Loss Verdadera is a publication created by and for Monta Vista teens for the purpose of instigating communication concerning the 'real world' of high school within the community. Each month, an issue on a topic relevant to the lives of our students is sent home for reading by parents and students alike. We encourage you to discuss and explore the issues and stories, as the publication aims not only to offer an outlet for expression but to improve our lives. Keep in mind that the emotions that flow through the text and the feelings behind the words could be those of your child, your classmate, or your best friend. While we do not edit submissions, we aim to publish personal experiences, not opinion articles. Please utilize all the resources present in the publication. Also, feel free to email comments and feedback. The Verdadera staff thanks you for your interest and support.
Student Submissions Things Happen for a Reason Last April, I lost my mom to cancer. Why does this have to happen to me??? I’m only 14 years old. This whole experience has been frustrating, confusing, scary, sad, and difficult. But I’d like to share my story. I’d like to tell you who my mom was as a person, how she passed, and what it’s like now that she’s gone. This is my story. My mom was one unique, strong, special woman overflowing with laughter, smiles, strong morals, and love. She had a neverending supply of love and happiness. She was always cheering me up or trying to make me laugh whenever I was down. And she was there at every basketball game, F.A.M.E.
performance, and track meet cheering me on. She thought of others before herself, and never liked to be worried or stressed. Even though she had a soft side, she was pretty tough too. She always wanted me to be independent and believe in myself. She was the kind of mom who liked to give long lectures and teach those “life lessons”. There were lots of morals that she strongly believed in. Some of them were “Treat others the way you’d like to be treated.” “Actions speak louder than words.” But the one she liked the most was “Things happen for a reason.” My mom was not only a mother; she was my friend, my teacher, and my biggest fan. “Things happen for a reason.” What’s the reason why this had to
happen to MY mom? Why did the cancer keep coming back? WHY? These are the questions I’ve been asking my self for three years now. My mom was diagnosed with cancer in 2003. I was only 11 years old when she told my older brother, my little sister, and me that she had cancer. But I’ve never heard of that word before, so I really didn’t know what it was but I knew it wasn’t good. As the days went on, she was limited in doing things because she was tired and in pain from all the treatments and chemo. But she still managed to always keep a smile on her face and was always up for a hug. In the year 2007, things started to get complicated. The doctor told her after a CT scan the cancer has come back, and has spread all through out her stomach. She still didn’t lose hope. In February 2007, she started to get so weak and the pain got so out of control that she couldn’t take care of herself anymore. Friends and family from everywhere immediately came to our house to help her. It was really amazing to see all the people who cared about her, and every body helped in their own special way. One day, my dad, my little sister, and I had to go to one basketball game. One game. My mom looked okay that day in the hands of her friends. So I played that one game my hardest; I knew that’s what my mom would of wanted. After the game, I feel one of my teammate’s dad pulling me and my sister by the arm. I was confused and felt rushed because I didn’t have any of my stuff ready to go. I reach the hallway, and there I see my dad crying. Once he looked at me, I knew. “Mom’s gone.” He said. Oh my god. My mom’s gone. April 15th, 2007 3:15pm my mom has passed away. Losing my mom was kind of losing a part of myself. The first few nights felt like forever. Memories of her wouldn’t stop pouring into my mind, and I would cry myself to sleep. My heart physically felt like it was in pain. The whole house
was empty and the air was cold, awkward, and silent. Even at school, I felt like I had to put on a “happy” mask. I didn’t want to make other people sad and I was embarrassed or felt like a burden if I cried. This was the lowest point of my life. I didn’t know what to do next or how to act, live, continue on without her. Until, I saw a poem that was found in her wallet. FOR THOSE I LOVE FOR THOSE WHO LOVE ME When I am gone, release me, let me go… I have so many things to see and do. You mustn’t tie yourself to me with tears, Be happy that we had so many years. I gave you my love. You can only guess How much you gave me in happiness I thank you for the love you each have shown, But now it’s time I traveled on alone. So grieve awhile for me, if grieve you must. Then let your grief be comforted by trust. It’s only for awhile that we must part, So bless the memories that lie within your heart. I won’t be far away, for life goes on So if you need me, call and I will come Though you can’t see me or touch me, I’ll be near, And if you listen with your heart, you’ll hear All of my love around you, soft and clear. And then, when you must come this way alone… I’ll greet you with a smile and “Welcome Home.” This poem gave me hope and a direction. Now, I have moved on and coped just as my mom would have wanted me to. I cook, do laundry, and clean just the way she’s taught me. I continue on knowing
she’s in a happier place; out of pain, treatment, and surgeries. I think about her every day, and know she’s watching over me; kind of like she’s my guardian angel. Some nights I even write to her in my journal updating her on new events, how I feel, my problems, etc. Some days will be good, some days bad. This road is going to bumpy and complicated at times, but I am reassured I can get through the tough times with help from my family and friends. Things will never be the same. I’ve accepted that. I’ve grown. The memory, love, and smile of my mom will stay with me forever. I will continue to live life with the morals she’s taught me. I miss my mom a lot but understand she’s in a happier place now. This whole experience has been difficult but it has brought my family and friends so much closer. When you lose someone close, it’s not always going to be easy. What I’ve learned is it’s hard to cope on your own, so use the help and support of family and friends. Continue to live life, because they probably want what’s best for you. This is my story. I am strong inside and out. My mom will always have a place in my heart. I love you, Mom always and forever. “Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.” Rossiter Worthington Raymond It was supposed to be a day of celebration. We were in a foreign country, going to see relatives, getting ready to vacation and relax like there was no tomorrow, but then that excitement evaporated. Vanished into thin air. He had left. A single phone call from the hospital and celebration was the last thing on anyone’s mind, except mine, of
course. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t wish for his departure, nor had I ever wished for such a thing. He was a respectable man and no one would have wanted him to leave. But when he left, I lost not one, but two things. I lost a loved one, and a reason to celebrate my birthday. His anniversary each year coincides with the day to celebrate my life. How do you celebrate and mourn at the same time? It’s been over four years, but I can never forget that one year. The year I never received presents, because everyone was busy planning his funeral, the year no one gave me birthday wishes, because who wishes happiness when there’s been a death, and the year that made my day of celebration meaningless. “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” – Norman Cousins
I lose a lot of things. I lose a variety of objects, ranging from glasses to pens to papers to combs. My memory for those things is not very stable. I leave things everywhere and almost always searching for insignificant objects. But that is not what you want to hear. During freshman year, I made a small circle of close friends. We had the same biology class together (except for one of us) and we had a lot of fun giggling loudly in class and teasing each other about our obsessions. Then, depression hit us. And a whole bunch of other depressing stuff. And through the process of dealing with myself and with the other things, I found myself losing touch with the world. Through this process, the closely knit friendships I tied with those close friends faded away and eventually came loose. I felt manipulated, betrayed, hurt by how one of my friends spun so many lies to confuse me, to attract my
pity and attention and worry. She clung onto to me, telling me that I was the only one who understood (who was suicidal enough to understand), and dragged me away from my other friends all the time to “talk to me”. I was a sophomore then, and I was stupid. I listened to every word she said. I believed everything. And although I saw how I hurt my friends as I neglected them increasingly, I could not do anything. What was I supposed to do? Abandon a friend drowning in sorrow? I was foolish then. By the time I somehow trudged into my junior year, I found myself in a sea of strangers. I lost my old friends; I knew so little about them that I could not connect or have anything to say. My suicidal “friend” abandoned me, like a ragged toy that could no longer entertain, and completely forgot about my existence. To top it off, I lost my faith in human relationships and any sense of trust. I still cannot get over the dread every time I meet someone because I am measuring how much it will hurt after they leave me. I cannot help but imagine ahead to what will happen in the future. Recently, I met a good friend. We have known each other ever since sophomore year, but we never really talked to each other. Just friendly acquaintances. But this year, we have more than one class together and I had the chance to know him a little better. And during some strange (maybe fated?) project at my house, we learned so much more about one another. And I am not saying I am not happy to know him. I do, honestly. He is such an awesome guy. But, every time I see him, I also see how I will end up losing him, too. I can imagine how he will tire of me, how he realize how terrible I am, and he will finally see that having me as a friend is completely detrimental to him. And having realized all that, he will leave me as well. I have lost so many friends
already; how many more do I still need to lose to break my heart? "Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness, and I could have stayed up with you all night, had I know how to save a life" – The Fray, “How to Save a Life”
I lost my grip on life. What formula is there to figure out the great way to live life to the fullest? Ever since I was a child, I would make lists. I would plan. Every single detail of my life to the fullest extent. I had this whole plan of getting through high school, getting a “certain” score on my SAT, make my parents proud of me as I jet off into an ivy league college, getting married when I am 26, having a child before I’m 28, and the list goes on. That is, until I found out everything high school has to offer. I was oblivious, I know. I didn’t expect all this cheating nonsense, backstabbing bitches, and stepping on people to climb to the top of the ladder. I lost my perfect life list and I don’t’ really know what to do. I stick to practicalness, I like order, I stick to what I know. That is until, I met you. You changed my world around—that might not be a good thing, by the way. You showed me the other part of high school. The drinking, the drugs, the marijuana, doing e, whatever the hell your friends are into. I thought high school was pristine, pure, easy, simple. Until you came along. Then every dirty little secret came out. How my friends were backstabbing me all along. How my classmates cheated on everything and buy copies of tests in the back of that place to score an A and ruin the car. (thanks all you liars).
Thanks, thanks a lot. I guess I found out every secret that high school has. The ridiculous overtaken drama. I may have lost my list on the way to live life but I found everything else that I need to live on. I no longer stick to a plan. I live day to day. I make my own decisions and I’m not foolish enough to condone to society— espeically this asian driven society where success is based on which college I get into, seriously what is that? Get over it people. Who cares what college you go to as long as you are happy? I feel like this high school is filled with the same asian robot, driven to the “good” schools out there. Robotic nonsense. I hope all of you lose your lists too and realize how wonderful it is to live spontaneously. With everything as a total surprise. I love how I lost my list. I love it.
