugh became an adaptation in the form of manic defenses that Eggers employed as a response to parent loss.

37 Butler had a deeply enmeshed relationship with her mother, who had also lost her mother. Butler says, “As soon as I could coo, she started soliciting my advice” (p.12) and, “I thought being close meant helping someone dig themselves out of self-loathing” (p.

13). These descriptions suggest early parentification, a process whereby the child feels obligated to exchange roles with the parent. Butler’s mother idolized her famous father but felt like a victim around him, believing his life and needs always superseded hers.

Late in her mother’s illness, Butler realized that her mother was projecting her own critical, rejecting voice onto her father. Her mother’s triangulating advice to “. . . not expect too much from him” (p. 32) prevented Butler from having a normative Oedipal idealization of her father, something she later experienced during the six years between the death of her parents.

Even after Smith’s mother received a diagnosis of stage-four colon cancer, she wanted her daughter—at that point aged 14—to have a normal childhood. Smith experienced her mother as (a) supportive, (b) comforting, and (c) being a good listener, all of which helped Smith develop a sense of self. However, the two never had frank discussions about the mother’s impending death. Smith writes about waking her mother up in the middle of the night to read her newly written poems and crying over choosing a college far away from home. Yet, Smith’s mother never connected these events to her illness.

Smith writes vividly about her horror of the bodily ravages of her mother’s illness.

However, neither Smith nor her mother linked these reactions to her mother’s impending death.

All three writers talked about their experiences of caring for their dying parents. They also discussed whom gave them support during that time. Eggers does not mention his

38 father participating in the care of his mother, who died from stomach cancer about 18 months after her diagnosis. Eggers’ sister deferred law school for a year to care for her mother and help with Toph, Eggers’ seven-year-old brother.

Eggers’ father was diagnosed with lung cancer a few weeks before his wife’s death, but he continued to work until four days before he died. His illness progressed so quickly that when Eggers came home from college to see his father shortly before the diagnosis, Eggers did not realize that it would be their last visit. Eggers’ mother lived for another six weeks. Eggers spent time on college breaks taking over his mother’s care, relieving his sister. He describes his mother’s illness in graphic terms, struggling with his responses to her physical deterioration, while still doing what was necessary. Most of Eggers’ memoir concerns the time after both parents’ deaths when, at age 22, he assumed the role of primary caregiver for his eight-year-old brother, Toph.

Butler, also in her early twenties, received the most family support from her three half-sisters from her father’s first marriage. She felt that she could truly be herself around these siblings. Her father was less supportive. After her mother’s initial diagnosis of a stage-four brain tumor, Butler notes, “My father played the hero” (p. 73). He initially thought he could find a way to save Butler’s mother. When he realized that wasn’t possible, he was emotionally unable to remain at her side and found reasons to travel for work so he wouldn’t have to be present.

Butler’s mother’s anger came to the fore and she pulled Butler closer to her and denigrated her father. Her father became preoccupied with needing money for her mother’s care. He shamed Butler for her own anger with him. Butler felt pulled between two people who no longer had a nuanced way of seeing their worlds. For the first eight

39 months, Butler did not leave her mother for more than two hours at a time, unless her father was home and her mother was sleeping. Butler notes, “I was turning into someone else, a person who had little to offer. I was . . . living at home . . . a loser. I could see no future . . . the world had shrunk down to my strange, contorted mother” (p. 53).

While trying to suppress her feelings of anger and any wishes and dreams for herself, Butler eventually reached a breaking point. “I became a beast attempting to be human,” she writes, “praying I could bring her through this without tearing her to shreds” (p. 70).

After several weeks trying to be heroic without sleep, she turned to a private caregiver.

Her father suggested she visit one of her half-sisters, who encouraged Butler to try antidepressants to prompt sleep.

As she left more of her mother’s care to the caregiver, Butler started graduate school in social work, pursuing the same career as her mother, even attending her mother’s alma mater. After beginning her first field placement in a psych ward, Butler began cutting herself. She realized she wanted help from her father. Her mother had told her she had to do something dramatic to get her father’s attention. Butler called him and he came to her placement. At that point, she and her father began to have a caring relationship. Later in the course of the illness, her mother’s anger subsided, and her father stayed more in her mother’s presence. For the next two months, the family worked well together, supporting Butler’s mother in her last days.

In contrast, Smith was not asked by her parents to be a caretaker for her mother, presumably to try to give her what they considered to be a normal life. Caretaking was provided by her father and to some degree her mother’s sister and Smith’s half-sister. In addition, Smith was hindered in her ability to contribute to caretaking because of her

40 powerful repulsion to her mother’s illness. About six weeks before her mother died, Smith tried to express some things that one would say at the end of a loved one’s life. She expected her mother to respond with soothing words, but her mother instead asked for help with a bedpan.

Smith writes: I can’t shake the idea that she is rotting from the inside out, like a piece of fruit . . . I am afraid to touch her. I miss her beauty; miss her tanned, fit form. I’m sick of her sutures and her colostomy bag. I don’t like her cracked lips or her scaly feet. This creature is not my mother. (p. 16) Smith’s father finally tells her that her mother is dying, two weeks before her death.

Her father asks that she take a turn caring for her mother during the night; she forgets and takes a sleeping pill, but hours later she wakes up long enough to comfort her mother.

Her father then calls her at college to say her mother will die within days, but that her mother and he decided she should stay at school, again avoiding the experience of finality. Smith tells her father she is coming to be with her mother, but stops at a friend’s house, drinks vodka, and falls asleep, missing her mother’s death. When her father dies five years later, Smith sits at his bedside, conscious she was not able to be present with her mother.

The authors all had experiences with the surviving parent, but in the case of Eggers, the time was short and provided no new revelations about his relationship with his mother. Butler and Smith each had about five years with the surviving parents: their fathers. Butler noted that after she lost her mother, she began to let her father in. If her mother had not died first, Butler felt she would never have had the closeness she

41 eventually felt with her father. She came to see that she was temperamentally more like her father than she had realized. She experienced a new joy when she “. . . knew to lose myself in being with my dad” (p. 142).

Smith also described her “. . . deep dark secret” (p. 67) of being happy that her mother died first. Her father’s war stories, which her mother had disregarded, inspired Butler.

She marveled at how he gave himself over to a larger cause. She also learned he could be comfort her as she grieved.

Relationships with peers and significant others become complicated in the wake of parent loss. Eggers took on the primary care of his eight-year-old brother, Toph. He looked forward to times when he could experience the freedom of his twenty-something peers, yet suffered from fantasies of harm befalling Toph shortly after leaving him with a babysitter. This indicates complex issues of guilt and fear of further loss. Eggers sought out the company of his peers, celebrating the resilience of youth and laughter over the decay of aging. This included sexual contact. He frequently forgot to use condoms, which indicates a manic defense against his own vulnerability.

In contrast, Butler found her life out of synch with those of her peers. Most of them were busy with graduate school and seemed unable to understand her losses They said that under the circumstances, she “. . . seemed well considering.” Butler writes that she “. . . wanted to be attractive enough so I would not be abandoned. I couldn’t stand one more ounce of solitude” (p. 154).

Smith, like Butler, found it difficult to engage with her friends from high school. She writes, “I am no longer the girl they once knew” (p. 198). When friends asked how she was doing, Smith lied and said she was fine. She noticed that bringing up mother-loss

42 with new acquaintances made others feel uncomfortable, stopping conversations. This echoes research findings that peer relationships in young adulthood helps one escape feelings of loss, but these relationships do not help one achieve deeper understanding.

Both Butler and Smith moved in with abusive men shortly after the death of their mothers. Butler realized she chose that relationship because the man overpowered her like her mother did, and that she needed the warm body of another enmeshed relationship because “. . . to lie alone in bed was to lie with Mother” (p.127). Smith’s family endured financial loss as well as emotional loss, needing to move and re-home two older, beloved family dogs.

Smith’s boyfriend, Colin, lost a sister to murder. The couple felt that they were “. . . the only two people in the world who get it” (p. 65). “I am often scared of Colin,” Smiths writes. “(He) loves me the way you love a child: ferociously and with a sense of propriety. I had the need not only to be loved, but to be owned” (pp. 108-109). In the absence of mourning, she desires to replace the lost parent, specifically by feeling overpowered and owned.

Eggers, Butler, and Smith varied between exhibiting manic defenses and moments of vulnerability and grief. Eggers notes that losing both parents in young adulthood brought up thoughts about being chosen, and that the world owed him attention and reward. He used alcohol and sex to avoid feelings. He fantasized that he and Toph could survive a 60-miles-per-hour car crash because “. . . seconds before impact; we would look at each other knowingly” and jump to safety (p. 55). With Toph, Eggers notes, “There must be noise . . . music and games. No silence” (p. 58). These distractions allowed both brothers to avoid grief.

43 Butler’s greatest use of manic defense was framing her care for her mother as being on “. . . this great spiritual pilgrimage to help my mother die” (p. 63). Smith, like Eggers, used alcohol and medications given to her by her father. In addition, she created dangerous situations for herself, imagining that her mother would magically appear to help her at the moment of crisis. She had to continually relearn the truth of her motherloss.

All these manic defenses were interwoven with feelings of vulnerability. Eggers worried his family seemed “grotesque” and “pathetic,” and worried he’d be punished by the world for his carelessness in not using condoms and die young. Butler derided herself for feeling left out and helpless. Her self-esteem plummeted without the presence of her mother. She writes, “. . . because they loved me so, I had assumed I had earned it. But now it occurred to me they would have loved any child born to them. My sense of uniqueness fell away” (p. 128).

All three writers experienced mourning in their own individual ways. Eggers’ memoir hinted at a lessening of manic defenses when he finally accepted that he could not save a suicidal friend. He also expressed a belief that his mother was not ready to die. He would endeavor to live life fully each day, so that he would feel content and grateful at the time of his own death. Eggers openly expresses his opposing feelings but seems unable to integrate them at the time of the memoir’s publication. Although much of the manic content concerns his time with his brother, it was a generous act for a young adult to take on eight-year-old Toph’s primary care. It was also an identification with his father, and it held the opportunity for Eggers to give his brother what Eggers lacked in his own experience. Eggers’ memoir ends early in his mourning process.

44 Butler’s memoir illustrates a more developed mourning process. She no longer tries to replace her mother with other enmeshed relationships. She needed to separate from her mother, thereby creating enough distance to discover her mother as a discrete human being with faults, but who ultimately accepted Butler. Butler states, “. . . we all in some way fail the ones we love” (p. 163). She recognizes a parent’s weaknesses can be a gift.

Butler identified with both parents in her ability to write about them, and in her choice of career.

Like Butler, Smith entered a clinical psychology program that required personal psychotherapy. She replaced alcohol use with hot baths, and finally allowed herself to experience the pain she had long concealed. She writes, “I had stopped growing. Stopped imagining. Stopped becoming” (p. 250), and “I started to find new places within myself, that exist beneath the pain” (p. 256). She recognized that losing a loved one leaves a permanent scar, but one learns how to live with the loss through life transitions.

Through her writing and choice of profession, Smith identifies with her father as a storyteller and a person who served others. Her work as a bereavement counselor guides others through what she calls “. . . one of the loneliest experiences” in life (p. 286).

Newton (2012) reported young adults choosing careers in the helping professions after losing a parent. Consistent with this, Butler and Smith became psychotherapists and Eggers founded a tutoring center for disadvantaged youth.

The three memoirs explore the life-altering event of parent loss in young adulthood.

The writing is not autobiographically linear, but goes back and forth in time, pulling out and scrutinizing moments that bring cohesion and meaning to the author’s narrative. The narratives explore the trauma not only as an outer event involving significant others, but

45 as a journey of self-awareness. Each writer’s (a) family history, (b) individual temperament, and (c) developmental stage affects the story in nuanced ways.

The memoirs identify substantive themes in the authors’ relationships with significant others before, during, and after parent loss. Additional themes include (a) internal experiences of grief, mourning, identifications, and vulnerability, (b) resilience, and (c) meaning-making. In working to incorporate the trauma of loss into their life stories, the writers reconstruct memories from the past as well as pointing prospectively toward a reconstructed future. The narrative is then incorporated into their adult identity, helping them move forward.

46

Chapter III

Methods

Introduction This study assumes that parental death in emerging adulthood carries far-reaching implications that are (a) emotional, (b) psychological, and (c) social. By eliciting rich descriptions and reflections from respondents about their life transitions after parent-loss during the developmental period of emerging adulthood, this study aims to shed more light on: 1.

Vulnerability . . .

2.

Resilience . . .

3.

Use of others . . .

4.

Meaning-making . . .

Given the aims of this project, hermeneutic phenomenology as defined by van Manen (1990) provides an ideal approach to research.

Research Sample In phenomenological research, all participants must have experienced the phenomenon being studied (Cresswell, 2007). Individuals chosen through purposive sampling can best contribute to an understanding of the research questions and phenomenon to be explored. This study, which aims to understand the lived experience of

47 participants who lost a parent during emerging adulthood, is an excellent fit for purposive sampling.

The sample size for this study will fall between five and seven respondents. A feature that distinguishes phenomenological analysis is its commitment to a deep interpretive account of each participant, which can only be accomplished with a small sample (Smith, 2015). Two to three in-depth interviews per person will help participants develop the familiarity and trust required to share meaningful reflections. In qualitative phenomenological studies, data saturation occurs via “. . . how many times the phenomenon makes its presence in the description� (Giorgi, 2009, p. 198). For this type of research, a sample size of five to seven is considered sufficient for data saturation.

