MYTH: The pain will go away faster if you ignore it.
FACT: Trying to ignore your pain or keep it from surfacing will only make it worse in the long run. For real healing it is necessary to face your grief and actively deal with it.
MYTH: It’s important to be “be strong” in the face of loss.
FACT: Feeling sad, frightened, or lonely is a normal reaction to loss. Crying doesn’t mean you are weak. You don’t need to “protect” your family or friends by putting on a brave front. Showing your true feelings can help them and you.
MYTH: If you don’t cry, it means you aren’t sorry about the loss.
FACT: Crying is a normal response to sadness, but it’s not the only one. Those who don’t cry may feel the pain just as deeply as others. They may simply have other ways of showing it.
MYTH: Grief should last about a year.
FACT: There is no right or wrong time frame for grieving. How long it takes can and will differ from person to person.
Source: Center for Grief and Healing - http://www.griefandhealing.org/
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
ON THIS THANKSGIVING
~ from Joyce Floyd
As this yet another Thanksgiving approaches since Peggy’s death, I look back to the first one. My thoughts at that time consisted of, “I WILL NOT pray and give thanks for anything or anyone.” The main thing on my mind was my daughter. I couldn’t give thanks for the short 24 years of her life and certainly not for her death. I had lived a fairly decent life, and this was my payment? How could God allow this to happen to our family?
The words thankful and thankless follow one another in my dictionary; so close together in a book, yet SO far apart in meaning. When you think about it, the difference between the two words is full and less. Those of us who have had more time still do have a fullness because we have learned to be thankful and appreciate that which we have LEFT in the way of family and memories….more so than we ever thought possible.
Now as I look over the many months and years that have passed, I have many thoughts and even more thank you’s:
As this yet another Thanksgiving approaches since Peggy’s death, I look back to the first one. My thoughts at that time consisted of, “I WILL NOT pray and give thanks for anything or anyone.” The main thing on my mind was my daughter. I couldn’t give thanks for the short 24 years of her life and certainly not for her death. I had lived a fairly decent life, and this was my payment? How could God allow this to happen to our family?
The words thankful and thankless follow one another in my dictionary; so close together in a book, yet SO far apart in meaning. When you think about it, the difference between the two words is full and less. Those of us who have had more time still do have a fullness because we have learned to be thankful and appreciate that which we have LEFT in the way of family and memories….more so than we ever thought possible.
Now as I look over the many months and years that have passed, I have many thoughts and even more thank you’s:
- First I give thanks to God, who has given me a peace that passes all understanding, and Joy in the place of pain.
- I give thanks for surviving and still being ME
- I give thanks for where our family is now and for those who are still here to sit around our Thanksgiving table
- I give thanks for my husband Don, who deserves a medal for withstanding my heartbreak and standing beside me still
- I give thanks for Vickie, Randy, Donna and David, our 4 remaining children, who light up our eyes with each new day and for the 14 grandchildren they have blessed us with
- I give thanks for my friends, who were there in my sorrow and now share in some of my joys
- I give thanks for my beloved Mother, who chose to stand beside me and be my best friend during the hardest days of my life
- I give thanks for all of you Journey Moms, old or new, without you, I wouldn’t be here today
- I give thanks that the early days of my painful grief have passed
- I give thanks that I can rise each morning with a happier heart rather than feeling heartbroken and helpless and end up staying in bed all day
- I give thanks for the almost “whole” feeling I now experience
- I give thanks for Peggy and for what she gave us in her life and also in her death
- I am thankful for the gift of TODAY
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
NATIVE AMERICAN PRAYER
~~ Author Unknown ~~
I give you this one thought to keep –
I am with you still – I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle Autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not think of me as gone
I am with you still – in each new dawn
I am with you still – I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle Autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not think of me as gone
I am with you still – in each new dawn
Monday, November 23, 2009
THANKSGIVING - NEW MEMORIES
~ 1977-1981 by Priscilla Norton, Pawtucket, RI
For parents who have only recently (and recently can encompass months or years) suffered the death of a child, the holidays can seem unbearable. As we begin to prepare for Thanksgiving later this week, whether it is your first Thanksgiving without your child or many more, it may seem unbearable - we hope that memories of other mothers who have lived this journey from mourning to joy before us will offer some comfort...
I remember the inability to chew or swallow that first Thanksgiving after Linda died; the choked-back tears, the sick heart, the hollowness, the painful memories of Thanksgiving past, and the blessed relief sleep brought to my pain.
