u - The Compassionate Friends

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Winter 2011/Spring 2012
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Storing Your Digital Memories
Drug-Death Bereaved Parents
5th TCF International Gathering/
35th TCF/USA National Conference
A Grandparent’s Grief
Two Years
What If?
When You Stop Asking Why
To My Brother
Permission Granted
The Eternal Legacy of Names
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I Celebrate
Where Is My Miracle?
My Worldwide Candle Lighting®
Experience
Mourning and Grieving
Baseball and Life
Book Review
Happy Again!
Seasoned Grievers
Grief, Healing, and Time
WE NEED NOT WALK ALONE
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
FROM THE EXEC’S DESK
When Couples Grieve
I Bereaved individuals remember all too well that
defining moment when their lives were forever changed.
For some, it started with a knock on the door or a call
in the middle of the night. For me, it was the moment of
impact, the surreal sound of metal hitting metal, as my
car seemed to move in slow motion to its final resting
place twenty-six feet from where it began.
In those days I was naive. I thought I was living
in a perfect world. A great husband, two wonderful
children—a little girl and a little boy. We were living
the American dream. Bad things don’t happen to
good people, or so I thought. So, as ambulance after
ambulance arrived on the scene to treat my children and
me on the first day of spring many years ago, the thought
never occurred to me that my children could or would
die. My mind just didn’t go there.
But my five-year-old son, Stephen, did die that spring
day. His eight-year-old sister, Stephanie, died a few
hours later, enough past midnight to list the next day on
her death certificate. The journey Wayne and I began that
day impacted every aspect of our lives, including our
marriage. One day we were parents with two beautiful
children, and the next we were facing life alone.
Together, but very much alone. For we were a bereaved
couple, and would need to redefine not only who we were
as individuals, but also who we were as a couple.
As I was being treated in the emergency room,
Wayne had the horrendous task of telling me that
our son was dead and our daughter was in extremely
critical condition. She was to be flown to Children’s
Hospital. “Go,” I implored. “She needs you!” Within
hours, he phoned to tell me the tests showed Stephanie
had no brain activity. We were facing the death of our
second child.
Wayne went on autopilot, while I fell to pieces. He
made funeral arrangements, decided on flowers for the
casket, and made phone calls. When the funeral was over,
we took turns in that autopilot mode, seemingly dealing
We Need Not Walk Alone Now Online
We are pleased to announce that, starting with this
issue, TCF’s national magazine, We Need Not Walk Alone,
will be available to read online without charge. To
sign-up for access to the magazine online, go to
www.compassionatefriends.org. and review the options
at the top of the page. v
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with life, but merely
going through the motions.
I sought comfort in my grief.
I wanted Wayne to “fix” what
had happened. I wasn’t sure how
he was supposed to do that, but I By Pat Loder
wanted him to fix it! Wasn’t that
his job? After all, he was the husband, the protector, the
great problem-solver, right? He did such a wonderful job
handling everything right after the accident. Why was he
now “falling down on his job”? What I didn’t realize at
the time was that he was feeling the same way and asking
himself the same sort of questions. How could he right
this terrible wrong that had happened to us?
One day Wayne looked at me with eyes pleading,
begging for understanding as I bombarded him with
a series of questions that had no answers. He finally
broke his silence when he said, “It’s hard for me to
throw you a lifeline when I’m drowning myself.” Those
words became a turning point for me. Grief can be such
a selfish emotion. He was hurting, too, and needed time
and space and understanding, just as I did.
Prior to attending Compassionate Friends meetings,
we each thought the other was handling grief wrong. But
we learned from others that what we were doing wasn’t
wrong, it was just different. And different was okay.
Wayne needed quiet time; time to think, time to be
alone. He was content to sit on the riding mower, put the
tractor in a low gear and slowly mow the grass, just to
give himself extra alone time. He was also content to run
errands so he could be alone in the car with his thoughts
and feelings.
I needed so badly to talk about what had happened,
and I talked ad nauseam. I came to the realization that I
needed to find good friends who were willing to listen
instead of bombarding Wayne with my endless chatter.
I had to respect that he needed time to be alone with his
thoughts, and he learned that there were times he just had
to let me talk about what happened and about the kids, or
I was going to explode.
We also needed time together, time to grieve, and time
to grow as a couple. We learned as we traveled through
our grief journey that the most important lesson could be
summed up by the wonderful seven-letter word respect.
Respect for the differences in our grief, the pain we
were each going through, and the love we still had for
one another. v
Pat
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Winter 2011/Spring 2012
Vol. 35, Nos. 1/2
What’s It All About?
Features
Storing Your Digital Memories
By Michael Ingram ...........................
Drug-Death Bereaved Parents
ByWilliam Feigelman, Ph.D. ............
A Grandparent’s Grief
By Donald Moyers ............................
Two Years
By Kathleen Yockey ...........................
Permission Granted
By Trevor Van Huizen .......................
The Eternal Legacy of Names
By Nita Aasen ....................................
By Angela Brandt ..............................
My Worldwide Candle Lighting®
Experience
By John Thayer .................................
Mourning and Grieving
By Lynda Zussman ............................
Baseball and Life
By Richard Carlson ...........................
Seasoned Grievers
By Sam Turner...................................
By Deb Kosmer .................................
Departments
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From the Exec’s Desk
By Pat Loder .....................................
Ask Dr. Gloria .................................
TCF Patron Donations....................
Friends, Caring and Sharing .........
TCF Board of Directors ..................
TCF Chapter Support.....................
For Brothers and Sisters
What If?
By T. F. McCray ................................
Ask Dr. Heidi ...................................
By Tonya Thompson ..........................
To My Brother
By Natasha Noll ................................
Poetry
I Celebrate
By Patricia Oppenheim ....................
Book Review
Happy Again!
By Harriet Hodgson
Reviewed by Dr. Heidi Horsley .........
TCF Events
TCF 35th National Conference /
5th International Conference
By Wayne Loder ................................
TCF Worldwide Candle Lighting®
By Wayne Loder ................................
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We Need Not Walk Alone is
the national magazine of
The Compassionate Friends,
a mutual assistance, self-help
organization offering friendship,
understanding, and hope to
bereaved families following the
death of a child. Our mission is to
assist families toward the positive
resolution of grief following the
death of a child of any age, and to
provide information to help others
be supportive. There is no religious
affiliation, no membership fees
or dues, and all bereaved family
members are welcome.
Visit TCF on the Net
For further information,
visit The Compassionate Friends
on the Internet at
www.compassionatefriends.org.
The Compassionate Friends
now offers an “Online Support
Community.” For more information,
select the Online Support
Community button on TCF’s
home page.
TCF’s Facebook page can be
reached through the link on the
home page of our national website.
Facebook members can also go to:
The Compassionate Friends/USA.
Cover photo by Dana Rogers in memory of her son Rick.
The views presented within this magazine represent
those of the authors and do not necessarily represent
those of The Compassionate Friends.
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
Storing Your Digital
Memories
~By Michael Ingram
The lives of my wife and I were forever changed on
November 25, 2010. At 5:15 in the morning I got the phone call
that no parent ever wants to receive. On the other end of the
line, someone was telling me there had been an accident and our
son was involved. I was not given any details of his condition,
and we were asked to come to the hospital. Once there, we were
given the news that our 23-year-old son had been killed in a
head-on automobile collision. Our hearts were ripped out of our
bodies, and the shock of that day remains with us.
My wife and I have always enjoyed taking pictures of our
kids. We have many of our son and daughter together to give to
our grandkids. Our son was an athlete from a young age, and
we enjoyed photographing him at Little League, high school
sports, and college baseball. We have thousands of photos and
many videos of him, a treasure that must never be lost.
Digital photography, video recordings, and digital storage
are all both good and scary. They are good because we can now
capture more of our children’s activities than ever before. They
are scary because digital media can and will fail; gone are all of
our precious pictures, videos, and documents. Computers crash,
hard drives fail, CDs/DVDs do not have the advertized life
without special care, and storage standards change. There is no
digital media that can be guaranteed to last forever.
Weeks after my son’s passing I realized that most of our
photos and videos were not safe. Our original photos were
spread over several computers and vulnerable to fire and
water damage. How do I protect them? I asked myself.
My system is not yet perfect, but here is what I do now.
I purchased three identical USB external hard drives. On one
drive I backed up all of my photos, videos, and important
documents from my desktop and notebook computers. Next, I
used the second and third drives to make two complete copies of
the first drive. I then placed drive one and drive two in separate
fire-resistant waterproof safe boxes. I keep the third drive near
my main desktop computer, which is where I process most of
my photography. This third drive is a working backup that I
can quickly connect to my desktop or other computers. New
photos placed onto my computers are backed up to this drive.
I regularly copy new files to the two drives that are stored in
the safe boxes. Years ago I had a power supply go bad on a
computer that destroyed the system hard drive, which is why I
do not keep the third drive constantly connected. I like to keep it
isolated from any potential problems.
I am considering getting a safe-deposit box at a bank or a
safe box at a friend’s house to store copies at a location away
from my home. The more backups you have, the better.
External hard drives have become inexpensive, and they
allow for much faster backups. There is a downside. Hard
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drives are projected to last only five to seven years, and some
can and do die quickly. One might be tempted to use only one
hard drive as a backup, but if you do, your data will be at risk.
Also, you can’t back up your files and then forget about it. Hard
drives need to be turned occasionally to ensure that they work.
Many experts recommend backing up data onto DVDs,
which are projected to last 50 years, if handled correctly,
(keep DVDs in a protective case out of sunlight). In practice,
DVDs may last only a few years. Backing up on DVDs can
also be very time-consuming. I do keep copies of the really
important items backed up on DVDs.
Another solution is online storage. While I do store some
photos on such sites, I am not comfortable with them. First,
you are allowing someone else to control your data. Second,
will the sites always be there and available? And finally, will
your data remain private? Even with those concerns, online
storage is worth considering.
External hard drives range from $40 to $100 or more,
depending on size and vendor. DVDs are cheap and can be
purchased on sale from $10 to $15 for a pack of 25 or 50.
Online storage can range from free for limited space to $60
or more for unlimited space. The cost for a fire-resistant
waterproof safe runs from $40 to $100 or more. Whatever the
cost, it is very low compared to the loss of your files.
The simplest way to back up files is to copy them from
your computer to an external device. Copying may not be
the most efficient method, but it is easy. Most image-viewing
and processing programs offer a way to do backups of your
photographs. There are also programs designed specifically
for backups. With these programs you can schedule backups
to be performed without your presence. They also allow you
to back up most everything on your computer.
To review:
• Make backups of your precious files, photos, videos, and
documents. Do not rely only on your computer. The more
copies the better. Do it now.
• Take steps to protect the backups. Place them in a fireresistant, waterproof safe. In addition, save a copy away
from your home, in a bank safe-deposit box or at a trusted
friend’s house.
• Use different ways to back up the really important stuff. A
combination of hard drives, DVDs, online storage, and any new
technology is a good way to protect the very valuable items.
Finally, I know that not all people are comfortable with
doing more than basic things with a computer. If you consider
yourself to be in that category, please get some help. Find
that computer geek in your area, ask a family member, or get
a friend to help. Your precious memories are too valuable to
leave at risk.
If you have questions, feel free to contact me at
[email protected]. v
Michael Ingram and his wife, Celia, lost their son, Michael II,in
2010 at the age of 23. They have a surviving child, Magen, who
is 28 and three great-grandchildren. Michael lives in Newark,
Delaware. He has a BS degree in Information Systems.
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Drug-Death Bereaved Parents:
A Highly Stigmatized and
Neglected Group of Mourners
~By William Feigelman, Ph.D.
Parents losing children to a drug overdose or to a drugrelated death face unique challenges in post-loss adaptation.
Based on 48 drug-death bereaved parents, 462 suicidebereaved, 37 mostly accidental deaths, and 24 natural death
cases, our survey research results showed that the drug-death
bereaved faced social stigmatization from family, friends,
coworkers, and acquaintances similar to that faced by suicide
survivors, and the drug-death bereaved seemed to offer more
reports of stigmatization than those whose children had died
from accidents and natural causes.
What sets these mourners apart from most other bereaved
parents is the scarcity of drug-death-specific literature to
guide them along their difficult healing journeys following
their children’s deaths. After extensive searches of all online
medical, psychological, and bereavement professional
literature indexes, we were surprised to find only two research
notes on this subject, one written by a Brazilian psychologist
(based on six cases), and another by a British social worker,
(based on four cases). One might erroneously conclude from
the little written on this topic, that drug deaths are relatively
rare events. Yet, this hardly is the case. When we examined
the incidence of drug deaths among U.S. youth and middleaged populations, the evidence suggested that drug deaths
easily outnumber deaths from suicide within these same age
categories. However, unlike the bereaved by suicide, who may
find a wide variety of articles, books, memoirs, and systematic
surveys written by professionals and bereaved alike to help
them adapt after their losses, the drug-death bereaved are
further challenged, unfortunately, by the paucity of written
materials available to guide them with their distinctive
bereavement issues and needs.
