January * February * March 2003  Lifeline In the new year... Be good to yourself, And soften your demands Neither hasten your grief Nor dry your tears ‘Til you feel it’s time Wishes for Bereaved Parents for the New Year To the newly bereaved, we wish you patience, patience with yourselves in the painful weeks, months, even years ahead. To the bereaved siblings, we wish you and your parents a new understanding of each other’s needs and the beginnings of good communication.  To those of you who are single parents, we wish you the inner resources we know you will need to cope, often alone, with your loss.  To those of you who are plagued with guilt, we wish you the reassurance that you did the very best you could under the circumstances and that your child knew that.  To those of you who have suffered multiple losses, those of you who have experienced the death of more than one child – we wish you the endurance you will need to fight your way back to a meaningful life once again.  To those of you who are deeply depressed, we wish you the first steps out of the "valley of the shadow."  To those experiencing marital difficulties after the death of your child, we wish you a special willingness and ability to communicate with each other. To all fathers, we wish you the ability to express your grief, to move beyond society’s conditioning, to cry.  To those with few or no memories of your child, perhaps because you suffered through a stillbirth, a miscarriage, or infant death, we wish you the sure knowledge that your child is a person and that your grief is real.  To those of you who have experienced the death of an only child or all of your children, we offer you our eternal gratitude for serving as such as inspiration to the rest of us.  To those of you unable to cry, we wish you healing tears.  To those of you who are tired, exhausted from grieving, we wish you the strength to face just one more hour, just one more day.  To all others with special needs that we have not mentioned, we wish you the understanding you need and the reassurance that you are loved.  -Joe Rousseau, Past President TCF National USA In the Cold of Winter In the cold of winter, and the dark of those nights, the heart remembers the laughs, the fights. In the warmth of the spring and the light of those days, the heart remembers – and loves…always. -Sondra Wright TCF, Atlanta Chapter               Helping Others Help You - Ten Rules for Self-Healing Tell friends to call you often. Explain that after the first couple of months you’ll need their calls. Tell your friends to make a specific date with you; none of this "we must get together for lunch." Remind them that you’re bound to have "down" times and their patience would be appreciated. Tell them to please feel free to talk about the person that has died – and don’t avoid that person’s name. It’s important for friends to understand that you may appear to be "doing so well" but on the inside you still hurt. Grief is painful, it’s tricky, and it’s exhausting. Ask you friends to care, but not to pity you. Make plain that friends and relatives can still treat you as a person who is still in command and can think for yourself. Tell your friends that it’s all right to express their caring. It’s okay for them to cry; crying together is better than avoiding the pain. Let your friends know, too, that it’s all right to say nothing. A squeeze or a hug are often more important than words. Let people know that they can invite you to socialize, but that you might decline. Ask your friends to go for walks with you. You and your friends can "walk off" feelings. Walks promote conversation and help fight depression. -by Ruth Jean Loewinsohn as printed in TCF Mt. Vernon, OH February, 1997 Newsletter   Happy New Year What does the new year mean to me? It’s another year to be bereaved. 365 days that I cannot see my child who meant so much to me. Sometimes while riding in our car I try to see into distances afar. I shut my eyes and shake my head and then I realize he’s really dead. This child whom I have loved so much is nowhere close where I can touch. That in itself is a terrible feeling; it keeps my emotions rocking and reeling. I look at his picture and it’s hard to believe that this is all the older he will ever be. No daughter-in-law will ever be mine, no grandchildren from him to take up my time. Happy New Year I just can’t say. It means different things from day-to-day. It should mean I’m glad my son is here to celebrate this brand new "year." But since I’m one of the parents bereaved, this is a fact that will never be. Another year has come upon us; I’ll get thru it – simply must!  - Pam Hamilton TCF, Salina, KS     Image of Winter  When February comes there is finally an end in sight to the long winter. Sometimes, melting snow reveals the green tips of an early crocus or even the exquisite blossom itself, a soft flower of hope invading a harsh landscape of graying snow and biting wind and ominous sky. A small promise of life to come. My heart, grieving for my son who died, was like that image of winter. For somehow, even during the darkest, coldest moments, and unexpected sign of hope would intrude. And as the hours and days and months dragged on, my heart finally learned once again to be open to the promise of new life. Painful memories melted into loving ones. Life that seemed forever dormant once again sprang forth from my heart. In living hopefully and lovingly, the seasons of the heart can change. The loving memories of your special child, like the flower in the snow, can be the beginning of the end of winter. Maryann Kramer TCF Arlington Heights IL The Holidays are Behind Us It is the new year. The holidays are behind us. We did with them what we could. Whether they were a time of sorrow, a time of joy, or a combination of each, they are now a part of our memories. In a strange way, as a memory in our hearts and in our minds, our child’ place is there amongst all the other