Lifeline October * November * 2003 www.compassionatefriends.ca         **      email ~ tcf@compassionatefriends.ca   Precious Child Remembered  We know that you are hurting We know just how you feel. The pain deep inside your heart You feel it can't be real.    We know what's going through your mind, Thoughts that cloud it through the day. We're on the road you're traveling now. It can be handled, there's a way.  Don't fight the tears you're feeling, You must just let them flow. Speak of your child daily       To many people that you know.   Find others who can understand They'll hold you as you cry. The questions, we have all asked, All the how's and every why.  We will always think of our child, No one will have to say a word. They will remain in our hearts Our precious child remembered.   Author Unknown   Things often are most beautiful before they leave us - As autumn ends, she spends her final glory on us, who hurt when we remember spring.… ~ sascha A Touch of Love I would straighten your tie, Smooth your collar, Pick a bit of lint from your sleeve Before you left for your day’s affairs And I turned my attention to mine Today I brushed off a leaf That had fallen on your name Doris Alsup TCF Fort Worth TX. Coping Conflicts When a child dies there is no quick cure and no way to fix what hurts us.  The best we can do is to learn to cope with it.  Each individual has his or her own way of coping with stress, and, unfortunately, these differences among us may create great conflict within the family.  At a time when we wish we could pull together, our individuality may prohibit that from happening. These differences in coping styles are often noted between the parents when a child dies, and if they do exist they can and do lead to conflicts between husband and wife and within the entire family unit.  If a gregarious, outgoing woman is married to a quiet sensitive man and the child of that union dies, the coping techniques may be so different that is seems as if two children have died—the mother’s child and the father’s child. If the wife wants to talk about the child twenty-four hours a day and the husband throws himself into work and outside activities as an escape, conflict often arises and both parents may, not understanding these differences, react with anger toward each other.  If the husband needs to see friends and have some recreation and the wife needs to go to the cemetery, hostility can result.  If the wife need to pretend that her dead child’s birthday isn’t coming next week and the husband needs to acknowledge the day in some special way, sparks may fly. In each of these situations, the parent is coping with the loss of a precious child in the only way he or she knows how.  We do not automatically receive new coping mechanism when our child dies; we rely on how we have coped with problems prior to this tragedy. Think back to other hard times in your life.  Certainly these times pale in comparison to the ultimate tragedy of losing a child, but what did you do then?  Did you cry a lot or put your best foot forward?  Did you talk to anyone who would listen or withdraw from people?  Did you throw yourself into your job and work long, unnecessary hours, or did you find yourself disorganized and unable to concentrate?  Did you find sleep a viable escape or were you unable to sleep?  Did you share your pain with your children or try to protect them?  The recognition of our own coping mechanisms, as well as those of other members of our family is often the first step in successfully living the life of a bereaved parent.  For you see, there is no “right” or “wrong” way to grieve, there are just different ways, and we must try to give each other permission to cope with our loss in any way we can.  Elain Grier Philip’s Mom TCF Atlanta The following Coping Tips are a summary of some of the info Darcie D. Sims presented in her session “The Bereaved Marriage—Mending the Circle of Love” presented at the “Northern Lights—Reflections of Healing” conference in May. Tips for Coping as a Couple &       Your marriage relationship is a most important relationship.  Let it take precedence over all others. &       Everyone grieves in unique ways.  Each of you has different needs and ways of expressing emotions.  Work on learning to accept your spouse/partner’s expressions of grief, especially when they are different from yours! &       Each of us grieves alone, but you do not have to be alone as you grieve. &       Your spouse/partner does not have to be your sole support system &       Difficulties occur even in the best of relationships.  Your relationship does not have to collapse because your child died.  It will be shaken to its very core. &       We are not mind readers!  Work at communicating your needs emotionally, physically, mentally and spiritually. &       Grief often causes difficulties with sexual intimacy.  Be patient.  Be forgiving.  Be honest and open with your feelings and needs.  Remember that touch and hugs can be healing, even when intimacy is not possible. &       Each of you needs some privacy.  Respect each other’s needs and feelings.  Give the space needed.  Having some “private” time may enhance the “together” times. &       Each of you is a different person now.  Be patient with each other as you learn who you are and who your spouse/partner  is now.  You are not strangers to each other, although it may feel that way.  