TEARS, TALK, TIME, AND TOMORROWS

Lovingly written By Debbie Landsman

TEARS, TALK, TIME, AND TOMORROWS

I never thought I could go on living when you died, but…….I did.

I never thought I would survive after burying you, but……I did.

I never thought I’d get through those first days, weeks, months, but…….I did.

I never thought I’d be able to endure the first anniversary of your death, but….I did.

I never thought I’d let myself love my new grandchild, but…..I have.

I never thought tomorrow would be different, but…….it was.

I never thought I’d stop crying for a day, but…….I have.

I never thought the pain would ‘soften’, but…… it has.

I never thought I’d care if the sun shone again, but……I do.

I never thought I’d ever entertain again, but….I have.

I never thought I’d be able to control my grief, but…..I can.

I never thought I could function without medication again, but…..I can.

I never thought I could function without medication again, but…..I can.

I never thought I’d smile again, but…..I do.

I never thought I’d laugh out loud again, but…..I do.

I never thought I’d look forward to tomorrow, but…..I do.

I never thought I’d reconcile your death, but…..I have.

I never thought I’d be able to create that ‘new normal’, but I have.

I never thought I’d be able to go on living after you died, but…..I do…….

Always missing you, always loving you, and thinking of you daily with a smile on my face….

And tears on my heart.

The Griever’s Holiday Bill of Rights

Thank you to Saundra Freemond from Santa Monica, CA for sending this to me when I first began our blog 3 years ago - my son Bobby had just died and I remember wondering if it would be politically correct to send this to everyone I knew, so they would understand me and that I wasn't going crazy or just being obstinate or feeling sorry myself (even though I felt as though I was all those things and sometimes still feel that way)... but I wanted people around me to just understand my heart was totally broken and I was finding it hard to breath and put one foot in front of the other and I didn't know today how I would feel or react to any given situation tomorrow... so I hope you will appreciate this as much as I always have-I have a copy of it in my holiday folder and as I begin to prepare for the holidays it's right on top, so it reminds me that it is OK to still feel as I do...and those who love me just have to understand (and if not-I'm sorry) - Lots of Love and we hope that our postings these next few weeks will help you on this month of difficult challenges on your journey..  Cherie Houston

The Grierves Holiday Bill of Rights by Bruce H. Conely 

You have the right to say, ‘TIME OUT!”,  anytime you need to.  Time out to let up; blow off a little steam; step away from the bustle of events;  have a “huddle” and start over.

You have a right to TELL IT LIKE IT IS.    When people ask, “How are you…?”, you have the right to tell them how you really feel, not just what they want to hear.  You also have a right to say, “I’m fine”, because the choice is yours.

You have the right to some, “BAH HUMBUG” DAYS.  You don’t have to put on a “happy face” for the benefit of others.  You are not a bad person because you don’t feel like smiling and cheering up others all day long.  Accept your limitations, don’t be afraid to ask for and accept help.

You have the right to DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY.   There is no law that says you must always celebrate a special day in the same way.  You can send fewer cards, or no cards at all!  You can open gifts at someone else’s house.  You can put up special decorations or leave them in the box this year or have pizza instead of that traditional dinner.  The list is endless.

You have the right to BE WHERE YOU WANT TO BE.  Be at home or with friends; in any city or state you choose or have dinner at a restaurant instead of in the traditional place.  Feel free to make changes or observe that special day in the usual way.

You have a right to SOME FUN!  When you have a day that isn’t so bad and you feel like doing something just for fun, then do it!  Don’t be afraid of what other people will say if they see you laughing and having a good time.  Laughter is every bit as important, and healing, as tears!

You have a right to CHANGE DIRECTION IN MIDSTREAM.  Grief is unpredictable.  You may be all ready to go somewhere or do something and suddenly feel overwhelmed.  When that happens, it’s okay to change your mind.  There are plenty of times in life to be predictable, so exercise your right to change your mind when you need to.

You have a right to DO THINGS AT DIFFERENT TIMES.  Worship at a different service time or even at a different church/synagogue.

        Open special gifts at a different time or place.

        Serve your meal at a different hour.

        Give up and go to bed at a different time.

        Don’t be a slave to tradition’s clock!

You have a right to REST, PEACE AND SOLITUDE.  You don’t need to be busy all of the time.  Take a nap whenever you need one.  Take time to pray and to meditate, to recharge your spirit.  It may do you much more good than eating another huge meal.

You have the right TO DO IT ALL DIFFERENT NEXT TIME.  Just because you change things one year, doesn’t mean you have written it in stone.  Next year you can change it back or do it in yet another way.                                                                                              

Holidays of Sadness

~ by Brigitte Synesael

When you have lost someone very dear to you, the most difficult obstacle to cross is getting through the holidays. Surviving the days where everyone around you is celebrating and spreading good cheer, while your mind is filled with memories and your heart is heavy with loneliness. It’s difficult just making it through what used to be the happiest days that were once shared with our child or loved one, and today carries only emptiness. The greatest challenge is to remain in the company of others who love you, when you really want to be alone with your sadness.

It makes no difference whether the loss took place last week, several months ago, or even last year. The holidays always send those deep emotions flooding right to the surface.

Just as how you deal with grief is personal and individual, so is the way you handle the holidays. Remember to be true to yourself, and don’t take on too much responsibility. Let people know that your plans may be subject to change, and you can’t make long term commitments just yet. Be honest with yourself and with your friends and family about how you’re feeling.

Some people find it best to start new traditions, because the past ones hold memories too difficult to deal with. Talk with your family about setting expectations. Plan together any modifications you will all make to the “normal” holiday festivities. You may want to have a church service dedicated to the memory of your loved one. Or make an annual donation in his/her name. Perhaps join the Hospice Tree Lighting ceremony. Bring joy to another child by purchasing a special toy for the Angel Tree in memory of your child.