memories of the season. There is hurt along with the memory, but also a thankfulness for the memory. Now we look out on a winter landscape. The earth is cold, the land sharply defined. Yet underneath the hard crust, the great energy and warmth of our earth is guarding and providing life to all that grows. We may personally know the coldness and hardness of grief so fresh that we feel numb; a grief so hurtful that our body feels physically hard; our throats tight from the muscles pulled by tears, shed or unshed; our chests banded tightly by the muscles of a mourning heart. If we are not now experiencing this, our memories recollect so easily those early days. Yet, as we live these days, like the earth from which we receive our sustenance, we too, in our searchings, find places of warmth and change and love and growth, deep within. Let our hearts and minds dwell in these places and be warmed and renewed by them, and let us have the courage and love to share them with our loved ones, to talk about even that first dim shape of new hope, or of new acceptance, or of new understanding, or of new love. These are the new roots, born of our love of our child, that are forming and stirring within, gathering strength so that our lives, at the right time, can blossom once again and be fruitful in a new and deep way. Marie Andres TCF/ Southern Maryland I got Through This Christmas Holiday   I got through this Christmas holiday The very first of its kind. It was without a dear loved one Whose memory was on my mind. I got through this Christmas holiday I shed a few tears. I was surrounded by loved ones Who chuckled and cheered. I got through this Christmas holiday Much to my surprise Anticipation wore heavy on me I was glad I have good family ties. I got through the Christmas holiday The Anniversary is to come I know I’ll rise to the occasion My heart beats the drum   Lisa McCausland TCF/SWMB   I learn something new every time I read a newsletter. When they come in the mail, I devour them. They are a “lifeline”. After reading them I am once again reassured that I am as “normal” as I can be.”  Donna Shuttleworth TCF SWMB   The following is an excerpt from When Your Dreams Die by Marilyn Willett Heavilin, as seen in the TCF Newsletter of Knox County, IN: In the early stages of grief…You may feel completely hopeless. The thought that your pain will ever subside probably seems impossible. You may feel disoriented, removed from what’s going on around you, numb to feelings or emotions. You may experience deep or mild depression, feel that no one understands your pain. In the middle stages of grief…The pain will subside every once in a while for at least brief moments. Some days your grief will not be your waking thought, although you will still think about it often through the day. You may begin to realize that others have problems which seem even more difficult than yours, and you may occasionally find yourself offering help and advice to another hurting person. In the later stages of grief…You will begin to find a new normal that seems somewhat comfortable. Obviously you would prefer to go back to the old normal, but since your can’t, you begin to view the new normal as an acceptable second best. As you work through the later stages of grief, you will desire to start living again, but you discover that because of your traumas, you view life differently. Healthy grief will bring eventual resolutions. Listed next are ways people knew "that they were beginning to work through their grief." I laughed out loud and didn’t feel guilty. I spent a length of time in conversation with someone and didn’t mention my problem. I could go to a graduation or wedding without crying. I could enjoy having sex with my spouse again. I could be excited for my friends who were pregnant, even though I couldn’t have any more children. My spouse and I could talk about our problem without fighting. My dread of holidays, birthdays, death dates and anniversaries lessened. I became aware of others’ pain and wanted to help.   To accept the fact of the death of your child, does not require the approval of that death— ever!  To resolve your grief, never requires that you forget about your dead child—ever!  You can accept and resolve , and never have to approve or forget!   From an Eskimo legend… Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy. A VALENTINE WAITING FOR YOU There's a valentine waiting for you That's different from all the others. It's there every month at our meetings For fathers, mothers, sister, and brothers.   It's envelope is made of caring, The glue of understanding seals it tight. This nonjudgemental group who've been there, Help to take away your fear and fright.   So, come join with us together, Read your loving message printed clear, In not only this month's valentine, But all those throughout the year. Mary Cleckley, TCF Atlanta, GA For the New Year Where there is pain, let there be softening. Where there is bitterness, let there be acceptance. Where there is silence, let there be communication. Where there is loneliness, let there be friendships. Where there is despair, let there be hope. -Ruth Eiseman A MOTHERS CROWN Heaven lit up with His mighty presence As all the angels looked down Today the Lord was placing the jewels In all the mother’s crowns As he held up the golden crown As all the mothers looked on He said in his gentle voice I just want to explain each stone He held the first gem in his hand But the radiance couldn’t match his own For He was the light to heaven Reflecting off each stone “The first gem” He said “is an emerald And its for endurance alone For all the nights you waited up Waiting for your child to come home For all the nights by their bedside You stayed till the fever went down For nursing every little would I added this emerald to your grown A ruby I’ll place by the emerald For leading your child the right way For if you hadn’t taught them about me They wouldn’t be here with you today