Answering And Controlling Difficult Questions

We’ve all heard the expression about “triggers”. Triggers are those “things” that are said or happen that in a moment throw us backwards on this grief journey, making us feel as though our hearts are being ripped apart again and can cause the flood gates to open wide.

Triggers always seem to happen when we least expect them – in a moment of quiet. Don't misunderstand me - when moments of quiet happen it doesn't mean that we have forgotten that our child had died, we all know that there is no way we can or will ever forget that fact But as time goes on there are moments when our minds and bodies take a moment out to “be quiet and regroup”.. And then wham – something ‘triggers” those grief emotions that we try so hard to suppress, and we find ourselves sliding down the slippery slope of grief.

One of those triggers, is a question that can be heart wrenching – always asked innocently during idle chit chat – it is the dreaded question of “how many children do you have”…
Know that the first several (or even several hundred) times that this question is asked it will almost always take your breath away.. So like so many things in life that we prepare for, think about the question and consider how you might be comfortable answering it.

Many parents will say that as time moves forward or depending on the occasion when the question is asked, they may even change their answers. No doubt, how the question is answered, will depends on your situation at the time. How you answer will also vary on who asks you the question and most importantly, on how you are feeling at the moment the question is asked..

Parents often say they feel guilty and can't bear to deny their child or children's existence so they give the total number of pregnancies or children they’ve had, never making any mention of a miscarriage, stillbirth or the child or children who have died..

For parents who may have lost their only child or tragically lost all their children, they may say: “My daughter or son died”, or “My children died” or, they may simply answer "None" not wanting to have to explain. Some might say "I had one daughter or son."

Their will be times, depending on how the question is answered, that the person asking, might then ask you to tell your story. When you are having a bad day and do not want to answer further questions, you might reply, "Thank you for caring enough to ask, but this has not been a good day for me. I really cannot talk about it."

The question might vary - there may be a time when someone will ask “I heard your son or daughter died, what happened?" Again, if you’d rather not answer or explain, there is nothing wrong with saying “Thank you for caring enough to ask, but this has not been a good day for me. I really cannot talk about it."

Teaching and giving many presentations over the years have taught me to be prepared and I admit I’ve relied on a skill learned long ago, and that is “I practiced a few stock response to these and other frightening situations relating to my children’s deaths” which have helped me stay in control for the moment at hand.. That doesn’t mean that once I walk away the flood gates don’t open, but for the moment I feel in control.

No, we can’t change the fact that our children aren’t with us any longer, but I think it helps us during this journey thru grief to be able to control some situations. Just like this grief journey is very different for each and every one of us, we each need to find our own ways of doing what works for us, that allows us to feel “in control” …

There are no road maps for this Journey through Grief

~ Written by T. Thomas

In the summer of 2008, I lost my only child to a fatal car accident. She would have turned 19 that September, if that one moment in time had not occurred.

How does one keep breathing, continue waking up every day when someone so dear is gone? I marvel each morning that I am still here, still opening my eyes to the beauty of the sunrise, to the wonder of the day. It always seems somehow simultaneously miraculous and wrong that I should still be on this earth and my daughter is not.

What maps are there for grief? What guideposts? Counseling – for me – was decidedly disappointing. Books are plentiful and occasionally helpful. Support, love, listening ears and solid hugs from friends and loved ones are priceless and welcome. But nothing changes what is. Nothing brings back the missing person.
The pain of all that is gone doesn’t stop.

Grief is a self-involving emotion. It pulls us down into the darkness of our own hearts and tends to exclude others. It is an injury to the soul that is generally not visible on the surface. We who grieve are the walking wounded, but our wounds are deep inside where the world cannot see.

Our culture dismisses grief. We get three days off from work for “bereavement,” as a general rule, and then we are supposed to be “over it,” and back to normal. Fortunately, my place of employment is filled with understanding friends who continue to support my challenges, but most people are not so lucky. The truth is, those who grieve do not get “over it” quickly. Depending on the loss a person suffers, it can be years – perhaps a lifetime – before the grief fades. What happens more surely is the pain “softens” a bit, but the soul’s wound may never fully heal.