Be honest about how you’re feeling, but when ever possible, try to include a positive twist into your thoughts. Instead of : “I miss my ….. so much, there is no Christmas without him/her.”  TRY “I do miss my ……. Christmas will be different this year, but I will try to enjoy it.”  Instead of: “I HATE this time of year. I can’t wait until it’s over.”  TRY “This is a difficult time of year for me. But it does give me an opportunity to become closer to my family and friends.”

Some people heal best by helping others. Try volunteering at an organization who help people with a greater need than yours. i.e. A soup kitchen, a homeless shelter, orphanages, etc. Often the best therapy is helping others. Aside from the obvious benefits of keeping your mind occupied and seeing that there are others in worse situations than yourself, charity work gives you a tremendous feeling of fulfillment. It can give you a renewed sense of purpose, so important during times of sadness.

Above all else, give yourself permission to enjoy yourself, to laugh, and to find peace. Each of these things are part of healing. Your life will never be the same, but it will go on, and it can still be good. Close your eyes for just a moment ~ bring into the room with you the clearest image of the person that you have lost. Now say “I love you and I miss you. You will always be in my heart. I need to know... is it okay for me to be happy again?”

Now, imagine the answer that you receive. If you remember your loved one in their true light, I’m confident the answer will be YES.  Find peace over the holidays, and be good to you.

~ About the Author: Brigitte Synesael is recognized as an authority on Alternative Medicine Information. A published author, one of her latest releases is  "You've Got Nothing To Lose But POUNDS!" 

Preparing for the Holidays

~ by Kenneth J. Doka, PhD, MDiv, Sr. Consultant to HFA; Professor of Gerontology at the College of New Rochelle in New York.

“When we are in the midst of grief, the last thing we may want to think about is the holidays. We may have little desire to participate. We may simply refuse to make plans, wishing the holidays would quickly, if not painlessly, pass.”

     The holidays are tough when we are grieving a loss. Holidays are centering moments in our lives, full of memories. We remember the Thanksgiving the oven broke down, the Hanukkah or Christmas gifts we received. It is very easy for our longing for someone we miss to become intense.

     There are other reasons the holidays can be tough. We often see reminders everywhere:  the perfect gift or a holiday card addressed to the person who died. They are stressful and busy times. This stress is difficult to bear when coping with grief. We might feel so out of step with the season. Our sadness seems magnified against the joy of others. Finally, in the midst of winter, we may feel more isolated and alone, the deepening darkness a reflection of our inner being.

     That is why it is essential to plan. We need not spend a great deal of time thinking of holiday menus or planning the perfect gift or care. I am speaking of something more important – planning how to get through the holidays.

     The danger is drift. It is easy in the stressful times of the holidays to surrender our decision making to well-meaning others, like the sister-in-law who will not take no for an answer. The result is that we find ourselves drifting into activities that are tiring, painful, or that don’t meet our needs.

    The first thing we need to do is to choose. What activities do we really want to do? What activities do we need to do?  What doesn't need to be done this year? We might decide to not send cards or host a dinner.

     As for the activities we choose, we must find the best way to do them, consistent with our own needs. For example, if we decide to give gifts, we might consider how we wish to do this. Do we simply send a check, shop from the Internet or a catalog, or shop with a friend?

     With whom do we wish to spend the holidays? Who can be present with us as we grieve? Who will understand that we may not be our usual selves?

     Sometimes it is a choice not to make a choice. Grief is often a roller-coaster experience, full of ups and downs. Grace knew that. So she decided that she would keep her options open until that very morning. She knew she would spend some time with her in-laws, but would wait until that day to see where she was on that roller coaster before committing to a particular schedule. We need to remember to remain flexible. For Tom, he decided to take his own car so he could leave when he was ready, rather than be obligated to wait for others.

     We need, too, to recognize the individuality of grief. For some of us, the holidays are difficult and stressful. There may be others of us who welcome the diversion  and find comfort in the bustle of activity. Still others of us might find ourselves torn between both feelings. It is the range of reactions that makes our grief unique.

     Once we have made our choices, we should communicate those decisions to others. Part of that communication is listening to others. That may add a third “C” to our holiday plans – compromise.

     The holidays are approaching so we need to plan. But we may want to remember this recipe:

Choose, Communicate and Compromise

A siblings view of the holidays...

When a child dies in a family - everyone is affected - not just immediately but forever.. Yes the ways in which we are each impacted are different, but nonetheless each persons grief and heartache are important and need to be recognized...  As the holidays approach, I thought it might help to glance inside the heart of a sister, who lost her brother - although we don't know her or her brother, her heartfelt story allows us to celebrate their family ...Happy Birthday Sean-you aren't forgotten...Cherie Houston

~ by Traci Morlock, a Bereaved Sibling - BP/USA St. Louis Chapter

The worst time of the year for me is the holidays. I guess the worst part of the holidays is the changing of the seasons.  My brother, Sean, always loved Fall. For him it was a romantic time of the year. Sean’s birthday is November 11, the height of Fall. So, the holiday season begins for me with the first leaf falling off the tree. As Sean’s birthday approaches, I find myself getting sadder and sadder. I never know how much I really miss him until I realize he’s missed another birthday. As the other holidays grow nearer, I begin to dread them more.

The first year, no one wanted to have Christmas, but we felt we needed it for my daughter. Her birthday is Christmas Eve and she turned two that year. Doing Christmas for her makes it a little easier but, at the same time makes it that much more difficult.

Sean thought we needed holidays all year long. While helping my Mom put up Christmas decorations, I look at our family picture above the piano, the last of the five of us. I told my Mom that we would never be that happy again. I know that is a sad thing to say, but I know a part of me will always be missing.

Each year I feel a numbness set in over the holidays. The numbness begins around Sean’s birthday and ends after the first of each year. Sean’s been gone almost four years (can it be that it’s been that long?)