I remember – the busyness of working as a volunteer that second and third Thanksgiving after Linda died, and the good feeling it game me of “running away” from it all and the blessed relief sleep brought to my pain.
I remember – the inability to prepare any of her favorite foods that fourth Thanksgiving after Linda died, the tears that fell at the smell of the turkey cooking, the parade, the football game, the emptiness, the incomplete family, and the blessed relief sleep brought to my pain.
I remember awakening with a lightness and joy in my heart that fifth Thanksgiving after Linda died; the thankfulness for having my remaining family together, the beautiful memories of past Thanksgiving, the “wholeness” of me, and the blessed relief peace brought to my pain.
For parents who have only recently (and recently can encompass months or years) suffered the death of a child, the holidays can seem unbearable. As we begin to prepare for Thanksgiving later this week, whether it is your first Thanksgiving without your child or many more, it may seem unbearable - we hope that memories of other mothers who have lived this journey from mourning to joy before us will offer some comfort...
I remember the inability to chew or swallow that first Thanksgiving after Linda died; the choked-back tears, the sick heart, the hollowness, the painful memories of Thanksgiving past, and the blessed relief sleep brought to my pain.
I remember – the busyness of working as a volunteer that second and third Thanksgiving after Linda died, and the good feeling it game me of “running away” from it all and the blessed relief sleep brought to my pain.
I remember – the inability to prepare any of her favorite foods that fourth Thanksgiving after Linda died, the tears that fell at the smell of the turkey cooking, the parade, the football game, the emptiness, the incomplete family, and the blessed relief sleep brought to my pain.
I remember awakening with a lightness and joy in my heart that fifth Thanksgiving after Linda died; the thankfulness for having my remaining family together, the beautiful memories of past Thanksgiving, the “wholeness” of me, and the blessed relief peace brought to my pain.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Inspirational Quote
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love. --Washington Irving
Friday, November 20, 2009
TAKE ONE STEP
Journey From Mourning to Joy Group Poem
Take one step, just one step,
That’s all you have to do today.
Take one step, just one little step,
By reaching out your hand to someone else.
Some of us have walked this path before you…..
It is a rough path, a very tough path, but we can make it!
Hang on to me, and I will hang on to you!
We may stumble, we may fall, but we will get up again.
And we will start again with just one little step
Your hands linked with mine….
And we will make it, yes we can make it, all of us together,
JUST ONE STEP AT A TIME!!! ~Author Unknown
Thursday, November 19, 2009
A TIME OF MEDITATION
by ~ TCF Chapter ~ Terre Haught, IN
Thanksgiving – a time of meditation and thankfulness. Thanksgiving – a time of bitter pain and haunting memories for many bereaved parents. “How will we cope with the holidays?” “How will we survive this happy time?” “What is there to be thankful for?”
These questions toss upon our souls, at times at the very dark times, and taunt us with doubt and fear. Fighting the creeping bitterness, we wait and long for the days of January. As the years pass, however the holidays are no longer totally tinged with horror and emptiness. As the acceptance of the death settles in our hearts, the holiday smiles become more genuine. At least some of the warmth can return.
But for parents who have only recently (and recently can encompass months or years) suffered the death of a child, the holidays are bleak indeed.
Perhaps the most important thing to remember is that despondency and sorrow at this time of year or normal. What else could be expected of a grieving parent? Joy? Laughter? A sense of overflowing love and out-stretched arms? No…never.
But as all bereaved parents know, these very emotions, these emotions that seem so alien at this time in our lives, are often expected and even demanded. We are not only expected to forget: we are also expected to be filled with joy. What can we do?
We can refrain from demanding too much of ourselves. We can recognize that at this point, we are emotionally exhausted: we are lonely and we are sad. Maybe we are also angry, guilty and/or bitter. The feelings that arrive with the beginning of a holiday without our beloved children are not to be ignored or pushed aside into the corners of our hearts.
By recognizing all of this, we can say “no” to situations or people, even loved friends, who will create more pain. We can cry, silently or loudly, without shame. We can long for the essence of our children and we can remember them with love.
The dreams of lifetimes die when children die. The hurt is often nearly unbearable. But if we allow ourselves the freedom of grief and sorrow, we also open the paths to new happiness and new hopes and new dreams.
And the child who was a part of us will live in our memories and our hearts! I recently read a child’s book about beginnings and endings, depicting how days don’t end but night begins; autumn marks the beginning of winter, and leaves fall from the tree to the ground and feed the earth for new life. Death is a final ending to life on earth. For bereaved parents however who suffer the pain, the tragedy, the terrible doubts, the ending of a life can be a beginning of new feelings, new understanding, and hopefully, new compassion. But first, we need to follow the instincts of our souls and allow our bodies and hearts to grieve.