Following their children’s deaths, a majority of drugdeath bereaved parents are confronted with avoidance
and occasional acts of outright scorn expressed toward
them and their children by some of their significant others.
Approximately half of the drug-death and the suicidebereaved parents reported hearing blaming comments
following the death where close family members or friends
blamed the deceased child or the parent for the death. It
should also be noted that about half of our respondents
reported receiving altogether positive responses from
their significant others after the death. Among the hurtful
statements reported by our respondents were: “It is almost
better that Kevin died from drugs now, sparing you all the
lifelong saga of his reverses and disappointments.” Or, “My
priest said our daughter might not be going to heaven to
live among the angels because of all the bad things she did
during her life, and because she wasted her life away with
drugs.” Child-denigrating statements such as these result in
“disenfranchised grief,” a term bereavement professionals use
to refer to people’s unsupportive responses to the bereaved
after a loss, essentially claiming that the deceased is unworthy
of being mourned.
In other cases of blaming comments, the parent may
be exposed to statements like these, which some of our
respondents reported: “My ex-husband blamed me for our
son’s death. He never let up on his accusations of me for not
supervising our son closely enough. He even claimed I did
drugs with him.” Or, “How come you didn’t get your daughter
into a better treatment program?” Such parent-blaming
statements add to the parent’s own feelings of inadequacy
and failure to prevent the death. Any parent sustaining a
child’s drug-death has repeatedly engaged in a near endless
obsessional review of what they “could” and “should” have
done to avoid the death. They hardly need additional reminders
from others that may exacerbate their grief. Interestingly, as a
contrast to the drug and suicide bereaved, none of the parents
losing a child to natural causes reported hearing blaming
comments and only one (out of 37) whose child died by an
accident reported hearing such a comment.
We asked our respondents to give us details on the
troublesome responses they heard from close associates
after the deaths, and we then grouped responses into seven
different types. In addition to the already mentioned Blaming
comments mentioned above, we add: Avoidance (e.g.,
“People avoided me”); Unhelpful Advice (e.g., “Isn’t it
time you moved on?”; “Are you still going to that support
group?”); Absence of Caring Interest (e.g., “No one asked me
how I was feeling afterward”; “No one mentioned by child’s
name afterward; it was as if he never existed”); Spiritual
Responses (e.g., “She’s with God now”; “It was God’s will”);
Miscellaneous Negative (e.g. “At least he didn’t kill anyone
else when he died”; or “I know how you must feel; I felt that
way when my dog died”).
Our data showed a trend, with drug and suicide-bereaved
reporting more negative comments heard than reported
by accident- and natural-death bereaved. What was even
more striking and significantly different were the reports of
grief difficulties, complicated grief, post-traumatic stress,
depression, and other psychological difficulties, showing
higher incidences of these problems among the drug and
suicide bereaved parents as compared to the accident
and natural death bereaved. It was evident that these
“blameworthy” subgroups of bereaved parents were not
receiving the same caring and supportive responses as the
accident and natural-death bereaved parents. What distressed
these bereaved parents, who generally perceived themselves
to be at their life’s most difficult and dreadful low point, was
the absence of compassionate understanding shown by some
close family members and friends.
(Continued on page 7)
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
The CompassionaTe Friends
35th National Conference
and
5th International Conference
July 20–22, 2012
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Costa Mesa, California
~By Wayne Loder
Public Awareness Coordinator
When all is said and done, anyone attending The
Compassionate Friends 2012 National Conference/5th
International Conference in Costa Mesa, California, July 20–
22, 2012, should part gratified that they had the opportunity
to partake of such a meaningful bereavement event.
With 1,500 participants expected, the Conference
Committee for the 35th National Conference has joined with
TCF’s National Office staff to create what promises to be
a very special event for those grieving the death of a child
within the family, whether a son, daughter, sister, brother,
grandson, or granddaughter.
With the theme “Oceans of Love, Mountains of
Memories,” this conference, probably the largest of its kind in
the United States and possibly around the globe, will feature
some great speakers:
• Lois Duncan is the prolific and award-winning author of
48 books. But, the most difficult one she ever had to write
was Who Killed My Daughter?, the story behind her search
for the truth in the death of her 18-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn
Arquette, in what police called a random drive-by shooting.
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• Kathy Eldon, journalist, author, producer, activist, and
mother, found her life changed forever when her 22-year-old
son, Dan Eldon, a Reuters photographer, was stoned to death
by an angry mob as he did his job in Somalia in July 1993.
Among her books are Angel Catcher: A Journal of Loss and
Remembrance and The Journey Is the Destination.
• Darcie Sims, always popular international keynote
speaker, brings her wit and wisdom as a bereaved parent
and certified grief management specialist to the podium in
Costa Mesa. Cofounder of Grief, Inc., an international grief
consulting firm, Darcie is a well-known and respected author
and speaker.
• The Reverend Canon Simon Stephens, founder of The
Compassionate Friends worldwide and bereaved sibling,
will travel from his home in Moscow to share his thoughts
with the large international and U.S. crowd that is expected
to gather.
In addition, there will be more than 100 workshops
covering most areas related to the death of a child, sharing
sessions, special Friday evening entertainment, a complete
sibling program, a Spanish language workshop and sharing
session, first-timer orientation, and plenty more. Because this
is also an International Conference (generally held only about
once every five years in different locations around the world),
special excursions are being planned for before and after the
conference so those attending may take in some of sunny
California’s great attractions.
“We want to invite everyone to this conference who
is mourning the loss of a child within their family,” says
TCF’s executive director, Patricia Loder. “Grief is a universal
language and one that TCFers around the world know all
too well.”
The Compassionate Friends Walk to Remember® will
be held at 8 a.m. Sunday morning, starting from the host
hotel. Watch www.compassionatefriends.org for TCF’s
online registration for the conference and for the Walk to
Remember. In addition, you’ll be able to submit the names of
children (without charge) to be carried by volunteers during
the Walk, and you’ll also have the opportunity to create
a team to participate in TCF’s “Friends Asking Friends”
online fund-raising event. Teams can be from TCF chapters,
families, individuals, or other groups. Watch online for more
information. When you register for the conference, you can
also register for the Walk to Remember.
The host hotel for this event is the Hilton Orange County/
Costa Mesa, and, while TCF has arranged a room block that
includes every guest room within the hotel, reservations
are already the heaviest they’ve ever been at this point for
a TCF conference. A recommended overflow hotel will be
announced by TCF when necessary to accommodate those
attending. Special conference rates are available July 17–24.
For reservations call 714-540-7000, or you can reserve a room
through TCF’s Online Reservations site available through the
2012 National Conference website page. v
3/5/12 10:34 AM
With this issue, we introduce “Ask Dr. Gloria,” a column designed to answer
questions from bereaved parents and grandparents after the death of a child. Please
send your questions to the e-mail or mailing address below.
ASK
Dr. Gloria
Question:
My twenty-one-year-old son, a medical resident, accidently died by a drug
and alcohol overdose. It has been 19 months and I feel like I’m going crazy.
I go to work every day as a master teacher, teaching other teachers how to
improve their skills. I hold it together during the day, but at night I come home
and cry. My friends tell me I need professional help. What do you think?
Answer:
I am sorry to hear of the death of your dear son. It is so difficult to lose our
children who have so much potential and so many reasons to live. Contrary to what
“the world” would have you believe, 19 months is a brief time in the bereavement
process. First, congratulate yourself that you are going to work every day. That is a
major accomplishment after only 19 months. Bereaved parents are often surprised
by how difficult the second year is. I was, even though a colleague had warned me
that it would be tough. The second year is a paradox. You are actually recovering,
but often feel worse. This is because you are coming out of the robotic state of shock
of the first year and are now able to grasp the reality of your situation. One parent
told me, “The first year you grieve for your child and the second year you grieve
for yourself.” Feeling crazy and crying are normal responses. Good for you if you
are holding it together during the day. If you want to cut down on your crying, you
might try compartmentalizing your grief by setting aside time every evening to
light a candle, play some music, and meditate on your son’s life. You could plan 20
minutes and then move on to other activities.
Finally, thank your friends for their concern and remind them that grief is a
process, and you have lost a lot. v
Dr. Gloria Horsley, MFC, CNS, Ph.D., is the
founder and president of the Open to Hope
Foundation, an internationally known grief
expert, psychotherapist, and bereaved parent.
Gloria cohosts the Internet radio show, Open to
Hope, and has authored a number of books and
articles. She will be answering your questions
related to loss, grief, and recovery for the
bereaved adult.
Please send your question to:
Dr. Gloria Horsley
c/o Catherine Patillo, WNNWA
P.O. Box 526194
Salt Lake City, Utah 84152-6194
E-mail: [email protected]
(Drug-Death Bereaved Parents, continued from page 5)
We also investigated the different kinds of healing
resources that bereaved parents used. Drug-death bereaved
parents were most likely to use general bereavement support
groups like The Compassionate Friends or Bereaved Parents
USA for help after a loss, with 85 percent reporting that
they used these groups. A smaller number, about 10 percent,
sought help from survivor of suicide support groups; 40
percent had sought help from clergy, and about 50 percent
reported seeing bereavement or other mental health
counselors. In these respects, drug-death bereaved were
much like the other bereaved parents, except for the suicide
survivors, who often sought help from SOS groups. There
was one striking difference: the drug-death bereaved sought
help more often from psychics and spiritualists at a rate of
54 percent, contrasting sharply with other bereaved parents,
who averaged a 30 percent use rate. Surprised by this trend,
we speculate that this may be related partly to the realities of
drug use. Given the sudden and self-inflicted nature of many
drug deaths, often marked by extended struggles with mental
health and drug problems, parents of these children often
wonder if there was a rupture in their relationship with their
child. Visits to psychics may offer comforting reassurances
that the parent-child bond remains intact and that both are
well and continuing on with their lives in their respective
places. This is an important new idea for further exploration
in future research. v
Those seeking further information on drug-death bereavement
are encouraged to read our collaborative article: Parental Grief
After a Child’s Drug Death Compared to Other Death Causes
by W. Feigelman, J. Jordan, and B. Gorman, Omega. Or our
forthcoming book: Devastating Losses: How Parents Cope with
a Child’s Death from Suicide or Drugs, by W. Feigelman, J.
Jordan, J. McIntosh, and B. Feigelman, available June, 2012
through Springer Publications.
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
A Grandparent’s Grief:
“Make the Hurt Go Away”
~By Donald Moyers
“Mommy . . . Daddy, kiss it and make the hurt go away.”
You probably heard it when your children were small, but if
your child has experienced “the parent’s worst nightmare,”
they’re going to need more help.
As a family, we all live close to one another, and as
grandparents, we feel so blessed and thankful to have our
children and grandchildren as part of our daily lives. We share
a deep bond and love with our grandchildren that is equal to
if not greater than that with our own kids. Grandchildren are
our reward. They are the fruit of our lives.
On June 14, 2007, we lost two granddaughters. Loral was
12 years old and Macy was 14 years old. They were cousins
who died in the same instant as two other kids on that fateful
morning in a terrible auto/train wreck, just down the street
from where we live. Each of our two sons tragically lost a
daughter in that one single horrific moment.
This unfortunate event, and the terror and sadness of that
day changed everything forever. Since that day, my wife and I
continue to dwell in a realm of sadness, grief, and longing for the
girls. We are survivors, however, and know we must live life as it
is presented to us each day, but this tragedy has necessitated that
we now live it in such a different way. As with bereaved parents,
bereaved grandparents seek and need understanding as well.
I cannot speak for all grandparents, and especially those who
live far away from their grandchildren, but I can say that when
you raise your grandchildren, the bonds grow very deep. When
you have reached the stage of life to “grandparent”, you seem
to become much more active and appreciative in observing,
guiding, and reliving the “wonders of a child growing up.” We
have more time and we take more time for them. Our youthful
years have passed, and our need for a social life is much less
important. Our grandchildren are the hub of our world.
As bereaved grandparents, we deeply suffered the loss of
our grandchildren, but we also have had the pain of watching
our sons endure “the parent’s worst nightmare.” You question
what you can do to make them feel better, what you could
possibly do to make the hurt go away. You wonder how you
can make things all right and if there’s any way to help your
children bring their lives back into a tolerable form.
Each of our sons lost a daughter, which also means four of
our other grandchildren lost sisters. How can we make their
hurt go away? What about the aunts, uncles, and cousins?
What about our daughter in laws? Aren’t we grandparents
supposed to be the rock of the family?