The year of Sean’s death, my Mom didn’t know what to do with the ornaments that Sean had collected over the years. The Christmas before Sean died, my Mom purchased a miniature tree for the family room. Sean made fun of it. The next year, Mom purchased Sean his own miniature tree for the family room. Sean’s tree is filled with all of his ornaments and his used guitar strings for tinsel. Sean’s tree goes up right after Thanksgiving and doesn’t come down until after January 24th, the anniversary of his death. This tree has actually helped to make the holidays seem a little brighter. 

A part of my brother is there in that tree. I was out shopping a few weeks ago and I bought an ornament that would go perfectly on Sean’s tree. The ornament is the first one I have purchased for Sean since he died. Just buying that one ornament has actually made me look forward to the holidays.

I know the holidays will never be the same without our “Holiday Clown,” but we will make new memories, laugh and cry at the old ones, and just survive this time of year. I wish you a peaceful holiday season filled with precious moments and happy memories. I also hope that you can share a smile.  Peace, Traci Morlock   

Some Suggestions for Thanksgiving (and other holidays)

~ By Diane Zarnkoff, TCF, Simi Valley, CA

Throughout our lives, expectations of things to come are based upon past experiences. If, in the past, you had set a glorious table and were the perfect host or hostess, it is very possible that friends and family will expect more of the same this year. They may not be aware that you are not looking toward the holidays with a fun and games attitude. They probably do not know that in anticipation of  Thanksgiving, Christmas and Hanukkah, you may feel anxiety and fear.

They are probably thinking this year will be different and some sadness will accompany it, but I don’t think they are aware of your anguish, especially if it’s been “awhile.”

I would like to suggest to you that in fairness to yourself you need to be honest about your feelings and, just as important, you need to communicate these feelings to those around you. I really don’t think it is necessary for you to believe that because you set a tradition and always made the turkey, fried the latkes, and always had the family over, you need to feel obligated to do it again this year.

Perhaps you would like (and need) to tell everyone:

• Someone else will have to do dinner this year.
• You want to make dinner in your home, but you need lots of help because you don’t have the energy to do it.
• You want to go to the parties, but you are afraid you may break down and cry or want to leave in a hurry and you want them to know in advance this is really okay.
• You want to tell them it’s okay to talk about your child. Not to, makes it very uncomfortable.

 The list goes on, but the point is that to pretend everything is “just fine” is a lie and that’s not fair to you or to the people who you love.

It Begins with Halloween - the dreaded Holiday Season

IT BEGINS WITH HALLOWEEN

~ by Kim Brundt

The holidays can be nightmares in the making for parents who have buried their child/baby. After all, most holidays are geared toward children, children who are no longer here with us. We may not have other living children to carry on the celebration with, or we may be unable to emotionally do so if there are other children.  

The period most dreaded begins with Halloween and runs through the New Year. I remember wishing that I could go to sleep on October 30th and not wake up until January 3rd or 4th. But, realistically we all know that this is not a possibility. So, what can a hurting parent do to survive these days that can bring us so much pain?

To begin with, be gentle with yourself, your spouse or significant other and any surviving children. Talk to each other. Find out what each is feeling before making any decisions as to what you will or will not do.

If surviving children are too young to really know what’s going on, then they probably will not miss out if you decide to not put up a tree. Even older children may need to downplay the first holidays after losing a baby sister or brother, and are uncomfortable telling their already hurting parents. Once you and your immediate family decide what is right, you then tell the extended family what has been decided. Do not allow others to pressure you into doing something that is not comfortable.

I know from experience and from speaking with many other hurting moms and dads that often our anticipation of the holiday is worse than the actual day itself. This is especially true if you have given the days ahead a lot of thought and have decided on a plan of what you would like to try to do.  There are many ways to include your child into your holiday plans. Some ideas I have used and

heard of are:

·         Buying and decorating a balled Christmas tree. That tree can later be planted in honor of your child.

·         Ordering special flowers to place in a special spot in your house or to carry with you to other houses as you go.

·         Decorating your child’s grave and visiting the grave before or after the day’s activity.

·         Dedicating the altar flowers at your place of worship in your child’s name.

·         Donating gifts that you would have bought for your child to a needy child. (Many parents have found a special peace by being able to go out and actually buy the special things for their children that they had been planning on all along, then pass them on to another child whose Christmas may not have been as special otherwise.)

·         Lighting a candle or placing an ornament on a tree to honor your child.

·         Attending a special service dedicated to the honor of our children such as the International Candlelight Ceremony (held the 2^nd Sunday in December worldwide*).

The ideas are endless and very personal. It is important to look into your own heart and do what

brings you and yours the peace you need. If you are not sure if something is right, try it out and, if it is not what you expected, then next year try something else.

I know if I look hard enough in my heart, I usually will find what I need to do for my boys, Jonathan and Jacob.  I will light a candle this year as I do every year in honor and celebration of all our children. I will say a special prayer for you and as always my wish for you is peace, hope and love in the days ahead.

With hugs and more hugs, Kim Brundt

Lovingly lifted from BP/USA  -Central Savannah River Area Chapter

*This years annual Candlelight Ceremony will be held on Sunday evening, December 9th, 2012 at the Calvary Baptist Church in Lake Havasu City, AZ - check with your local bereaved parents support group to find out where & when they will holding their candlelight ceremony...

What is Normal Now?