Remember the bond of love that bound you together in the first place. &       As you each search for meaning in your loss, one may turn to faith, one may not. &       It is OKAY to enjoy life once again.  You may not heal on the same time schedule, so do not interpret laughter or the return of some joy as “getting over it” or as “not caring”.  Enjoy the brief moments of respite that joy brings. &       You may each choose different things to remember and to save.  Work at being respectful and accepting of each other’s choices. &       Sharing your progress as well as your pain helps heal a relationship.  &       Cherish your differences, rather than use them as weapons. After October…..   and if there be a perfect month, for me, it is october… with days and nights like laughing fauns, with morning bright and sober.   when wind will dance in sudden glee to do the autumn-sweeping or cloud and fog and wistful rain can move a heart to weeping     and in october You were born, four days before november –   and four years later You were gone, my little son, my only son,   I love you.             and remember… Sascha   Friendships multiply joys and divide grief   Thomas Fuller While grief is fresh every attempt to divert it only irritates. Samuel Johnson   Feelings are everywhere, be gentle J. Masai And A Child Will Lead Us   I see your pain and I want to banish it with the wave of Star .....But I have no Star. I see your tears and I want to dry them with the hem of an angel’s gown ....But I have no Angel I see your heart fallen to the ground and I want to return it wrapped in clothes of woven rainbow ..... But I have no rainbow . God is the One who has Stars , Angels and Rainbows And I am the one God sends to be with you until the Stars come out. The Angels dry your tears And you are back in place Rainbow blessed.     Author Unknown     The story is told of a Native American elder who was telling his grandson about his  feelings following a recent loss. “I feel as if I have two wolves fighting within myself, one is hateful and vengeful, the other is loving and compassionate,” he told his grandson.    “Which one will win?” the grandson asked.   “The one I feed,” the grandfather replied. On Halloween By Don Rude       Dusk brings a masked parade Of children to the door. Dressed up, they come in twos and threes;             Small ghosts, wrapped in fresh designer sheets,             A pair of GI Joes, a giggling Minnie Mouse,             One witch whose long, green rubber nose             Hangs from her chin.             And clowns whose lipstick             Smiles are smeared and mixed             With chocolate stains. They ring the chime, thrust out brown sacks Half-filled with popcorn balls and sweets. They come all evening long.             Then, much later, when black nightfall hides             All but the pumpkin’s jagged, candled eyes,             A boy appears, alone.             He wears a vampire’s opera cloak,               And, smiling, bares his plastic, blood-tipped fangs.                     His satin cape, his eager stance,             Perhaps the way he tilts his head,             All call to mind another Halloween,             Another boy, my own.  Long dead. This straggler gazes, pleased, as though his “Trick or Treat,” indeed has frightened me, Then waits till I extend my hand around the door To fill his fists with M&Ms. Then, porchlit, wait to watch him elbow up his cape Before his face, Then whirl, and fade into the shadowed street.             Alone,             I hear his feet strike gravel,             His laughter greet a friend,             And, listening, know             His coming shows All Hallows to be true;             A night when spirits do arise to walk             And do steal in             Although we close and bar             The door of vaulted memory.   Meditation on Anger   How come I feel my face flush when you urge me to hurry? I can hardly put one foot in front of the other!   Why did my temper flare when the clerk moved me to another counter? I don't want to make one more change, not even a little one.   Why am I irritated at the party chatter? It seems inane and unimportant. How can I forgive myself for snapping at my co-worker? My concentration is nil.   Where did this "me" come from? Irritable. Angry. Upset. Impatient.   When I was a child, I needed my mother at times like this.   Now I need my child.   Author Unknown     I’m thankful this Thanksgiving that my grief is not so new. Last year, it was so painful to think of losing you. Death can’t claim my love of you, though we are far apart. Sweet memories will always be engraved upon my  heart.   Time can never bring you back, but it can help me be, Thankful for the years of joy you brought our family To all the parents with grief so new, I share your loss and sorrow. I pray you find with faith and time, the blessing of each tomorrow.   Charlotte Irick TCF/Idaho Falls ID The following an except from “Chicken Soup for the Grieving Soul”,  a new addition to our Chapter Library.  It is about a woman whose husband died, but the feelings expressed were so “universal “, that I wanted to include it here.  It is written by  Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.   Lot's Wife Enid was an older woman whose husband had died unexpectedly two years before she came to see me.  