For always being right there Thru all life’s important events I give you a ‘sapphire stone’ For the time and love you spent For untying the strings that held them When they grew up and left home I give you this one for courage” Then the Lord added an amethyst stone ‘’I’ll place a stone of garnet’’ He said “For all the times you spent on your knees, When you ask me to take care of your children, And them for having faith in me. I have a pearl for every sacrifice That you made without them knowing. For all the times you went without To keep them happy, healthy, and growing. And last of all I have a diamond The greatest of all the gems For the mother’s who have lost their children When they came home from heaven before them This is the most precious sacrifice So I give them the most precious stone For I know how you felt I too, lost a child of my own.” After the Lord placed the last jewel in He said, “Heaven is now complete For every mother has her own crown of jewels And all her children are placed by her feet” author unknown When Someone Takes His Own Life  by Norman Vincent Peale In many ways, this seems the most tragic form of death. Certainly it can entail more shock and grief for those who are left behind than any other. And often the stigma of suicide is what rests most heavily on those left behind… And my heart goes out to those who are left behind, because I know that they suffer terribly. Children in particular are left under a cloud of differentness all the more terrifying because it can never be fully explained or lifted. The immediate family of the victim is left wide open to tidal waves of guilt: “What did I fail to do that I should have done? What did I do that was wrong?” To such grieving persons I can only say, “Lift up your heads and your hearts. Surely you did your best. And surely the loved one who is gone did his best, for as long as he could. Remember now, that his battles and torments are over. Do not judge him, and do not presume to fathom the mind of God where this one of His children is concerned.” A few years ago, when a young man died by his own hand, a service for him was conducted by his pastor, the Rev. Weston Stevens. What he said that day expresses far more eloquently than I can, the message that I’m trying to convey. Here are some of his words: “Our friend died on his own battlefield. He was killed in action fighting a civil war. He fought against adversaries that were as real to him as his casket is real to us they were powerful adversaries. They took toll of his energies and endurance. They exhausted the last vestiges of his courage and his strength. At last these adversaries overwhelmed him. And it appeared that he had lost the war. But did he? I see a host of victories that he has won! For one thing, he has won our admiration, because even if he lost the war, we give him credit for the courage and pride and hope that he used as his weapons as long as he could. We shall remember not his death, but his daily victories gained through his kindnesses and thoughtfulness, through his love for family and friends, for animals and books and music, for all things beautiful, lovely and honorable. We shall remember not his last day of defeat, but we shall remember the many days that he was victorious over overwhelming odds. We shall remember not the years we thought he had left, the intensity with which he lived the years that he had. Only God knows what this child of His suffered in the silent skirmishes that took place in his soul. But our consolation is that God does know, and understands.” Margaret Erikson will be presenting: Suicide: "As Steven's Mother, I Remember" at the Northern Lights Conference in May. Forever, We Abide Sometimes I want to cry when I think about the pain you feel. I reach out toward you to help you But those tears are much too real. I touched your face this morning. I knelt down beside your bed. I whispered to you that I love you so. Did you hear what I said? I stood beside you in the kitchen. I smelled the food you cook. Oh did you know that I was right there? Can you see me when you look? I rode beside you in the car today. You were driving the carpool. I saw a tear fall on your cheek too, when you let the kids off at school. I walked with you today along that path. The path that we used to take walks. I heard you whisper my name too, Momma. You still mention me when you talk. I watched you sit alone today. As you thought of me and cried. I know this wasn’t the way it was to be. I wasn’t supposed to have died. But, I still spend days with you Momma. Can’t you feel me near your side? I’m here & you’re there but we are together... Together forever Me & you Abide. ~Author~ Kaye Des'Ormeaux Dedicated to the Moms who've lost a child. This wonderful and talented lady (Kaye Des’Omeaux, author of above poem), writes from the heart. Kaye wrote three of the poems on Sheldon’s site. I asked her a while back if she would give me permission to use some of her poems. Kaye’s poems are all copyrighted material, and you have to have permission to use them. Kaye also has her own site I hope if you have the internet you will visit and read her touching poems and take your kleenex with you. Kaye is a bereaved sibling, she lost her sister to cancer. Marg Shand    Sheldon’s mom TCF/SWMB Death of a Dream My baby is gone, and no-one understands my sorrow. They said: “You were only seven weeks pregnant.” They didn’t know I had already named the baby....Rachel for a girl, Joshua for a boy. They didn’t know my twelve year old son had already promised to take care of that baby every day, and was considering even changing diapers. They didn’t know my nine year old had been asking for a brother or sister for six years. They just didn’t know all my hopes and dreams for this baby. They said: “Don’t worry....you’ll get pregnant again.” They didn’t know it had taken six years to conceive this child. They didn’t know this was a very special baby, conceived under a Christmas