Doctors, counselors and well-meaning acquaintances immediately suggested I take pills – anti-depressants – to help with the pain.  “I’m not depressed,” I explained, “I am grieving.”

But in today’s culture, there is no room for grief. We are told to take a pill and feel better. Drugs are intended to treat sickness – like clinical depression perhaps. Grief is not a sickness. Grief is a legitimate emotion that, if bottled up or drugged down, will find its way out eventually. And although I want very much to “feel better,” I need to feel this grief. I don’t want to be numbed and anesthetized. I need to miss my child, my funny girl, my best friend.  But it does hurt – all the time.

My mind fights reality. I want so badly to go back to that brief moment one sunny May morning and make something different happen, change some tiny detail that would alter the tragic outcome. But that is not possible.

We cannot change what happens to us. Life presents challenges, obstacles, tragedies over which we have no control. Feeling a loss of control can lead to a sense of powerlessness and bitterness, and true depression can take over where grief leaves off, if we let it. That’s where we do have control.

We can’t control what happens to us, but we can control how we respond. We have control over our actions, our goals, our words and deeds. In a nutshell, we can control who we become, and thereby control how (and if) we begin to heal our grief wounds.

Coming through grief is like struggling through an uncharted landscape. It is difficult and mostly unpleasant, with hills and valleys. As time passes, the hills are a bit higher, the valleys a bit less low. I focus on what I can control and try to become a better person. My daughter wants me to be happy – she said so often. And so I strive to be.

You Can

YOU CAN

You can shed tears that he or she is gone,

Or you can smile because he or she lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he or she will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that he or she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see him,

Or you can be full of the love that you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

 Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

You can remember him or her and remember ONLY that he or she is gone,

Or you can cherish his or her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

OR you can do what he or she would want……….

              

SMILE, open your eyes,

LOVE and go on.

The Face of Courage, The Heart of Strength

~ By Joanne Cacciatore, PhD, MSW, FT ~ Founder of the www.missfoundation.org, in Peoria, AZ

What characteristics define courageousness and strength? Many would say that courage is facing inherent fears. A person with an intense fear of heights would be courageous to parachute from an airplane, wouldn’t he? Instead of running from the debilitating fear, he stood and faced it. And what about strength? A person with demonstrative strength, perhaps a professional body builder, will not run from a challenge. He works out everyday, learning the skills necessary to increase his potential and toning muscles in preparation to lift that arduous bar bell.

The grief process has captivating similarities to the physical challenges posed to athletes. Yet, while athletes are admired and revered by society, many families in the grief process say they feel isolated within their own community. There is a misconception that compelling emotions should be repressed- that a person who openly shares tears is powerless and vulnerable.

There are those individuals brandishing the “carry-on-chin-up” stoic posture after a tragedy. Too often, these individuals are praised for their courage and strength. Some are commended on how well they are doing with pat-on-the-back encouragement. They have seemingly “carried on” with life, and put the tragedy and pain behind them. Some are admired for maintaining such unemotional composure, mistaking this “business-like” acumen for courage and strength. Others remain surreptitious with their emotions thinking others will view them as weak.

But take a look at the real defining characteristics of courage and strength. Does it take more courage and strength to bury the frightening and overwhelming emotions? Or does it take more courage and strength to deal with the grief- to look into the face of sorrow- to stare into the heart of pain? Those who have wept- really wept from the depths of the soul can answer that. Is there any emotion more harrowing, intimidating and physically exhausting as those experienced during those times of deep grief? Certainly not.

So which individual is truly the strong and courageous one? It must be the one who faces the pain full force- the one who has the courage to tell others the truth about their sorrow- the one who, instead of running, stands and faces the inconceivable challenges of grief- the one who isn’t afraid to share the raw emotions of grief with others, to encourage understanding and compassion- the one who will reach out to others in grief and help carry another.