Local clergy, consisting of one rabbi and two ministers, have agreed to assist in identification and recruitment for the study by contacting specific members of their congregations and informing them about the research. I will familiarize these clergy will study methods and participant requirements. The clergy will make initial contact with potential participants. Only when those individuals express interest in participation will I contact them.

I will choose study participants who are / were: 1.

Members of any gender, race, or ethnic demographic . . .

2.

Between the ages of 18 and 29 at the time of parent loss, which fits the study’s definition of emerging adulthood . . .

3.

Between the ages of 23 and 50 during my research. The lower age parameter is meant to ensure that the study participants will be at least five years post-parent loss. The upper age parameter is imposed for two reasons: First, individuals

48 beyond age 50 may have experienced a generational shift with different life tasks beyond the scope of this study; second, participants beyond age 50 may have surpassed the age of the parent at the time of the parent’s death. It is assumed that while one is younger than the age of the parent when the parent died, one can imagine needing parents. Beyond that age, it is unclear whether individuals will share that experience. . . .

4.

At least five years post-parent loss. This research endeavors to tap into the respondents’ reflective wisdom, rather than their immediate and raw experience of bereavement. . . .

5.

Available to be interviewed in person for two or three sessions. A video service such as Skype may be employed for the second and third interviews, if agreed upon by the research committee. . . .

6.

Verbal and self-reflective . . .

The study will exclude:

1.

All persons outside the criteria above . . .

2.

Individuals who do not have a clear command of English. This parameter is required because the layered meanings of language and anecdote are important factors in understanding lived experience. . . .

3.

Individuals with chronic or acute mental illness, because they would introduce factors outside the scope of this study . . .

4.

Individuals with whom the researcher has an ongoing personal or professional relationship . . .

49 Research Design The hermeneutic phenomenological research design adheres to the assumption (which forms the basis of this study) that all participants are experiencing manifestations of mourning that have (a) emotional, (b) psychological, and (c) social impact on participants’ lived experiences. The research questions, developed from this assumption, examine the quality of experience of transitions after parent loss in emerging adulthood.

The research questions explore the following: 1.

The experience of parent loss . . .

2.

Qualities of vulnerability and resilience . . .

3.

The use of others . . .

4.

The making of meaning during life transitions . . .

The questions are open-ended, designed to follow the lead of respondents. The

researcher acknowledges that the interviews may lead to topics outside the original scope of the study.

I will interview participants two or three times until the narrative appears to be sufficiently rich and nuanced, and as respondents’ availability allows. The interviews will be recorded and transcribed. The data will be accumulated and organized into themes and sub-themes as they appear to the researcher.

Findings will emerge from the data, and I will discuss the related implications in this document. I will also suggest how my colleagues might conduct further research on the topic.

50 Data Collection Phenomenological research requires a flexible data-gathering instrument to discover the essence of participants’ lived experiences. The semi-structured interview allows researcher and participant to engage in a dialogue whereby the researcher modifies initial questions from the interview based on participant responses (Smith, 2015, p. 29). This frees the researcher to explore meaningful topics as they emerge.

I will initially screen respondents through a telephone interview. The screening will ensure that respondents meet sample parameters, and it will help ensure that chosen respondents (a) understand, (b) agree, and (c) commit to the project. Participants will be interviewed at least two times, with a third interview possible if more information needs to be gathered. The initial interview will be in person. Follow-up interviews may be in person or, if necessary, via telephone or a video call service such as Skype. Any modification from an in-person interview will be determined in conjunction with the research committee.

The time of the interviews will range between 45 and 90 minutes. The interviews will be audio-recorded. The recordings for each interview will be transcribed into a text document. A professional typist will handle transcription. Prior to the second interview, I will review the first transcription so that follow-up interviews can better explore emerging themes. During the second interview, I will ask participants to reflect on both the content of the initial interview and their experience of the interview.

Interviews will occur in a mutually agreed-upon setting that provides privacy and comfort. The interviews will be (a) conversational, (b) collaborative, and (c) interactive, characterized an exchange of information between participant and interviewer.

51 An interview guide will provide topic questions for discussion; however, I devised these questions to (a) invite the participant to articulate their own stories, (b) elaborate on their experiences, and (c) explore the meaning of their own narratives—with the ultimate goal of bringing participants back into the experience of emerging-adulthood transitions.

While these questions will provide a general framework, more-specific questions will develop out of participant responses. This will allow continuing exploration of the quality of the respondents’ individual experiences. In phenomenological studies, the researcher is the instrument, not a fixed questionnaire. Denzin and Lincoln (1994) described the qualitative researcher’s constructive use of self via the French term bricoleur. Although not easy to define, a bricoleur is a jack-of-all-trades who gathers objects and methods and gets a feel for when they may become useful. Bricoleurs are creative problem solvers.

The researcher-as-bricoleur finds an invaluable tool in the ability to identify the emergence of new lines of inquiry during participant interviews.

Plan for Data Analysis Phenomenological inquiry intends to understand how respondents perceive and make sense of their lived experiences. Data analysis requires the researcher to engage texts within an intensive interpretive relationship, so to uncover latent meanings. Investigators maintain a research journal, so that during the research process they remain attentive to their own (a) questions, (b) observations, and (c) feelings. Through continued reflection, the research journal helps maintain faithfulness to participants’ words and experiences, further allowing meaning to emerge.

52 For this study, the first phase of data analysis will entail the researcher familiarizing herself with interview transcripts through (a) reading, (b) rereading, and (c) making notes in her research journal of her initial analytic observations. The researcher assumes that participants will have engaged in the interviews as a form of sense-making and ongoing interpretation (Gadamer, 1989), thereby revealing themselves through the text. Meaning is multi-dimensional and multi-layered (van Manen, 1990); thus, the researcher will need to reflect on both the language and the user of the language in the transcripts (Moustakas, 1993). The immersion of reading and rereading the texts orients the researcher to the data (van Manen, 1990).

Coding is the second phase of data analysis. A methodical and rigorous process of coding facilitates a deeper engagement with the data that goes beyond the immediate or obvious (Smith, 2015). Coding is the process of tagging each selected data excerpt with a label, typically a short phrase. Data fragments may be labeled with more than one code.

The coding process is repeated at least twice to pick up latent codes to which the researcher becomes oriented via immersion in the texts. Grouping similar data excerpts together in differing ways eventually allows themes to emerge.

The next phase of analysis involves organizing data into themes. “Theme” denotes an “. . . element (motif, formula or device), which occurs frequently in the text” (van Manen, 1990, p. 78). In phenomenological research, themes form the experiential “structures of experience” (van Manen, 1990, p. 79). A theme captures the process and personal meanings for the participant, while bracketing what is (a) familiar, (b) expectable, and (c) part of the researcher’s personal experience. The researcher regards themes as containing

53 trace elements of the whole meaning of the phenomenon under study. A worthwhile final research document requires conceptual clarity around each theme.

Interpretive phenomenology depends on the final data analysis process of (a) reading, (b) writing, and (c) rewriting (van Manen, 1990). Per Cresswell (2007), the researcher repeats the procedures of (a) reading, (b) classifying, and (c) interpreting until reaching an understanding of what the text reveals about each participant’s process and experience, thereby enlivening the research question.

Phenomenological writing requires a “. . . high level of reflectivity, an attunement to lived experience� as well as patience and time (van Manen, 1990, p. 114). The movement from (a) the identification of themes, to (b) the comparison of themes, to (c) a coherent picture of the whole occurs through the reflective process of writing and rewriting (Cohen, Kahn, & Steeves, 2000).

Qualitative data analysis for this project will be significantly facilitated by the specialized computer software ATLAS.ti. Qualitative research does not simply quantify data based on statistical relationships between variables; it also draws out meaning from the data, in a way that is both rigorous and comprehensive. The computer program does not direct the inquiry, but helps keep track of data by managing and manipulating large datasets. It is a powerful tool that allows for (a) visual diagrams, (b) color-coding themes, and (c) ways to explore different data combinations.

ATLAS.ti maintains a complete record of research, including coding and the emergence of themes and ideas, which adds to the transparency of the process.

Computer-assisted qualitative data analysis software allows the researcher to expend

54 more intellectual energy on the analysis, rather than on the mechanical tasks of the research process (Tesch, 1989).

Ethical Considerations Each participant will receive a consent form prior to the first interview. The researcher will discuss the form with the participant, and the participant will sign the form before the interview begins. The researcher will keep the original copy of the consent form in a separate, locked file.

The consent form will apprise the participant of the following: 1.

The right to voluntarily withdraw from the study at any time . . .

2.

The central purpose of the study and data-collection procedures . . .

3.

Protection of respondent confidentiality . . .

4.

Known risks associated with participation . . .

5.

Expected benefits to participants . . .

The researcher will assign each participant a pseudonym, which will be the only name

used in connection with the interviews. Other confidentiality safeguards will include removing all identifying information from the transcripts and erasing audio recordings following transcription.

A researcher has an obligation to protect respondents’ emotional experiences during and after interviews. Thus, I will inform participants that because they will be interviewed about their (a) thoughts, (b) feelings, and (c) perceptions, they may experience significant emotions. I will explain that they can decline to answer any question and discontinue the interview at any time. If feelings of distress continue after

55 an interview, I will refer participants to a clinician or spiritual advisor, based on each participant’s preference.

Issues of Trustworthiness The legitimacy of this study is established by its connection to the principles and standards of hermeneutic phenomenology (Cohen, Kahn, & Steeves, 2000; Moustakas, 1994: van Manen, 1990). It is further strengthened by drawing upon the values of heuristic social-work research (Tyson, 1991).

This study aims to understand and interpret lived experience. To this end, the study will use the primary method of narrative discourse: the account of significant events in the life of the narrator. Narrative meanings are understood to be contextual (Cohen, Kahn, & Steves, 2000). The legitimacy of the research depends upon the accuracy of the relationship between the data and interpreted meaning. To guide decision-making efforts related to the research, I will utilize the following standards to enhance (a) validity, (b) dependability, and (c) transferability: 1.

Information gathered from the interviews will be reviewed with the participants for accuracy. . . .

2.

Coding will be subjected to the constant-comparison method. After organization and sense-making of the data, elements will be constantly compared with other elements, eventually forming interconnections and an overall narrative. . . .

3.

A research journal will be utilized to record the researcher’s (a) questions, (b) thoughts, and (c) reflections, to remain faithful to participants’ meanings and to screen for researcher bias.

56 4.

The researcher will present her theoretical position and relevant history to the participants. . . .

5.

Data saturation will determine the sample size. . . .

6.

Transparency of process will be enhanced by computer-assisted qualitative data analysis software (CAQDAS) such as ATLAS.ti . . .

7.

Transferability will be enhanced by the thorough documentation available on ATLAS.ti for the use of other researchers. . . .

Limitations and Delimitations This phenomenological study poses limitations and delimitations via (a) the small sample size, (b) self-selection of participants, and (c) privileging of subjective narrative over objective data.

The small purposive sample size forfeits any claim that the research will be representative of the total U.S. population, or that its findings can be generalizable to the total population. In phenomenological studies, one begins with a purposive sample of participants who have already experienced the phenomenon under review. The amount of data in qualitative studies limits the number of participants. This study aims to add an indepth essential perspective of the experience of transitions after parent loss in emerging adulthood, a population underrepresented in the literature.

The study gathers first-person subjective narratives of young-adult life transitions after parent loss. The researcher will not triangulate by conducting interviews with others in the respondents’ orbits to verify the historical accuracy of their narratives. I made the delimiting choice of narrative truth over historical truth because the psychoanalytic

57 literature finds that narrative truth creates cohesion and meaning in our lives, and this function is central to this study’s research questions.

The Role and Background of the Researcher I am well-prepared to conduct this research due to my (a) professional training, (b) clinical proficiency, and (c) personal experience. As a clinical social worker and psychoanalyst, I bring an expertise in active listening and attention to the research process, and a knowledge of the significance of individual meanings of experience. The ability to suspend judgment while accepting the patient’s impact on the analyst informs the empathic stance of the psychotherapist and psychanalyst (Bolognini, 2004). In turn, the empathic stance sustains a dialectical tension between an uncritical empathic resonance and analytical inquiry (Tubert-Oklander, 2007).

The empathic stance is consistent with the charge of the investigator in phenomenological research, wherein the researcher continually endeavors to bracket her preconceptions to understand the phenomena through the voices and experience of participants. This study, much like my clinical practice, will demand active and sustained listening, and I will remain alert for personal biases and opinions. Finally, my personal experience of early parent loss makes me invested in the research and curious about the findings.

58

Chapter IV

Findings

Introduction to Findings The original title of my dissertation proposal was “Parent Loss During Young Adulthood: The Impact on Life Transitions.” I assumed that after parent loss, all young adults experienced mourning. My study focused on the manifestations of mourning that would surface in narratives about the transitions inherent to this developmental phase of life. My proposal listed relevant young-adult transitions as follows: 1.

Graduating from college . . .

2.

Getting a first career-oriented job . . .

3.

Moving into a first apartment . . .

4.

Finding a life partner . . .

5.

Marriage . . .

6.

Birth of children . . .