How many times since my children have died, have I thought to myself “normal” what is that? Doesn’t anyone understand that I will never be who I was before my children died, my “normal” will never be the same again…  After the deaths of each of my three children (Robin in 1971, RandeeMarie the following year in 1972 and then Bobby in 2009) I returned to a very different normal – because I was very different and the world around me was different.  Yes they are gone, and although I'm so grateful to have 2 wonderful sons, 2 great step-sons, 5 fabulous daughter-in-laws and been blessed with 9 incredible grandchildren, that doesn't erase the fact that I have 3 children who are not here and at times that in itself seems overwhelmingly painful to accept..  Time softens the pain, but out of the blue there are moments, that even though it's been more than 40 years since RandeeMarie died in 1971 and Robin died in 1972 and within a few months it will be 3 years since my 36 year old son Bobby died - it still takes my breath away...   My “normal” at times seem to change like the winds…  I found this article the other day when I was going through some papers Joyce Floyd had sent me shortly after Bobby died and I was amazed at how accurate it was about “my new & ever changing normal”.  I hope you will take some comfort in it also…  For me, articles such as these always help to remind me that I am okay, that I’m not crazy – that I’m simply a mom, who is missing my children… Cherie Houston

WHAT IS NORMAL NOW?  ~ by Vicki Windham, Platte, NE, BP/USA chapter~ 

• Normal is trying to decide what to take to the cemetery for Christmas, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Easter. 
• Normal is feeling like you know how to act and are more comfortable with a funeral than a wedding or a birthday party.  Yet, feeling a stab of pain in your heart when you smell the flowers, see the casket, and all the crying people.
• Normal is feeling like you can’t sit through another minute without screaming because you just don’t like to sit through church anymore.  And yet at the same time feeling like you have more faith in God than you ever had before.
• Normal is having tears waiting behind every smile when you realize someone important is missing from all the events in your family’s life.
• Normal is not sleeping because a thousand “what ifs” go through your head constantly.
• Normal is having the TV on the minute you walk into the house to have some ‘noise’ because the silence is deafening.
• Normal is telling the story of your child’s death as if it were an everyday common event and then gasping in horror at how awful it sounds.  And yet realizing it has become part of normal conversation.
• Normal is each year coming up with the difficult task of how to honor your child’s memory and birthday, and surviving those days.
• Normal is a new friendship with another bereaved Mother and meeting over coffee and talking and crying together over your children.
• Normal is being too tired to care if you paid your bills, cleaned your house, did the laundry, or shopped for groceries.
• Normal is hiding all the things that have become “normal” for you to feel, so that everyone around you will think you are “normal.”  

Who is a Bereaved Mother?

~ Author Unknown 

A Bereaved Mother is someone who stands at a grave wondering how she is going to live the rest of her life without this child

A Bereaved Mother is someone who thinks and fears that she will spend the rest of her life with this horrendous feeling inside.  

A Bereaved Mother is someone who learns she can think again of happy moments instead of the horror that surrounds her child’s death

A Bereaved Mother is someone who has to learn how to live all over again

A Bereaved Mother is someone who has to start new traditions in her family because the old ones no longer work

A Bereaved Mother is someone who wishes they would take Mothers Day out of the calendar

A Bereaved Mother is someone who only has the past left of her child

A Bereaved Mother is someone who has to learn to accept the loss of her beloved child and uses what she has learned to help others

A Bereaved Mother is someone who can again learn to smile, to look forward to the future and excited again because other moms, who were just like her "bereaved moms themselves" were there when she needed them

WHEN MOTHER'S DAY HURTS Part 3 of 3

~ Karla Helbert, MS, LPC, Grief, Loss & Bereavement Expert

In our society where mourning is no longer a widespread or open practice (though I am working hard, along with likeminded friends and colleagues to change that), other community members may not always feel they can openly discuss “the departed.”

If you know someone whose mother has died, or if you knew his or her mother, perhaps sending a white flower in memory of their mother may be a lovely gesture. You might also consider sending a card or letter, or making a phone call specifically to share memories of that person’s mother. Taking a moment to let her child know how much she meant to you, can be very comforting. If you know a young child whose mother has died, acknowledge that child’s pain and let that child know that you are a safe person to talk to. Again, sharing memories of the child’s mother can let that child know how much his or her mom meant to others.

For all of us, childless mothers and motherless children alike, planning a way to remember our deeply cherished loved ones is very important:

• • Make a plan that will honor your mother’s or your child’s life
• • Acknowledge their presence in your life, your heart and your mind.
• • Honor your love for them, as well as the pain you feel due to their absence.
• • Create new traditions for this day: light a candle, say a prayer, or wear a flower.
• • You might wish to donate to a charity in your child’s or your mother’s name
• Plan a visit to the burial site, plant a tree, create a work of art or start a scrapbook.
• Read your child or mom’s favorite book, watch their favorite movies, listen to songs they loved.
• Name a star after your child, make his or her favorite food, plan a balloon release with notes to him or her written on the balloons.

No matter what, you are always a mother. And no matter what, your mother is always your mother. We can remember them with love.

I vividly recall the first Mother’s Day after my son died. It was a very sad, painful day. The beauty of spring itself seemed to exist solely to mock my childless arms. On that day, my husband and I planted a tree in our backyard. I had originally planned to plant a tree for our son so that he could watch the tree grow as he grew. Instead, we planted the tree in his memory. The choosing of the tree, bringing it home, digging the hole, and the placement of the tree itself, were all acts that meant more than the simple planting of a tree. The act was elevated to ritual status and was very healing and comforting. I placed special stones around the tree, hung wind chimes and placed special ornaments in and around the tree. Caring for the tree has become a way of demonstrating our on-going love for him. Weeding, decorating the area, watering and fertilizing the tree have allowed for that loving memorial to continue. The tree is visible in our back yard from every window that looks out of the back of our house; kitchen, living room, bathroom, hallway, office.

While nothing takes away the pain of missing my child, the ritual we created together to honor his memory made that first Mother’s Day more bearable, and is a constant reminder of our love for him. Seeing the tree bloom each spring and watching it grow a little taller and stronger with each passing year underscore the tree’s symbolic representation of our ever-present love for him and his presence in our family.

If you anticipate that Mother’s Day will be difficult for you, whatever your personal circumstances, spend some time making a plan for honoring, remembering and memorializing. Think about doing something to care for yourself as well. Self-care gifts such as massage, manicure, pedicure, can all help to alleviate stress. Ask for what you need. Taking time to be alone, to journal, to take a walk, spend time in nature, or simply to rest can be very helpful. If you need support, ask for it. If you worry that no one will do anything for you on Mother’s Day, be pro-active and tell your loved ones what you would like to do to observe the day. Plan a lunch or dinner with supportive friends or family.