“That it will never come again Is what makes life so sweet.” ~Emily Dickinson
I always believed the saying: when something is lost, something else is gained, but is the opposite true as well? Last year, someone who I would call at least a friend became really close to another of the opposite gender. Four months later, I’m accused of not being able to be happy for my friend. At first I was a bit jealous but I think what’s really getting to me now that the initial “in a relationship” status on Facebook is over is the fact that they don’t seem to want to spend time with anybody else. They don’t seem to know what’s happening around them. They don’t seem to be happy except with one person now. They don’t seem to care as much about me anymore. I’m sure I
didn’t completely fill their niche before but at least I felt like I was more a part of it. Now whenever the phone calls come, the least I can expect is nods of the head unless I need help with homework or something significant. Whenever the last bell of the day rings, I can expect afternoons by myself at home. Whenever we go somewhere, I can almost always expect we’re not alone. The only times for talking oneonone are in the car, and in the instances between their ringtone sounding. During the first few months, I did a lot more than I had to for my friend. I avoided as best I could the questions about their whereabouts, I drove them more than once to their desired meeting location. After it became continuous, I just couldn’t take it anymore. They seem to take me for granted and I never felt they were truly thankful for my efforts. I felt that I did all that only to be faced with accusations of not being considerate. I think this is the main reason why I was mean to them. But I guess it happens. I wouldn’t really know because I have yet to be in an actual real relationship, but I have no doubt a special bond forms between the two individuals. And my friend still does talk to me and give me advice when I most need it, but it still feels weird sometimes. I know they care about me, but it still sucks feeling like the third wheel. So after even my dad told me he felt like I was being unforgiving towards them, I knew I had to shape up. I was being a real bad word towards my friend and that wasn’t fair. I hope they know I’m at least trying to understand and accept it more now. I guess what I’m really wondering is would it hurt for them to try a bit more too?
“The acknowledgment of our weakness is the first step toward repairing our loss.” Thomas A. Kempis
My life was perfect. My parents were together, I had a big sister I looked up to, I got straight A’s, played soccer, had awesome friends, and strong Christian faith. And then everything fell apart. I LOST the perfect life that I’d always thought I would have. and it hurt so much to see it leave me. Slowly, but surely, the threads were unraveling everyhwere in my life. My sister developed sever anorexia, when I was in fifth grade. I was too young to understand why my mom was taking her to so many different doctors and why she was eating so strangely. One family vaction, we went to a fancy restaurant in Hawaii. I was so excited, and appreciative that my family would treat us. But at the dinner table, my sister had a breakdown when her fish was served with butter sauce. I was still so young, and I can only remember all the crying and screaming that night. Every family dinner from that point on turned into a war between my parents and sister , with me sitting there trying not to notice. Later, when I was in sixth grade, she lost so much weight she was almost admitted to the center in stanford. There they would force feed her to keep her from dying. The fear caused her to gain a few pounds, and she was never hospitalized, but her weight and moods fluctuated for three more years. My parents became emotionally and financially drained, and being at home meant constantly walking on eggshells. My Mom was also dealing with helping her sister, my aunt, through a horrible divorce.
My mothers emotions would plummet and skyrocket frequently. Then last year, both my grandfathers almost died, both received emergency open heart surgery. A few months later, I was having my own health issues. I was missing so much school, and going to the doctor almost everyday. None of them could find out what was wrong with me. I was so frightened. All I wanted was to tell me what was wrong, I was ready to take surgery if that was what it would take. My body, of which’s strength I had always been proud of, was so weak I could barely walk without help. All I could do was lay on the couch, or alot of the time, carpet, and cry until my entire body ached. The worst part was knowing that my family was worried. I was so mad at myself because I knew my family couldnt handle any more stress. Guilt took over me in the midst of my physical pain. We eventually solved my health problems, and my body is thankfully strong again. Then the hardest blow a t the end of last year, my dad had to go on chemo, again. But he was taken off the year long plan after the viral count in his liver wasnt lowered. When i was about five years old, he went on Chemotherapy for a year for hepatitis B, and it was unsuccessful. But my parents always just told me that he was ok, and that hepatitis wasnt a big deal at all. In the way, that any child would, I believed them. The f***ing chemo didnt work. After watching him be miserable, it would have been better to see that his misery had a purpose. But it didnt. So I asked questions. I found out he has stage two cancer of the liver, which he got from trying cocaine back in the seventies. The doctors think that he will be at stage three in ten or so years, and then ten years from then, the cancer will be terminal, unless we can find a blood match for a liver transplant. I am going to get my blood type tested, and I pray that we match. Liver cells can
regrow themselves, so I will be able to give him a portion of my liver IF we match. Through all our struggles, my dad has been the rock if the family, so strong. He always encourages me to achieve my dears, and is proud of me no matter what is the outcome. I don’t know what I would do without him. During all these things, I grew distant from everyone around me. I almost never talked about any of my struggles, it was too painful, and I didnt want anyone to see me cry. I was angry at God, and started to doubt His existence. My parents had signed me up for my annual church summer trip last summer, and I tried to get out of going. How could God exist, and let all of this happen. If he did exist, how could I believe he loved me, like Christianity taught. But I went on the trip. And it changed my life. for the first time in my life, I felt God’s presense. Despite sounding cliché, I truly cannot describe the experience with words. For the first time, I spilled out my problems to people who truly cared about me, yet i had just met. On the trip, I experience more love, in the true meaning of the word, than I had in my life. I learned about other peoples problems, as they shared, and my own began to look smaller. I know now, that my trials have made me stronger, and built character. Just as the Bible had told me all along …If only I had believed it at the time that my suffering was the worst. So I live today as person that lost her “perfect life” , but I wouldn’t have it any other way. “'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have lost at all.” Samuel Butlers
It all means nothing. I have every single he’s given me where he expresses his love. It’s all lies. I can’t believe it. This
is a Tragedy. This situation is very unfortunate. I just want to scream at him and have him feel the pain I feel, and have him feel my wrath. He has no idea how much I have suffered and I want to show him. I want him to come back to me.