I chose van Manen’s hermeneutic phenomenology as the epistemological approach for

this study. A phenomenological study allows data from interview transcripts to emerge, at which point the researcher uses her perspective to filter the data, thereby distilling the essence of the experience. When van Manen uses the term “essence,” it denotes a piece of text that stirs our sensibility and catches us by surprise, illuminating the meaning of (a) a moment, (b) an event, or (c) an experience—in a way that reveals underlying elemental

59 quality. Verbal interviews turn into transcripts, which the researcher reads and rereads to uncover themes and subthemes.

Within phenomenological study, one must step back reflectively from the spoken exchange to the written. Writing occupies a temporal space that is both near and distant.

When the researcher reflects on writing, essences of lived experiences can emerge. As Wordsworth wrote his poem, “The Prelude,” phenomenology is about the moment of seeing into “the heart of things.” The information gained is not for creating prescriptive answers to problems but instead to reveal possibilities “. . . between being and acting, between who we are and how we act” (van Manen, p. 13).

Transitions and Vital Conjunctures The following transitions emerged from the data: 1.

College . . .

2.

First jobs or career choices . . .

3.

First apartments . . .

4.

Life partnerships . . .

However, participants were not primarily interested in talking about these transitions.

Their essential experiences centered on how parent loss created an unexpected future, which forced them to assess different horizons in making their adult lives. Discussions about transitions mostly focused on the idea of passing through experiences of initial uncertainty toward adaptation, which the participants were mostly able to accomplish.

The research revealed that the mourning process remained foremost in participants’ minds, and that young-adult transitions did not affect them more than the mourning

60 process. When I asked participants about individual transitions, conversations fell flat.

The participants characterized transitions as “hard” or “difficult,” but couldn’t speak about how transitions activated mourning. However, they spoke at length about the loss of their parents and how it featured in their experiences of moving through the mourning process. I eventually recognized this finding as new and unexpected, which facilitated new insights into participants’ lived experiences.

With the loss of their parents, the researcher noted the participants appeared to enter liminal space and each young-adult transition was just a single moment within that liminality, not necessarily more or less painful than other moments. The French ethnographer and folklorist Arnold van Gennep coined the term “liminality” in his book The Rites of Passage (1960 / 1909). Liminality is a disorienting transitional state that one experiences between a previously taken-for-granted status and a new status. van Gennep established three phases of passage from a “previous world” (p. 21) to another world: (a) separation, (b) liminality, and (c) reintegration.

Victor Turner, a British anthropologist, focused on the passage of liminality in his work with the Ndembu people of Zambia. Turner described the Ndembu initiate as being first stripped of social status before crossing the threshold into liminality. According to Turner, those experiencing a liminal state have “. . . no status, rank or position” and can be seen as structurally “invisible” (1967, p. 95). They are at times seen as polluting and dangerous outsiders. Turner also observed that the release from social structures can lead to a “. . . realm of pure possibility whence novel configurations of ideas and relations may arise” (1967, p 97).

61 van Gennep and Turner took their examples from proscribed ritual rites of passage within indigenous societies. A Jungian analyst, Murray Stein, first used the term “psychological liminality” in his publication In MidLife, referring to a non-ritualized developmental rite of passage when individuals perceive at least half their life is behind them. He describes a person’s identity as “. . . hung in suspension” and the prevailing feeling is “. . . one of alienation, marginality, and drift . . . the future has no . . . contour . . . the ‘I’ floats . . . across many former boundaries in forbidden frontiers.” (1983, p. 8-9).

Many study participants reported experiences of liminality after parent loss, during the significant developmental period of emerging adulthood. As discussed by van Gennep, Turner, and Stein, participants described experiences of (a) invisibility, (b) outsidership, and (c) the imagining of new possibilities they had not previously considered.

For participants, loss of a parent meant the loss of an entire world that once intertwined with theirs. They had not considered approaching adult life without the intertwining of their life with that of their parent, whether it be through the outward action of consulting the parent’s expertise, or other less tangible internal needs related to the child’s sense of self.

Within young adulthood, one expects to find experiences of liminal space. This is because young adults confront multifold life transitions for the first time. My research found that liminality became more complex when participants experienced parent loss, followed by the reverberating impact of that loss on others in the emerging adult’s world, who in turn affected the young adult. Expected futures felt blocked. Participants could no longer see their preferred path forward. Exploring young-adult transitions did not seem as

62 significant as the ways in which participants navigated the search for a discernable structure amidst uncertainty.

The concept of vital conjuncture also applied to my study findings. Nancy JohnsonHanks, a demographer, anthropologist, and associate dean of social sciences at the University of California Berkeley, developed this concept in her study of ethnic Beti women in southern Cameroon. She chose this term because “vital” refers to vital demographic events and “conjuncture” refers to Bordieu’s concept of a nodal point between structure and action. Bordieu’s work refers to the point where habitus—that is, our habits in addition to more socially proscribed behaviors—contrast with a moment that requires unexpected action.

In my study, vital conjuncture occurs within the dialectic between the expected future and the life one must live following unexpected loss. One study participant, Abe, described how the loss of his mother at age 19 altered his expected future.

She was everything. She was a confidant. She was my safety net, my security blanket, every euphemism you could use. We go through our lives with lots of changes, but one of the constants is, hopefully, your parents. They’re the first people you know . . . because there wasn’t life before them.

Johnson-Hanks describes a “. . . socially structured zone of possibility that emerges around specific periods of potential transformation in a life or lives . . . a duration of uncertainty and potential” (p. 871). Johnson-Hanks stresses that while one might consider these periods of time to be transitions, they exceed transitions because they are “vital.”

These critical intervals are characterized by unexpected uncertainty; in this condition, some potential futures are animated while others are no longer possible. Much is at stake,

63 and one’s future depends on the result. Vital conjunctures close or resolve when the future becomes more definite, no matter how differently it was imagined before the conjuncture.

Meyer Fortes, a South African anthropologist, argues that the passage of lifecycle events, such as marriage or the death of one’s father, “. . . constitutes a scaffolding on which lives are made” (Fortes, p. 101). Vital conjunctures are “experiential knots” (Johnson-Hanks, p. 872), during which several futures are possible. Johnson-Hanks dissuades us from thinking about transitional events as organizers of human life, and proposes that we instead focus on “. . . institutions and aspirations, recognizing that these aspirations are multiple, changeable, and apply over a variety of temporal frames” (p.

867). van Manen’s hermeneutic phenomenology accounts for temporality, recognizing that lived time is different than clock time. For my study participants, the discussion of transitions represented a form of temporality that seemed too calendar or clock-driven. In addition, participants spoke about other existentials in their traverses through the liminal space of parent loss, including experiences of (a) spatiality, (b) corporeality, and (c) relationality. van Manen’s hermeneutic phenomenology says these existentials make up our lived experience in the lifeworld. For research purposes, I will present them as separate aspects of liminality in participants’ lives.

Participants valued the conjuncture in which they wrestled with foreclosed possibilities and aspirations that could seem (a) conceivable, (b) imaginable, and (c) feared. They seemed to question how to breathe and survive in a lived space of existential

64 uncertainty. The concept of vital conjunctures fostered a more inclusive discussion of parent loss in early adulthood.

Themes Study findings all centered around themes of parental loss in young adulthood.

Although my original approach of exploring young-adult transitions did not lead to indepth understandings, the initial research questions still guided the analysis of the findings. They addressed the following questions: 1.

What is the experience of having lost a parent in emerging adulthood? . . .

2.

What the qualities of the emerging adults’ experience of vulnerability after parent loss? . . .

3.

What are the qualities of emerging adults’ experience of resilience after parent loss? . . .

4.

How do emerging adults who have experienced parent loss make use of others? . . .

5.

What meanings do emerging adults make of their experience of parent loss? . . .

There are very few qualitative studies of young-adult parent loss. Participants’ voices

are needed to bring a deeper understanding to the experience of this vital conjuncture.

Transcribed interviews and field notes of 12 in-person interviews with six participants form the basis for illuminating themes and sub-themes from participants’ lived experience.

65

Table 1 Participant Data Participant

No. of Interviews

Age at Parent Loss

Age at Interview

Dina

2

21

38

Hayley

2

21

36

Abby

2

26

40

Jamil

2

28

43

Abe

2

19

32

Rosanne

2

19

31_____

The themes discussed do not build on one another, nor are they mutually exclusive.

Some elucidate participants’ vulnerabilities and others participants’ resilience. Often participants experienced both. Three themes and respective subthemes constitute the most important findings of this study. They are each explicated in their own sections, as follows: 1.

“If Only . . . ”: The Interrupted Story a.

Young-adult dreams of role expectation. i.

“Why weren’t you writing these things down?”

ii.

“If my wife married someone else, who knows what she would’ve gotten?”

b.

Young-adult dreams of career i.

“It might not have been the right thing, but I would have gone to work for my dad.”

66 ii. c.

2.

3.

“When I lost him, I lost, ‘Come along.’ Who is like that?”

Young Adult Dreams of Holding Environment i.

“The safety net is tattered.”

ii.

“You feel kind of homeless.”

The Experience of Liminal Space a.

Immunity: “Screw it all.”

b.

Boost in Self-Esteem: “No one can hurt me as much as I’ve been hurt”

c.

Blocked Mourning: “A little bit of a sick puppy . . . ”

d.

Blocked mourning in intimate relationships: “I can never be hurt again.”

e.

Reenactment: “A sacrifice of flesh . . .”

f.

Feeling Othered

Resolution of the Vital Conjuncture a.

b.

Continuing the Narrative i.

“Hold onto the essences of people I’ve lost . . .”

ii.

“Doesn’t want the closure . . .”

iii.

“Carry on my dad’s legacy . . .”

iv.

“Resolved not be angry . . .”

v.

“Being of service to others . . .”

vi.

“I feel like I’m trapped in being a child . . .”

The Go-To Person

i.

“All of a sudden, I’m that support person . . .”

ii.

“Helped me feel as if what I learned could be helpful to another person . . .”

67 A unifying thread runs throughout the findings: The loss of a parent in emerging adulthood propelled participants into liminal space. Liminality as a state is difficult to define because it is the condition of being neither here nor there. Each participant experienced liminal space differently. The common element was the loss of the intertwined life with the parent, which partially provided a sense of self that participants had not yet fully internalized.

All participants spoke of an interrupted narrative in their lives. This narrative involved the futures they would have expected in general terms of meeting a partner and having children, but the narrative also included more specific futures of a career and family relationships. Participants spoke of the loss of parents’ voices to encourage them and to keep them on a path going forward.

Research interviews explored vulnerability and resilience. Some participants spoke about feeling alienated and marginalized as well as having experiences of freedom from inhibitions. Others spoke of feeling a sense of mastery as they became the go-to person for peers who subsequently experienced parent loss. Others spoke of their ongoing search to continue their lost narrative.

Finding One: “If only…”

The interrupted story.

Introduction.

One of the first unifying threads that appeared in the study became the in vivo code “If only.” Each of the participants described how parent loss interrupted a significant

68 element of life. Jamil lost not only his mother, but the entire warm, welcoming world of relatives in South America.

It’s kind of like my mom was the connector. She was the entry into those relationships. I don’t know how to contact any of those people again. She probably would have helped us financially (to travel to South America); there’s five us of now, and it’s hard to get there.

Jamil struggled to imagine the lived space without his lost parent. Describing himself as more “prim and proper” like his father, he mourned the loss of the person who helped him maintain a sense of warmth and playfulness. He questioned what her loss meant for his sense of self and relationship to the world while he navigated the life tasks of emerging adulthood.

Young-adult dreams of role expectation.

“Why weren’t you writing these things down?”

Abby belonged to a very small, close-knit family. She was an only child, as was her mother. The only other living relatives were her maternal grandmother and great-aunt, who was childless. Abby remembered hearing stories that went back for hundreds of years about her family’s life in a small European town, where her extended family still resided.

When Abby was 25, she learned her mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor and was given 7 to 12 months to live. Abby had just gotten engaged to be married and realized she and her fiancé needed to quickly plan their wedding so her mother could attend. Abby also wanted to take her mother back to her country of origin to see her

69 relatives for the last time. In the intensity of the following 11 months of (a) wedding planning, (b) travel, and (c) time with her mom, Abby never thought to ask her mother to help her write down the family stories. Abby’s guilt for not doing this was palpable during both interviews.

Her guilt was exacerbated by a quick succession of family deaths: Four months after Abby’s mother died, Abby’s great-aunt passed away, followed one month later by the passing of Abby’s grandmother.

My mom, my great-aunt, my grandma—within one year, they all passed away. The three women who were the most important in my life, the keepers of all the stories, the ones who (when I was growing up) told me all these stories about our family. My mom had this an amazing memory. All of a sudden, they were all gone, and I was like, "Oh my gosh. What have I done? What have I been wasting my time with? Why weren't you writing these things down?" One of the hardest things to come to grips with was not having her as my person to help remember things. Because I'm an only child, she was an only child, so we have a very small family. When a very significant person from that group goes, it's hard.

Abby always thought she would learn the family stories and be able to share them with her child. This was part of her young-adult dream of family and intergenerational connection. She worried about her son’s well-being as she reflected on the meaning of the family stories in her life. Duke and Fivush (2008) found that children connected to a family narrative had a strong “intergenerational self” capable of “. . . giving them connection, strength and resilience.” These children also had higher self-esteem and a greater sense of control over their lives.