Thanksgiving – a time of meditation and thankfulness. Thanksgiving – a time of bitter pain and haunting memories for many bereaved parents. “How will we cope with the holidays?” “How will we survive this happy time?” “What is there to be thankful for?”
These questions toss upon our souls, at times at the very dark times, and taunt us with doubt and fear. Fighting the creeping bitterness, we wait and long for the days of January. As the years pass, however the holidays are no longer totally tinged with horror and emptiness. As the acceptance of the death settles in our hearts, the holiday smiles become more genuine. At least some of the warmth can return.
But for parents who have only recently (and recently can encompass months or years) suffered the death of a child, the holidays are bleak indeed.
Perhaps the most important thing to remember is that despondency and sorrow at this time of year or normal. What else could be expected of a grieving parent? Joy? Laughter? A sense of overflowing love and out-stretched arms? No…never.
But as all bereaved parents know, these very emotions, these emotions that seem so alien at this time in our lives, are often expected and even demanded. We are not only expected to forget: we are also expected to be filled with joy. What can we do?
We can refrain from demanding too much of ourselves. We can recognize that at this point, we are emotionally exhausted: we are lonely and we are sad. Maybe we are also angry, guilty and/or bitter. The feelings that arrive with the beginning of a holiday without our beloved children are not to be ignored or pushed aside into the corners of our hearts.
By recognizing all of this, we can say “no” to situations or people, even loved friends, who will create more pain. We can cry, silently or loudly, without shame. We can long for the essence of our children and we can remember them with love.
The dreams of lifetimes die when children die. The hurt is often nearly unbearable. But if we allow ourselves the freedom of grief and sorrow, we also open the paths to new happiness and new hopes and new dreams.
And the child who was a part of us will live in our memories and our hearts! I recently read a child’s book about beginnings and endings, depicting how days don’t end but night begins; autumn marks the beginning of winter, and leaves fall from the tree to the ground and feed the earth for new life. Death is a final ending to life on earth. For bereaved parents however who suffer the pain, the tragedy, the terrible doubts, the ending of a life can be a beginning of new feelings, new understanding, and hopefully, new compassion. But first, we need to follow the instincts of our souls and allow our bodies and hearts to grieve.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
INCORPORATING LOSS INTO HOLIDAY RITUALS ~ THANKSGIVING
We hope you find this article, written by Candice Courtney in the Forum, October-December 2005, helpful in dealing with the holidays..
Incorporating loss into our lives requires that we also incorporate the loss into our rituals. Because ritual is often done in a more conscious and focused way, incorporating the loss into our rituals can help us to incorporate the loss into our lives. Whether rituals are simple or elaborate, practiced alone or in community, they serve a multitude of purposes in our lives. In grief, they can help us move toward acceptance, and they can help us to create a place in our life for the one(s) we have lost. They can also provide us with space to honor our sorrow, and to express our love.
Special times usually accentuate our sense of loss, and it is often suggested that we change how we normally do our holiday rituals to help make them less traumatic, such as having Thanksgiving dinner at a new location. But changing things just to change is not enough of a solution.
Often we need to change the rituals so that they address the needs we have in grief. As I worked my way through the difficult years that followed my husband’s death, I learned how to change life’s rituals to fit where I was in my grief.
For those struggling through this holiday season, I offer two simple rituals that may help as they make their way through the darkest season of the year, in the midst of what may be the darkest season of all their years.
THANKSGIVING
One of the reasons some people choose to have Thanksgiving dinner in a new location is to avoid “the empty chair.” If yours is a family where everyone has their own place at the table, you might have everyone sit in a different place to avoid the stark reminder of the empty place. Some though, might choose to leave the chair empty, and place a candle in front of it to signify that the spirit of this person is still present. Just before the meal the candle can be lit with words such as:
We light this candle in memory of Tony. His spirit still is a part of our lives. His love still shines onto us, and our love for him still glows in our hearts. As we share this feast of Thanksgiving, let us talk about those things for which we are most thankful to Tony — the things we learned from him, and the times that we laughed with him. In doing so, we affirm that he lives on in all of us.
Incorporating loss into our lives requires that we also incorporate the loss into our rituals. Because ritual is often done in a more conscious and focused way, incorporating the loss into our rituals can help us to incorporate the loss into our lives. Whether rituals are simple or elaborate, practiced alone or in community, they serve a multitude of purposes in our lives. In grief, they can help us move toward acceptance, and they can help us to create a place in our life for the one(s) we have lost. They can also provide us with space to honor our sorrow, and to express our love.