We watched our two sons independently seek grief relief,
and later wind up hitting rock bottom. The imaginary grief
relief led to substance abuse. Now, both have risen above
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the use of substances for temporary relief through intense
medical, spiritual, and self-help, yet they will remain
vulnerable for the rest of their lives. Both marriages ended in
divorce, and one daughter-in-law has passed on. Both sons
continue their lives with their surviving children, but walk the
crazy road of grief each day.
There is little you can do to “make the hurt go away.” As
bereaved grandparents, you know that already. I think it is
important to simply observe and understand your child’s outrage
and their questions of “Why?” Support them through their tears,
their confusion, their emotional roller coaster, their need for
moments alone, their mysterious ways, their avoidance of certain
gatherings, and the recognition of “that look” so deeply etched on
their faces. I do not question their impatience, or their disregard
for self. I just know they think differently than before. I also
recognize improvements in certain values brought on by their
loss. These improvements are called “blessings.” Psychiatric help
and counseling may help some, but those counselors can never
understand unless they are bereaved parents themselves.
As bereaved grandparents involved with TCF, my wife
and I have helped other bereaved parents recognize and
better understand a grandparent’s pain. This recognition and
understanding are therapeutic for both the parents and the
grandparents.
I think some grandparents often try to appear strong for
their bereaved children, to the extent they find themselves
caught in a place of “holding it in.” Consequently, they’re
not able to grieve as bereaved grandparents really need to do.
I’m not able to hide my grief. I will be forever emotionally
extended beyond complete comfort, because I miss my
granddaughters so much.
A family must “huddle together” through all of the steps
along this journey, sharing the overwhelming pain. Showing
strength in such a loss might really be necessary through
the funeral arrangements and the service, however, the need
for this kind of strength often isn’t long-term. Could it be
that displaying only strength sends a false message to the
bereaved son or daughter that they also need to be strong?
The grandparent’s grief is real and needs to be visible in order
to let the bereaved child understand that he or she is not alone
in this world and forever carrying the full load of grief.
It has been more than four years since our lives changed
forever. Impacts of our granddaughters’ deaths continue
to play out each day. For only a lifetime, each of us will
continue our quest for normal, but most important, we accept
ourselves as survivors of grief, carrying our load as we trudge
forth each day.
Things are getting better, even if just in fleeting moments.
I am soon to be 70 years old and will always live with this
terrible loss, yet I still believe the “golden years” are going to
be possible! v
Donald is the father of bereaved sons, Dawson and Doug, and
the grandfather of beloved Macy and Loral. He and his wife,
Elizabeth, reside in Baytown, Texas, and are affiliated with the
Galveston County Chapter of The Compassionate Friends.
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Kathleen Yockey
Time should be absolute, shouldn’t it? One minute is 60
seconds. One hour is 60 minutes. One day is 24 hours. It
doesn’t change. It is absolutely definable. There is no
variation, unless you count leap year. So why isn’t it absolute?
Two years can seem like a lifetime when I think of it one
way and an instant when I think of it another way.
Yesterday I sent out an invitation to a memorial celebration
of Michaela’s life. I wrote that it had been two years. And that
stopped me in my tracks. I had to think about it. Two years?
Only two years? It seems like a lifetime since I had my
little girl by my side, making me laugh, telling corny jokes
and making corny puns. It seems like a lifetime since that
wonderful summer, just two short years ago, when she was so
very happy and excited about her future.
Two years has been a lifetime.
A lifetime since she put on a prom dress and played in a
construction zone for photos.
A lifetime since we went tubing on the banana river.
A lifetime since we went to a dinner theater and she
ordered a beer . . . just because she could.
A lifetime since she huddled over a ladybug with her best
friend, trying to get a good picture.
A lifetime since she wrestled with her brother on the living
room floor.
A lifetime since I posted “You Rock” on her Facebook
page and she responded with “You Roll” on mine.
A lifetime since she made her own recipe for chocolate,
peanut butter, and apple tortillas.
A lifetime since she started her art project to make a
necklace for everyone important to her, so they would “have
something that makes them think of me.”
A lifetime since she went to her UCF orientation, saw her
new apartment, and met her new boss.
A lifetime since she crossed the stage of FSU and winked
at the dean in her black robe with gold braid.
A lifetime since she went to the flea market and bought
beads representing everyone in her family; so she would have
something to make her think of them; and a giant wrench for
a photo project.
A lifetime since she went shopping with her girlfriend
for apartment things and bought my friend some peacock
feathers, just because she remembered that I had mentioned
she needed some.
A lifetime since she talked her way into Disney on a
military pass for free, with nothing but a letter stating her ID
was confiscated as proof that she was eligible.
A lifetime since she walked down the beach to Bizarro’s
with her brother, sarong and beautiful blond hair blowing in
the wind around her.
A lifetime since she saved a frog from certain death by
kitty cat in our kitchen.
A lifetime since she sat at the kitchen counter filling out
employment and school paperwork and asking me about
insurance.
And two very long years since she walked out the front
door with a breezy, “Bye, I love you, I can’t wait to see your
pictures.”
But yet, it has only been an instant.
An instant since the police pounded on our front door,
ringing the doorbell frantically.
An instant since I heard the words “life flight” and my
heart stopped.
An instant since I saw Michaela’s car, with the top cut
off, sitting in the middle of the intersection just half a mile
from home.
An instant since we drove 70 miles an hour down Hibiscus
following the police car with its flashing lights.
An instant since we sat in the waiting room quietly making
little jokes and remembering how many times we had scared
our parents in situations like this; denying in our words what
was going on behind the emergency room door, not believing
for one second that anything so terrible could happen to us.
An instant since we were told that all of the scenarios we
had imagined and even hoped for were false.
An instant since I looked at my baby girl’s face and knew
she was never coming back to me.
An instant since my wonderful son was doubled over in
pain as he realized the same thing.
An instant since her father stood over her, reading her the
Bible and praying for help.
An instant since her friends gathered around her bed in the
middle of the night to tell stories and sing songs to her.
An instant since we spoke to the organ donation
coordinator and then held hands and prayed for mercy.
An instant since I stood at her bed, staring at the
respiration monitor, knowing its steady beep meant that
she had stopped trying and we were to be spared having to
decide for her.
An instant since my mother cut her hair for donation to
Locks of Love and she was taken away from me for the
last time.
And the next two years and the two years after that, and
the two years after that, and all the years to come until God’s
will is to reunite us, will be a lifetime without my baby but
also, just an instant.
And then will come forever. v
Kathleen Yockey (mother of Michaela Thomas 1988–2009)
lives with her husband, Bill, in Melbourne, Forida. She is an
office manager and publishes her blog, Angels Cry Too: Life
Death, and Beyond; Thoughts of a Grieving Mother. Kathleen
can also be reached at [email protected].
•
9
3/5/12 10:34 AM
FOR BEREAVED SIBLINGS
What If?
~By T. F. McCray
We followed a silver Mustang to New York on Friday.
My mother and I. Traveling from my home farther south. The
boys buckled tightly in the back. It had black stripes on the
hood and the windows were too dark to see inside.
Like his.
We joined minds, spoke without speaking, and imagined
the unimaginable. That he was still here.
That it was his. His Mustang, zipping up and down the Belt
Parkway in Canarsie, in Flatbush, in his Brooklyn. Visiting this
and that, her and her, blasting his music, picking up the pieces,
the bits, for the collection, for his soul. We imagined, jointly. It’s
like we both heard the whisper; a soft, silent whisper, “What if?”
“What if?” it said.
What if October 22, 2009, never was? The cloudless
sky on that sunny, sorrowful, unexpected day. The day my
ASK
Dr. Heidi
brother’s soul ended its tangible journey beside us. The day
that concluded us as we were and began us as we are.
“What if?” we whispered. He whispered.
What if . . . he was here all along? What if it was as simple
as catching up to him on his drive? What if we would find
him watching a waterfall in Saratoga? Eating a Klondike
bar in Elmont? Outside of a repair shop, getting a car service
that took a little too long. Or what if we found him parked in
my mother’s driveway in Queens at home? At home . . .
What if we had just been blinded by a bizarre streak of
glaring sunlight? Cast from a low-flying plane? It was possible
because we grew up by the airport. What if we had missed
him standing there all along, and that man we watched leave
us on 10/22 wasn’t my brother at all? It was someone else’s
brother, someone else’s son, someone else’s . . .
What if when the glare cleared he would appear? Smirking.
Buffing a small fingerprint from his sideview mirror and
walking over to us with his heavy steps to make some joke
about the latest current event. What if we had another chance
to kiss his warm cheeks and cover him in our embrace? Make
my mother smile again . . . from the inside? What if he could
tickle my sons and meet my dear Wesley, his namesake?
(Continued on next page)
Question:
My 26-year-old brother died of a drug overdose three years ago. We were very
different and argued a lot, although we’d eventually get over our disagreements.
The night before he died we got into a huge fight. If I could take back that night
I would. How do I stop replaying this argument over in my head and stop feeling
like the worst brother in the world?
Answer:
Individuals may be ambivalent about their relationships in life, but in death
the power of their bond strangles the surviving heart. Death reminds us that we are
part of the same river, the same flow from the same source, rushing towards the
same destiny. Were you close? Yes, but we didn’t know it then.”
Landscape Without Gravity
~By Barbara Lazear Ascher
Dr. Heidi Horsley, PsyD., is a bereaved sibling,
as well as a psychologist. She is the executive
director of the Open to Hope Foundation,
cohost of the Open to Hope program, and an
adjunct professor at Columbia University.
She will be answering your questions
related to loss, grief, and recovery for siblings.
Please send your question to:
Dr. Heidi Horsley
c/o Catherine Patillo, WNNWA
P.O. Box 526194
Salt Lake City, Utah 84152-6194
E-mail: [email protected]
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As siblings we have complicated relationships that change over time. Disagreements are a part of the sibling bond. Our siblings serve as role models, confidants,
and rivals. Even in the best of sibling relationships, it is completely normal to argue.
Siblings are family and we know they will always be there for us; therefore, they are
safe people to have disagreements with. We are freer to express with our siblings
our thoughts and feelings because we are not dependent on them, and they are not
authority figures. The difficulty in this situation is that your brother died before
this conflict could be resolved. However, as you pointed out, if you had been given
time, you and your brother would have eventually resolved your disagreement. Just
remember, if you hadn’t loved your brother, you wouldn’t have invested any energy
in this relationship. Just the fact that you feel guilty about this argument means that
you cared deeply for your brother. The sibling bond lasts an eternity and is strong; it
can weather any storm. What is important going forward is to honor and pay tribute
to your brother’s memory by living your best life. v
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Tonya Thompson
All these emotions, change by the moment.
Stuck in time, inside my mind.
Shifting tides changed my life.
Tore me apart, and broke my heart.
But when you stop asking why,
Then you can start to say goodbye.
The pain will only hold you there,
And never get you anywhere.
And so I must go on with life.
That I cannot sacrifice.
And I will hold you in my heart,
As I make this brand-new start.
Precious memories,
Can I take them with me?
Oh, they hurt, oh so deeply.
But they were true, and they were mine.
And I can’t erase time.
Can’t change the past to ease the pain,
And so they must always remain.
And when you stop asking why,
Curtains open,
I step forward.
Take a breath, to see what’s left.
Arms wide open,
No more trembling.
Brace my heart, for this new start.
And when you stop asking why,
v
In honor of my older brother, Randal Wagoner Jr.,
who passed in January, 2011, at the age of 41.
To My Brother
~By Natasha Noll
A laugh when I was crying
A giggle when I needed it
A good reality check when I was being dumb
The truth even when I didn’t want to hear it
This is what you gave me
You gave me a person I could laugh with
A person that I could fight with
A person that could make anybody laugh
A person that could make the sun shine on a gloomy day
This is the person you gave me
Fear for where your life was going
Fear of what might happen to you
Fear of how deep you were getting into it
Fear that I might lose you
This is the fear you gave me
Hurt when you would tell a lie
Hurt when you would think I believed you
Hurt when you would blow off plans
Hurt when you would use me
This is the hurt you gave me
Sadness when you let the drugs take your life
Sadness when you left me here
Sadness when I realized I won’t ever see your face again
Sadness when I realized you won’t ever make me laugh again
This is the sadness you gave me
Memories of playing together when we were little
Memories of serious talks together
Memories of making each other laugh when we were down
Memories of hugs and comfort
These are the memories you left with me v
~ For Justin and others who’ve lost loved ones
to substance abuse.
(What If?, continued from previous page)
We raced alongside that silver Mustang. Watching and
waiting, wondering and willing, wondering and willing . . . life.
We wondered, What if? We tried desperately to mask the quick
sounds of our breaths as we chased this dream. We chastised
our souls for wanting to bound toward him and dance in the
unimaginable. To morph what wasn’t into what is and make this
impossible our possible. But it wasn’t . . .
The universe curses us with unexplained gifts.