70 Abby struggled with the loss of the family narrative during our interviews. However, she also began to approach a resolution. She believed that she could forgive herself for what she couldn’t remember and do her best to give her son what stories she could recall.

Abby also contacted her mother’s friends for other kinds of memories. These people knew Abby’s mother only during her time in the United States, so they couldn’t enlighten Abby about early family stories, but they helped her gather favorite nursery stories, songs, and recipes, which she put into a book for her son.

“If my wife married someone else, who knows what she would’ve gotten?”

Abe lost his mother when he was 19. Her cancer was discovered shortly after his fourteenth birthday. The treatment seemed to be under control; when issues arose, doctors treated them with apparent success. Abe didn’t realize his mother was terminally ill until two months before she died.

Abe’s parents got divorced when he was four. His mother remarried some years later.

His dad moved to another state. Abe aligned with his mother and didn’t feel emotionally close to his father or his father’s side of the family. Abe didn’t realize until after his mother died that she was the person who helped everyone in the family remain on good terms. After her death, he felt as if he lost the remaining branch of his family tree in its entirety.

Abe remained close to his stepfather for many years, but began to feel estranged after his stepfather remarried. The stepfather no longer wants to talk about Abe’s mother. In addition, his stepfather is preoccupied with his new family and rarely spends time with Abe’s son. Abe’s wife and child never knew his mother. Abe is working on becoming

71 closer to his older brother, but their life experiences and memories still feel very different because of their differing views of the parental divorce. Abe’s wife has a family nearby with whom they spent holidays and who provided occasional help with childcare. But Abe now questions, without his mom and her connection to her family, what he has to offer his marriage and children.

My wife and my son and any future children down the road (will be) cheated out of, literally, half a family, (which) I’m confident would exist if my mom were alive. If my wife married someone else, who knows what she would’ve gotten?

Abe continues to struggle with the impact on his family life that he believes would not have occurred had his mother lived. He is used to the general feeling of absence, but having a child brought up an anger that feels like a “rabbit hole” he tries to avoid. The outcome is very different from his young adult dream of (a) a connected intact family through his marriage, (b) children, and (c) the support of connections to the previous generation.

If only . . . young-adult dreams of career.

“It might not have been the right thing, but I would have gone to work for my dad.”

Dina’s father died suddenly when she was 21, two weeks after her graduation from college. She didn’t have a job or a dream about a specific career. She described herself as “. . . a little at loose ends.” Dina was very close to her dad. His job allowed him to take her with him during the day while her mom worked. Until her siblings were born, she spent every day alone with her dad.

Dina reported being bullied at school and that she had difficulty making friends. When she got older, she often went with her dad on his appointments after school because, she

72 recalled, “I didn’t have anybody else to spend time with.” Dina admired her dad and loved watching him teach others in his field. He took the time to explain to her what he was doing, even when she was very young.

Dina wasn’t close to her mom. After her dad died, she felt she also lost her other parent for a time, while her mother had to make sure Dina’s younger siblings got the care they needed. Although she now has a supportive relationship with her mother and siblings, at the time she felt “totally alone.”

Dina imagined herself as married with a family, but she didn’t yet dream about a career. She only knew she could work with her dad in his business, just as she had in the summers during her college years. His death meant she had to find her way in the work world without relying on his business as a safe, comforting option until she found her way. She did not understand the politics of the workplace, and this resulted in numerous painful experiences.

Dina resented her interrupted story for many years. She still believes that her career journey would have been easier if she could have worked at her dad’s business. She now teaches science to low-income high schoolers in another city. She feels that her love of teaching and science came from her dad. She enjoys carrying on his legacy by helping others.

“When I lost him, I lost, ‘Come along.’ Who is like that?”

Rosanne was 19 when her father died suddenly of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. He was the parent with whom she felt closest. Her mother was a brittle diabetic. Rosanne and her older sister each began caring for their mother when Rosanne was three years old.

73 Her mother was verbally and, until they reached puberty, at times physically abusive with her daughters. One of the more difficult realizations Rosanne had after her father’s death was that he absorbed most of her mother’s vitriol. His death left the sisters more exposed while their mother still needed their care for diabetes.

Rosanne’s dad was an autodidact who came from extreme poverty and emotional deprivation. Rosanne said that he gave up his dream of law school because her mom didn’t want to wait for him to make a living. Rosanne sees herself as taking after her dad.

She realizes now that she supported her sister in going back to college in another state without thinking of the consequences—namely, that Rosanne would have to take on primary care of their mother. She describes herself as having a “superhero style” of leaping into action, saying, “I can fix this.” Her mother required a great deal of care in the first few years after Rosanne’s father’s death. It was not unusual for Rosanne to find her mother passed out on the floor.

Rosanne also has bipolar II disorder, for which she has been in psychoanalytic psychotherapy for the last 12 years. Her psychotherapeutic work is evident in her rich textual style, which weaves in her thoughts and feelings both past and present. Roseanne is actively sorting out which of her issues are related to: 1.

Bipolar II disorder . . .

2.

Loss of her dad . . .

3.

Her mother’s abuse . . .

4.

Characterological features . . .

Rosanne had a young-adult dream of becoming a journalist. She earned a degree in

journalism in college but has never used it.

74 I think had my dad been around, things may have gone more smoothly in terms of transitioning, securing a career, transitioning into that kind of a life. I have really never had a job for very long. I've always had trouble keeping a job more than a couple of months. I haven't had an official job that wasn't freelancing in about six years and living off of family money.

She believes her dad would have helped her move “out of her shell” by encouraging her to apply herself. He encouraged her to do things by doing some version of them himself and essentially saying, “Come along.” She felt invited. She doesn’t have anyone in her life who carries this role, and she has not been able to do it for herself. She asks, “Who is like that,” missing her father’s inviting voice. She is currently volunteering as a GED tutor. She feels good when listening to others as her dad listened to her, and supporting people who seek second chances since, as she says, “My dad never had any (second chances).”

If only . . . loss of holding environment.

“The safety net is tattered” Abe spoke about a tattered safety net after the loss of his mom. When I asked him, “Who was your mom to you?” He responded: She was everything. She was a confidant. She was my safety net, my security blanket, every euphemism you could use. When something goes wrong, go to mom.

When something great happens, go share it with mom; go celebrate. That was gone.

Abe’s life was intertwined with his supportive parent, the person he had always known. He talked about how having the one constant of his mom taken away was a very traumatizing experience.

75 Abe is a young man who is quite personable. Helpful people, like his mother’s colleague at a summer camp and his girlfriend’s parents, helped him get a summer job and a place to stay. But the fundamental experience of his holding environment was permanently altered. There was never going to be anyone, as he put it, “making you a priority.” Abe spoke about feeling fortunate to have people who were there for him in many ways, and he acknowledged being “forever thankful.” He felt that the “safety net was tattered” and people helped mend it, but the unconditionality of love was gone forever, as was the guarantee of a person who would always be there for him.

“You feel kind of homeless.”

When Jamil was 24 years old, his mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She was given six months to live but ended up living another four years; he feels that he lost her twice. He describes his mom as warm, playful, and loving, which he considered part of her Latin culture.

Every time anyone came over, she made them feel really welcome, and loved, like they belonged (there). In (her home country), if you enter a room, you go around and give everyone a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Even if you just saw them yesterday, you do that. Then when you leave, you do the same thing. It's a very warm culture.

Jamil has a brother, 13 years older, who is estranged from the family and whom Jamil has only seen a handful of times. After Jamil’s mother died, his father had a crisis of faith and went on what Jamil calls a “walkabout,” where he took road trips around the country for about 12 years, during which he was completely unavailable. His father, whom Jamil describes as uptight and anxious, has only recently returned and spends some time with

76 Jamil’s growing family, which now includes (a) his wife, (b) a 13-year-old daughter, and (c) toddler twin sons. Jamil is grateful that his father is finally trying to be a grandpa.

However, the father’s return brings up the loss of Jamil’s mom, because Jamil knows his dad wouldn’t have left the family if she had lived.

Jamil worries he is too much like his father. He needs the connection with his mother and her family to bring out warmer and more playful aspects of himself. Jamil learned that his parents’ plan for retirement was to have a house in his mother’s home country.

His parents had looked forward to summering there. Jamil acutely felt the loss of this young-adult dream for himself. For him, the loss meant there would be no more connection to his mother’s world. As he explained, “My mom was the connector. So that's kind of lost. You feel kind of homeless, in a sense. I don't know how to make contact with any of (her side of the family) again.” Jamil’s wife comes from a socially constricted family. She is also interested in expanding their world to include warmer cultures. They are working on finding warmer, more inviting friends, with mixed success.

Finding Two: The Experience of Liminal Space Introduction.

Another unifying thread in the study: All participants entered to some degree into liminal space. For this study, we can understand liminality as a betwixt-and-between state that participants experienced as alien and outside the social structures that they recognized as their expected world prior to parent loss. Dina’s description of the apartment she moved into shortly after her father’s death illustrates both spatial and corporeal qualities of liminality.

77 My apartment looked over the parking lot, which bothered me because I couldn’t see any nature from my window. The gate was noisy, and I had a hard time sleeping. I sat on the floor in one of those little camp chairs and watched football by myself on Saturdays.

Dina’s sense of the world felt alien and unfriendly after the loss of her parent. It was noisy and devoid of bodily comfort and the life-giving properties of nature. Although each participant encountered liminal space, they experienced it in differing ways. The felt experience of liminality can manifest through narratives of alterations in:

1.

Spatiality . . .

2.

Corporeality . . .

3.

Temporality . . .

4.

Relationality . . .

Immunity: “Screw it all.”

Abe was 19 when his mother died. He left college in May to be with her in hospice.

She died two weeks later. One of his mother’s friends arranged for him to work at a religious summer camp. Abe had attended the camp other summers when his mother was on staff. In addition, his girlfriend was planning to work there, so it felt like a comfortable and known space. However, once there, he found himself acting in ways that were foreign to him.

There were times when I made some bad choices, involving alcohol, just on my own. I was angry and upset and the idea of breaking the rules and just saying, “Screw it all.” I was acting out to say how frustrated I was with the cards I’d been dealt. I was angry

78 and wanted some way of expressing it, just to myself, I guess. Almost . . . not giving up hope, but a carelessness of, “This is what life has to offer me? Well, I’m done trying.”

Abe describes himself as a rules-follower. He doesn’t like to upset people. He likes to be on their “good sides.” He knew he was not of drinking age; besides, the camp forbade alcohol on its grounds. However, the disruption of having been dealt the unexpected “cards” of his mother’s death put him in liminal space, outside his normal social identity.

This temporarily freed him from his rule-following self.

Boost in Self-Esteem: “No one can hurt me as much as I’ve been hurt.”

Rosanne also lost her dad when she was 19. Her sister went back to college in another state and Rosanne entered her junior year close to home, taking primary responsibility for her despondent and brittle diabetic mother. The spring of her junior year she decided she needed to do something to “keep swimming.” She needed to insure she would graduate from college. She left her mother in the care of relatives and studied in Europe for a semester. She became determined not to think of life as being unfair. She thought about how other people younger than her had lost parents and how “death happens to everyone.”

For a short-lived period, I had an odd sense of invincibility, where I thought, “Well, the worst thing I can think of happening to me already happened, so I can basically do anything.” It gave me an interesting boost in self-esteem. I felt I do belong wherever I decide to go, because that had always been an issue for me. I would think, “Oh, I can’t go into that coffee shop. Cooler people than me go there and they’re gonna know I’m

79 not as good as they are.” I was like, “No, I can go to the coffee shop now. I can go grocery shopping alone. No one can hurt me as much as I’ve been hurt already.”

Rosanne experienced the initial period of liminal space as freeing, specifically from her mother’s critical voice and her father’s feelings of not belonging, which she adopted in her identification with him. As with Abe, Rosanne noted that the feeling of immunity did not last.

Blocked Mourning: “A little bit of a sick puppy.”

Hayley was the outlier, the one person in the study who did not want to talk about her feelings or personal experiences. She reported that no one in her family talks about their feelings. She lost her dad when she was 21, during her senior year of college. She was living at home after transferring to a local university for her last two years.

Hayley was close to her dad and not at all close to her mom at the time of the loss. Her relationship with her mom remained contentious for several years afterward. Hayley did not ask for any special accommodations at school directly after the loss, believing that “There is no sense in lying in bed all day and wallowing.”

Hayley barely keeps in touch with peers from high school and college. She does not think that parent loss had any impact on her relationships. She does not believe people like to talk about sad or depressing things. She did not want to talk to any of her classmates about her situation. She describes herself as a private person who does not have close friends, nor does she like people to know her “business.”

During her family’s first holidays and family trip after the loss of her father, Hayley remembers “wanting to get (the trip) over with.” She sensed a disconnection among the

80 family members, none of whom spoke about their feelings regarding her father’s death.

Hayley remembers feeling anxious and uncomfortable about the void presented by her dad’s absence.

Hayley’s father told her that when she got married it would be the saddest day of her life because he would no longer be her number-one man. She thought her wedding at age 30 would be distressing because her dad was not going to be there, but she described the day as “perfect,” even though they missed him.

Before meeting her husband, Hayley’s first relationship after the loss of her father was with a verbally and physically abusive partner, with whom she lived for several years.