Special times usually accentuate our sense of loss, and it is often suggested that we change how we normally do our holiday rituals to help make them less traumatic, such as having Thanksgiving dinner at a new location. But changing things just to change is not enough of a solution.
Often we need to change the rituals so that they address the needs we have in grief. As I worked my way through the difficult years that followed my husband’s death, I learned how to change life’s rituals to fit where I was in my grief.
For those struggling through this holiday season, I offer two simple rituals that may help as they make their way through the darkest season of the year, in the midst of what may be the darkest season of all their years.
THANKSGIVING
One of the reasons some people choose to have Thanksgiving dinner in a new location is to avoid “the empty chair.” If yours is a family where everyone has their own place at the table, you might have everyone sit in a different place to avoid the stark reminder of the empty place. Some though, might choose to leave the chair empty, and place a candle in front of it to signify that the spirit of this person is still present. Just before the meal the candle can be lit with words such as:
We light this candle in memory of Tony. His spirit still is a part of our lives. His love still shines onto us, and our love for him still glows in our hearts. As we share this feast of Thanksgiving, let us talk about those things for which we are most thankful to Tony — the things we learned from him, and the times that we laughed with him. In doing so, we affirm that he lives on in all of us.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
FALL IS A SEASON OF MANY FEELINGS (Author Unknown)
Fall is here once again as it comes every year. With the leaves, my falling tears. This time is the hardest of all. My heart is still breaking, once again this fall. Memories once so vivid are seeming to fade. My time spent with you seems another age. This season reminds me of grief and pain. Yet teaches of hope and joy once again. For the trees are still living beneath their bark, and you my sweet child are still living in my heart!
Friday, November 13, 2009
Inspirational Quote
When someone comes into our lives. . . .
and they are too quietly and quickly gone,
they leave footprints on our hearts,
and their memory stays with us forever.
and they are too quietly and quickly gone,
they leave footprints on our hearts,
and their memory stays with us forever.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
WHAT WE WISH OTHERS UNDERSTOOD ABOUT THE LOSS OF OUR CHILD
• I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child’s name. My child lived and was important, and I need to hear the name.
• If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you have hurt me; the fact that my child died has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry, and I thank you.
• Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.
• I wish my family wouldn’t “kill” my child again by removing from their homes his/her pictures, and other remembrances.
• I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs.
• I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good day my grief is over, or that if I have a bad day, I need psychiatric counseling.
• I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately.
• It is the ultimate tragedy, and I wish you wouldn’t compare it to your loss of a parent, a spouse, or a pet.
• Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me.
• I wish you knew that all of the “crazy” grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal.
• Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness and the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.
• I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for me. As with alcoholics, I will never be “cured” or a “former bereaved parent,” but will forevermore be a “recovering bereaved parent.”
• I wish you understood the physical reactions to grief. I may gain weight or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses; and be accident prone- all of which are related to my grief.
• Our child’s birthday, the anniversary of his death, and holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are thinking about our child on these days, and if we get quiet and withdraw, just know that we are thinking about our child and don’t try to coerce us into being cheerful.
• It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values and beliefs after losing a child. We will question things we have been taught all our lives and hopefully come to some new understanding with our God. I wish you would let me tangle with my religion without trying to make me feel guilty.
• I wish you wouldn’t offer me drinks or drugs. These are just temporary crutches and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal.
• I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.
• If you keep waiting for me to “get back to my old self” you will stay frustrated.
• I am a new creature with new thought, dreams, aspirations, values, and beliefs.
• Please try to get to know the new me – maybe you’ll like me still.
• I believe that instead of sitting around and waiting for our wishes to come true, we have an obligation to tell people some of the things we have learned about our grief.
• We can teach these lessons with great kindness, believing that people have good intentions and want to do what is right, but just don’t know what to do with us.
• If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you have hurt me; the fact that my child died has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry, and I thank you.
• Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.
• I wish my family wouldn’t “kill” my child again by removing from their homes his/her pictures, and other remembrances.
• I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs.
• I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good day my grief is over, or that if I have a bad day, I need psychiatric counseling.
• I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately.
• It is the ultimate tragedy, and I wish you wouldn’t compare it to your loss of a parent, a spouse, or a pet.
• Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me.
• I wish you knew that all of the “crazy” grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal.
• Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness and the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.