Give yourself permission to do what you need to do to take care of yourself.

And know that your sisters in grief will be thinking of you and sending you their love...

WHEN MOTHER'S DAY HURTS Part 2 of 3

~ Karla Helbert, MS, LPC, Grief, Loss & Bereavement Expert

All bereaved parents long to hear other people speak their child’s name after he or she has died. Many non-bereaved people think (wrongly) that if they mention the child, this will somehow “open the wound,” or “remind” us of the loss. You can trust that we are already thinking about our children, that wound is ever-present. Our children are never, ever far from our hearts and minds. One of the greatest fears for a bereaved parent is that no one, except for us, will remember our children. If you have a special memory of her child, send a card with a story of that memory enclosed. It will be a cherished treasure. Even a card simply wishing her a happy and peaceful day is a gesture that is greatly appreciated.

When we are bereaved mothers who are also fortunate enough to have other children who are alive, we continue to miss and to mourn the ones who are not here for our arms to physically enfold. For these mothers, acknowledging their child who has died can be an incredibly meaningful gift. One child does not replace another. We celebrate in the joyful presence of our living children and deeply mourn the absence of the ones who are not here sharing our daily lives. Remembering that we are mothers to all our children is such a special act.

For women who have suffered early miscarriage, women experiencing infertility problems, or for birth mothers whose birth children have been placed in adoptive homes, Mother’s Day can bring a silent and isolating grief. Much of society does not recognize the loss that can be inherent in these women’s circumstances. Simply letting her know that you are thinking of her on this day can be welcome gesture. A phone call to check in and a simple, “I was thinking of you today and wondering if you were doing ok.” This can allow her to talk about her feelings if she chooses to do so.

For any person whose mother has died, Mother’s Day can be a painful and sad time. A tradition of the not so long ago past called for corsages to be worn on Mother’s Day. A red corsage meant that person’s mother was still alive. A white flower meant their mother had died. Those who wore white flowers were most likely given extra hugs or an extra squeeze of the hand. The openly worn symbol of the flower allowed others to feel freer to talk about the woman who had died, to feel invited to share remembrances or condolences. It's sad this tradition is so rare today...

Part 3 of 3 continued tomorrow, Friday, May 4th

WHEN MOTHER'S DAY HURTS Part 1 of 3

~ Karla Helbert, MS, LPC, Grief, Loss & Bereavement Expert

Mother’s Day is observed by many as a joyful day of celebration, a time when hardworking mothers can have a chance to put our feet up, relax, be treated to breakfasts in bed, special lunches or dinners, given special consideration. We might receive gifts lovingly chosen or perhaps handmade by our children and partners. The day may hold special times set aside for visiting with or talking to our mothers, perhaps making up for time we have been apart, busy with our lives. The idea of Mother’s Day in our culture is painted as brightly and sentimentally as any Hallmark commercial.

The truth is though, for many, Mother’s Day can be a painful and difficult day. Women whose children have died at any age, women experiencing infertility, women who have had miscarriages, men, women and children whose mothers have died—for these and others, Mother’s Day can be a day of sadness and loss. In grief, many days typically perceived as happy or joyful times are experienced by the grieving and bereaved as sad and isolating.

Bereaved mothers are faced with the experience of seeing other mothers interact with their children, of watching seemingly happy, intact families go about the daily ordinary business of life. People whose mothers have died hear other people speak casually about day-to-day interactions with their mothers, or watch mothers and daughters shopping or lunching happily. We are faced with the barrage of Mother’s Day commercials created to tug at our heart strings (and of course, urge us to open our wallets); and in all those things, so much of the grief we experience is the grief for that which can never be our reality.

Each person’s grief, and his or her response to the pain of grief is always highly individual, but no matter what, if you are mother whose child has died, or, if you are a child whose mother has died, Mother’s Day is a sad time.

For women whose children have died, it can almost go without saying that Mother’s Day is deeply painful, and because of that, it should never go without saying. If you know a mother whose child has died, at any age, please acknowledge her motherhood as well as her pain. The greatest gift for a bereaved mother on Mother’s Day can be the simple, but hugely powerful, recognition of her motherhood. Even though our children have died, we are still mothers–to all of our children.

The simple act of recognition allows a bereaved mother the validation she so often seeks and sadly, so often finds missing. A hug and a “Happy Mother’s Day,” even if that seems improbable, could mean more than one could imagine. There are many things supportive friends and family members can do to help ease the pain of this difficult day for a grieving mother. Visit her child’s grave, leave a pretty stone, a seashell or other small trinket, and let her know. Talk about her child. Use her child’s name in conversation, no matter how brief.

continued Part 2 of 3, tomorrow: Wednesday, May 2nd 

It's True-The Holidays Will never be the same again

~ Excert from Susan Apollon’s book, Touched by the Extraordinary, Book Two: Healing Stories of Love, Loss & Hope

"The holidays will never be the same again," she says. "That is true. But life is change, by its very nature. Little by little you will form a new identity and learn to connect with your lost loved one in a different way. You'll form new memories and new traditions. Grieving well can lead to spiritual growth, which means that life itself can become richer and fuller after a profound loss. You'll never forget the person you lost, but you will find joy—even holiday joy—again."

Realize that miracles really do happen at the holidays. Here's the thing about the holidays, says Apollon. They really are magic. You knew this as a child but may have forgotten it. But spiritual occasions like holidays allow us to step outside the box we live in most of the time and let miracles in.

"Paradoxical as it sounds, grief and holidays are a lot alike," she reflects. "They both help us detach from trivial things and focus on what's important, what's real. Open your mind and heart this year and see what happens. Maybe you'll feel a sense of connection with your loved one who passed on, or maybe you'll feel joy for the first time since your loss. Either one might qualify as a miracle."