During this relationship, Hayley isolated from her friends and family.

Maybe people who tend to be an abuser in a relationship look for people who are vulnerable. Perhaps it’s the vulnerability of recently losing my father that made me a little bit of a sick puppy, and made me, whether consciously or unconsciously, for this other person (to think), like, “This is the person.”

Psychoanalytically, we know that whatever we’re unable to think or feel, we act out. I can imagine that Hayley, who prided herself on not needing accommodations or the help of friends or family, sought a controlling partner to compensate for her own perceived loss of control and place.

In her memoir, Smith stated that after the loss of her parent, she needed “. . . not only to be loved, but to be owned.” In the absence of the ability to mourn, there can be a fantasy to replace the parent, which can trigger an unconscious wish to feel overpowered and owned.

81 After four years of living with her partner, Hayley called her mom and asked, “Can I come home?”

Her mother asked, “When?”

Hayley said, “Tomorrow.”

Her mother immediately came over to help Hayley pack. This marked Hayley’s return to her family’s social structure. She and her mother have never spoken about the nature of Hayley’s relationship with her partner. That was, however, the beginning of the healing of their mother-daughter relationship.

Blocked mourning in intimate relationships: “I can never be hurt again.”

The unavailability of Rosanne’s abusive, brittle diabetic mother exacerbated the trauma of parent loss. Rosanne remembers her mother saying the following to Rosanne and her sister at the tenth anniversary of her father’s death: You guys will grow up and get married someday and have husbands of your own, but I’ve lost the love of my life and I’ll never get that back.

Rosanne didn’t respond to this comment, but she thought about how her mother was an only child who still had both parents and was only in her fifties. Meanwhile, Rosanne had lost the one person with whom she felt safe. In telling me about her marriage, I understood that Rosanne felt the need to move away from the possibility of ever again experiencing the irretrievable absence of a loved object by imagining the perfect love of her life that could never be lost.

I ultimately did get married, and I often will say this: My spouse is really not the love of my life. He's my life partner. The love of my life is a guy that I was with in college

82 and we still speak a couple of times a year just to tell each other that we still love each other and one day when we're really, really old and widowed, we will get married. I've thought about it over the years and I keep this guy in the back of my mind. At this point I think he exists merely as like a talisman against rejection. I'm not sure where he lives. He may have moved at this point, but very far away, on the other side of the country.

If all else fails, I know he still loves me and I love him. Even if we're never together again, we had this very brief but very beautiful relationship and I had this experience of young, wonderful love that no one can ever take from me. So, I can never be hurt again, basically. But my spouse, I love him very much.

As long as her husband is not the “love of her life,” Rosanne can tolerate the fact that she could possibly lose him, as she lost her dad. True intimacy is terrifying for most people, but after the death of a parent it can be fraught with even greater fear and the need to insulate oneself against future loss.

Re-enactment: “A sacrifice of flesh.”

While Hayley and Rosanne found ways to move away from pain, Jamil actively moved toward it. In high school, Jamil had participated in a church group that volunteered at youth centers on Indian reservations. The experience felt so meaningful to him that after he graduated, he spent a year volunteering on other reservations. During that period, he was allowed to observe a number of Native American rituals. He has returned many times over the years. At the 10-year anniversary of his mother’s death, Jamil designed an elaborate tattoo in memory of her, using dream images and memories

83 connected to her. He explained how getting the tattoo was similar to the Lakota ritual of the Sun Dance Ceremony.

But then in the Native, or the Lakota view of things, they have these ceremonies where they will offer their flesh. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the Sun Dance, where they put skewers in their chests. The view is, the only thing you really own in this life is your body, so a sacrifice of flesh is one of the highest forms of sacrifice. When (the ceremony) was happening, I was meditating and thinking about my mom and crying. It was a really powerful experience.

The experience of suffering helped Jamil feel connected to his mother, as he reenacted the pain of her loss though his “sacrifice of flesh.” I also wondered if his feelings of homelessness, spoken of earlier, were part of his choice of symbolism, because of his reference to the body as being the only thing one ever owns. He created a design for his “body home” with permanent images reminding him of his mother.

Feeling othered.

Turner referred to liminality as a space in which one loses social identity and feels invisible. Young adulthood is a time of establishing social identity through ongoing interactions with peers. Self-image partially consists of how we perceive our similarity to our socially constructed cohort, a very important part of young adult life.

Many participants reported feeling “othered” after the loss of their parent. At the time of experiencing parent loss, no participant had a friend with similar experience. Peers’ illfitting responses accentuated the sense of feeling “othered” and therefore, outside the social milieu.

84 Dina.

My peers didn’t know how to react to me, but even adults didn’t know how to react.

We used to joke that we would write a book, Grieving for Dummies: What Not to Say to People in Mourning.

When you’re young and you’re finding your identity, you don’t always have self-confidence. (If) someone says something to you naturally in conversation, but that’s not what you expected to hear, you don’t know how to respond. It was very isolating. It made it a lot harder for me to find friends, I think. You meet people, especially in your twenties, because of shared experiences. When you have such a major sort of experience that is obviously not shared, it can’t be shared, it puts you in a different place than your peers.

Jamil.

One of the big things that stands out for me related to my mom’s loss is how lonely it was. I didn’t know anybody else my age that was going through anything like that.

One hard part was people always saying, “Oh, how is she doing?” You have to keep talking about the latest round of chemo and how she’s sick, or losing her hair, or she’s down to like 20 pounds. That was hard. I think they don’t know what else to say, so they’re like, “How are things going?” I just wished people would stop asking. It’s kind of like a wound and people say, “Does that still hurt?”

85

Finding #3: Resolution of the Vital Conjuncture Continuing the narrative.

Introduction.

As stated earlier in this chapter, Johnson-Hanks considers a vital conjuncture to be resolved when the future becomes more defined, even if the life trajectory differs significantly from what the young adult imagined before parental loss. Four of the six participants in this study discussed experiences of resolution in terms of (a) career, (b) life partner, and (c) children—if having children was a part of their life plan. Two participants talked about still striving for greater resolution that would allow them to feel that their narratives could fully continue.

“Hold onto the essences of people I’ve lost.”

Abby, at age 26, was somewhat older than most of the other participants at the time of parent loss. She had very solid relationships with both parents, although she was closer to her mom, the parent she lost. Abby had already earned a master’s degree and was working in her field. She was engaged to be married. She now has a son and lives overseas due to her husband’s work. Abby’s father lives in the U.S. and has developed heart problems. He now video calls with Abby every day, and Abby feels they have gotten much closer. Her father was the parent who liked to dispense succinct advice, while Abby and her mother had long conversations.

Abby now says her father asks her about her life and shows interest in having longer, more meandering conversations. She feels her father has a very nice video relationship

86 with her son, which allows for greater ease when her father and son see each other in person. Abby has had to delay furthering her career because she doesn’t have a work permit, but she takes comfort remembering that her mom couldn’t work for a few years after moving to the U.S. with Abby’s father, who had secured a job in the States—a situation that mirrors Abby’s own life.

Right after my mom died, I could still hear her voice in my head as I was thinking about things. Growing up, I would always think about what my mom would think when I was making decisions, and I could still feel that. I think I still feel it to some degree, but definitely not as strongly as I did right after she died. But I think because I had that feeling before, it's still alive in its own way.

Abby has a strong sense that her mother would approve of her decisions. She has proven quite resourceful; when still caring for her mother, she found work in her field in the city where she and her mother lived. When Abby lost a dream of her mom being with her after the birth of her son, she hired a very kind and helpful doula. She recognizes that everyone grieves differently, and this loss is part of her process.

I think that I've really tried to hold onto the essences of the people that I've lost. I try to keep those things alive, even in the decisions that I make on a daily basis. I'm always thinking about what their thoughts would be. Because they can't be here physically with me, remembering the types of conversations that we had is really comforting.

Abby still thinks about the family stories she lost by not writing them down during her mother’s illness. Without these stories, Abby’s son might lose his social identity. This prospect created a moment of liminality in which Abby experienced the potential pain

87 that her son might experience as a result of the loss. Abby occasionally struggles with guilt, but allows herself to build on the stories she knows, recreating her narrative. Her ongoing internal connection to her mother has helped Abby allow herself to accept reality and move on. In this regard, she also finds comfort in the knowledge that her mother would approve of her decisions.

Abby has used friends who have lost a parent to connect with during difficult times of the year. She feels she has moved forward in her life, while honoring her experience of loss. I consider her vital conjuncture resolved because she found a way to move forward in her life while including grief and longing when they arise.

“Doesn’t want the closure.”

Like Abby, Abe seems to have experienced resolution of the vital conjuncture. He enjoys his career and life as a husband and father. Every day he wishes his mother were present, but he has accepted the reality of life without her. He has continued his life narrative.

Abe initially spoke of the unquestioned intertwining of his life with his mom. He observed that parents are the first people that a child knows. This correlates with the phenomenological view that the lifeworld is pre-reflective. Our attention centers on our perceptions rather than on how we are perceiving. In the lifeworld, a person with whom one has always been entwined is part of one’s ground of being. For the respondents in the study, it was not obvious that entwining could be undone. The experience of loss, for Abe, was the moment of un-entwining, specifically the last moment he spent with his mother. He doesn’t want to move past that moment entirely, because that raw feeling

88 makes him feel bonded with her. To facilitate that connection, he utilizes liminal space proactively.

There’s this little part of me that doesn't want the closure. When the negative, sad, angry emotions come out, there is more of a connection to her. Those negative emotions are almost acknowledgments internally, that it's still real, that it's still there.

All I have left of proof beyond some tangible things is that loss, to signify how strong that relationship was.

When I talk about her in a positive light, I'm comfortable with it, but the positive . . . I don't know if “superficial” is the word, but it's hard to get deep. There was no day that was more real than the day she died, which was the worst day of my life.

The sadness brings me closer to that relationship when she was alive, because that's when it feels most raw.

Abe doesn’t like to discuss his loss with others who have lost a parent. He does not want to diminish his unique relational bond with his mom. He prefers to go into liminal space to reexperience the alienation of the moment of loss of self. It feels, to him, like the most experience-near way to mourn and reconnect. Liminality has been described as a state outside of temporal and spatial reality. Abe’s experience brings to mind the space within the analytic hour, which Marion Milner described as “. . . a temporal spatial frame (that) also marks off the special kind of reality of a psycho-analytic session” (1952).

Abe preserves the special intimacy he felt with his mom, outside of time and space.

He utilizes liminal space intermittently, while still moving forward in his life.

89 “Carry on my dad’s legacy.”

Dina talked about feeling totally alone after the loss of her father, two weeks after returning home from college graduation. She didn’t get along well with her mother, particularly during the previous eight years. Dina reported experiencing a double parent loss because her mother needed to be available to her younger siblings. Dina didn’t have close friends in her hometown.

Dina’s father was the only person with whom she felt safe, so without him she felt she completely alone. She was bullied beginning in elementary school. For many years, while her younger siblings were still in daycare, she accompanied her dad on business calls in the afternoons after school. Dina remembers enjoying her father treating her like an adult by teaching her why he did things in certain ways. In her mind, her dad always had the answers. He also took Dina aside privately and let her know that there were better ways to accomplish certain tasks than the methods used by her mother and maternal grandmother. She very much enjoyed these secret confidences.

Dina didn’t have a young adult dream of a career. She thought she could work for her dad in his business until she decided on a career. After his death, she instead had to take jobs in administrative settings, where she felt unable to comprehend office politics. She recounted making relational mistakes that led to ongoing problems, often resulting in her becoming a scapegoat. After eventually realizing that she enjoyed education, she went to graduate school and now teaches high-school science.

Dina married a man whose parents were immigrants from a religious family with traditional gender roles. Dina is now close to her mother and siblings and is proud that

90 her mom is a very accomplished professional who was always the family’s major breadwinner.

I have a very feminist perspective. Sometimes (my husband) makes fun of me for it.

My in-laws will say things (to my daughters) that bother me: “Oh, you’re climbing that? What are you, a little boy?” I wonder if my dad had been alive, how they would see it differently. I carry on my dad's legacy (by teaching) my kids that whoever they are is who they should be.

Dina identifies with her father and has recreated her life with him through her work teaching, and through her relationship with her daughters. She hears what her husband and in-laws say about gender roles and then, like her dad, she takes her children aside to let them know what their relatives don’t do correctly. Before parent loss, she felt like an outsider except within her special bond with her dad. In her marriage, she recreates feeling like an outsider when exploring her non-traditional beliefs with her husband and in-laws, where she feels her views are dismissed. She then privately shares her differences of opinion with her daughters.

For Dina, the position of outsider originates in liminal space, but then moves to becoming that of the insider. By taking her daughters aside, she reconnects with the intimate, private bond in her relationship with her dad. In this way, Dina has created a social structure within her family that serves to resolve the vital conjuncture of the loss of her dad. Although she recognizes the ongoing nature of mourning, she nonetheless moves her life forward.

91 “Resolved not be angry.”

Hayley’s family members didn’t discuss their feelings, even after the sudden loss of her dad when she was 21. Her father was the parent with whom she felt closest. She identified with him and majored in his field in college. Her loss was compounded by the fact that her relationship with her mother had been fraught with anger for many years prior to her father’s death. Hayley described herself at that time as an angry person who didn’t feel close to anyone else in her family. It didn’t occur to her to turn to her mother or siblings for support.