• I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for me. As with alcoholics, I will never be “cured” or a “former bereaved parent,” but will forevermore be a “recovering bereaved parent.”
• I wish you understood the physical reactions to grief. I may gain weight or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses; and be accident prone- all of which are related to my grief.
• Our child’s birthday, the anniversary of his death, and holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you could tell us that you are thinking about our child on these days, and if we get quiet and withdraw, just know that we are thinking about our child and don’t try to coerce us into being cheerful.
• It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values and beliefs after losing a child. We will question things we have been taught all our lives and hopefully come to some new understanding with our God. I wish you would let me tangle with my religion without trying to make me feel guilty.
• I wish you wouldn’t offer me drinks or drugs. These are just temporary crutches and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal.
• I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my child died, and I will never be that person again.
• If you keep waiting for me to “get back to my old self” you will stay frustrated.
• I am a new creature with new thought, dreams, aspirations, values, and beliefs.
• Please try to get to know the new me – maybe you’ll like me still.
• I believe that instead of sitting around and waiting for our wishes to come true, we have an obligation to tell people some of the things we have learned about our grief.
• We can teach these lessons with great kindness, believing that people have good intentions and want to do what is right, but just don’t know what to do with us.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
SISTERS IN GRIEF - A Favorite Poem
We all have something in common today
The gift of a child that was suddenly taken away
Our wonders, our whys and our feelings of disbelief
Have brought us all together as Sisters in Grief.
Whether our child’s stay with us was short or long
Nothing can replace the love we have that’s so strong.
It is the kind of a love that only mothers can share,
A love and a bond that you just can’t compare.
That bond that was created inside and continued throughout
Was something short of a miracle without a doubt.
And through the stories and the memories we are now passing on,
Our child continues to live, even though they are gone.
So as our wonders and whys slowly disappear as does our disbelief,
We will continue on this journey together celebrating their lives as Sisters in Grief.
And we must always remember that when it’s time for us to take that walk alone,
Our child will be there with open arms to welcome us home.
© 2009 Michele Siegman ~ Azusa, CA
Sunday, November 1, 2009
FOR THE NEWLY BEREAVED
In the early minutes, days, weeks, months and even years of grief, we find ourselves in an all consuming grief and pain beyond description. We find it difficult to carry on our everyday lives or to think of little except our children's death. Even our once wonderfully happy memories, shared with our children while they lived, now bring us pain for a time.
Bereaved parents do not "get over" the death of our children nor "snap out of it" as the outside world seems to think we can and should. The death of our children is not an illness or a disease from which we recover. It is a life altering change with which we must learn to live.
With the death of our children we are forced to do the "impossible"; build a new life and discover a "new normal" for ourselves and our families in a world that no longer includes our beloved children. It is important for newly bereaved parents to know that they will experience a wide and often frightening variety of intense feelings after the death of our children.
It is also important for newly bereaved parents to understand and know that all of the feelings you experience are very natural and normal under the circumstances. Equally important for you to know and believe is that as much as you cannot possibly believe it, you will not always feel this powerful and all consuming grief.
But right now you must follow the instincts of your soul and allow your bodies and hearts to grieve. The grief resulting from your child's death cannot be skirted over, around or under. You must go through it in order to come out on the other side.
Be gentle and patient with yourself and your family. Allow yourself to cry, to grieve, and to retell your children's story as often as needed and for as long as you need to.
Eventually, you will smile and find joy again. You will never forget your child; he or she will be with you in your heart and memories for as long as you live.
Bereaved parents do not "get over" the death of our children nor "snap out of it" as the outside world seems to think we can and should. The death of our children is not an illness or a disease from which we recover. It is a life altering change with which we must learn to live.
With the death of our children we are forced to do the "impossible"; build a new life and discover a "new normal" for ourselves and our families in a world that no longer includes our beloved children. It is important for newly bereaved parents to know that they will experience a wide and often frightening variety of intense feelings after the death of our children.
It is also important for newly bereaved parents to understand and know that all of the feelings you experience are very natural and normal under the circumstances. Equally important for you to know and believe is that as much as you cannot possibly believe it, you will not always feel this powerful and all consuming grief.
But right now you must follow the instincts of your soul and allow your bodies and hearts to grieve. The grief resulting from your child's death cannot be skirted over, around or under. You must go through it in order to come out on the other side.
Be gentle and patient with yourself and your family. Allow yourself to cry, to grieve, and to retell your children's story as often as needed and for as long as you need to.
Eventually, you will smile and find joy again. You will never forget your child; he or she will be with you in your heart and memories for as long as you live.
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