Withdrawn and distant, she had not cried or spoken of his death to anyone in all that time.  She no longer cooked or looked after her garden or her house.  Most of the time she sat in her bathrobe in the living room, looking out the window at nothing at all.  She had been given antidepressants by her doctor, but they had not made much difference, and after a while she had simply stopped taking them.  “They won’t bring him back,” she had said.  She had been brought to see me by one of her daughters who told me, “I lost both my parents the day my father died.” At first Enid and I sat and looked at each other in silence.  She was a lovely woman in her early seventies, but she seemed as lifeless as the chair she sat on, as if she were only the wrapper that had once enclosed a life.  She seemed so fragile that I wondered if she would have the strength to stay the full hour. I opened the conversation by asking her why she had come.  “My husband has died,” she replied, turning her head away from me to look out my window.  “My daughters would like me to talk about it, but I do not think that I care to.”  when I gently asked her to say more about this she said simply, “Talking seems a waste of time.  No one could possibly understand.” I nodded in agreement.  “Yes, of course,” I said.  “You have lost your life.  Only your husband could understand what you have lost.  Only he knew what your life together was like.”  At this she turned back to look at me.  Her eyes were gray, like her hair.  There was no light in them.  I nodded again.  “if he were here Enid, what would you tell him?” I asked her. She considered me for a long moment.  Then she closed her eyes and began to speak to her husband aloud, telling him what life was like without him.  She told him about going to their special places alone, walking their dogs alone, sleeping in their bed alone.  She told him about needing to learn to do the little things he had always taken care of, things she had never known about.  She reminded him of times that only he would remember, old memories that no one else had shared.  And then for the first time since he died, she began to cry.  She cried for a long time. When her tears stopped, I asked her if there was anything she had not said.  Hesitantly she told me how angry she was with him for abandoning her to grow old alone.  She felt as if he had broken a promise to her.  She missed him terribly and all that he had brought into her life. “He was a teacher of love for me,” she told me.  She had been amazed at her husband’s selflessness, his readiness to extend his hand to others, even to strangers.  She told me story after story of his generosity, his kindness, her eyes looking beyond me to the past.  “Hebert always went the extra mile,” she said.  “So many people loved him.” I was deeply touched by Herbert and by the woman he had loved.  “Enid,” I asked her, “If Herbert were here, what would he say to you about the way you have lived the last two years of your life?”  She looked startled.  “Why, he would say, ‘Enid, why have you built a monument of pain in memory of me?  My whole life was about love.’”  She paused.  Then for the first time I saw the hint of a smile.  “Perhaps there are other ways to remember him,” she said. Afterward she told me that she had felt that if she let  go of her pain, she would betray Hebert’s memory and diminish the value of his life.  She now saw that she had indeed betrayed him by holding on to her pain and closing her heart.  She never came back to see me again.  Herbert had told her everything that she needed to hear. Every great loss demands that we choose life again.  We need to grieve in order to do this.  The pain we have not grieved over will always stand between us and life.  When we don’t grieve, a part of us becomes caught in the past like Lot’s wife who, because she looked back, was turned into a pillar of salt. Grieving is not about forgetting.  Grieving allows us to heal, to remember with love rather than pain.  It is a sorting process.  One by one you let go of the things that are gone, and you mourn for them.  One by one you take hold of the things that have become a part of who you are and build again. As I remember those I have loved, I realize I will never tire of embracing the same events over and over again. As I reflect on memories, I discover a depth of meaning even in the most simple events.  Memories allow me to care for my heart.   A passage from The Journey Through Grief Reflection on Healing by Alan Wolfelt, Ph.D.  This book is in our Chapter Library. Sometimes Sometimes, something clicks, And with a tear Remembrance of the pain And the loneliness Flood the heart.     Sometimes, something clicks And there are times when nothing clicks at all And a voice echoes Through the emptiness and numbness Never finding the person Who used to fill that space.     And sometimes The most special times of all, A feeling ripples through your Body, heart and soul   And with a smile Remembrance of the love And the laughter Flood the senses.   That tells you That person never left you And he’s right there with you Through it all   Kirsten Hansen Bereaved Sibling Kentfield, CA Sleep     Wearisome nights, nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine. William Shakespeare   Avoiding bed became and obsession.  Because I often couldn’t stay asleep I would toss about in agony.  