If only in life, there was a lost and found for all the intangibles. I'm a pretty forgetful person. I can manage to lose anything, from house keys to my ipod. I managed to lose my wallet a total of around four times. But those things can always be regained. Money will do the trick. But there's no MasterCard available for the objects that really matter. I regret my 2007 summer. It felt so wasted. I felt a part of me was lost. Gone for a month and everything seemed so different. Flying back, it was as if my hopes were regained, to being able to see familiar faces after spending so much time in a foreign land. I think my hopes were severely crushed. Life moved on without me and it seemed that was true with my friends as well. I don't think I ever regained my friendships with people. It hurts even more when the people that leave you are the ones that mean the most to you. The closest ones that you slowly push yourself away from. I had to because they lost my trust and trust can't be regained that easily. And without trust, your friendships are basically then onesided. I feel this year, with the added stress from crap APs and honors courses, my social life has been depleted. I loss touch with half the people I used to talk to. But, if I saw the good in this situation, I would just say I got rid of those that didn't really mattered, those known better as "frenemies." Good for using and having them do your shit. But loss is never a good feeling. How do you allow someone to earn back your trust for them? It takes time and time is
especially vital for junior year, meaning im just going to have to push my friendships aside. This year is the shittiest year ever. Man, it blows to have all this crap piled up. People think most of the worries come from hw, SATs and APs but those seem so trivial compared to relationships with people. Who gives a crap what you get on your SATs. I mean that 2310 won't mean jack to me. But I hope my friendships can at least last a little longer. So how do I preserve something that's slowly being lost? I miss my old life. But everyone and everything changes. Maybe with loss, you learn from your lessons. What do you do when you lose something or someone? Crying or beating yourself over the issue won't change the fact that its long gone. So man up, brush it off, and take it for it is. For those that scarred you, always able to forgive but forgetting, that's not really possible for me. This year doesn't look too bright, but it doesn't hurt to hope I guess.
Comrades, best buds, then that fateful day, “I’m moving”. Both of us were crying, horrible thoughts crossed our minds “what if we never see each other again?” was the most significant. That day he asked me to run away with him, just so we couldn’t be separated, I was 6. But I couldn’t. My parents would ironically feel the loss too and I knew I couldn’t do that to them. So he left. That day was worst day of my life, he left, we hardly saw each other [he moved across country]. We grew up..I guess, but part of me is always just… “what if..”esque. If he hadn’t of moved, would I be who I am now? If I had gone with him what would life be like? It’s been 11 years, I still feel the loss of that day.
“A real friend is someone who would feel loss if you jumped on a train, or in front of one.” Author Unknown
I’ve thought about the topic “loss” for a while and I even looked it up on dictionary.com. Loss on Dictionary.com is described as failure to keep something to losing something to failure to preserve or maintain.
Loss? Everyone has felt that loss, whether it be a death of a loved one or just someone that you feel is your soul “sibling” whatever. This person is your best friend, who you pour your heart and soul into at times of “emo” but then all of a sudden this person is pulled away from you. Those two words, who would have thought that just two little words could cause such devastation, “I’m moving”. I’m sure to everyone else this makes no sense because it’s just someone moving, but to me this was the most horrible occurrence of my young life. We met at birth, basically, our moms were best friends, from the womb to the crib to the nursery to the etc etc.