That driver snuck off at an exit before we could see for
ourselves, before we could answer, before we could reason . . .
but left us . . . imagining, even for that moment, that second, in
that small slither of unmovable, imaginable, glorious, beautiful
space . . . What if? v
T. F. McCray is a lawyer, freelance writer, and married mother
of two. She is a native of New York and currently residing in
Maryland. She lost her brother Thomas Wesley Higdon Jr. at the
age of 38 on October 22, 2009, from congestive heart failure.
•
11
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Trevor Van Huizen
I
am the father of four beautiful boys: one who is going
to college, 11-month-old twins, and my darling son Diego,
who is currently being babysat by God. As a father of four,
I am pulled in several directions at any given time. For
instance: my oldest asks for advice, the twins require endless
entertainment, and my sweet Diego, often receives the most
attention—at least in my head.
Why? Because I am constantly reminded I will not see him
when I get home in the evening. His absence enters my mind
at the most inappropriate times; for instance, at a stop- light,
mingling with friends, or showing houses to a client—the list
goes on and on. Of course, this reminder often accompanies
a multitude of emotions, which may or may not make me get
choked up. If this happens, then I have the daunting decision
of whether or not I need to explain what I am feeling or just
try to cover it up. If I do share, it often turns awkward, and
the other person often does not realize silence is okay. They
feel the need to say something, like the nails on a chalkboard
phrase, “At least he’s in a better place.” Of course I want to
lash out at them, screaming, “There is no better place for a
baby but in his parent’s arms.” But I smile and just remember
they haven’t experienced such a tragic loss as I, and for that I
am grateful. No matter what the dialogue turns into, I feel the
pain of a dagger in my heart for a short time.
Grief has changed me at my core without permission.
Since Diego’s passing, I see the world much differently. I find
I drive more conservatively, spend more time with family,
and just appreciate life more. I have also noticed that when
I talk to those I love, I do it with more compassion. I try to
notice the small things, like the clouds in the sky, or the birds
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flying around. Although in the end, these gifts do not stop the
overwhelming questions, like, Why did this have to happen to
me, my wife, and my beautiful son? Why did it happen to all
these seemingly good people who also attend grief meetings?
Did we do something wrong in the eyes of our Creator? Did
we in some way create this karma that frowns upon us? Why?
Why? Why? There can be never-ending questions. After the
“Why me?” questions retreat, the “Now what?” questions
develop. Since I have lost a child, now what? How am I
supposed to act? What do I tell others who ask uncomfortable
questions? Is my main responsibility to support my wife in her
grief? I understand I must grieve, but can I put a time frame
on it? When should I be over this?
With all this running through my head, the chaotic emotions
demand to be released. After all, my heart was pulled from my
body with the force of a jackhammer. At first I was convinced I
couldn’t go on, that life had ended. The sun would rise another
day, but my head would not. People who smiled at me were
silently damned. All I really wanted to do was die.
I had been beaten so severely to a state of submission that
I allowed my higher power to carry me; I couldn’t walk, talk,
or even think without support. The days would come and go,
but they all meant nothing. I needed help and fast.
But I am a man, you know, a manly man; one who likes
power tools and working outside. One who grew up on a farm
working the fields and baling hay. Men don’t cry, so I was
told. I remember my older cousin telling me, “If you want
something to cry about, I’ll give you something to cry about.”
In spite of my manliness, I was forced to confront myself
All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of
letting go and holding on.
~Henry Ellis
and realize that under this skin I am only human. After all, I
did lose my son, whom I love very much. As with any father,
I had untamed expectations of raising him: his first smile,
first step, playing T-ball, starting kindergarten, pimples, first
girlfriend, and the list goes on ceaselessly. After all, it’s the
progression of life, isn’t it? A constant reminder every time I
see children who are the age Diego would be.
In my own grief walk I have found there isn’t a magic pill
to determine a timeline of raw pain. As a father who longs for
his missing son, I have been robbed of the only thing a parent
wants for his child: to protect him at all costs. Consequently,
my heart has been stolen and my mind turned to mush. I
don’t want to feel this way! Then again, I don’t want to feel
most of the time now. Although I know I will always miss
my son, I have learned a form of acceptance I didn’t know
was possible. Others have walked before me have often said,
“If you don’t face your grief, it will wait for you until you
are ready.” These words sank in quickly, I knew one fact: I
didn’t want to feel this way forever. Therefore, I gave myself
permission to grieve. Things I lived for before have lost
(Continued on the page 17)
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Nita Aasen
When people reference a deceased person, it is not
unusual to hear his or her name referred to in the past tense.
For example, upon learning that two of my sons are deceased,
I have been asked “What were their names?” The hair
immediately stands up on the back of my neck as I use the
present tense and say (while trying to conceal my irritation),
“Their names are Erik and David.”
While it is indisputable that death takes away the physical
relationship with one’s loved one, death cannot take away the
spiritual relationship we continue to have with them, nor can
death take away their name. Their name becomes the living
reference point for our relationship with them throughout their
lives and following their deaths.
Upon a person’s birth (or perhaps before), the first gift one’s
parents give to their newly born son or daughter is a name. In
making that choice, different options for the first and middle
names may be written out to see how they look with the last
name. Or perhaps these names were spoken out loud in order
to hear which combinations sounded the best. Many times it is
important that a child’s name have a family connection. Much
love, thought, and time are typically spent in choosing a name
that gives one’s son or daughter a space and place in the world
that is just for them.
From the very beginning of our lives, our names are linked
eternally with a specific family. Over time, our names serve as
an historical framework for our developmental progress, our
medical records, school records, work performance, and leisure
and civic interests. References to one’s personal characteristics,
personality, reputation, character, and contributions to make
this world a better place are inevitably linked to one’s name.
There is simply no other efficient or meaningful way to make
the connection. One’s name becomes a kind of shorthand that
serves as a starting point for conversations about an individual’s
specific attributes.
Following a loved one’s death, his or her name makes it
possible to continue to share stories, tributes, and memories; to
plant trees, give awards, or do acts of kindness in their honor.
Decades or even hundreds of years after an ancestor’s death,
families wanting to connect with their family roots could not begin
their search without a name. The documentation of one’s name
available in numerous records—birth, death, marriage, church,
cemetery, plat books, obituaries, pictures, old letters, and many
more—connects descendants to other missing puzzle pieces and
leads them to many other names and stories in their family tree.
A poem by John Rezmerski, professor at Gustavus Adolphus
College, was written as a living tribute to the thousands of
patients who were interred on the grounds of the state hospital
for the “insane” in St. Peter, Minnesota. The graves were
marked with numbers instead of names. More than a hundred
years later, markers with names have gradually been placed
above the numbers. Following is a portion of that poem:
A name is a seed that encases
a whole tree, the memory
of a whole species.
Our names say: “However different
This individual is of our kind.”
That kindness makes us whole.
As long as documentation exists, the kindness that is
inherent in one’s name, and is symbolic of our loved ones,
lives on eternally in this world. Yes, my sons’ names are Erik
and David—forever. v
Nita’s sons, Erik (27) and David (25), were killed in a car accident
on November 14, 1994. She does not have a local chapter, but she
has found support in TCF through We Need Not Walk Alone and
the national conference.
I Celebrate
~By Patricia Oppenheim
I celebrate the dust that has grown between the cracks of my shattered heart
I celebrate my brain, which has dulled the pictures of your tiny arms wrapped around my neck
I celebrate the incessant busyness of life, which has diverted my obsessive, morose longing for you
I celebrate my friend, who has planted tulips in your honor on this day for fifteen years
I celebrate my own strength, the depth of which I never fathomed or tapped
I celebrate my need to be a mother to my son, who was equally wounded
I celebrate the love of my husband, who was drowning in tears next to me
I celebrate the three short years that you graced and enriched our lives
But most of all I celebrate you—overflowing with love, tenderness, and generosity
Happy 19th birthday, Elena. v
Patricia Oppenheim is a child psychologist from Bellevue, Washington, who will forever be Elena and Ian’s mother.
She joined Compassionate Friends soon after Elena died in 1996, at age three, from a brain tumor.
•
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
With sincere gratitude and deep appreciation, we acknowledge the generosity of the following individuals and
organizations for their gifts to The Compassionate Friends. Your commitment and support are essential to fulfilling
our mission. The following patron donations were received between October 1, 2011, and January 31, 2012.
Simon Stephens Founder’s Circle ($10,000+)
Gloria and Phil Horsley
in memory of Scott Preston Horsley
National Rural Carriers Association Auxiliary
The Presidents Circle ($5000–$9999)
Paula Rosina Santoro Foundation
in memory of Paula Rosina Santoro
Circle of Love ($2500–$4999)
Debbie and Dale Dullabaun
in memory of Dale Lee Dullabaun III
Kitty Edler
in memory of Mark and Rich Edler
Erik Hoffmann and Nadezhda Kavrus-Hoffmann
in memory of Anders Hoffmann and Neil A. Hoffmann
Circle of Hope ($1000–$2499)
Marcia and Roger Alig
in memory of Daniel Pritchard C. Alig
Barbara and Tom Allen
in memory of Jim and Jessie Stallings, Bill Andrews,
John Roger Thomas, Amanda Fancher; and in honor of all
the good work TCF does
Denny and Gary Berry
in memory of Benjamin Berry
CapitalOne
Kathy and Chuck Collins
in memory of Tiffanie Amber Collins
Paige and Steven Czirr
in memory of Laura Abigail “Abby” Czirr; and in honor of
Joann Czirr’s birthday
Jean and Richard Dew
in memory of Bradley Morris Dew
Exel North America, Inc.
Alfred Koplin
Patricia and Wayne Loder
in memory of Stephanie and Stephen Loder
Tanya and Glen Lord
in memory of Noah Thomas Emory Lord
Nahma Sandrow Meyers and William Meyers
in memory of Isaac Jacob Meyers
Kathleen and David Pellegrin
in memory of George Arthur Pellegrin
Jamie Pumpelly
in memory of Jamie Alexandra Grimsley
Phyllis, Larry, and Greg Rosenthal
in memory of Scott Rosenthal
John Santoro and Pam Bennett-Santoro
in memory of Paula Rosina Santoro; and in honor of
Mike and Martha Santoro, Dan Santoro, and
Steve and Tina Bennett
Mickey and Steven Schmeisser
in memory of Melissa and Emily Schmeisser
Mark Tabak Charitable Lead Trust
in memory of Mark Tabak
Circle of Caring (500–$999)
Patricia Chiota and Richard G. Payne
in memory of Kendra Chiota Payne
Georgia and Bruce Cockerham
in memory of Zachary Owen Ward
Brian Donohue
in memory of Jack Donohue
Carol and Arthur Ehde
in memory of Pamela Ranae Lais
Mark Gedlinske
in memory of Justin Lee Clayton
Heidi Horsley
in memory of Scott Preston Horsley
iGive.com
Infosurv, Inc.
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Maryland Charity Campaign
Ellen and Richard Mirabile
in memory of Richard Jr. and Lynn Mirabile
John Parachini and Hadley Boyd
in memory of Lyles V. Parachini
Ralph L. Rossi and June M. Rossi Charitable
Foundation, Inc.
in memory of Michael Vincent Sage
Karen Snepp
in memory of Dave Snepp
Sue and Karl Snepp
in memory of Dave Snepp and Dorothy Pellegrin
Pam Stephenson
in memory of T. Michael Stephenson, MD
Louann and Scott Tedrick
in memory of Bobby Brayer
GiGi and Ric Trentman
in memory of Cecilia Ann Trentman
Nivia Vázquez
in memory of Jose “Yoito” Barreto Vázquez
Susan and Seldon Whitaker
in memory of Laura R. Whitaker
Circle of Support ($200–$499)
Eric Allen and Cristina Canle
in memory of Xavier Joseph-Canle Allen
Sherrie and George Barfield
in memory of Brad Barfield
Angie Barton
in memory of Denver Daniel Parvin
Ann and Michael Beatty
in memory of Matthew Beatty
Mary and Doug Bedore
in memory of Joel Bedore
Karen and John Benskin
in memory of Heather Benskin and in honor of the wedding
guests of the Ogden-Benskin wedding
Kay and Rodney Bevington
in memory of Rhonda Kay Bevington
Anne and Robert Bourne
in memory of Robert A. Bourne III and Jonathan M. Bourne
Victoria Bradshaw
in memory of Jeremiah Cole Bradshaw
Joan and Bill Campbell
in memory of Lesley Michelle Campbell
Susan and Gary Chan
in memory of Rachael Reneé Chan
Rekha Chandra
in memory of Nayan Chandra
John Coggins
in memory of John Coggins III
Sarah and Daniel Collins
in memory of Margaret Mutschler Carney
Robin Costa
in memory of Noah Samuel Grindstaff Costa
DAS Distribution, Inc.