Hayley responded to the loss by immediately returning to her college classes, proud of not requesting accommodations. She believed she could keep control of her life and maintain her social structure, thereby avoiding liminality. She reported getting all A’s that semester. However, her inability to think and feel about the loss led her into an abusive relationship for four years. Unable to deal with feeling out of control, she sought to be controlled, to feel safe. Being willing to be abased by an abusive and humiliating other can be an expression of liminality. After four years of being alienated from her family and friends, Hayley called her mother and asked to return home, which began the healing of their relationship. She appreciated being allowed to return to a place within the family social structure when she needed it, and mentioned that some of her friends do not have that option.

After leaving the abusive partner, Hayley made a choice to no longer be an angry person. Over time, she began to see her relationship with her mother from her mother’s point of view. She recognizes she probably wouldn’t have the kind of relationship she now has with her mother had her father lived.

92 Hayley feels she has been able to continue her interrupted story. She feels lucky to have a husband she is “supposed to be with,” like her parents’ relationship. She does yoga, meditates, and spends a lot of time outside. She works from home. Now 36, she didn’t mention a desire to have children. She considers herself a private person with few close friends. She occasionally finds holidays difficult and has noticed that painful feelings can arise unexpectedly. She has created a social structure that feels manageable for her, wherein she maintains control, with a minimum of surprises.

After he father’s death, Hayley started “going down a rabbit hole” of worry over her mother; this occurred after Hayley read papers about how a person who loses a spouse while young can become depressed if they don’t remarry. She reports that she doesn’t worry now because her mother, still unmarried, (a) has retired, (b) spends time traveling, and (c) is doing very well. This could point to an unspoken fear of future loss, either of her mother or for herself.

Hayley has memories of the period around her father’s death, but no emotions. When I asked about holidays and family experiences in the year afterward, Hayley says, At some point, it has become just intellectual. I don’t have these big emotional connections to it. That was probably upsetting at the time. Now I’m like, that is just what happened. It was sad then but I’m not sad about it now.

Hayley hopes to avoid liminal states by controlling her life as much as possible. Her vital conjuncture is resolved at this time, but it is unclear how much inner resilience she has to call upon when eventually encountering another loss.

93 “Being of service to others.”

Jamil’s parents met while doing missionary work in his mother’s Latin American home country. At that time, his father spoke English and Spanish and his mother spoke only Spanish. They married and planned to live in the U.S. long enough for his father to complete his master’s degree in musical performance, after which they would go back to his mother’s country to live. His father then developed a medical issue that forced him to change his degree and the couple’s plans. They decided it would be best financially for them to live and work in the U.S. until they reached retirement age, when they would return to Jamil’s mother’s country.

When asked who his mother was to him, Jamil responded that his earlier and later experiences of her were quite different. Jamil said he’s come to realize that his mother most likely suffered from depression, possibly for most of her life. He described her as crying while lying in bed, and being “kind of checked out” throughout his early childhood. Later, when he was in middle school, she (a) learned English, (b) got a job teaching English as a second language, and (c) made good friends. After this point, Jamil remembers his mother as warm and playful. He remembers many people spontaneously dropping by their home. He remembers laughter, food, and visitors expressing affection upon entering and leaving.

During his mother’s earlier depressed period, Jamil felt responsibility to “fix” his mother and make her happy. When she was diagnosed with cancer, he fell quite naturally into the role of driving her to chemotherapy and doctors’ visits. He also helped with grocery shopping and cooking. Jamil had learned early to be her caregiver, helping to ease her problems and make her smile.

94 Before his mother’s illness, Jamil’s family was very involved in their faith. Because of this, Jamil was surprised when his parents responded in opposite ways to his mother’s diagnosis. While his mother embraced her beliefs more fervently, his father suffered a crisis of faith. After her death, Jamil’s father went on what Jamil refers to as a “walkabout” for the next 12 years. Jamil feels he lost both parents at that time. His father is back now and trying to be a good grandfather to Jamil’s three children. Jamil appreciates his father’s return, but still resents the earlier years he spent with young children and no family support.

Jamil remembers being sexually approached in a mall bathroom when he was 12 years old. He suppressed the memory for many years, but after the death of his mother he found himself terrified about the impending birth of his first child. He was convinced his wife, or his child, or both, would die. The fear remained with him after the birth and he consulted a psychotherapist, whom he still sees.

What I’m learning now is it’s common for people who have that kind of event as a kid (to not) deal with it for 30 years. Then, it just kind of becomes unbearable. . . . I realized I have so many issues with God. Like, why he didn’t help me in the bathroom when I was a kid.

Jamil told no one about the incident, which he always believed would not have happened had he been “normal.” He intellectually understands that he was chosen randomly, not because he was signaling sexual desires. Yet he also suffers a crisis of faith, thinking that God took his mother because she was tired and had withstood a hard life. Why would that same God allow such an “abnormal” thing to happen to him?

95 Jamil identifies with his mother, who as a non-English speaker and suffering from depression felt like an outsider in liminal space. He also felt like an outsider as a boy in the mall bathroom. He connects with his mother by moving toward pain, as in the example of his tattoo. Like Abe, Jamil utilizes liminal space for connection. But he desires to also make more of a connection to his mother through the social structure of his life, outside of liminality. He believes he can accomplish this either by making friends who embody the warmth of her Latin culture, or by serving others as he served his mom.

His work with Native populations is just one example of this service, which goes back to his college days.

A big focus of faith is being of service to others. With the experience that happened to me, and then with my mom, I’ve tried to deal (with that by being) of service to others. When I was in college, I volunteered with a rape crisis center.

Jamil does not yet feel that he is fully moving forward in his life since the loss of his mom. He seems to have a good marriage. He has known his wife since childhood; she knew his mother. He enjoys his career, which includes a small aspect of education that connects him to his mother’s joy of teaching. His vital conjuncture is not resolved but he sees the way forward through continuing psychotherapy. He hopes that working through his childhood sexual assault will free him emotionally, so that he can be more open to finding warm friends and ways to serve others.

“I feel like I’m trapped in being a child.”

Rosanne lost her father at age 19, just as she was finding her footing in college. She had chosen her major and moved into her first apartment. She was also enjoying a new

96 romantic relationship and a different group of friends. She feels that she has never rebounded from the shock and grief of parent loss. During our interviews, she said, “I feel like I’m trapped in being a child, destined to always be 19. I don’t drive. I don’t have a real job.”

Roseanne didn’t realize at that time that she suffered from untreated bipolar II disorder. In addition, she had an abusive, brittle diabetic mother. Without her father to absorb the brunt of her mother’s negativity, Rosanne took all of it. She had learned from age three how to manage her mother’s dramatic glucose swings, which became even more labile in the aftermath of her father’s death. Rosanne took over her father’s role of caring for her mother. This freed her sister to return to college, which further exposed Rosanne to her mother’s vitriol and demand for care.

Rosanne was very close to her father. He was a safe refuge from her mother, but also a person with whom Rosanne strongly identified. Her father never felt that he belonged in this world, and Rosanne related to that. Rosanne was concerned about her father’s agency and she is concerned about her own. She sometimes told her dad to “grow a spine” and stand up to her mother. She worries that the money she inherited upon his death is a contributing factor in her passivity to work. She still waits for her father’s voice to say, “Come along”—a wish for his presence to move her into action.

Neimeyer posits that event stories can help make sense of a death and its implications in the survivor’s life. Rosanne has ongoing questions regarding her event story. She knew that her father was depressed. Rosanne’s mother reported that her father contemplated suicide a few times, but didn’t want to leave his children while they were young. He was 61 and believed he was losing his memory, like his mother who died of dementia in her

97 late sixties. Rosanne knew he occasionally took a stimulant for wakefulness, which she thought was contraindicated for his heart condition. She wonders if he took stimulants before going for a run the day he died. Rosanne sees her father as someone who didn’t get to make a lot of his own choices, and the fantasy of his suicide allows her to feel that he came to his death on his own terms. An autopsy was not performed so her questions about drug use remain unanswered. But the bigger question of her father’s agency and her own is a continuing theme in her work.

As mentioned earlier, Rosanne has a fantasy about the “love of her life,” who is not her husband. This fantasy is rooted in of a fear of intimacy after the loss of her dad. She has internalized her father as a sustaining presence, but not sufficiently to counter her fears of further loss and feelings of outsidership. She has experienced more loss-oriented coping than restoration.

Rosanne feels good about her progress in psychoanalytic psychotherapy. She has been seeing her therapist for 12 years. She began noticing a significant change after six years.

It was about around the halfway mark where I was able to connect a negative event in my life to how I was feeling. At this point, it's not perfect every time, but both in terms of (being) bipolar and just in terms of life happening, I think I'm a little more adept at just connecting the dots.

Being able to sort out the biological from the emotional makes it easier for Rosanne to work through memories and feelings as they arise. Referring to our first interview, Rosanne said: I ended up being a little more kind of stirred up than I anticipated, and I was actually OK with it. My heart was pounding a little bit, and not having to wonder if this was

98 some bipolar-related thing. I was just going to kind of . . . “enjoy” is the wrong word, but just allow myself to have those emotions because I hadn't in a long time. I found it kind of comforting.

Rosanne identifies with her dad’s experience of being the outsider in a state of liminality. His death has complicated her ability to leave liminal space. Rosanne enjoys her volunteer job as a GED tutor, where she thoughtfully listens to others and helps them have the second chances that, Rosanne believes, her father never had. Her delayed entry into the world of work causes her pain. She longs to see that she has something to offer employers. She hopes to make more professional progress in her thirties. Although Rosanne has not arrived at resolution of her vital conjuncture, she is gaining a clearer idea of what will help her get there.

The go-to person.

Several participants spoke about becoming the go-to person for others who lost a parent. Unbeknownst to these participants, they had developed grief wisdom, and people experiencing loss asked them to share it.

“All of a sudden, I’m that support person.”

Hayley said: I don’t think (the loss of dad) had any impact on my friendships at all. I think in the context of having friends, I am the person that people call when they have a parent pass away. I am all of a sudden that support person, even for people who had only

99 kind of been acquaintances, because I had that experience, and I have many more years in that experience than they do.

“Helped me feel as if what I learned could be helpful to another person.”

Jamil said: With my mom, there's been a couple points where a friend or a friend of a friend has been going through the same thing, particularly with pancreatic cancer. I would reach out to them and say I had the same experience, “If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.”

There's been two times where people have taken me up on that offer. I've been there to talk about my experience and also try to normalize things and say, "Here's what you can expect"—trying to be of service for people who are going through the same experience has been helpful in both cases.

I remember the first time I reached out to someone whose mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She was my age. I almost talked about it more like a doctor. It was kind of like, "Oh, which chemo is she doing? Is it one of these? Is your mother having this or that reaction?” That helped me feel as if what I learned could be helpful to another person. It made me feel better to talk about it in that one-step-removed way.

I was able to think about it as not something that happened to me but something, not something like a fresh wound, (but something) a little bit removed. I did reflect on it more in a different way.

100

Chapter V

Discussion and Implications Assessment of the Study This study aims to make explicit meanings that are (a) unique, (b) essential, and (c) distinctly related to the experience of parent loss in emerging adulthood. If we understand these meanings, we can engage people with parent-loss history with greater sensitivity.

Few studies focus on young-adult parent loss. Max van Manen’s hermeneutic phenomenology is well-suited to enable this population’s voice to be heard.

Hermeneutic phenomenology allows for meaning to become known via deep textual immersion. I interviewed six participants, each on two separate occasions. I read and reread their transcripts to allow themes and sub-themes to emerge. Typically, a researcher prepares an interview guide to elicit narratives of lived experience, but follows the respondents’ lead. I initially planned to study life transitions normative to this age group following parent loss. However, participant responses to the interview-guide questions fell flat. Participants did not want to talk about their life transitions as much as the subjective spaces into which they felt catapulted after the loss that was not generated or prompted by a specific transition.

In qualitative research, all participants must have experienced the phenomenon being studied (Cresswell, 2007). The six respondents provided rich and complex stories at the heart of what I was looking for. The aim of a phenomenological study is not to produce

101 findings that are generalizable to the population at large, but to understand and interpret subjective meaning that leads to a greater understanding of the participants’ lived experiences. This study elicited nuanced contextual data relevant to social work clinicians and researchers. The value of the data is supported by the participants whose comments show they found the interview experience significant and meaningful.

Abe: I enjoyed it. It’s rare I get a chance to talk about this. I think about my mom every day, but to give it focus, it brought out some emotions at certain points. It was a welcomed feeling.

Abby: After it happens, you kind of make it through and move on, but to actually stop and think like, “Oh, wow, look what happened and how I’ve kind of dealt with it,” you don’t really have opportunities to do that very much. Those three women passing away around the same time, and how I decided to carry the memory of them forward, not feeling responsible for the rest of my ancestry that they were so connected to. I think that realization’s been helpful.

Rosanne: My heart was pounding a little bit. I was a little anxious and I was like, “I’m going to ride this out.” I’m not enjoying it, but I like being able to say, Yeah, I talked about something difficult, and now I’m experiencing a somewhat negative reaction to it.” I don’t think a lot of people would enjoy that. But I found it kind of comforting to allow myself to have those emotions because I hadn’t in a long time.