"It's healthier to feel the sadness and loss than to detach yourself from it," she says. "It's right and normal to grieve; just don't make it the dominant part of who you are."

Remember, says Apollon, the holidays won't always be such a struggle ~ if you work through your grief instead of repressing it, you'll find joy again.

Reclaiming Our Joy

~ Linda L. Flatt ~ November 1998

A Basic Plan for Surviving the Holidays After The Loss Of A Loved One

Shortly after my son's suicide in 1993, a wise counselor told me not to let that death take away my joy. At the time, those words fell on deaf ears. But, as the days passed and healing began, his guidance became my mission - to somehow reclaim my joy after experiencing the incomprehensible suicide death of my child.

The powerful and overwhelming emotions that embody the grieving process tend to be magnified during the holidays - a time when memories of our missing loved ones are especially painful. Family gatherings are wearying reminders of the stark reality of our loss. Here are some steps that we can take together to endeavor to recover our God-given joy during a difficult holiday season.

Decide to Prepare: Plan ahead for the pitfalls of holiday bereavement. Educate yourself in the fine art of surviving the holidays and equip yourself for the season. Beware of the expectations of others and choose to get through the holidays YOUR WAY!

Determine to Feel: Give yourself permission to grieve during the holidays instead of "stuffing" or denying your emotions. Resist the urge to "shut down" emotionally until next year. Trust me, the feelings will still be on that shelf on January 1st, and they will, more than likely, be even more powerful and destructive than they were in December.

Commit to Connect: Choose to be around safe, supportive people during the holidays - people who will let you have your grief. Try to stay connected to God at a time when you may want to run in the other directions and isolate yourself to ease your pain. We serve a loving, comforting God and there is great healing in His community and those who love and care about us. Reach out and take the light and love that others offer during the holidays - and, in turn, give whatever you can to those who reach out to you.

Moving on after losing a child - A "New Normal"

It seems to me that I have posted this article in the past, but personally it's an article that I read often.. Yes, March 19th will mark 18 months since our 36 year old son Bobby died, and March 17th will mark 40 years since my first daughter, my beautiful infant daughter, Randee Marie, died.. Sometimes it's hard to believe that 3 of my 5 children have died, but they have and there are moments when each of their deaths feels as though it was just yesterday... Personally, I think we are continually facing and recreating our "new normal" as the author of this following article so eloquently puts it... Despite my sadness, I also want to talk about all the joy in my life - today is special, because today, March 16th, our family is celebrating Randee's twin - our son Ric's "40th birthday"; tomorrow March 17th-the 40th anniv. of Randee's passing-we will celebrate her namesakes 8th birthday-Ric's daughter - our granddaughter Randee Marie; and in a few days, we will celebrate our new grandson Liam Roberts 2nd month birthday on March 19th - so life is very good today and yes we have our new normal and it is better than I could have believed it would be - we are learning to appreciate what we have in our "new normal".. Enjoy-Cherie Houston

~ By Cathy Babao Guballa (10/29/2000 Issue © 2000 Philippine Daily Inquirer)

LOSING a child has been described as the worst kind of loss anyone could possibly go through, a searing and unspeakable pain. The emotions that accompany a loss of this magnitude is much like plumbing the depths of an abyss, not knowing if one will ever be able to climb out of it one day, unscathed and whole. When a child dies, a part of the self is cut off and many bereaved parents like to use the metaphor of an amputated limb.

I once read an account of a father who had lost his only son and his words were poignant. "For the amputee, the raw bleeding stump heals and the physical pain does not go away. But he lives with the pain in his heart knowing his limb will not grow back. He has to learn to live without it. He rebuilds his life around his loss. We bereaved parents must do the same."

A "New Normal": The first year after a child's death is the most difficult. In any loss, the first "everything" is always tough. Anniversaries, birthdays and holidays are guaranteed to trigger a deluge of pain and tears.

It's been two and a half years since my son died and yet the ache remains. Like amputation, parental bereavement is a permanent condition. The hopes, dreams and aspirations you had for the child now gone is lost forever.

The pain, though, subsides with the passage of time in a way. The adage "Time heals" has somehow proven true, though when my mother, who had been widowed for close to two decades, first told me about it, I was incredulous and refused to believe that it was even a possibility.

Two years down the road, when I meet friends whom I haven't seen since Migi's death, the first question that invariably crops up is "Have you recovered?" My response to that query is usually a knowing smile, quietly thinking to myself, Does anyone ever really recover from the loss of a child, or a loved one for that matter? Perhaps "recover" is not quite the correct term. I'd like to think that "moving on" is more like it. Bereaved parents eventually find resolution to their grief in the sense that they learn to live in their new world.

Dennis Klass, professor of bereavement studies at Webster University in St. Louis, Missouri, says, "Parents who have lost a child 're-solve' the matters of how to be themselves in a family and community in a way that makes life meaningful. They learn to grow in those parts of themselves that did not die with the child. They learn to invest themselves in other tasks and other relationships. But somewhere inside themselves, they report, there is a sense of loss that cannot be healed."

From my own experience, I have learned to make the loss of my son a part of my life, and to try to forge a new meaning out of it. In the first year after he died, I would often ask myself, "What is the meaning to the loss?" I would crack my brains trying to make sense of his death. I had to find a reason, a meaning to it, or else I felt his death would have been in vain.

After a loss, be it a child, a parent or a sibling, life can no longer return to normal. Instead, in its place, a "new normal" is established. This is what I have found most helpful in my grief work these last couple of years: finding that new meaning and building a new life around the loss has helped me tremendously in moving on after his death.

For many of us, it is very difficult to let go of the pain because we sometimes equate letting go with forgetting. However, I've learned that healing, or letting go of the pain, does not mean forgetting because moving on with life does not necessarily mean that we don't take a part of our lost love with us.