“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.” Edna St. Vincent Millay
Truth is, I have lost many things in my life…like all other humans. From materialistic items like a snazzy digital camera all the way to people who truly mean a lot in my life. It is junior year, and I finally realize that everything that really matters to me is to keep hold of what is important to me: my friends, my family, my life. I lost many friendships in the past year, but it was my decision to end them. I had to cleanse myself of those who deplete my life and fill myself around with people who actually help me. But there is so much pain in losing a friendship. I
mainly broke them off because I knew they weren’t trustworthy and blatantly used harmful words about me behind my back. I felt like a child, stuck on a red tootsie roll (the best flavor, of course). I held those friendships in my hand, oh sotightly, trying my best not to let go. I didn’t want to let go, even though, I knew I was getting hurt. But I knew, deep inside, that I had to lose these friendships. I had to let them go. I could no longer cry myself to sleep or fill this strict exterior on my face to show them I liked them. I could no longer lie to myself. I could no longer lose myself in order to keep them. I had to choose one or the other. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I kept those friendships. I wish I didn’t lose them. I miss those days hanging out and laughing about everything. Although now I don’t cry myself to sleep about my life. I don’t cry myself to sleep thinking about all my friends and who they really are. Do they even care about me? In the end, I’m happy I lost those friendships. I truly am. I’m happier now and at least, I didn’t lose myself. I am still me. It happened nearly three years ago, dur ing the summer. I was with my relatives, traveling up the eastern coast of the United States. The plan was to head all of the way up to DC from Florida. We only got as far as Georgia when the plan was called off. I was confused, and sat through the en tire next day as we backtracked across the country which we had been leisurely driving up day by day. In one day we covered the entire distance back home. The next morning we took a flight up north, where my great uncle had lived when he was Still alive. My great uncle who was now dead. Funny thing was, I never knew him. I went through the entire funeral process,
seeing the body on display (a tradition which still makes me uneasy), and met all of the relatives. I enjoyed that part, yet still felt out of place. For them it was a father, grandpa, or perhaps a close friend. For me it was my grandfather's brother, someone whom I had never met and never even really heard of before. I could see the loss in everyone, even though some tried to hide it with dignity. When a close friend dies, everyone mourns their passing. It is like a patch of darkness which grips the heart, not only knowing that one will never see their loved one ever again, but also coming to realize the single truth in life: that one is really a mortal on a careless planet float ing somewhere in the depths of space. Whether they believe in the afterlife or not doesn't stop them from going. My great uncle was stone dead. I still felt re morse, seeing the ashen face in the im maculate tuxedo lying rigid within the velvet interior of the coffin. The smell of the preserving chemicals and the per fume used to cover them up mixed in my nostrils, and I shuffled reluctantly to wards the body. However, as the line shortened, and I came closer, I knew that I too needed to pay my respects. I never knew him, yet he is dead. How ever, I know those whom he knew, and therefore must thank him for the path he strode through life, for in the end that path, like a stone cast into water, caused ripples of interference with my own life, and the lives of others around me. So I knelt, averting my eyes from the loosely closed eyelids of the dead man, whispered my thanks for the life he lead, admitted how little I knew of him, and finally stood, wiping a tear from my eye. “Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life.” Albert Einstein
This is about the loss of trust. I made the mistake of trusting someone completely. When she started showing signs of betrayal, I made the mistake of trusting her anyway. When I finally couldn’t ignore it anymore, it was too late – my heart broke. If I can’t trust her, I can’t trust anyone. I pushed myself away from so many other people because now I feel so vulnerable all the time. People asked me why I’m so different now than I was before. I make up excuses, but the real answer is because I’m so afraid of being hurt. It’s a lonely life without trust.
I always thought I was good at dealing with loss. I’ve had several pets and family members die and many friends move away, but eventually I get over it. Recently, I realized it’s not that I am good at dealing with it… it’s just that I don’t. I put it away, cover it up, and hope to never think about it again. When my uncle died in a tragic motorcycle accident. I slept… for days, woke up, went to his memorial, and went home. I do admit I cried, but I think it was just because everyone else was. I never felt emotionally content with letting him go. He was one of those guys that everyone gets along with. He was a built guy, a firefighter, who loved his wife, my aunt, and loved our family. Our very liberal, very tolerant family was so different than his extremely conservative, Christian Scientist family, but when we were all together we were so happy. I remember laughing for hours. We don’t talk to them anymore. I think it’s because we don’t want to remember. We don’t want to remember how much it hurt to see him go and to never say goodbye or tell him how much he made me laugh or how much I loved him.
Loss is part of life, but that doesn't mean it can't hurt. I lost many friends, some who moved away, others who found new paths. I have lost family members. People who I cared about; all of them. I guess its the way the saying goes: all things must perish. I had a great child hood friend who moved away some years ago. It was terrible. My life practi cally turned upside down. Suddenly it was as if I was missing my right arm. Being left all alone at school, having to socialize with new people was scary at the time, and as long as my friend was there things were cool. When he left I was unprotected. Getting over it was hard, and took time, but I managed. I met new groups, learned how to talk to people, and now I have some more friends. I only have two or three whom I would consider my best, and now I fear for when I must lose them too. My life has been protected within the school system. A sheltered environment in which we are brought to gether and see each other all the time. With graduation nearing every day the inevitable end approaches simultaneous ly, and as sure as the brink draws nearer so does the day my friends are gone come closer. I don't know how I will deal with it. I just know that I have to enjoy them while I can. I am terrified in some sense of the inevitable loss, and I try to think of what is beyond high school. The world is a massive place, and I'm no longer in happy land. I hate to lose all of the protection, the security, and the basic structure. I hate to lose the excitement, the teachers, and most of all my friends. “The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.”