Those periods when regular sleep did occur, I was able to cope with much of what was happening, but when sleep deprivation hit, dealing with life became difficult.               ...an overwhelming fatigue since getting out here.               ...I’m not sleeping again and along with this, despair creeps into my consciousness each time I look into the future.               ...All I need is a few days rest to clear my perspective of things.               ...Here I go again.  The nights are a horror.               ...No sleep again.  I’m exhausted, but no more pills.               ...Bought some new runners today, and will take David’s advice re: a naturopath Journal: Dec ‘94-Nov ‘95   Soon after Jeff died it became obvious I needed sleeping pills.  Nights in succession would pass when I would get two or three hours sleep.  The balance of the night was spent tossing restlessly with Hoff on my mind.  Each time this happened, going to bed became a horror.  I knew what lay in store.  So I swallowed my male pride and those little red and white beauties, and each time my quality of life improved.  But not without fight after futile fight against them.   I tried most of the pro-active things: brisk walks half an hour before bed; warm mild; warm milk and bananas; half and hour on the walk fit; reading; writing; and permutations of these.  Nothing worked.  Running ten kilometers was out of the question; I didn’t have the energy to get past one or two.  I tried.  Each time I eventually gave in to the medication, and thank goodness I did.   In retrospect, I understand why I didn’t earlier.  Male pride and stubbornness prevented me, and I am not much better as I write this, for I have recently gone through the same sleeplessness and wrestling with myself.  The big difference now is I have the luxury of time and experience.  Those two luxuries don’t help me sleep, but have taught me a few things.   While I stand behind what I said about sleeping pills, I do not recommend their continued use.  They got me to sleep, but I felt groggy after and I always worried about addiction despite the advice of doctors.  I now rely on naturopathic remedies and strategies because I find them successful.   If the reader of this little book follows no other advice, find a way to sleep.  Try everything that seems reasonable, but having done so and found nothing that works, do not let pride get in the way of your getting sufficient rest.  You may have to resort to sleeping pills, if only for short periods of time to re-establish sleep patterns.   No other factor impedes healing more than fatigue.  Do it for your mind, and do it for your body.  Nothing strips you of your health faster than sleep deprivation, and as a good friend said to me at one point, “You’re no good to your family dead.”   Spare yourself the horrors of tossing about or simply lying there in agony suffering through the ghosts from which you cannot extricate yourself.  We can wish much of ourselves, but we must first be in a healthy mental and physical state.  If we get sufficient rest, we can be pro-active in our healing. A chapter from Dan Lundine's book "Making Meaning of The Madness   You Were Loved   Before your eyes had opened to the light, Before you could smile and coo all the night, Before arms could reach to hold you tight, You were loved, you were loved, you were loved. Before you had time not to like it here, Before you had time to show any fear, Before you had time to shed a tear, You were gone, you were gone, you were gone. I am writing this poem to let you know, That I never really wanted to let you go. I wanted to keep you here and let you know, You were loved, you were loved, you were loved.   Brenda Reichstein, from Ontario, whose first child Joshua Stephen died 7 hours after birth, December 3, 1983, wrote this poem in dedication to “all special little Angels”. From Share newsletter March-April 1989 Fall … Already?   One morning last week I woke at first light to discover that some time during the night summer had left town.  It was COLD!  In my mind’s eye I saw an inch of snow on the ground and in a long dreadful parade behind the snow was the Holidays — Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s.  And the wet and drippy blanket of gloom that could smother the brightest of spirits… Wait a minute!  Here I had awakened to the first breath of fall, and already I was fighting a whole winter at once! “Hey dummy,” my common sense scolded, “don’t you think it would be better to fight one snowflake at a time?  If you’d stop moaning long enough to look out the window, you’d see a prize winning day!”  And you know what!  I had a great day!  That is, I had a great day after I had finally gotten my over-blown sense of dread under control. It’s not the first time I have found myself letting my enjoyment of the present moment be dulled by my sense of dreaded anticipation.  And after all, the full extent of our lives are in the present moment — the moment before is gone, and the events of the next moment are hidden from us. So, while I will still dread the time to come, when I will feel the sharpness of Tim’s absence, I vow not to let the winter rob me of what I know in my heart Tim would want for me — the living of my life, and the feeling of happiness and the beauty that can be had from it. Now all I need is for someone to call me about every day or so and remind me of my vow…  Judy Dicky Greenwood, Indiana TCF