Those are the defining attributes of true and indisputable courage and strength.

You Know You Are Getting Better When – Part 2 of 2

The following is continued from Saturday, January 7th - As I stated when I wrote part 1, I’ve referred to the following article often through these last 27 months since my son Bobby’s death.  Each time I read it, it helps me realize that although those of us who are grieving aren’t truly ill., there is no doubt that we are “sick” – we are “heartsick” and the overwhelming pain and heartache we experience is just as debilitating as any illness might be.

Yes, for many if not most of us, looking back on those early days, months and even years since our child's death, we often wondered ourselves if we would “survive” what we were going through.. So I wanted to share this with you, hoping you might find a little hope and or inspiration in this article written for “hospice” entitled – “You Know You Are Getting Better When”… It is quite lengthy, which is why I posted it over 2 days… Cherie Houston

~ By Helen Fitzgerald, CT for the American Hospice Foundation

“You Know You Are Getting Better When”…
• You can enjoy a good joke and have a good laugh without feeling guilty.
• Your eating, sleeping, and exercise patterns return to what they were beforehand.
• You no longer feel tired all the time.
• You have developed a routine or a new schedule in your daily life that does not include your loved one.
• You can concentrate on a book or favorite television program. You can even retain information you have just read or viewed.
• You no longer have to make daily or weekly trips to the cemetery. You now feel comfortable going once a month or only on holidays or other special occasions.
• You can find something to be thankful for. You always knew there were good things going on in your life, but they didn't matter much before.
• You can establish new and healthy relationships. New friends are now part of your life and you enjoy participating in activities with them.
• You feel confident again. You are in touch with your new identity and have a stronger sense of what you are going to do with the rest of your life.
• You can organize and plan your future.
• You can accept things as they are and not keep trying to return things to what they were.
• You have patience with yourself through "grief attacks." You know they are becoming further apart and less frightening and painful.
• You look forward to getting up in the morning.
• You stop to smell the flowers along the way and enjoy experiences in life that are meant to be enjoyed.
• The vacated roles that your loved one filled in your life are now being filled by yourself or others. When a loved one dies he or she leaves many "holes" in your life. Now those holes are being filled with other people and activities, although some will remain empty. You are more at ease with these changes.
• You can take the energy and time spent thinking about your loss and put those energies elsewhere, perhaps by helping others in similar situations or making concrete plans with your own life.
• You acknowledge your new life and even discover personal growth from experiencing grief.

You Know You Are Getting Better When – Part 1 of 2

I received the following article about 6 months after my son Bobby died, with a note telling me she thought the article might help me realize that eventually I would feel better.. When I first received it I remember thinking, “Don’t you understand – I’m not sick – I don’t have the flu, my heart is simply broken and it will never heal”..
I’ve referred to it often these last 27 months since Bobby’s death, and each time I read it, the more I realize that although it’s true we aren’t ill when we are grieving, but there is no doubt that we are “sick” – we are “heartsick” and the overwhelming pain and heartache we experience is just as debilitating as any illness could be..
So when others say to us “I hope you are getting better” we first have to realize and accept that they don’t mean to hurt us in any way when they ask this question or make the statement – they honestly care about us and wish they could help, and more often than not they just don’t know what else to say. They know we are “heartsick” and are concerned, and they know they don’t have the remedy…
Yes, for many if not most of us, looking back on those early days, months and even years, we often wondered ourselves if we would “survive” what we were going through.. So I wanted to share this with you, hoping you might find a little hope and or inspiration in this article written for “hospice” entitled – “You Know You Are Getting Better When”… It is quite lengthy, so I am going to post it over 2 days… Cherie Houston
~ By Helen Fitzgerald, CT for the American Hospice Foundation
The progress through grief is so slow, and so often of a "one step forward and two steps backwards" motion, that it is difficult to see signs of improvement. The following are clues that will help you to see that you are beginning to work through your grief:
• You are in touch with the finality of the death. You now know in your heart that your loved one is truly gone and will never return to this earth.
• You can review both pleasant and unpleasant memories. In early grief, memories are painful because they remind you of how much you have lost. Now it feels good to remember, and you look for people to share memories with.
• You can enjoy time alone and feel comfortable. You no longer need to have someone with you all the time or look for activities to keep you distracted.
• You can drive somewhere by yourself without crying the whole time. Driving seems to be a place where many people cry, which can be dangerous for you and other drivers.
• You are less sensitive to some of the comments people make. You realize that painful comments made by family or friends are made in ignorance.
• You look forward to holidays. Once dreaded occasions can now be anticipated with excitement, perhaps through returning to old traditions or creating new ones.
• You can reach out to help someone else in a similar situation. It is healing to be able to use your experience to help others.
• The music you shared with the one you lost is no longer painful to hear. Now, you may even find it comforting.
• You can sit through a church service without crying.
• Some time passes in which you have not thought of your loved one. When this first happens, you may panic, thinking, "I am forgetting." This is not true. You will never forget. You are giving yourself permission to go on with your life and your loved one would want you to do this.
Part 2 of 2 will be posted on Tuesday, January 10th