in memory of Melissa C. Galka
Mr. and Mrs. DeVoe
in memory of Brian Alexander DeVoe
Ann Dix
in memory of Philip Dix
Helen Ford
in memory of Thomas Stewart Ford
Charlotte and Scott Frewing
in memory of Ella Hoelscher
Carolyn Friedlander-Haas
in memory of Robert Christopher and
Robin Carol Friedlander
Priscilla Fung and Rob Mellencamp
in memory of Dorothy Pellegrin
Peggy and David Gibson
in memory of Paige Gibson
Give With Liberty
Maria Grau
in memory of Evan Grau
Adele Grubbs
in memory of Alexis Grubbs
Ursula and Ron Hall
in memory of Lisa Marie Hall
Nena Herrick
in memory of Steven Michael Herrick and John Patrick
Reilly; and in honor of John and Bridge Reilly, Bill
McGowan, and John Dunn
Patricia, Burt, and Ian Hovander
in memory of Sasha Kolde
Robin Jens
in memory of Ty Jens
Barbara and Mickey Johnson
in memory of Sandy Johnson
Margaret and Jeffery Johnson
in memory of Jordan McLeod Johnson
Patty and Mark Johnson
in memory of Matthew
Elizabeth Kestler
in memory of Alexander W. Leonard
Ann Kimtantas
in memory of John Charles Kimtantas
The Knapp Family
in memory of Russell Knapp
Mr. and Mrs. Knight
in memory of Klara Morgan Knight
Ellen and Tom Komadina
in memory of Ann Michelle Komadina
Allan Korsower
in memory of Sgt. Jason S. Korsower
Irene and Edward Kostetsky
in memory of Daniel Kostetsky
Theresa and David Langer
in memory of Sarah Elizabeth Langer
Chris Leiter
in honor of Ben Sieff
Marie and Phil Levine
in memory of Peter Adam Levine
Reva and John Lizzadro
in memory of James “Chris” Lizzadro
Diane and Keith Loder
(continued on page 16)
Our Apologies . . .
Due to an error on our part, a generous donation by Kitty Edler, in memory
of Mark and Rich Edler, which should have been included in the Circle of Love
donor category, was unintentionally excluded from donor lists published in We
Need Not Walk Alone. We wish to extend our deepest apologies to Kitty for this
oversight and thank her for her continuing support!
3/5/12 10:34 AM
FRIENDS,
CARING AND SHARING
2012 National Conference/International Gathering–
The Compassionate Friends National Conference plays host to TCFers from
around the world for an International Gathering this July in Costa Mesa, California.
Great speakers and entertainers will be combined with a myriad of talented
workshop presenters. The actual conference, which runs from July 20 through July
22, will offer pre- and post-events. One of the pre-events will be a Spanish-language
workshop and sharing session conducted on Thursday. Watch TCF’s website at
www.compassionatefriends.org for the most up-to-date information.
Board of Directors Election Slate
The TCF Board of Directors has approved the following slate of candidates for
the 2012 Board of Directors election:
Barbara Allen, Ellicott City, Maryland
Joan Campbell, Waxahachie, Texas
Georgia Cockerham, Brookings, Oregon
Chuck Collins, Fairfax, Virginia
Brian Janes, Olathe, Kansas
Ann Khadalia, Concord, California
From the above slate, three people will be elected. Candidates were selected
based on their TCF activities and involvement; distance from their immediate
grief; time and energy to work with the board and public in the implementation of
the goals of the organization; skills in the areas of particular interest to the board’s
future development; and geographic location.
New Chapters
We welcome the following recently chartered chapters:
TCF of Middlesex County ~ Middletown, Connecticut
TCF of Apopka ~ Apopka, Florida
TCF of Clark County ~ Marshall, Illinois
TCF of Southwest Iowa ~ Avoca, Iowa
TCF of Western Kentucky ~ Paducah, Kentucky
TCF of Bellefonte ~ Bellefonte, Pennsylvania
TCF of the Susquehanna Valley ~ Danville, Pennsylvania
TCF of West Texas ~ Odessa, Texas
Recently Reorganized:
TCF of Durango ~ Durango, Colorado
TCF of Niceville ~ Niceville, Florida
TCF Savannah ~ Savannah, Georgia
TCF of Toombs County ~ Vidalia, Georgia
Sponsor the National Office for a Week
The services provided by the National Office are free to all who need them, and
in this spirit, we are providing the opportunity for those who believe in our mission
to help us financially by sponsoring the National Office for a week. By participating
in this new program, you can “Sponsor the National Office for a Week” in memory
of your child, sibling, grandchild, relative, or friend. Sponsorships are $150
each, and we will accept up to two sponsors each week. Sponsors will have the
opportunity to have a picture of their loved one on the TCF national home page,
with a picture and story about their loved one on an inside page. This program will
need your support to be successful.
Chapter Leadership Training Programs
This year we will again provide a unique opportunity for chapter leadership to
attend a Chapter Leadership Training Program (CLTP) at the National Conference.
A full-day CLTP will be held Thursday, the day before the conference starts. To
assist with the extra day’s hotel room
cost, we will waive the conference
registration fee for one person from
each participating chapter. The program
will begin at 8:00 a.m. and run until
5:00 p.m. Breakfast and lunch will be
served to the participants. Sorry, no
on-site registration will be available.
Two additional Chapter Leadership
Training Programs will be held in 2012:
May 18–20: Chicago, Illinois
Autumn: To be announced
Registration forms are sent to all
chapters for these programs and will
also be available on the Leadership
website.
Webinars
The Compassionate Friends is
now offering monthly webinars on
grief- related subjects as a service to
our membership. A library of previous
webinars is maintained on The
Compassionate Friends website. For
times and listings of upcoming webinars,
visit www.compassionatefriends.org.
Past webinars include: “Handling Grief
through the Holiday Season,” “Getting
Stuck and Unstuck,” and “Caring for
Your Health While Grieving.”
Facebook
Join TCF on Facebook for extra
support between chapter meetings.
Respond to the post of the day, visit the
discussion boards, or give and receive
support to those grieving the death of a
child. We are almost 32,000 members
strong. We also have a Spanishlanguage Facebook page, Los Amigos
Compasivos/USA!
Walk to Remember®
Fund-raising Opportunity
The opportunity is again available
this year to participate in the Friends
Asking Friends fund-raising opportunity.
Participants can build a website
honoring their own child or a website
for all the chapter’s children with
proceeds going to the local chapter.
With a minimum of effort you can raise
a substantial amount of money for TCF.
Watch TCF’s website for information.
The program will begin in March. v
•
15
3/5/12 10:34 AM
The Compassionate
Friends
Board of Directors
Patrick O’Donnell
President
Westland, MI
Georgia Cockerham
Vice President
Brookings, OR
Dale L. Dullabaun Jr.
Treasurer
Los Angeles, CA
Nivia Vazquez
Secretary
Guaynabo, PR
Patricia Loder
Executive Director
Oak Brook, IL
Chuck Collins
Fairfax, VA
Steven Czirr
Spring Hill, TN
Ann Hood
Providence, RI
Heidi Horsley
New York, NY
Glen Lord
Nashua, NH
Tracy Milne, Sibling Rep.
Bonita Springs, FL
John Santoro
Morristown, NJ
Steve Schmeisser
DePere, WI
Correspondence for the
Board of Directors should be sent
to the board president at
[email protected] or
mailed to 37758 Marquette,
Westland, MI, 48185.
v
16
•
(Patrons, continued from page 14)
Peggy Lovering
in memory of Lee Steven Lovering
Lillian Broox Manis Foundation
in memory of Lilli Manis
Judy McDonald
in memory of Darren Kyle McDonald
Miriam and Kenneth McLellan
in memory of Donald and Marilyn McLellan
Robert Meganck
Barbara Meislin–The Purple Lady Fund
in memory of Ann Ladd; and in honor of Catherine Patillo
and Pat Loder
The Merrifield Family
in memory of Nikolas Merrifield
Kathy and Steve Miller
in memory of Samuel Miller
Peggy Monarch
in memory of John Monarch Elder
Jeanne and Tom Morse
in memory of Jennifer M. Jacobi
Kathy Pender
in memory of Michael James Pender
Carmen and Jeff Pope
in memory of Tom and Christopher Pope
Melissa Price
in memory of Joshua Lynn Humphreys
Linda and Stephen Quinn
Carol Rhodebeck
in memory of Melvin Heckert, Drake Heckert, Chas Wachtel,
and Steve Burge
Karen and David Rosenthal
in memory of Rebekah
Arlene and Robert Ruggiero
in memory of Brenda Joan Ruggiero
Sharm Scheuerman
in memory of Rodney Thein
Wilbert Schmidt
in memory of Fredrich A. Schmidt
Sandy and Peter Sears
in memory of Amy Marie Sears
Georgia and Hank Sheer
in memory of Erin Abigail Sheer
Marian and Blaine Shull
Sharon and Jim Sims
in memory of Jeffery Sims
Susan and John Stanfield
in memory of Kelly and Erin Stanfield
Greg Stewart
in memory of John Protiva
Shari and Kurt Streutker
in memory of Celeste Streutker
Irene and Robert Thornton
in memory of Patrick Shinoda Thornton
United Way Donors
Robert Vaught
Jania and Tom Wagenknecht
in memory of Carl Wagenknecht
Frances and Ted Wampler
in memory of Mary Lee Wampler
Carol and Carl Wojciechowski
in memory of Adam Wojciechowski
Merle and Donald Young
in memory of Sean Young
Circle of Friends ($50–$199)
Nita and Paul Aasen
in memory of Erik and David Aasen
Barb and Bob Adams
in memory of Robert Adams
Charlotte Addington
in memory of Mary Shawn Addington
Kathleen and John Affeldt
in memory of Joshua Crawford
Sharon Ahnert
in memory of John F. Ahnert
Sherri Altman
in memory of Jessie Sierra Altman
Sheri Amato
in memory of Eric James Kalber
Nancy Amstad-Hite
in memory of Seth H. Martin
Harla and Peter Anderson
in memory of Cody Tyler Anderson
Leona Anderson
in memory of Roderick Lavon Anderson and
Wyatt Michael Rose
Maureen and Roger Anderson
Sharon and Scott Anderson
in memory of Ashton Faye Anderson
Joyce and Basil Andrews
in memory of Rhonda L. Andrews, Dorothy Pellegrin,
and Dale Billeaud
Mary Ellen and John Ankeney
in memory of Megan Ankeney
Marge and Steve Anzalone
in memory of Jenny Anzalone
Debbie, Jeff, Katie, and Matt Appell
in memory of Dale Dullabaun III
Marie and Barbara Arch
in memory of Rich Molnar
Karen and Dale Arnott
in memory of Laura Kay Arnott
Helen Arsenault
in memory of Gary E., David D. and Traci L. DeMoura,
and Matthew Arsenault
Amparo Atencio
in memory of Tony Phillips
Jim Atkinson
in memory of Steve Fullen
Cathy and Carl Baab
in memory of Colden Baab-Bernard
Robin Baer
in memory of Samantha Rose Baer
Claudia Baggerly
in memory of Jess Baggerly
Carole and Henry Bailey
in memory of Matthew John Bailey
Renee and Earl Bailey
in memory of Melissa Renee Bailey Wolfram
Elizabeth Barbera
Sharon Barger
in memory of Bradley Ray Meisenbach
Vicky Barney
in memory of Ann
Jeanette Bartlett
Gail Bartley
in memory of John David Stacy
Michelle Bartolomei
in memory of Carina Hope Bartolomei
Pat Barwood
in memory of Kevin Allen Barwood
Sonya Batten
in memory of Aaron S. Lopp
Sandy Baumann
in memory of Colette Baumann
Betty Bechel
in memory of Jason Bechel
Marilyn and Jim Belanic
in memory of Katie Belanic
Julia and Kyle Bell
in honor of the Fryer Family
Marsha and Lee Bell
in memory of Marleea Anne Bell Gerfen
Janice Bergh
in memory of Christopher Robin Wibeto
Lawrence Bergstresser
in memory of Emma Grace Elnicki
Joyce Berry
in memory of Scott Eric Miller
Libby and Danny Berry
in memory of Christopher Shawn Berry, Luke Shaun Hilton,
and Todd Tyler Christmas
Matt Bevenour
in memory of Maggie Bevenour
Sarah and John Bible
in memory of Melissa Bible; and in honor of Laura and
Samantha Bible
Jane Bielecki
in memory of Brian J. Bielecki
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Angela Brandt
While in chat the other night someone asked the question,
“Where was my miracle?”in regards to losing their child. My
thoughts have been consumed by that question ever since. What
is a miracle? I had to go look it up in the dictionary and this is
what I found.
Miracle:
1. an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that
surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed
to a supernatural cause.
2. such an effect manifesting or considered as a work of God.