tree, with the man I love. This was a baby I wanted...not just any baby. I don’t know if I will ever have the courage to try again. They said: “You are young. Only thirty-two. You have many years yet to have a child. They didn’t know my mother started menopause at thirty-six. Or that two of my aunts had hysterectomies for cancer, one at twenty-four and the other at thirty-six. Or that my cousin is at stage two with cervical cancer. Even now the clock is running out on me. They said: “Miscarriages happen...nothing to worry about.” They didn’t know this was my fifth miscarriage, one a set of twins. They didn’t know how losing my baby pulls my emotions inside out and leaves me feeling raw and tender. They didn’t understand my fear that I will never have another baby. They said that I was silly to cry. They didn’t understand my grief. It was not a lump of flesh, it was my baby. They didn’t understand the joy I felt, or the loss, or the emptiness I feel. They said: “These things happen for a reason. The baby probably hadn’t formed properly.” They said I should be grateful. They can’t understand the anger I feel....towards women trying desperately to rid themselves of unwanted babies, and towards the happy women awaiting the birth of their babies. They didn’t understand my anger at my own body, for rejecting my baby, and destroying my dream. They said: “You already have two healthy children, consider yourself lucky.” I am fortunate. Many women will never be able to have a child of their own. But it doesn’t lessen my sorrow. My baby is gone and I am sad. Why won’t they let me grieve?  Linda Young The Compleat Mother / Spring 1987 COPING WITH SURVIVING CHILDREN These guidelines have been gathered from bereaved parents, surviving children and the writings of professional caregivers.  Your child has the same feelings and symptoms of grief as an adult but is outwardly confused and defensive about death. A child’s grief may be resolved more quickly than an adults. A surviving child is reacting to the loss of his sibling AND to the changed behavior of his parents and others. Reassure him that the depth of a parent’s grief does not lessen the love felt for him. Understand your child’s level of understanding or misunderstanding: a child of two or younger has the concept of here and not here; a child of 3-5 years sees death as temporary; at 6-10 years a child understands the reality of death and is curious about biological aspects of death and details of burial; from 11 on a child conceives of death in a manner similar to that of an adult. Explain truthfully to your children on a level they can understand what caused the death of a sibling. Answer all questions simply, directly, giving answers to build on later, not ones that will have to be unlearned. Even a child of 2 or 3 can understand “his body could not work anymore”. The more a child understands, the less fearful he will be. Avoid euphemisms; they are easily misunderstood by children. Do NOT mix religious and medical causes. (He was not taken because God wanted him in heaven. He died because his body could not work anymore. His body was buried in the ground. You may believe his spirit or all the things that made him special are with God.) Your surviving children had a close relationship with a dead sibling through the relationship may not have been loving. Remember, grief will exaggerate the positive and negative feelings between your children; encourage them to discuss these feelings. Children often feel guilty and/or responsible for their sibling's death. Reassure them that fighting and negative feelings between brothers and sisters are common. Do not be afraid to show emotion with your surviving children — a controlled silence from parents is much more difficult for children to cope with then open distress. It will also confirm the feelings he has. By your example in facing your own grief, show your children it is okay to cry, to be sad, to be angry, to laugh, to use that child’s belongings, to forget at times. Do NOT isolate your child physically OR emotionally. Your child’s silence does NOT mean there are no feelings or questions: the moment may not be right. Talk openly with him or read a book with him — it may encourage him to open up. Listen carefully to what he says and does not say. It may be easier for your child to talk to an “outsider.” It is often easier for children to “mourn at a distance” — show little emotion at a sibling's death but show tremendous empathy for characters in a book or overreact to a broken shoelace or lost toy. Children, like adults, may temporarily regress emotionally and developmentally — tantrums, dependency, loss of manual skills, impaired learning ability, aggressive behavior. BE PATIENT and LOVING, NOT PUNISHING. They may need more touching and holding. Younger children may at first make jokes or continue normal play as a distraction; this is normal. Temporarily assuming mannerisms or symptoms of a dead sibling or wearing his clothes is a normal way of dealing with the death. Share the belongings of your dead child. Perhaps each child would like something “for the moment” and something to carry into adulthood: a book, music, toy, clothes, photograph, jewelery. Give your child alternatives for using his grief positively — drawing; writing letters, poetry, stories, diary; hammering; tennis; caring for plants. Allow your child (even the very young) to participate in family rituals if he’d like: visiting the cemetery, making arrangements for the grave, contributing to a memorial fund. Use HIS ideas of showing his love and his grief at anniversaries or special days. Your child will continue to need information on his sibling's death at each new stage of growth. Be open to his questions. Respect his privacy. Lovingly lifted from TCF US/National Box 1347 Oak Brook, IL 60521 At the Northern Lights Conference in May, Shawna Melvin will address the grief of bereaved siblings, and parents of surviving children.