Magic & Miracles of the Holidays

~ Excert from Susan Apollon’s book, Touched by the Extraordinary, Book Two: Healing Stories of Love, Loss & Hope

"The holidays will never be the same again," she says. "That is true. But life is change, by its very nature. Little by little you will form a new identity and learn to connect with your lost loved one in a different way. You'll form new memories and new traditions. Grieving well can lead to spiritual growth, which means that life itself can become richer and fuller after a profound loss. You'll never forget the person you lost, but you will find joy—even holiday joy—again."

Realize that miracles really do happen at the holidays. Here's the thing about the holidays, says Apollon. They really are magic. You knew this as a child but may have forgotten it. But spiritual occasions like holidays allow us to step outside the box we live in most of the time and let miracles in.

"Paradoxical as it sounds, grief and holidays are a lot alike," she reflects. "They both help us detach from trivial things and focus on what's important, what's real. Open your mind and heart this year and see what happens. Maybe you'll feel a sense of connection with your loved one who passed on, or maybe you'll feel joy for the first time since your loss. Either one might qualify as a miracle."

"It's healthier to feel the sadness and loss than to detach yourself from it," she says. "It's right and normal to grieve; just don't make it the dominant part of who you are."

Remember, says Apollon, the holidays won't always be such a struggle. If you work through your grief instead of repressing it, you'll find joy again.

Holiday Family Gatherings

Families gather for both sad and happy occasions. Happy times and sad times often bring families closer together - but after the death of a child, these gatherings can be difficult and painful, unless we prepare ourselves for them...

During the Holidays, just like weddings, graduations families gather to celebrate. During these times, everyone is expected to be happy. Relatives and friends want you to join in as you have in the past. But now, without your child being happy and joining in seems too painful..

Understand that during these gatherings, having family around is healing - it helps to have their support, bu then moments later the same gathering can become overwhelmingly painful reminders of our child that is not present and will never be.  Knowing in advance that these feelings are normal can help prepare you - you aren't going crazy, you are grieving..

Yes, family and friends usually provide the most comfort and listen as we try to cope with the loss of our child. But understand, that even our closest of relatives and friends cannot completely understand the hurt we feel.  Families and friends who love us, want to...

to take our pain away ... to offer us HOPE for better times ... to see us "back to normal again" ... to help us "forget about what happened." - but if we know and accept these things ahead of time, knowing that they nor we can do any of this, then it is easier not to judge them for not understanding...

So if you realize and accept, before these gatherings, that..... no one can take your pain away ... there will be better times, but they will be different without your child ... your life does not feel like it will ever be "normal" again ... you will never forget your child.

Then, with time, we will find our own "new normal", we will cherish and smile at the memories of our child and build new memories, and that in time as we continue on this journey, we will again rejoice that we were blessed to have had our child and we will find hope, joy and peace in our hearts once again.

HOLIDAY ACHES

~ Shirley C. Ottman, Bereaved Mother, BP/Denton, Texas

After the first few holiday seasons after my daughter’s death, I thought I had licked the holiday doldrums. After all, two, three, four years had passed. I was unprepared for the dull ache I battled throughout the holidays in 1993; however, it didn’t dawn on me until the middle of January why.


December 1993 was the first time since 1989 that both my surviving sons and their families, my step-daughter and her family had been all together during the holidays. I had been looking forward to having them all home at the same time once again. The cousins (all my grandchildren) would be able to renew acquaintances, and I could watch their interaction with interest and glee.


Yet all during the season, I was plagued with a longing, an all too familiar ache. I missed my daughter’s presence. Her widowed husband had remarried in May that year, and he and his new wife were also included in our family gathering. I liked his new wife very much. But I suppose subconsciously, I was reminded even more of my daughter’s absence. As I wrote my Christmas letter to my daughter Teri and put it into her Christmas stocking, unbidden tears chased themselves down my cheeks. I pushed my thoughts away from sadness; I reminded myself how lucky we were to have known and loved her, and to know and love her still.


Later I realized what should have been obvious to me during the holidays. Although our family was altogether, it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Teri was missing from the scene. It’s one thing to hold her spirit in our hearts and minds, and quite another to have her sitting in her usual place at the table or leading us in Christmas carols.


We all missed her, even after nearly eight years; and we talked about her often. We had a wonderful holiday together that I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I hope we will have many more such reunions. Next time, though, I’ll be wiser. I’ll know why the ache is there, why the joy is tempered slightly and why as long as I live my life and our family’s life together, will be forever altered. The difference will always be noticeable, I imagine. But then, the difference Teri has made in each of our lives is and always will be obvious too.

Printed from “Where Are All The Butterflies” with permission.

Oh no - December and the holidays begin...

December 1st is tomorrow and for many of us who have lost a child or children, anticipation for the month of December can be overwhelming...  Just as there is no one way to experience our loss, there is no one way to find our way through the holidays and the December Holidays, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa can be the most difficult holidays. Yes, December can be difficult despite holiday sales, decorations, advertisements -everyone seems so happy and cheerful - but for those grieving, it's easy to feel alone.

You aren't alone, and beginning today we will post thoughts and articles each day during this holiday season. in the hopes of helping each of us find peace and coping mechanisms during this month of holidays,festivities and memories of holidays past when our children were with us...

It's precisely at these happy times that the loss of our loved one can be felt the strongest. We remember only too well who is missing. Whether our loss was recent or whether it occurred many years ago, we are constantly surrounded by sights and sounds that trigger memories of holidays past, and wracked with dreams of what might have been. Holidays involve expectations about getting together with family, about special meals or special gifts, and special traditions. Even when we find a way to cope with everyday life, the holiday season brings a renewed sense of these dreadful feelings of grief.
No matter how much we surround ourselves with the closeness of family and friends, it's impossible to forget the memories of past holidays when our loved ones were here. And impossible not to wonder what the present holidays would be like if our loved ones were still here to enjoy them with us. What can we do?