The new year is here...

Yes, like it or now a new year is here - it has begun…

No matter how hard we wish it were different, 2012 is a year that our child or children who have died much too soon, will not be part of, or will they?

I can vividly remember that week prior to New Years Eve 2009 turning into 2010, just months after our son Bobby died. The holidays had been a blur and I had this horrible dread of the new year arriving and not sure why. So many people said to me and to us, "guess you’ll be so glad when this year is over” and then I realized what I was dreading - this New Year would be a year in which Bobby would never live. But at the same time, I simply smiled, because I know immediately they'd been been fortunate enough not to have been touched by the death of someone they love, especially the death of a child, their child.. For if they had, they wouldn't have made that comment..

Unless you’ve walked in the shoes of a grieving parent, it’s hard to imagine the sadness that the ending of each year brings; almost reminiscent of a funeral, another good-bye that we can’t stand to say..

Yes 2012 will and should be a time of new beginnings, but for those of us who are grieving a child, our children will not be here to share in this wonderful new year ~ or will they…

I believe they can and will be part of it.. Yes it’s up to us, the ones who love them, to speak their names, with smiles as we remember the joys they brought to our lives, whether their stay with us was for the few precious months that we carried them already planning their futures before they took their first breath; maybe you were blessed with a few hours or days after they were born – and maybe you were blessed to have many more years be that 5 years, 9 years, 18 years, 36 years, 55 years – the amount of time really doesn't matter…

So instead of looking back, I hope that we can each find the strength to look forward – to see our child in the sunshine, in the ocean, in the clouds and rain drops and flakes of snow, and in the faces of everyone they touched – some of us are fortunate enough to have young faces smiling back at us that are a result of their short time with us – proudest accomplishments of their love for someone else – what a wonderful gift they’ve given us…

May you find peace and joy in the memories of your child or children who are gone too soon and know that you are not alone in your journey through grief.. reach out and allow another mom, who has walked this road before, help you along your journey…

RESOLUTIONS FOR BEREAVED PARENTS

• I will enter the New Year with Hope
• I will let myself cry
• I will tell those I care about ~ that I love them
• I will remember and let the memories provide smiles
• I will share my child with others
• I will watch more sunsets and listen to more bullfrogs
• I will hold onto my faith
• I will take time to reflect on my child’s short, but precious life
• I will eat chocolate
• I will not bury my grief
• I will take time for others
• I will take time for myself
• I will be kind to myself
• I will hold my head high, knowing that I am the parent of a very important and special child or children
• I will find value in life and cherish it, thus honoring my child and all that he/she fought for

Most importantly, as I begin this new year, I will continue on and take my child (or children) along with me into the future..