3. a wonder; marvel.
4. a wonderful or surpassing example of some quality.
In thinking about this more, I wondered who is even
deserving of a miracle. Am I deserving? I would love to say
that I am, but I don’t believe that to be true. Do I believe that
I’m a good person? Yes, but that depends on who you would be
comparing me to. Am I more deserving than any other person
out there? No.
I have come to realize that I’ve been looking at this question
all wrong. First, I was thinking of miracles happening only
on a grand scale, the kind that affects many people. Not all
miracles need to be on a grand scale. Second, I was thinking
that miracles only revolved around religion. I was figuring that
without “religious faith,” there could be no miracle. With this
insight, I began to think back on my life.
November 14, 1998, holds very little meaning for most
people. For me, it is the day that I began my journey as a
mother. Conceiving a child happens every day for many
people and wouldn’t necessarily be thought of as a miracle.
As I was on birth control at the time, the chance that I would
become pregnant was small, but when you also consider that
we used a condom, the chances of conceiving a child were
next to impossible. Yet the impossible seemed to happen:
a miracle.
April 16, 2005; yet another day that is meaningless to most
people. However, what was said would never happen, did
happen. Doctors had always told me that Lily would never be
able to walk on her own, but on this day, she proved them all
wrong. Lily didn’t just take one or two steps she walked across
an entire room. She walked to me. The emotions of seeing Lily
do this brought me to my knees. What most parents take for
granted was something I believed would never happen for my
child. Words escaped me and all I had were tears of joy. I was
in awe over what I had just seen: a miracle.
Lily was a child who was never meant to survive. No matter
what I did or how much I loved her, I could never change that
fact. For a little over ten years, every night when I would put
Lily to bed, the question was always lurking in the back of my
mind: Would this be the night that I lose her? In the morning
when I went to wake her up, I’d find the answer. For a little
over ten years, I was greeted by Lily’s bright blue eyes and a
smile; her laughter as I lifted her out of bed to hug her close to
me. Every morning that this happened was a miracle.
This all brings me back to the original question, “Where
is my miracle?” The answer for me would be, “Buried in a
cemetery.” Lily was and always will be my miracle. Was I
deserving? Probably not, but Lily is the only one who can
answer that question. v
Angela Brandt was blessed to have her precious angel Lily
Johnson, “my munster,” for a little over ten years. She opted
to be Lily’s full-time caregiver, as she had many medical issues
related to a genetic disorder, partial monosomy 21q. Angela
currently lives in Minnesota and is involved with the TCF online
support chat room.You can reach her at [email protected].
Permission Granted, continued from page 12)
meaning. People I thought were my closest friends have
grown distant. My wife and I don’t get along like before.
Countless others who have walked a path of grief tell of
similar pain and experiences that burn in their souls, too. I
learned something else as well: men who don’t cry suffer
much longer than those who do.
My wife and I started going to support meetings.
Afterward, I drank plenty of water to replenish my body
from crying so much. And after a while I realized that these
support meetings were helping, but they weren’t enough. I
needed to keep my son’s name alive and honor his memory.
Subsequently, I created a large memorial website. This
allowed me to sit in front of my computer for hours reliving
the short 24 hours we had together. The grief website forums
were a lifeline as well. I could read others’ grief stories until
my eyes hurt too much to continue. I also reached out to
others who desired the same support as I.
I had to come to terms with the fact that the world still
turns after Diego’s death. I have found that acceptance is
the answer to all my problems. There is no amount of anger
that will bring Diego back. That being said, for me, I try to
live more in the now and less in the past or the future. I once
heard, “Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and
today is a present.” Daily, I unwrap my present and reflect on
the past 24 hours before bed. Instead of anger and resentment,
I have turned my focus more to helping others. Through the
help of others, Diego’s memory remains alive and well. v
Trevor is the father of four beautiful boys, Nate, Diego,
Alexander, and Sebastian, and is married to their amazing
mother, Zegee. They live in Phoenix, Arizona, and have attended
meetings at the Westside Chapter of TCF in Phoenix and MISS
Foundation as well. Trevor is self-employed. However, when
he isn’t working or being a father, he enjoys spending time with
those who need a little help in life. You can find out more about
Diego at www.diegosplace.virtual-memorials.com.
•
17
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Pat and Howard Billings
in memory of Robert and Allen; and in honor of their
family members
Marc Bilodeau and Family
in memory of Stephen Sandy
Joan Binkow
Georgia and Terry Blazevic
in memory of Bryce Blazevic
Joan and Fred Bliss
Lynn Boelk
in memory of Chris Boelk
Linda Bondra
in memory of Kirsten Brooke Bondra
Marla Bopp
in memory of Christopher Aaron Arnold
Cathryn Boudreau
in memory of Peter Philmore
David Boudreau
in memory of Matthew David Boudreau
Delores Boughton
in memory of Katherine and Mary Kay Boughton
Mr. and Mrs. Bowden
Anne Brack
in memory of Chelsea Marie Brack
Jessica Braithwait, Katie Silva, Sarah Rufenacht, and
Rachael Rufenacht
in memory of Whitley Ann Peterson
Mary Bredemeier
in memory of Henry Warren Bredemeier
Bette Brennan
in memory of Michael Thomas Brennan
Marjorie Brewer
in memory of Douglas and Susan Brewer
Mary and Jerry Brickner
in memory of Matthew J. Brickner
Cynthia Bridgewater
in memory of Michael Bridgewater
Merlin Brockway
in memory of Clinton S. Brockway
Joy and Chuck Brown
in memory of Charles Christopher Brown
Karen Brown
in memory of David A. Allbery
Sue Brown
in memory of Frank Jason Gallardo
Inara Brubaker
in memory of Erika Jane and Andra Elaine Brubaker
Faye and Jim Bundy
in memory of David J. Bundy
Juanita Bundy
in memory of Joseph C. Bundy
Laura Burnham
in memory of Darryl Anne Burnham
Charlotte and James Burns
in memory of Edward James Burns
Shirley and Jim Burnside
in memory of Kirk Burnside, Teresa Burnside, and
Elizabeth Marie (Libby) Ives
Daniel Busch
in memory of Joshua S. Busch
Janine Busch Woytowicz
in memory of Benjamin Mathew Busch
Carrie Byrd
in memory of Shawne Alison Phillips
Sally and Rick Calabrese
in memory of Kelly Ann Calabrese
Sharon and Bill Caldwell
in memory of Brian Caldwell
Anne Calvey
in memory of Anne Lois Kortsch
Janet and Julian Cannon
in memory of Julie Evanne Cannon
Cape Regional Medical Center
in memory of Gary LaRue
The Staff of Carlow University’s Student Affairs
in memory of Margaret Carney; and in honor of
Sr. Sheila Carney
Nicki Carnahan Kersey
in memory of Luke Carnahan
18
•
Gwendolyn Carroll
in memory of Ronald “Bitzy” Hamilton Jr.
Rosa Carter
in memory of Luke Carter
Carrie and Rich Caruso
in memory of Tony Cabrera
Fran Casabona
in memory of Patrick Casabona Jr.
Suzanne and Henry Cassel
in memory of Gregory Cassel
June and Ted Cathcart
in memory of Theodore K. (Todd) Cathcart
Linda Cavalier
in memory of Judd Cavalier
Trisha and Mike Cayton
in memory of Jack “Brent” Schoener
Laura and Tom Chandler
in memory of Carey Chandler; and in honor of
Harry Chandler
Janet Chapman
in memory of Jesse Greenberg
Barbara Chiulli
in memory of Philip Panetta
Bernie, Tom, and Kyle Chrismer
in memory of Carolyn Marie Chrismer
Dean Christman
in memory of Nathan Christman
Caroline Christopherson
Mia and Warren Chun
Diane and Don Clark
in memory of Carl E. Adkins
Jan and Jim Clark
in memory of Joseph Arthur Korth
Nancy Clark
in memory of Joshua Boundy
Rebecca Clark
in memory of Justin Clark and Amanda Kwick
David Clayton and Gayle DeKellis
in memory of Zach Clayton
Mr. and Mrs. Coggins Jr.
in memory of Elizabeth Rose Coggins
Ronald Cohen
in memory of Jesse Ray Cohen
Sharon and Butch Colbert
in memory of Lionel J. M. Colbert, Anna J. Colbert, and
Jory M. Chavez
Gordon Collins
in memory of Cynthia Lee Kessler and Iris Lent-Koop
Audrey and Jay Conners
in memory of Leslie Ann Conners
Kay and Fred Cooke
in memory of Morgan Elizabeth Cooke
Agnes Coon
in memory of Richard Molnar
Francine Cooper
in memory of Patrick Michael Cooper
Joanne and Bill Cooper
in memory of Bennett and Kathryn Cooper
Laurie Cooper and Howard Fankhauser
in memory of Colin Fankhauser
Ana Cortez
in memory of Lissette Cortez
Maria Cota
Jean and Bill Cotter
in memory of Patrick J. Cotter
Kathy and C. J. Couvillion
in memory of Stephen Paul Couvillion
Ronal Cox
in memory of Stacy W. Cox
Susan Craft
in memory of Tommy L. Craft
Sharon and George Craig
in memory of Isaac Burle Craig and Zeb Brubaker
Linda and Steve Crow
in memory of Emily Elizabeth White
Lesly Crowder
in memory of Ryan Crowder
Kathy and Tom Crowley
in memory of Timm Crowley
Barbara Culver
Marion Curka
in memory of Paul Curka
Lois and Chris Curran
Diane and Jim Cutts
in memory of Brett Cutts
Peggy and Bill Dalton
in memory of Kevin Dalton
Nancy and Michael D’Amore
in memory of Michael and Penny
Heather and Michael Dankert
in honor of Ellen and Terry Noble
Leslie Davidson
in memory of Patrick Ross Davidson Jr.
Edith Davis
in memory of Janet Elaine Davis
Linda Davis
in memory of Brian Jeffrey Davis
Jill Davison
in memory of Paige Davison
Angela Dazzo
in memory of Stephanie Dazzo Paterek
Randy Dean
Dean Foods Matching Gift
Jeanne and John DeFrance
in memory of Michael DeFrance and Brian Hull
Pauline Deges
in memory of Susan Marie Deges
Jean and Roger DeHaan
in memory of Hannah DeHaan
Janice Dengis
in memory of Lauren Dengis
Mary Denien
in memory of Gary Robert Denien
Lynn and Charles Derrick
in memory of Michael Derrick
Joseph DeSantis
in memory of Donnamarie and Joseph P. DeSantis Jr.
Judy and Walter Dever
in memory of Joshua James Dever
Sandra and Jon Devermann
in memory of Matthew Ashcraft
Helen Di Maggio
Joe Diedrichs
in memory of Griffin Joseph Diedrichs
Timothy Dillon
in memory of Ian Christopher Dillon
Arlene DiPietro
Barbara and Chuck Dixon
in memory of Christopher Lee Dixon
Michelle Doll
in memory of Justin Gleyre Doll
Eleanor and Ken Donatelli
in memory of Michael J. Donatelli
Denise Dow
in memory of Samantha Bussenger
Jean Dow
in memory of Randy Dow
Rodney Drake, M.D.
Cindy and Tommy Driskill
in memory of Kristin Rae Driskill
Carole and Peter Dyck
in memory of Christopher P. Dyck
Pat and Jeff Dyson
in memory of Blake Jefferson Dyson
Muffy and Bob Eager
in memory of Brian Eager
Donna and Ralph Eastman
in memory of Ralph Michael Eastman
Nina Eberly
in memory of Mark Andrew Eberly
Judy and John Ebersberger
in memory of Katherine Ann Ebersberger
Mitzi Eckert
in memory of Christopher Shane Collier
Julie and Bill Edgar
in memory of Michael Edgar
Mary Edwards
in memory of Michael Edwards
Sherry Effertz
in memory of Kayla Sophie Evenson
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Colleen Ehret
in memory of Brandt Michael Koehler
Debbie Elkins
Peggy and Jim Eller
Becky and Richard Engborg
in memory of Andrew Engborg
Karen and Bob Erwin
in memory of Jill Christine Erwin
Janelle and Fred Etoch
in memory of Evan Etoch
Becky Evans
in memory of Andy Thompson and Madeleine Wilshire
Elizabeth and Carville Evering
in memory of Catherine E. Evering
Deborah Factor
in memory of Joyce Burkhart
Frank Failla
in memory of Emily and Lauren Failla
Joan and Randy Fameree
Diane and Tony Famiano
in memory of Wendy Leigh Famiano
Gloria Fava
in memory of Stephen R. Fava
Mary Lee Fawcett
in memory of Scott, Barry, Jim, Dan Cole, and Jimmy
Janice and David Feaga
in memory of Travis Feaga and Cathrine Evering Tucci
Martha and Dick Fenoglio
in memory of Judith Fenoglio Daw
Cathy Fielder
in memory of David Matthew Gray Fielder
Antonia Filipiak
in memory of Leon Harwood II
Allison and Mark Finkelstein
in memory of David Samuel Finkelstein
Bridget and Stephen Flanders
in memory of Samuel Frank Flanders
Penny and Manny Flecker
in memory of 1LT Norman T. S. Flecker
Kathy Flett
Richard Floreani
Kim and Claude Flowers
in memory of Rodney Thein and his son, Rodney Jr.