102 One unexpected aspect of the study: Participants expressed a sense of discovery during the interview process. They articulated a range of responses including (a) welcoming the re-experience of loss to feel connected to the parent, (b) using the interview process to let go of guilt at not writing down family stories, and (c) finding mastery in tolerating the anxiety associated with memories following parent loss.

Participants found the exploration of loss helpful and meaningful.

Conclusions and Implications Conclusion #1.

The interrupted story represented by the in vivo code if only… was a unifying thread among respondents. This finding captured the sense of an expected future that was no longer available. The finding is elucidated by Daniel Levinson’s reference to the “Dream” in early adulthood in his 1978 book, Seasons of a Man’s Life. Levinson’s choice to capitalize the word “Dream” emphasizes the Dream’s importance to young-adult development. He refers to it as a “. . . vague sense of self-in-adult world” (p.91), with the enlivening quality of imagining what is possible. Levinson uses Winnicott’s (1953) concept of transitional phenomena, adapting it to the young-adult age group. The transitional space to which Levinson refers can represent an area between a hoped-for plan for one’s adult life and the unlived future, where the Dream will be tested in reality.

The Dream of emerging adulthood resembles fantasies of childhood because it lives in a play-space not yet ready for critique. On this point, imagine a young girl pirouetting in her family’s living room, whose ballerina fantasy is shattered by overhearing her mother say, “What a klutz.”

103 Levinson reminds us that a young adult’s Dream is initially “. . . as fragile as that of the small child” (Levinson, p. 93). Fragility remains a factor even though the young adult Dream is more tempered by conscious and unconscious knowledge of environmental limitations.

As a developmental task, the young adult must focus on the Dream’s unique features and eventual form to make it come alive in the external world. To realize this, emerging adults need the encouragement of trusted and supportive others. The loss of a parent can shatter the Dream or some essential aspect of it, along with the sense of self in the adult world. In this case, the death pertains not just to the loss of the parent, but the loss of the child’s imagined future. Such an outcome depends on (a) the quality of parental relationships prior to loss, (b) the age of the bereaved, and (c) whether the bereaved has a mentor or a significant other.

Most respondents were in the early phases of the process of creating a more interdependent relationship with their parent prior to the parent’s death. The parent was still needed for fostering a safe play-space for at least some important aspect of the young adult’s Dream. After the Dream’s interruption, the reactivation of a safe play-space took many years for several of the respondents, and was not fully reactivated in others at the time of the study.

Clinicians need to consider how to best encounter patients whose young adult Dream has been truncated. An individual requires a safe play-space to test the fantasy of the Dream. Winnicott recognizes that playing can be anxiety-producing. An optimal amount of anxiety allows the Dream to stretch into areas that feel more creative, even if less emotionally secure.

104 Winnicott also notes that too much fear arrests play. He refers to striving for the safety of a “. . . resting state out of which a creative reaching-out can take place” (Winnicott, 1971, p. 75). This resting state can occur within the therapist’s consulting room, modeled after the good-enough mother’s relationship with her child. When a therapist expresses openness to a play-space where reality can co-exist with imagination, without judgment, the young adult Dream can reactivate. Levinson considers this the feeling that one can exist and believe in a place for oneself in the adult world.

These findings suggest that clinicians working with young adults who have experienced parent loss need to consider the young adult Dream, and to listen for narrative threads that may reveal an interrupted story. Separation and individuation from one’s family of origin and developing an ongoing interdependent relationship takes time and happens piecemeal. All participants in my study experienced some shattering of their young adult Dream following parent loss, regardless of (a) age, (b) the numbers of attained young-adult transitions, or (c) the presence of significant others.

These findings support the conclusion that parent loss in young adulthood can interrupt a quality of the young adult Dream. Thus, clinicians will find it useful to attune to a narrative of Dream interruption after parent loss, and to create a safe play-space to reconstitute aspects of the Dream not yet reactivated.

Conclusion #2.

Liminality is a disruption of subjective experience. The known is deconstructed and no architecture of (a) contour, (c) shape, or (c) frame replaces it. It is a space betwixt and

105 between, a suspended state. The past is irretrievable and the future not foreseeable. The present is nebulous and opaque.

The term “liminality” captures a subjective and complicated state with differing intensities and dimensions. It can feel alien and destabilizing because it increases our sensitivity to the elemental qualities of: 1.

Time . . .

2.

Space . . .

3.

Body . . .

4.

Relationships . . .

Within these conditions, we no longer know our capacities, but we sense that we arrive at our limits. We feel powerless or strangely potent. Another unifying theme of the participants’ experience: a protracted immersion in liminality. Thus, understanding liminality is meaningful and relevant. van Manen’s hermeneutic phenomenology characterizes the experiences of liminality, specifically its elemental qualities. Phenomenological interviews begin with an interview guide, but allow the researcher to follow the lead of the participants. The respondents in my study repeatedly steered the conversation to their experiences in liminal space, which occurred directly after parent loss. The duration of time spent in liminality ranged from a few years to the entirety of time between the loss and the present moment.

Participant experiences were diverse. Some encountered alterations in spatiality exemplified by: 1.

The dreary view of asphalt from an apartment window . . .

2.

The repeated grating of a metal gate . . .

106 3.

A bleak feeling of homelessness . . .

4.

Disconcerting anger over the unrelenting void of loss . . .

Otherwise, one participant sought out corporeal pain to connect to a lost parent. Another felt shame and indignity over a failure of inner control, which lead to a relationship characterized by physical and emotional abasement. Two participants’ experiences illustrated temporal shifts: One participant fantasized about the safety of a perfect love held in a permanent state of temporal liminality, while the other fantasized about an ongoing intimate connection to a lost parent in a private space outside normative time.

Victor Turner, in his anthropological study of the Ndembu people of Zambia, noted that an individual can simultaneously experience liminality as a period of alienation, but also freedom and potency. Study participants described the loss of social identity and status, and of feeling like “the stranger” outside time and space. They spoke about feeling “othered” among their peers. One study respondent, a rule-follower who wanted to be liked, broke the rules without concern for repercussions. Another who always felt as if she didn’t belong in the world, experienced a period of higher self-esteem where she felt comfortable anywhere. Outside the context of this study, a young athlete I worked with some years ago who relentlessly overthought his ball-handling during competition experienced remarkable in-game ease after the death of his father, who had micromanaged his son’s high-school sports career.

Turner noted that liminal states occur when an individual moves between a previous status within the social structure and a new position within the community. Turner saw liminality as necessary for the health and survival of a culture because shaking up habitual conventions provided an immediacy and spontaneity that helped to enliven and

107 preserve social structure, giving it greater resilience. We can arrive at a liminal state either through entering a new life phase or experiencing a life crisis. Young adulthood is a liminal state in which the individual approaches many first-time experiences that elicit uncertainty. It is also a time when one can try out new (a) thoughts, (b) ideas, and (c) feelings outside prevailing norms.

The ability to tolerate uncertainty helps build resilience for future developmental tasks. The emerging adults in this study encountered liminality both through induction into adult life and because of parent loss. The expected liminal-space experiences of young adulthood were shared among cohort members. However, no participant in the study personally knew others who had experienced parent loss, making the path ahead especially uncertain.

The research findings illustrate that clinicians working with this population would benefit from understanding the features of liminal space and recalling their own experiences of liminality. Sensitivity to liminal states is essential when patients already feel “othered.� While these patients continue to do many of the same things as their peers, everything looks different from the vantage point of liminal space. Time, space, body, and relationships assume a strangeness that can feel (a) uncomfortable, (b) frightening and, at times, (c) oddly powerful or privately intimate.

Listening for temporal, spatial, and corporeal references in client narratives and asking open-ended follow-up questions can lead to a deeper understanding of patients’ experience. An increased awareness of the anxieties inherent to liminality will help clinicians prepare patients to tolerate these states. The capacity to tolerate qualities of liminal anxiety enables greater resilience when confronting subsequent losses.

108 Following parent loss, young adults enter liminal space for two reasons: the death of the parent, and changing life status. The life phase / life crisis combination can complicate mourning and the negotiation of developmental tasks. Clinical implications suggest the importance of understanding the features of liminal space and listening for liminality in the narratives of their patients. Clinicians can better encounter patients on the patients’ terms—leading to increased understanding and empathy—by attuning to disruptions in the following types of experiences: 1.

Temporal . . .

2.

Spatial . . .

3.

Corporeal . . .

4.

Relational . . .

In addition, clinical support for tolerating liminal experiences leads to increased patient resilience when confronting inevitable future losses.

Conclusion #3.

Demographer and anthropologist Nancy Johnson-Hanks coined the term “vital conjuncture” to describe the dilemma of young, educated Beti women in southern Cameroon who experienced unanticipated pregnancies. The advent of pregnancy blocked the women’s expected futures. The young women entered what Johnson-Hanks calls “. . . a duration of uncertainty and potential” (2002, p. 871). The young women had to navigate their way utilizing radical alterations of previous plans.

The “conjuncture” in question comprises the duration of time between the unexpected life-changing event and the as-yet-unknown resolution of the ensuing dilemma. The

109 conjuncture is “vital” because it touches on the scaffolding of critical and essential life decisions. For Johnson-Hanks, vital conjunctures can be open or closed: open when the future remains uncertain, and closed when the future becomes more definite, even if vastly different than first imagined.

The anthropological concept of vital conjuncture can help clinicians whose patients lost a parent during young adulthood. I first encountered the concept when searching for a way to include essential aspects of young-adult parent loss that went beyond the lived experience of life transitions. To my surprise during interviews, participant narratives indicated how parent loss affected at least some important aspect of young adult Dreams, the pursuit of which required parents’ physical presence.

My research offers several examples of the interrupted Dream. One participant could no longer Dream of spending time in relatives’ warm and loving home in his mother’s home country, because she connected him to family members he otherwise did not know.

This participant described himself as being “prim and proper” like his father and his father’s family. He had difficulty creating the kind of warm and affectionate relationships that his mother made with ease. His young adult Dream included the physical presence of his mother to provide a social structure of warmth and humor.

Another participant could not recreate the family ancestral stories that were forever lost with the death of her mother. Part of her young adult Dream was to preserve the oral history of her family’s life in their small European ancestral village. That future was blocked because her mother was the last relative with access to those stories.

When participants experienced a parent loss, it shattered of some important aspect of the young adult Dream. This in turn heralded the beginning of a vital conjuncture. The

110 conjuncture is the meeting point where assumption becomes certainty and, at least temporarily, is unknowable. It is a time of unpredictability and potentiality. It describes the working-out of possibilities after unforeseen circumstances destabilize anticipated futures.

Object loss leads to Dream loss, but these losses have different qualities. With object loss, clinicians both inquire about the presence of helpful others and become a helpful other. Therapists assist patients in the work of mourning, including the development of a sustaining internal presence of the lost loved object. With Dream loss, clinicians need to assess actual possibilities and future alternatives. Clinicians need to understand how young adults see themselves in the world after parent loss. Dream loss can include a change in social status or the loss of an expected social structure.

Dream loss originated in anthropology, and does not prove useful regarding closure.

Psychologically, clinicians speak less about closure than degrees of resolution or adaptation to a life problem. My research indicates that adaptations can either be nuanced and flexible, or comparatively rigid and fragile. Whereas patients see themselves as having moved on, psychotherapists might see unhealthy compromises. There is a range of possible adaptations, of which my research findings illustrate only a few. Clinical sensitivity is required to listen to structures in the patient’s narratives and to know when to respond.

The concept of vital conjuncture exceeds psychology. The concept can include mourning the lost parent and the subsequent navigation of life transitions. However, it also pertains to unexpected futures, which one must work out in the world. To delve into

111 this idea more deeply, we can explore how literature on mourning addresses the concept of the vital conjuncture.

My study utilized the theories of (a) George Hagman, (b) Robert Neimeyer, and (c) the team of Margaret Stroebe and Henk Schut. All these theorists recognize that mourning is never fully resolved and some degree of longing for the lost other may feature throughout one’s life. They examine ways that help mourners move toward resolution and adaptation.

Stroebe and Schut portray a dialectical process of mourning that oscillates between loss-oriented coping and restoration-oriented coping. The oscillations allow one to selfregulate the intensity of painful feelings of loss. This occurs by alternatively avoiding the pain through activities geared to restoration, such as legacy projects and finding mastery in new roles. Stroebe and Schutt suggest that a problematic adaptation occurs when a person can’t tolerate the anxiety of the loss state and moves exclusively toward a restoration-orientation, denying the pain of the loved object’s death. The two scholars also warn that the reverse (withdrawing almost entirely into a loss-orientation) has the consequence of prolonged, persistent grief.

These problematic mourning strategies applied to some study participants, who either retreated into a denial of feelings of loss or struggled to acquire mastery in new roles.

Strobe and Schut call these less-optimal forms of grieving “a disturbance in oscillation” (1999, p. 217). This implies that clinicians should attune to oscillations in their patients’ narratives to better support the titration of loss- and restoration-coping.

Neimeyer defines mourning as a two-fold process of meaning reconstruction following a loss. All participants faced the task of reconstructing a world of meaning,

112 since their young adult Dreams required the lost parent. According to Neimeyer, the process first entails processing the event story, in an effort to make sense of what happened and its implication for the survivors’ ongoing life; and then accessing the back story of the relationship with the loved one to reconstruct a continuing bond. Neimeyer’s theory suggests that those who have lost a parent need to rework their life story to “. . . accommodate the death and project themselves into a changed, but nonetheless meaningful future” (Neimeyer, 2011).