REALIZE IN ADVANCE THAT THE HOLIDAYS WILL BE DIFFERENT
Yes, there will be feelings of sadness and loss, as well as memories which may be happy, but poignant. mixtures of emotions are often all we have. A path to healing is when we honor our emotions and feelings and give them expression instead of denying they exist...

You decide what's best for you - Even if those around you are not able to drop their expectations that you will be appropriately "cheerful," you can change your expectations for yourself. Refusing an invitation, or accepting one with the up-front agreement that you will be leaving early without public announcement or fanfare (or fuss) is another way to set boundaries for yourself; to give you the time and space to do what feels right for you.

Allow yourself to deal with memories - Without warning, memories of special traditions with our child or loved one can be triggered: their favorite music, ornaments, foods, drinks, activities. Journaling or talking to someone about your memories can help; the sooner you acknowledge them, the sooner the pain will dissipate.
If sadness is present, let yourself cry. If anger is present, write down the angry words. Once expressed, those feelings often dissipate. Put a soft cloth over your face, rest your body on your bed, and start whispering "no, no, no, no...." See what emotions come out. It's an experiment. If it helps dissolve your pain, do it whenever you need, and watch yourself get stronger with time!

Find new traditions, from baking a new type of cookie, to attending an new afternoon matinee, or attending a different church service or function - are all ways for you to accept your loss and make the holiday yours, and not just giving in to the wishes of others. The act of choosing something different is healing and shows that you are claiming power over your situation.

Select a candle in your loved one's favorite color and scent. Place it in a special area of your home and light it at a significant time throughout the holidays, signifying the light of the love that lives on in your heart

Write an “un-sent letter” to your loved one. expressing what you are honestly feeling toward him or her at this moment. Shakespeare once said, “Give sorrow words…” After you compose the letter, you may decide to place it in a book, album or drawer in your home, leave it at a memorial site, throw it away, or even burn it and let the ashes rise symbolically

Decide and announce how you want to celebrate the holidays. This will go a long way to free you from an unnecessary sense of having failed to please those around you and meeting others expectation. This means not only the expectations of the living, but also those often projected on your love one who has died. Well meaning family may even tell you that the one you loved and lost would 'want you to be happy,' do what’s best for you. Joy will return in time, but all you have to do now is acknowledge and accept the feelings you are having – with no apologies.

Thanksgiving – Our First Big Holiday without our Son

There is a blog that I visit often (www.grievingparent.com) This blog is written by a dad who lost his young 22 year old son Richard on May 25, 2009, just a few months before my own son Bobby died on September 19th. 


Visiting this blog has become a part of my weekly activities and it gives me tremendous comfort.  I think the comfort comes because so much of what Joe Mudd writes, is what I am feeling so that helps me to know it's OK, I'm normal. 


Surprising isn't it, that many around us who fortunately are not part of this "unique group" seem to believe that once the first year of grieving is over, then of course we will be "better"; we will have "moved on", but those of us who are part of this "unique group" - we know too well that this "new normal" is not something we get over, get better from or move beyond. 


Instead I imagine that like Richard's dad, most of us are very grateful & thankful that we had our children, no matter how short their time and yes, this unbearable pain, is worth it all for the time we had them... 


This is the post that Richards dad wrote last year on his blog about his son.. sentiments I think so many of us share - so as you prepare for another Thanksgiving without your beloved children, it is OK to be thankful for all that they gave us and for all that we have now.... Cherie Houston

~~ by Joe Mudd on November 26, 2009, Joe is a dad who writes a blog about his son Richard, who passed away on May 25, 2009 - Joe's blog, which has truly become a favorite of mine, is: www.grievingparent.com  Stop by and visit sometime...

It’s Thanksgiving Day 2009 here in the USA. Time to give thanks to our maker for all the good things he has given us. It has also been six months since our son Richard, who was only 22, died on May 25th of this year.

So you probably think we won’t find anything to be thankful for. After all it’s hard to be thankful for grief, pain and a huge part of our life missing. It takes more work to find it, but yes, there is much to be thankful for.

I’m grateful for my great family and friends. All the love and support they’ve given us has been pulling us through this process. It still hurts, but I can’t image what it would be like without them.

I’m grateful to have my beautiful daughter and the grand-dog home with us for this holiday. She’s a very special young lady.
I give thanks everyday for the wonderful memories. They make us realize how much we’ve lost, but they remind us of what we had. And it was special.

And this one may make you think I’ve gone completely off the deep end. I’m thankful this hurts so very much. No, I don’t enjoy the pain. It’s nearly unbearable. But this pain is so intense because we had so much love and fun with Richard. He was a treat. We had a special relationship his whole life. I wouldn’t change much.

Of course there are some things I’d like to have been able to do. Richard did shot put and discus in high school. Because I work second shift I wasn’t able to be at all those week night contests. I would love to have been there for every one.

And I missed most of his weekend camping trips with his Scout Troop because I had to work most weekends. But those weekend work days made it possible to send him to a great high school. He loved St X, and the teachers and programs helped make Richard into the fine young man he became. So I owe them my gratitude too. And his Scout Leaders led him to Eagle Scout. More to be thankful for. But we still had a lot of fun together. He never became the surly disrespectful person so many teens turn into.

I’m grateful we had our kids. They taught me what love is all about. They made me a totally different – and much improved – person than what I was so many years ago. And Richard was a huge part of that.

So yes, finding reasons for thanks is a hard thing. It takes work.

About a year before Richard’s death, an employee of one of our on-site vendors lost his entire family in an auto accident. His wife and three kids gone. My friend Kathy, who hasn’t had children yet, asked me, “If you knew you would lose them early like that, would it be worth so much pain? Would you still want to have them?” I told her I thought I would, but because I’d never had to face that kind of pain and couldn’t really imagine what it must be like, I didn’t know for sure.

I now live that pain. I know the answer. Yes I’d gladly have him again.

He was worth it.