Gertrude Fobbs
in memory of Charles W. Fobbs
Janet Folley
Nancy Fortier
Lynne and Roger Foster
in memory of Mark Foster
Michele and Mark Fracasso
in memory of Mark R. Fracasso Jr.
Averil Fraser
in memory of Errol Fraser Jr.
James Fraser
in memory of Glen R. Fraser
Fresh Audio & Video, LLC
Sue Freshwater
in memory of Jeffrey and Michael Kalldin
Linda Frost
in memory of Linnette L. Dixon
Peggy and William Fry
in memory of Christopher Read Fry
Rosalind and James Fulmer
in memory of Mark William Fulmer
Marilyn and Glenn Futrell
in memory of John Robert Woodfin
Barbara Gaddis and Paul Volker
in memory of Owen Paul Volker; and in honor of
Tim and Kate Volker
Mary Jane and John Gahagan
in memory of Sean Gahagan
Linda Gallagher
in memory of Tracy Philip Kildebeck
Liz Garcia
in memory of Erik Steven Holmgren
Olivia and Ruben Garcia
in memory of Lorenzo Garcia
Elizabeth Garvey
in memory of Richard James “Richie” Garvey
Gloria Garza
in memory of Daniel V. Garza
Evelyn and Norman Gaudrault
in memory of Paul Gaudrault
Gloria and Gary Gavin
in memory of Kraig Stephan Gavin
Barbara Gearty
in memory of Shane Patrick Gearty
The Gerosa Family
in memory of Delaney Elizabeth Smith
Toni and Robert Gibson Sr.
in memory of Patti Ann Gibson
Sandra Gillen
in memory of Darryl Penton
Sandy and Ron Gilliland
in memory of Mandi Gilliland
Maxine and Paul Gilson
in memory of Michael Halpert
Carol Ginsburg
Denise Ginszauskas
in memory of Michele Ginszauskas
Peggy and Alan Gitersonke
in memory of Holly Ann Odom
Michael Giuliano
Myron and Marsha Glasssenberg
in memory of Brian Glassenberg
Joel Jeffrey Glick Memorial Philanthropic Fund
in memory of Joel Jeffrey Glick
Kara Gloeckner
in memory of Kody Johnson
Mary and Howard Goetz
in memory of Howie Goetz III
Tom Gold
in memory of William Harris Gold
Marlene and Fred Goldberg
in memory of Dr. Elliot D. Goldberg
Rita Goldfarb
in memory of Jeffrey Goldfarb Hawes
Dorene and Emil Goryeb
in memory of Gregg T. Goryeb
Nancy Grabarczyk
in memory of Carol Jean Grabarczyk
Sally and Joseph Grablick
in memory of J. Ryan Wecker
Ruth Graham
in memory of Mary Graham
Suzanne and Richard Graham
in memory of Samantha Graham
Vickie Graham
in memory of Brendan Paul Dover
Grainger Matching Charitable Gifts Program
Betty Gray
in memory of Ricky Tucker
Gail and Leonard Greenbaum
in memory of Adam Ross Greenbaum
Sandra Greenly
in memory of Michael Greenly
Dorothy Greiner
Lynne and Ray Grigsby
in memory of Brian Joseph Grigsby
Mary Grinavic
in memory of Christine Grinavic
Rosemary and Daniel Haemmerle
in memory of Janice Haemmerle Krumanaker and
Stephen Daniel Haemmerle
Sandra and Roger Hale
in memory of David H. Hale
Ann and Mike Hall
in memory of Kyle Simonson
Tamara Hallis
in memory of Shayler Hallis
Diana and Bobby Hamer
in memory of Bobby E. Hamer III
Janet and Frank Hanig
in memory of Adam Hanig
Teri Hansen
in memory of Anna Paulson
Kyle Hanson
in memory of Chandie Hanson Behm
Edie and Pete Happe
in memory of Roberta Louise Happe
Marie and Rod Harley
Sandy and Brian Harter
in memory of Nicholas Morgan Harter
Doris and Harvey Hartman
in memory of Melissa Ann (Hartman) Cino
Susan and Mark Hauck
in memory of Jimmy
Betty Hawkshaw
in memory of Dennis B. Hartman
Tammy and Jeff Hayes
in memory of Michael Rubinstein
Jackie and Duane Hegna
in memory of Jon Derek Hegna
Tim Heiberger
in memory of Jessica Leigh Heiberger
Vicki Heilweil
in memory of Neil Heilweil
Gary Helfman
in memory of Ryan Helfman
Tammy and Lyle Helgeson
in memory of Jared Helgeson
Valerie Hellinger
in memory of Matthew David Dion
Sue and Mike Hemesath
in memory of Stacy A. Hemesath
David Hendricks
in memory of David Hendricks II
Sara Henkin
in memory of Jodee Brooke Henkin
Delores Hensley
in memory of Nichole Lee Hensley
Mildred Herman
in memory of Susan Jean Herman
Tim Hester
Connie and Mark Hill
in memory of Chad Hill
Marguerite Hill
in memory of Eric T. Hill
Linda, Ivan, and Joshua Hinds
in memory of Steven Michael Halverson
Pauletta Hodges
in memory of Kimberly Logsdon Waters
Harriet Hodgson
in memory of Helen Hodgson Welby
Joan and Dale Hofmeister
in memory of Dennis M. Hofmeister
Paula and Mike Holder
in memory of Andrew (Drew) Holder
Heather Holland
in memory of Piper Lynne Buckley
Lynda Holman
in memory of Richard Holman
Karen and Michael Horeth
in memory of Jordan Michael Horeth
Beverly Horn
in memory of Lawrence Scott Horn
Lucia and Wayne Howard
in memory of Shaelee C. McDaniel
Delois Hughes
Karen Huper
in memory of Cory Michael Sivertson Huper
Gail and Ray Husveth
in memory of Joseph Mazzetta and Garrett Husveth
Mark Imel
in memory of Chase M. Imel
Deb and Russ Imlay
in memory of Seth Imlay
Judy Immel
in memory of David Immel
Teresa Immerman
in memory of Daniel Immerman
Bonnie Ingram
in memory of Paul Leland Rodgers
Betsy and Michael Jarrett
in memory of Michael Jarrett
Linda Jayne and Family
in memory of Melanie and Jennifer Laughlin
Janet Jenkins
in memory of Alan Jenkins
Carol and Gerry Johnson
in memory of Karen E. Johnson
•
19
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Ken Ryan
The Greater Manchester/Nashua Chapter Worldwide Candle Lighting® held at St. Anthony of Padua Church in Manchester,
New Hampshire
The Compassionate Friends
Worldwide Candle Lighting®
~By Wayne Loder, Public Awareness Coordinator
Thank you Compassionate Friends,
for helping everyone keep their memories alive!
~ Megan
As a virtual wave of light encircled
the globe, the 15th Compassionate
Friends Worldwide Candle Lighting®
on Sunday, December 11, 2011, touched
the hearts of hundreds of thousands of
people grieving the death of a child.
The event was created by The
Compassionate Friends to give those
grieving a child one special day during
the difficult holiday season to remember
and honor the child missing from their
home. It is a day of unity where tens
of thousands join together in
remembrance of children gone too soon,
regardless of ethnic, cultural, religious,
or political boundaries.
The Compassionate Friends national
website received and posted information
on 550 services open to the public in
the United States and 18 countries
abroad. But the remembrance was far
20
•
larger than that, as untold numbers
of families lit candles in homes and
together with relatives and friends.
“The response to this day is
always heartwarming,” says TCF
Executive Director Patricia Loder.
“During the holiday season, many
bereaved parents feel alone, as if their
child who died never existed in the
minds of friends and relatives. This
Worldwide Candle Lighting® allows
us to join together in telling the world
that every child is important and that no
child is ever forgotten.”
More than 5,000 messages of love
were left in TCF’s Remembrance
Book the day of the Worldwide Candle
Lighting® (these can be viewed
throughout the year through a link from
the Worldwide Candle Lighting® page at
www.compassionatefriends.org).
The Worldwide Candle Lighting®
gave unity to the grief world by helping
so many to realize they are not alone in
their grief during the difficult holiday
season, and that others grieve with them,
regardless of where they may live. Posts
left on TCF’s Facebook page numbered
more than a thousand, as members
shared remembrances and expressed the
importance of the Worldwide Candle
Lighting® to them.
If no Worldwide Candle Lighting
event was held in your area last year,
you are invited to organize one for
the 2012 event, to be held Sunday,
December 9, coinciding with Hanukkah,
the celebration of lights. For more
information on how to plan a WCL
service, please visit TCF’s national
website.
A few posts from TCF/USA’s
Facebook Page:
Ally: Thank you, TCF. My husband and
I lost our son November 4th. A friend of
ours told us about the candle lighting
ceremony and we are truly grateful.
Participating last evening was the
healing we both welcomed.
Karen: While I was at the candle
lighting, several friends texted me the
photos of the candles they had lit for
my son. . . . The ceremony was very
touching.
Teresa: I attended my second Candle
Lighting on Sunday. It was just as
beautiful and moving as last year. I did . . .
notice a change in me. Instead of sobbing
through the whole ceremony, I found
myself feeling the hurt and grief of the
others in the room and empathizing with
their pain. Maybe I am healing. . . . v
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By John Thayer
Lighting a candle is usually simple, but when I lit one in
memory of my niece during the Worldwide Candle Lighting®
this year, I found it to be very difficult.
As I was getting ready for church, I received a text message
from my sister, who lost a daughter three years ago. Her
message read, “Today is Worldwide Candle Lighting day. We
are asking that you please light a candle at 7:00 p.m. in loving
memory of our angel, Alicyn Grace, and let it burn for one
hour. It would mean so much. Thanks!”
I had to participate. It was about what it meant to my sister
and brother-in-law. After church I went to Walmart for what
may have been my first-ever candle purchase. I just stood there
looking at the candles. Minutes passed, carts pushed by as I
picked a candle up and set it back down. When you are doing
something meaningful, you don’t just grab the first thing you
see. It has to feel right.
I finally picked up a white candle and a holder, but before I
walked away, something caught my eye. It was a candle holder
in the shape of a heart. It could only go with a red-colored
candle, and with a smile, knew I had the right one.
That night I took the candle with me to a company
Christmas party. I was planning to get away from the party
at the right time and light the candle where it could burn for
one hour. At 6:14 p.m., I received another text message from
my sister. “Never knew lighting a candle could be this hard.
The flicker of the fire is dancing steadily . . . wonder if she is
dancing with it. Love you guys!”
As a tear filled my eye, I responded, “You know she is.” I
started to wonder if this was going to be hard. There were so
many things running through my head as the Christmas party
began. I stood there with a smile and carried on conversation,
although part of me was never present.
As we went through gag gifts, I continued to watch the
clock. When my phone read 6:56 p.m., I excused myself and
went into the office where the candle was waiting. I stood there
staring at the clock with the lighter in my right hand. As the
minutes ticked by, memories filled my thoughts.
With two minutes until lighting, I was taken back to that
Friday morning in the middle of a Doane College parking lot
where I fell to my knees as I heard my mother’s voice say,
“Allie is gone,” over the phone. I remembered feeling incredibly
weak . . . helpless. I was three hours away and couldn’t race to
my sister and give her a hug. We grew close after I moved to
college. Not sure why it took so long, but we talked a lot on the
phone. Back on that Friday morning I remember wiping tears
from my face as people curiously looked on.
I finally got up and walked across the campus where I had
just given a tour. Before I’d left, Michelle, an admissions
counselor, had asked how my sister and her baby were doing.
She knew the due date was close. Running late, I’d smiled and
said they were doing great and that I had a picture to show
her when I got back. It was the picture my sister had sent late
Thursday night after she had finished the crib. Now, as I made
my way back to the building, I knew things weren’t so great.
They were awful. The worst had happened.
I dropped off some keys at the desk and went to Michelle’s
office. Her glowing smile dropped as she saw me turn the
corner. She asked what was wrong, and after I’d closed her
door, I lost it again. She jumped up and gave me a hug as I told
her my sister had lost the baby.
Preparing the candle took me back to the moment I walked
into my sister’s house where my mother and brother-in-law’s
mother, Pat, stood. Not a word was said. I walked across the
floor and grabbed my mother with both arms as tears ran down
my face. Then I gave Pat a big hug and stood there trembling.