Two participants had event-story questions, one about the cause of the parent’s death and the other concerning the loss of faith in a personal God. Both respondents struggle to find greater resolution to their grief. An unresolved event story can complicate one’s ability to rewrite one’s story and move forward in life. All participants had a strong and positive back story of their relationship to their deceased parent. Each found ways to feel connected to the parent. Some narratives—one including a fantasy relationship of a perfect love who could never be lost, and another including a replacement relationship with the participant’s children—suggest that an ongoing inner connection was less easy for some respondents to maintain, which would complicate the process of adaptation and meaning-making.

Hagman, a self-psychologist, describes mourning as a disruption of self-organization which necessitates the transformation of meanings and affects associated with the lost other. Hagman sees mourning as an ongoing process throughout one’s life. The process requires the active engagement of attuned and responsive others in the bereaved person’s milieu, helping to affirm the experience of the lost parent as an internal sustaining presence.

113 Kohut, the founder of self-psychology, observes that our early affective interactions with significant others eventually internalize as aspects of the self, referred to as “selfobjects.” The selfobject is essential to the “. . . repair, sustenance and regulation of the self” (Hagman, 1995, p. 191). We need selfobjects throughout life, but the need lessens as one matures and assumes maintenance of their own self-structure through internalization of selfobject needs. According to Kohut, the way the self-structure grows to be more self-sustaining is called “transmuting internalization.” If there is a basic attunement between the self and its selfobjects with only minor empathic failures, a situation of “optimal frustration” can occur. This situation allows the self to decrease dependence on the selfobject by breaking down and taking selfobject functions into their own structure.

When young adults lose a parent, they have already learned to maintain a good portion of their self-structure, but they still need the parent to achieve “. . . normal and fully functional levels of self-cohesion, vitality and initiative” (Hagman, p. 192). According to Hagman, the death of a parent in young adulthood requires additional psychological work of transmuting internalization, which transforms the parent’s selfobject functions into an internal experience, which one can sustain without the parent’s presence. Some study participants were better able to access vitality and initiative than others.

The work of mourning, as explicated by the theories of (a) Stroebe and Schut, (b) Neimeyer, and (c) Hagman accounts for some but not all the factors in the vital conjuncture. These theorists address object loss but not the shattering of essential aspects of the young adult Dream. Clinicians should pay attention to what seems possible and what seems out of reach for these patients.

114 A vital conjuncture describes a duration in which one has no idea how their life will coalesce. It is more than a life transition or a psychological state. To understand this concept, one must grasp what Johnson-Hanks refers to as “imagined futures” or “horizons.” The theory concerns not only what futures are available but how affected individuals interpret feasibility.

The concept of vital conjuncture, borrowed from anthropology, expands our ability to work with young adults who experience grief and mourning. It requires a shift to working with both object loss and Dream loss. In the mental-health professions, we are trained to think in terms of mourning. We recognize psychological states. We don’t necessarily consider one’s need to work something out in the world.

Vital conjuncture encompasses both object loss and Dream loss. Vital conjuncture is not a psychological concept. It describes a time when an unexpected event calls the future into question. Uncertainty and potential coexist, and some futures disappear. These futures may be specific to the lost parent and can’t be recovered. Clinicians should attune to the reality of the Dream loss, and listen for patients to express an inability to realize their imagined future without the parent. Vital conjuncture can deepen understanding of object loss in young adulthood to include social structures and possibilities. It broadens the exploration of successful and sub-optimal adaptation after young adult parent loss.

Research findings also support the conclusion that clinicians benefit from attuning to origins of vital conjuncture other than parental death. Conjunctures can result from the loss of a parent due to deportation, for instance, or the loss of capacity due to an accident.

Such sudden propulsions of young adults into unexpected futures can lead to similar durations of doubt and potentiality, in comparison to parent loss.

115 My findings support the implication that vital conjuncture is an important concept for clinicians working with young adults after parent loss. The concept gives clinicians greater breadth to include (a) contemporary theories of mourning, (b) the shattered young adult Dream, and (c) the young adult’s perception of possibility and aspiration regarding the loss of the physical presence of the parent. Findings also infer the need to include clinical exploration of how one works out their life in the world. Clinical sensitivity is required to listen for (a) the feasibility of young adult Dreams after parent loss, (b) structures of flexibility and rigidity in the patient’s narratives, and (c) successful and suboptimal strategies for adaptation after loss.

Conclusion #4.

Numerous respondents experienced mastery when, subsequent to their own parent loss, they became the go-to person for bereaved peers. All these participants welcomed the experience. One participant felt like his experience could provide a service for others.

In addition, it allowed him to reflect on his own loss, not as a fresh wound, but from a place one step removed. He experienced resiliency and mastery when helping another, while not being pulled into liminality. This recognition indicated to some participants that they no longer continually inhabited liminal space, but had moved forward in their lives in significant ways.

Further Considerations on Theoretical Formulations and Findings In retrospect, I realize that some of the results of my study were actually theoretical formulations rather than research findings. The two concepts borrowed from

116 anthropology, vital conjuncture and liminality, were not found in the data but instead helped to elucidate the data. Vital conjuncture explains what the participants were grappling with in their narratives such as the challenge of how to adapt their worldview after parent loss and their actual lived experience without the parent. Liminality illuminates the sense of being both somewhere and nowhere during the process of mourning, explicating with greater nuance and depth the experiences of alienation and feeling othered.

Once the theoretical formulations have been separated out, it becomes clear there are two study findings. The first finding is that a result of young adult parent loss can be the shattering of the young adult Dream. The second finding is about the three different ways in which the participants incorporated young adult parent loss into their worldview.

The first finding is found in Chapter IV under the heading “If only…” or the “interrupted story.” The second finding was explored in Chapter IV but was not fully fleshed out and needs further explanation.

Arnett (2004) argues that the creation of a worldview is central to the developmental period of emerging adulthood. Parent loss at this time requires an additional adaptation of one’s worldview. It was found that the participants fell into three groups: those who expanded their worldview to include the loss of the parent, those who reinterpreted the loss in a way that was compatible with their already existing worldview and those who were still in the process of negotiating their worldview at the time of the study. The two participants who expanded their worldview to include parent loss seemed to have had the most successful resolution of their bereavement. They were aware that mourning would continue throughout their lives, but were still able to form intimate

117 partnerships and friendships and move forward with their careers. The two participants who tried to fit their experience of loss into their existing worldview appeared to have more limited outcomes in terms of intimacy, friendships and work. There was either a denial of the ongoing painfulness of the loss or what appeared to be an unconscious desire to reduce distress by replicating the original parent-child relationship. The participants who were still negotiating their worldview were wrestling with what Neimeyer and Sands (2011) call the event story of the loss, which is the narrative one needs to be able to accept about the circumstances of the person’s death in order to reconstruct a world with meaning. Two participants were struggling to create a narrative about the parent’s death that made sense to them. One wondered about whether her parent may have committed suicide and the other was wrestling with his conception of God. The impact of the unconcluded event stories on their mourning processes led to persistent ongoing bereavement. At the time of the study both participants were in psychotherapy, working on their unresolved issues.

Further Research This phenomenological study agrees with the premise that understanding participants’ lived experience will lead to greater empathy. The information gained is not necessarily designed for narrow or precise answers but to expand our ability to be present with and responsive to this population. It is therefore presumed that additional phenomenological studies will further our understanding of parent loss in young adulthood.

Respondents who participated in the study wanted to speak about and reflect upon parent loss. Many participants eventually gained a greater closeness to their other parent

118 after the loss, but they felt the most aligned with the lost parent. Many participants acknowledged the lost parent’s flaws, but none felt as if the relationship was deeply troubled. The lost parents were essentially supportive and helpful. Other studies may wish to expand this work by focusing on parent-child relationships with more ambivalence.

Qualitative studies have small respondent pools. In this case, we cannot correlate experiences of loss with the gender of lost parents. All but one of my study participants lost their opposite gender-identified parent. The prospect that opposite gender-identified parental relationships entail less ambivalence exceeds the realm of this study.

Young-adult parent loss offers fertile opportunities for further study. Social-work research is needed to advance greater understanding for clinical and program interventions. All six respondents in this study were college graduates. Most were Caucasian. Although the respondents came from a variety of faith traditions, additional qualitative and larger quantitative studies with greater racial and cultural diversity would further enhance our current knowledge.

119

Appendix A Informed Consent Form

120 Institute for Clinical Social Work Research Information and Consent for Participation in Social Behavioral Research Project Title: Parent Loss During Young Adulthood: The Impact on Life Transitions

I, ______________________________________, acting for myself, agree to take part in the research entitled “The Quality of Life Transitions after parent loss during Emerging Adulthood.�

This work will be carried out by Wendy Selene, LCSW as part of the requirements of fulfilling the Ph.D. program under the supervision of Michelle Sweet, Ph.D. and conducted under the auspices of the Institute for Clinical Social Work; At Robert Morris Center; 401 South State Street; Suite 822, Chicago. IL 60605; (312) 935-4232.

Purpose: The purpose of the study is to explore and describe the experience of emerging adults going through life transitions after parent loss. The focus is on the experience of both vulnerabilities and resiliences that emerge during the process of mourning an off-time loss while coming of age. The study will hopefully help clinicians and interested others to be more attuned to emerging adults who live this experience.

Procedures: Your participation in this study will involve one to two in-depth interviews each lasting approximately one hour. The researcher, Wendy Selene, will be the only one meeting with participants and conducting the interviews. You are free to choose not to answer any question or to discontinue the interview at any time.

Benefits: The expected benefits associated with your participation in this study are the opportunity to explore and share significant experiences as well as help further meaningful research.

Costs: There are no known costs associated with your participation.

Possible Risks and/or Side Effects: Since the researcher will be asking about your thoughts, feelings and perceptions, you may experience the interview as an emotionally significant experience. There are no known risks associated with participating in this study, however, should you feel concern or distress following the interview, Ms. Selene (847-528-6233) is available for a debriefing session. Should distress continue, a referral can be made to your preference of a clinician or a spiritual advisor.

121 Privacy and Confidentiality: All interviews will be audiotaped and then transcribed. Before the audiotape is given to the transcriptionist, you will be assigned a pseudonym. Transcriptions will be edited for confidentiality. The audiotapes will be erased following the transcription. Portions of your transcripts may be used in publications or presentations. However, in order to preserve your anonymity and protect your privacy, all names will be replaced by pseudonyms and identifying information will be altered or omitted. Identifying information includes, but is not limited to place of residence, occupation, physical characteristics, etc.

You are invited to ask any questions about the study before, during or after your participation. Ms. Selene will also be happy to share the findings with you after the study is completed.

By signing this consent form, I agree to take part in this study. I have not given up any of my rights or released this institution from responsibility for carelessness.

I may cancel my consent and refuse to continue in this study at any time without penalty or loss of benefits.

If I have any questions about the research methods, I can contact Wendy Selene, LCSW, Principal Researcher (847-528-6233) or Michelle Sweet, Ph.D., Dissertation Chair (630921-1430).

If I have any questions about my rights as a research subject, I may contact Dr. John Ridings, Chair of Institutional Review Board; ICSW; At Robert Morris Center, 401 S. State Street; Suite 822, Chicago, IL 60605; irbchair@icsw.edu.

Signatures: I have read this consent form and I agree to take part in this study as it is explained in the consent form. _____________________________________ ________________ Signature of Participant Date I certify that I have explained the research to __________________________________ and I believe that they understand and that they have agreed to participate freely. I agree to answer any additional questions when they arise during the research or afterward.

_____________________________________ Signature of Researcher

__________________ Date

122

Appendix B

Complete List of Codes

123 Codes in Quotes are In Vivo Quotes Codes with * were the strongest or co-occurring codes Remaining list of codes is in alphabetical order and represents all other interpretive coding as described in methods section.

“At loose ends” “Career path” “Coming together” “Doesn’t want the closure” “Fear of forgetting” “I can go anywhere” “Keeper of stories” “Kicked in the gut” “On my own” “On track” “Screw it all” “Sum of my experiences” “When it feels most raw” “Worst already happened” *Adaptation *Adversarial relationship with other parent *Anniversaries *Anger *Belonging *Body *Burden *Can’t meet grandchild *Career path *Change plans *Closest to lost parent *Fear of more loss *Feeling without *Friends of lost parent *Go-To person

*Grandchildren *Grief *Grief wisdom *Guilt *Helpful others *Holidays *Home *If only *I’m like my parent *Interrupted stories *Interview meaningful *Intimacy *Keep alive *Legacy *Lost contact *Milestones *Needing other parent *New role *Opportunity *Othered *Outside peer experience *Protection *Parent would have held me accountable *Parent would have helped *Psychotherapy *Rabbit hole *Relationship path *Resentful *Resilience *Safety *Sibling relationship *Spouse never met parent

*Significant others *Spatial *Ten-year anniversary of death *Time *Vulnerability *Worst already happened Alone Can’t consult lost parent Coming together Exhaustion Faith Family fabric Foothold Fix parent Home Loss triggers Make proud Meaning of children No nature No wallowing Noise Perspective Reminders Second chances Service Sibling relationship Special relationship Symbol Talisman Vacations Visceral reminder Void Warmth

125

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