Hilary Stanton Zunin
Often, life itself teaches lessons harsher than any teacher could. During my sophomore year, I lost two of my closest friends within of six months. Kevin re mained my best friend in elementary school, the person who first walked up to me when I played alone in Meyerholz and asked me to join in. I remember competing with him in everything, we did everything together and always tried to outdo one another. He motivated me to become a better person and my friend ship with him made me who I am today. Years passed, one day in high school, his heart just stopped. He had inherited a ge netic disorder that eluded detection. His funeral was the first I’ve ever attended and the memory still burns bright in my mind. I could hardly believe someone with such a bright future could disappear so young. Tragedy, moreover, did not cease with Kevin’s death. Half a year later, Sharon, one of my oldest, closest friends, succumbed to a mysterious malady during her sleep. Our parents were friends in college and we met each other when we were still in diapers. She made me laugh when I first came to America and had no other friends and even after, I preferred her conversation to all others. I remember she always wanted to be a pediatrician, to work with and help kids. Before she put her healing hands on a single child’s shoulders, death took her in its icy grasp. Like Kevin, she worked hard and succeeded no matter what the task. Oddly enough, she is also one of the healthiest people I have ever met. All the ‘power’ of modern medical science could not discover her cause of death, something that continues to keep me from achieving closure. Now, two years later, I still smile whenever I think of her comforting voice. Death seized both Kevin and Sharon without warning, and
so I became interested in biotechnology and genetics to try to keep that from happening to others.
“The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.” Robert Southey I lost my parents. It's not like I ever really had them to begin with. Yes, they gave me life and I thought they werE the coolest people in the world apart from my sister, and yes they are still around and living in separate states, and yes they claim to "want what's best for me", but let's face it. In reality, they are not my parents. I don't relate to them well. They don't try to relate to me. They don't know what I like or don't like, they don't know what I am most passionate about or how much anything means to me, and they hardly know my friends. I don't know them, at least, if what I know of them is all there is then they are crazy, and they sure as hell don't know me. I lost them a long time ago, and I've gotten by without them. I lost my faith in them. They are way beyond imperfect people, even though their intentions are good, neither executes it in anywhere close to a decent manner. Neither shows affection, nor do I want them to anymore. We never say "I love you", we never hug, we never show any affection. I lost my desire for that. I only wish I could lose my need for her approval. You could say I lost my childlike wonder of them, but I say I lost my naivety in thinking that they were my parents.
Strapping on my unlaced black Nike football cleats, getting ready for my last high school football game. I feel moisture coming down my face. It felt like I was strapping up to go into battle,
and this was going to be my last chance before I am put into a life or death situation. The team starts to yell getting pumped up, for some, there last game as well. I fine my way to the front of a two by two line, marching out of the locker room wearing the number twenty jersey for the last time. Finally reaching the moist lighted football field where I had finally found my niche, it is finally time to play call. Football wasn’t just a game to me, but it was a camaraderie between me and my teammates which we have grown close to each other for years. These are the people I have spent the early cold mornings with training to be the best football team we could be, or the long doubleday afternoons where we could barely breath for oxygen. The Friday nights was where I felt like a family, always knowing that the person to my left and my right was fighting for the same thing. The whistle blows and it is ready for kick off, waiting anxiously on the sideline. My purple, black and white shoes are dug into the grass waiting to run out on the field. It’s finally my turn to get out on the there to try and make my school and team proud. Looking out in the crowd, I feel a bond between me and them, as they are the ones who have supported my team and me through the cold nights. They are the ones who stuck by us win or lose and always tried to keep a positive attitude. The whistle then suddenly blows again, but this time it is not time for me to get a chance to get the ball. I look up at the score board and the time shows 0:00. The game had not only ended, but my careers as a Monta Vista Matador had ended. Will this be the last time I ever step on a field to play football again? This is the question I ask myself as everyone is hugging each other saying their sorrows and goodbyes to the game as well. Heading back to the locker room, I sit quietly in the black leather seats of the yellow bus. Pulling up to the parking lot, cheerleaders are lined up
waiting for us to get off the bus. Coach by coach, player by player, the cheerleaders yell and cheer for a good game we had just played. Bashful and shy as I am, I look down at the ground not giving any eye contact to any of them. Changing slowly, as I am sore from playing the game, I sit down on the wooden bench and talk with my buddies all around me. Every senior is sad, as am I, knowing that this might be the last time any of us play football together again. As I head home in my cold black Acura, I feel something inside of me that I have never felt before. It didn’t matter to me about the MVP’s, newspaper articles, or the amount of touchdowns I scored as those will soon be forgotten. What mattered to me most was the new family that I had gained which will last a lifetime. Being a football player wasn’t so I could become a “star” athlete but it was to be apart of a team. Coming into high school, I had no intention of playing football at all because my mother wouldn’t let me. When my friends and I wanted to hang out, we couldn’t because they would have practice or would be too tired after practice. My friends would tell me that I should join, but the decision was just out of my hands. Finally one of my friends had a talk with my mom, and somehow convinced my mom to let me play this new sport. Half way into double days, I talk to coach and ask him if I can play, and he let me have the opportunity to be apart of his team. I never played football before as I wore soccer shoes out on the field for my first week of practice. Luckily everyone on the team were people I knew, and they helped me through the diversity I had to overcome. Football is not an easy sport, and at the end of each practice, I question why I still play the sport. I ask everyday why I put myself through so much pain and hard work just to catch a football
and run. I then think about all the people around me, and my teammates that are right by my side doing it as well. after every practice, “I”, am not the only one who is feeling sore and tired. My friends and I are the ones who are feeling tired. Being a family is getting through challenges and happy times together. I got to know a lot of my teammates on a
better level than just on the field, off the field is where most of the memories came from. I am never going to forgot how much fun, as well as pain, that my friends and me went through to get where we are now. The family that would never be replaced and the bond that is irreplaceable. That is what I miss most about playing high school football.
Grief and Loss Maureen R. Johnston, M.A. Marriage and Family Therapist One Friday morning a few years ago, I was rushing to get to a meeting and as I hurried down the driveway to my car I froze in my tracks. There, in the street next to the curb, was my cat. My cheeks were wet before I reached his small black body. Clarence was cold and stiff as I picked him up, so I knew he had passed away sometime in the night. I don’t know how long I sat there on the sidewalk with him before I carried him up to the house, gently wrapped him in a towel and found a box to lay him in. Many of my clients are dismayed and surprised at the intensity of their reactions to what can seem like trivial losses. While it can feel like you must be crazy to have this much grief, the intensity is actually a common reaction, since in some way, our losses frequent ly become connected with each other, like beads along a string, or knots inside a net. Any new loss, big or small, can trigger a whole network of previous losses, some extending into the distant past. This is true not just for losses due to death, but for other types of losses as well. I knew as I got in the car and drove away that I wasn’t just weeping for Clarence, I was also crying for the other pets I’ve buried, and even more for the grandpar ents I lost. I was mourning the loss of a time before death had entered my life. I was grieving all that I would never be able to replace. Fortunately, the meeting I was heading to was with a group of therapist friends who were all pet owners and thus they were ready with the box of kleenex when I burst into the room and told them about finding Clarence dead. We shared our pet stories and soon we began to bring up other losses we had experienced. I must admit there was a small part of me that was thinking ‘hey, wait a minute, this is about me and my cat not you and your dog’, but I knew that there is a domino effect with loss. Just as I was also thinking about our other two cats who had died not long before Clarence and remembering my tears hit ting my grandmother’s casket, talking about my loss triggered many sad memories for my friends. As we go through life, we are faced with many different kinds of losses. While the first thing that comes to mind when I think of loss may be the death of pets, grandparents, friends, parents or siblings, we are also faced with everything from the loss of our child hood innocence, to the loss of our family to divorce, to the loss of hope or faith. Friends move away or are lost through unresolvable conflicts. We fall in love, then somehow it dies and the relationship ends. We go from one school to another, we move to a different neighborhood, we have to let go of dreams. All these impact us to varying degrees. We are especially vulnerable when the loss is particularly significant or we are faced with multiple losses. While listening to the students’ submissions for this issue of Verdadera, I was struck by how deeply impacted they were by the loss of friendships. The very real grief of losing a dear companion was complicated by a sense of betrayal and disillusionment at how the friendships came to an end. The loss of trust in others and the loss of faith in the safety of relationships left the students feeling isolated and adrift. Whatever form the loss comes in, our reactions to it often shock and bewilder. It can be helpful to recognize that we all go through a common process of dealing with grief. The
stages of grief were initially developed by Dr. Elizabeth KublerRoss to help understand and describe how we deal with the death of a loved one. But the steps are similar regard less of the type of loss. Obviously, the more significant the loss, the more intense the re action. The basic stages of grief that she delineated are: Acceptance
Denial Anger Bargaining Depression
It is important to be aware that while these appear to be laid out in a nice predictable se ries of steps, as we go through it, grief is actually much messier and more confusing. Many of my clients refer to it as a rollercoaster of emotions that overwhelms them and leaves them drained and exhausted. We can cycle and recycle through the various stages at different speeds and sometimes we get stuck in one of the stages for a long time. We might think we’re done with the anger, but something happens and we’re inexplicably raging at the injustice of it all once again. It is also common to reexperience the stages at particular anniversaries or meaningful dates. The first year after a major loss is filled with ‘firsts’: the first birthday without the loved one, the first Halloween, the first Thanksgiving, etc. Thereafter, we find ourselves thinking about those we’ve lost at special times throughout the year. For example, I al ways think of my grandmother on her birthday, even though she’s been dead for more than 30 years. Sometimes, my clients are confused about how they get depressed at a par ticular time every year, and upon close examination, we realize this is the anniversary month of a significant loss, which may have occurred years, maybe even decades, ago. Our bodies remember, even when we’re not consciously aware. How well we cope with our grief depends upon many factors, some of the most important being: the significance of the loss the strength of our support system how many other losses we have experienced our basic personality style our ability to reach out to others While we all try to handle the loss in our own ways, some coping mechanisms are more hurtful than helpful. The desire to get away from pain is very real and very powerful, and can lead many people to attempt to numb it out with alcohol or drugs. It’s also common to pretend to deny the pain and push it to the side by distracting ourselves with intense busyness. Telling yourself “it’s not such a big deal, just get over it” is not a helpful strate gy in the long run, the pain just surfaces later in a disguised form. One of the most common ways of dealing with the grief not talking about it is also one of least helpful. It is too easy to isolate oneself and pull away from others who could be sources of support and comfort. Sometimes we say we don’t want to burden others, sometimes it feels silly, sometimes we fear we’ll be thought of as weak. Whatever the reasons we tell ourselves, silently carrying the weight of our grief allows it to rule us for longer than it needs to.
It was very helpful for me to be able to sit and cry with my friends shortly after finding Clarence’s body. That was exactly what I needed at that moment. They helped me deal with the shock and get over the belief that there was something that I could have done to prevent his death. He had lived a long time and we knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. By venting my initial pain with them, I was better able to later help my young son process his own grief. As the days went by, my friends understood when I seemed moody or preoccupied, and they periodically checked in with me to see how I was doing. All cultures have developed highly ritualized ways of dealing with death. Most involve a funeral and some form of party afterward, where friends and relatives gather to commem orate the dead with stories, jokes, and reminisces. Often there are detailed rituals involv ing food, music, flowers and pictures. There are proscribed periods of mourning, dictated by the level of intimacy with the one who has died. There are behaviors one is expected to avoid or engage in. These customs and rituals help us get though the initial days of grief by providing a structure and framework to follow, as well as public recognition of the loss and a period of time to set other responsibilities aside. The farewell and graduation parties we throw are rituals we’ve developed to honor the loss of one life stage as we move onto the next. However, for many other losses, we may find ourselves feeling lost since there are no cultural rituals associated with them. We don’t have culturally approved customs for relationship breakups, lower than expected grades, loss of faith, or not being accepted to a team, school, or group we’ve applied to. For these types of losses, it can be healing to develop personal rituals to help us deal with the strong emotions and accept what has occurred. For example, some people destroy old love letters and pictures to help them get over a breakup. Others write poetry to express their feelings. Playing or listening to sad or angry music can be useful as we grieve. Grief is a very complicated process involving many different, sometimes conflicting emotions, and we all need to find ways to express it or it can come to control us. It is very important to find constructive ways to deal with the grief. Reach out to others, whenever possible surround yourself with people who care about you. If you don’t feel that you can trust your friends, or if it feels like it’s too big for them to handle, seek out an adult who will listen. There are plenty of teachers at the school who would be very willing to lend an ear and be with you. The student advocates and counselors are there to help. If needed, they can help you to get in touch with professionals and organizations outside of the school who specialize in helping people as they go through the grief pro cess. It is not a sign of weakness to seek professional help when it seems like the grief is taking over your life, or has been going on for what feels like an unusually long time. Asking for help when the load is too heavy is an indication of courage and selfpreservation. You owe it to yourself and the people who care about you to reach out for the resources that are available, both at school and in the larger community. One question that comes up occasionally in therapy is ‘how do I help my friend/parent/child deal with their grief?’ We all know people who have lost someone/something dear to them and we don’t know what to say or do. One of the most important things to keep in mind is that you cannot take away the pain, you cannot bring back what has been lost. What you can do is be there with them in their pain. Sit with
them. Talk with them. Cry with them. Hold them if they want to be held. Ask them what they need from you. If they want silence, be quiet. If they want to be distracted, take them to a place they like to go. Try not to lecture or minimize the pain. The pain is real; even if you have the best intentions, telling someone it’s not really that big a deal will only make them feel worse. When Clarence died, we did what many do with the death of a pet, we buried him in the yard. We shed our tears and laughed at the memories of some of his antics. Not long af ter, we planted a white camellia to mark his grave. It took us a long time to really accept his death, and it was several years before we felt ready for another pet. I’m very happy that we now have two cats who are both young and healthy. The others will always hold a very special place in my heart, and I smile when I occasionally call these two by the names of their predecessors. If you ever wonder whether your own or someone else’s grief reaction warrants profes sional assistance, please feel free to contact me. I’d be happy to answer your questions and discuss your concerns. Some websites you may helpful, either for professional assis tance or information are listed below. http://maureenjohnston.com /index.html http://www.billwilsoncenter .org/thecentre/index.shtml http://www.associatedcounselors .com/ http://www.scvcamft.org /therapistfinder/ http://www.righthealth.com /Health/7%20STAGES%20OF %20GRIEFs?lid=yhooads sb 9456923278 http://www.uiowa.edu/~ucs /griefloss.html http://vetmedicine.about.com /od/lossandgrief/Loss_and _Grief.htm
Upcoming Issues and Submission Deadlines Issue Technology
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Loss March 2008 Staff: Nita Chen, Natasha Desai, Dinah Draluk, Kai Kang, Serena Lee, Yifang Qiu, Robert Rodine, Evelyn Shaw, Vicky Xu, Matisse Yoshihara, Hermes Huang, Paulina Dao, Gillian Decker Advisor: HungWei Chien, Carol Satterlee, and Kathy Fetterman Visit us at www.verdadera.org