It took me back to the moment I walked in the hospital
and didn’t want to go into my sister’s room but knew I had
to. You see, my sister carried full term and was induced to
deliver stillborn. As Mom grabbed the handle, she looked at
me and asked if I was ready. As strong as I could be in a weak
moment, I told her I was as ready as I would ever be. When the
door opened I locked eyes with my sister and made a beeline
to her side. She cried when she saw me as I reached down to
give her the biggest hug I ever had.
It took me back to the moment standing outside of the
delivery room when the process was complete and there was
only silence. For a moment I said a prayer with the words,
“Please cry,” but there was nothing.
It made me think about the late nights up with my sister, as
she cried and asked why. I had no answers. There was nothing
I could say . . . nothing I could do.
It took me back to the April 23 graveside service, looking
at a tiny box and thinking it was something for shoes and not
for my niece. It took me to the moment the balloons were
released into the sky, as I watched my two nephews’ balloons,
filled with toys for their sister to play with in heaven, bounce
through a tree and out the other side without popping.
It all came back to me. And it happened quickly. As the
clock hit 7:00 p.m., I reached forward and lit the wick as a tear
streamed down my face. I stood over the burning flame and
stared at it. I wondered who she would be today. As I watched
the flame dance, I thought back to my sister’s message and
smiled as I took pictures of the burning candle. One of the
pictures made it to Facebook where I wrote my sister and
brother-in-law a message to let them know it was okay to let
their candle go out. The light was continuing for another hour
. . . in another time zone.
In Loving memory of Alicyn Grace Hosick (04/18/08)
v
John Thayer is the sports director for KCSR Radio in Chadron,
Nebraska. A graduate of Doane College, John has spent the past
four years covering high school and college sports for a variety
of media outlets.
•
21
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Michele and Steve Johnson
in memory of Lindsay Marie Johnson
Pam Johnson
in memory of Lori Jean Campbell
Sandy Johnson
Lucille and Steve Johs
in memory of Nicholas C. Johs
Megan Jones
in memory of John W. Jones V
Susan and David Jones
in memory of Eric Allen Jones
Kristina Jones and Crystal Rice
in memory of Ryan Jones
Joanne, Gray, and David Joyner
in memory of Christopher Meridith
Susan Julian
Beryl Kaminsky
in memory of Chad and Dawn Bushnell
Leigh and Mike Kane and Family
in memory of Shannon Kelly Kane
Robert Kaplan
in memory of Alison Ruth Kaplan
Michele Karlsberg and Vicky Werner
Molly Kasperson
Linda and Howard Katz
Patrick Keeling
in memory of Charlie McLane
Ruth Keeling
in memory of Cory James Keeling
Katy and Mike Keim
James Kelley
in memory of Casey Kelley
Lisa Kelley
in memory of Jeremy Michael Kelley
Shirley and Tom Kelly
in memory of Kristine Marie Kelly
Sandra Thomas Keller
Kathy and Alan Kennedy
in memory of Kaitlyn E. Kennedy
Gay Kennedy-Horton
in memory of Daniel Andrew Peterson
Dianna and Hossein Keshari
in memory of Michelle Lynn Kubischke
Donna Kessler
in memory of Keith Kessler
Elizabeth Keyes
in memory of Rodney T. Thein
Cindy Killingsworth
in memory of Blake Lusk
Cynthia Kimball
in memory of Wayne Gordy
Rita Kimmelman
Ann and Don King
in memory of Edward White King
Catherine and Michael King
in memory of Sean King
Nicole, Mike, Marlowe, and Zephyr King
Gloria and Mike Kissel
in memory of Kimberly Kissel
Dennis Klisch
Pattie Knight
in memory of Andrew B. Loch
Mel Koch
in memory of Dallas Koch
Jean Koebel Gardner
in memory of Charles K. Gardner
Pamela Kokomoor
in memory of Zachary Henry Kokomoor
Charles Kolb
Christine and Mark Kopel
Linda and Mike Kosovec
in memory of Lauren Ann Kosovec
Barbara and Ed Kowal
in memory of Garrett Kowal
Pamela and Nick Kozan
in memory of Jack Barnett, “J.B.”
Alice Kozik
in memory of Regina Ann Kozik and Kristine Katherine Kozik
22
•
Kraft-Sussman Funeral Services
Jeff Krell
in memory of Ally Wood
Lois, Russ, and Brittany Kroeker
in memory of Zachary and Matthew Kroeker
Valerie and Robert Kurtz
in memory of Jason Kurtz
Audrey Labiche
in memory of Mark Anthony Labiche
Nancy and Dean Laffey
in memory of Philip Laffey
Glori Lahetta
in memory of Jimmy Lahetta
Vanda and Dennis Laloge
in memory of Christine Laloge
Nancy and Scott Lambert
in memory of Brad Douglas Wildasin
Donna and Tom Lancaster
in memory of Shane Lancaster
Bernice and Vito Lanza
in memory of Stephen Lanza
Donna Larman
in memory of George A. Bold IV
Carissa Larsen
in memory of Emanuel Robert Larsen
Julie and Don Larson
in memory of Gregory Shawn Larson
Deb Lawver
in memory of Ralph F. Patterson
Legacy.com Inc.
Kellie and Jerry LeTexier
in memory of Tiffany LeTexier
Margie Levin and Claire Wilcoxson
in memory of Leigh Anne Marino
Susan and Robert Levy
in memory of Chandra Levy
Ann Lincoln and Kim Evans
in memory of Tiffany O’Shell and Alyssa O’Shell
Erica Lindemann
in memory of Amelia Grace Sperry
Tamara and Terry Liptow
in memory of Brenda Lee Liptow
Becky Logsdon-Dougherty
in memory of Darin S. Hart
Nancy and John Logue
Margery and Anthony Longo
in memory of Chris Marie Longo
Barbara and Clyde Lord
in memory of Sharon Lord
Jean and Rolland Lorenz
in memory of Susan and David Lorenz
Loving Moms
in memory of Danny, Nick, Shain, Christopher, Joe, and Katie
Shirwill and Stephen Lukes
in memory of McKinley Lukes
Beverly and Barry Lustig
in memory of Suzanne Helaine Lustig
Marie and Wayne Luzzo
in memory of Joseph A. Luzzo
Mark Lynch
in memory of Monica Lynch
Lynn and Norval Lyon
in memory of Rory David Boyer
Barbara and Tom MacDonald
in memory of Matthew MacDonald
Jo and Rick Machon
in memory of Madison Jo Gecho
Katie Mahon
in memory of Kevin Mahon
Karen and Tom Majusiak
in memory of Thomas Joseph Majusiak, Charles Majusiak,
and Cassidy Majusiak
Sally Maligas
in memory of James Paul Maligas
Maria and Steve Malin
Bob Malkowski
in memory of Tom Malkowski
Brook Mallak
in memory of Frank David Handeland
Sandra Marder
in memory of Eric Marder
Valerie Marderosian
in memory of James-Paul Randall Sindt
Diane and Dominic Mark
in memory of Alena Rose Mark
Yolanda and Randy Marsh
in memory of Stephanie Lauren Marsh
David Martin
Maxine and Frank Martin
in memory of Craig Martin
Steve Mason
in memory of Chris “Mase” Mason
Sheila and Richard Masterson
in memory of Richard
Pete Mather
in memory of ENS Beth Anne Mather USN
Barbara and Ned Mathias and Family
in memory of Angelena L. Blosser
Mary Anne and Joe Mattero
in memory of Peter Matrin Mattero
Jo Mattison
in memory of Trey Cooper
Robin May-Davis
in memory of Sara May
Connie Mays
Janet and Tom McAlister
in memory of Keith Alton McAlister
Kim McArthur
in memory of Brandon Griffiths
George McBride and Lois E. Kortum
in memory of Timothy Patrick McBride
Anna and Mark McCarthy
in memory of Michael Sasso
Cindy McClain
in memory of Dylan Michael McClain
Barbara McClenahan
in memory of David C. McClenahan
Kathleen McDaniel
in memory of Terry Scott and Wayne Harris
Barbara McDonald
in memory of Sean Christopher McDonald
Barbara and David McIntyre
Kenneth McKelvey
in memory of Chris McKelvey
Evelyn McNeill
in memory of Phillippia A. Epps
Gail McPherson
Marcia and Frankie McQueen
in memory of Trina Marie McQueen
Maureen and Frank Medeiros
in memory of David J. Medeiros
Lorna Meier
in memory of Richard Meier and Charles J. Meier
Andrea Meigs
in memory of Alexandra Nina Meigs
Gina Melgoza
in memory of Alexis Danielle Melgoza
Pam Mendoza
in memory of Nikki Mendoza
Sandra Menefee
in memory of Jason Lhotka
Selva Menendez
in memory of Solange Menendez
Audrey and Donnie Mercer
in memory of Rodney Allen Mercer
Irwin Michelman
in memory of Elizabeth Ann Michelman
Susan and Doug Miduri
in memory of Nicholas Morret
Becky and Tom Mikowski
in memory of Peyton Alese Mikowski
Carol Miller
in memory of Scott David Miller
Laura and Rachel Miller and Bob Rine
in memory of Melissa Allison Sproles
Marilyn Miller
in memory of Scott Allen and Jeffery Lee Miller
Sharon Miller
Susan and Lee Miller
in memory of Nathan Miller
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Mourning and Grieving:
Celebrating a Life Well-Lived
~By Lynda Zussman
Rumi said it best: “Grief can be the garden of compassion.”
I spotted this quote as I sat in my garden grieving over the
sudden death of our 26-year-old daughter. Jogging with her
fiancé in New York Central Park on Memorial Day 2008,
Lauren Nicole Zussman went into cardiac arrest. One phone
call changed the life of a virtually happy family. It was exactly
eight years to the day of almost succumbing to an overdose
of alcohol while vacationing at Lake Havasu. Clean and
sober, never wavering, this Ford International Model almost
became the poster child for the 12-Step Program. She was only
four courses short of a life coach credential from New York
University when she was unexpectedly taken away because of
an unknown heart condition.
Temporarily, there is no value to life when you lose a child.
I am now on the outside, looking into other houses filled with
life and laughter. I belong to a club that no one wants to join,
nor should they. The ebb and flow of the realization of death,
being so final, terrifies my soul. Shock waves continue as a
sense of denial weaves its way back and forth to a false sense
of security. The conveyor belt of confusion, anger, sadness,
guilt, and dread continues on, as a quiet death within me
permeates. I speak to my daughter daily, if only in my mind.
The soothing music in the background, the burning
candles, and the comfort of a maroon shawl surround the
many sleepless nights of my grieving. Photographs and visual
memories of your flesh, your energy, and your breathtaking
smile appear in the corner of my mind, as the wick from the
candle illuminates the dark room. As I sip my cup of vanilla
Chai tea, your favorite evening pleasure, I quietly wipe my
tears as I stare at the light with memories drifting in and out—
from childhood woes to witnessing a mature woman evolving
through the disparity of life.
The quiet absence of your energy, whether by phone or in
person, leaves me empty every day with endless sorrow. My
amputated limbs leave my body with an empty shell. I fear that
I will not feel life, as I have known it. The past is now a dream,
as I have crossed over to the other side. And although I am still
here on earth, I can never relive that lifeline between you and
me, even though I know in my heart that the imaginary cord
will always unite us.
I will always carry your voice, your passions, your incredible
love for your friends and your family, for you just got it: the
true meaning of life before most of us ever did. I will carry
you on my shoulder for a lifetime. We are simply better people
because your human spirit has taught us so much about life.
It has been several months since Lauren’s passing and time
has given us periods of normalcy, although, as my husband
has said, we have had to create a new normal. I must have the
courage to go on, not only for myself, but more importantly,
for my husband and our other daughter. We all wear a silver
chain bracelet with “COURAGE” engraved on one side and
“LAUREN 08” on the other side. Lauren’s courage inspires us,
as she would so not want us to suffer.
My memories of her coming home, to our bed parties with
her favorite foods, to reading magazines and studying fashion
together, remind me of a girl stirring with delight. Tea parties
and back scratching went along with watching old Richard
Gere movies (especially Pretty Woman, Autumn in New
York, and An Officer and a Gentleman) or Grey’s Anatomy.
Laughing, once again at the movie Romy and Michele or
commenting on each young celebrity and their dramatic life.
Eating salmon with veggies drenched in olive oil, or eating
endless bowls of my homemade soups; these memories put
a smile on my face every time. Listening to her favorite
singer, Ray LaMontagne stirs our souls. I hope the light of her
memories overshadow the darkness of her passing.
Her Bohemian style of dress, similar to a French savvy
woman, had an unique style of its own, with wrapped-around
colorful scarves and gypsy-style skirts, yet I envision her
donning a T-shirt, jeans, and boots. Lauren walked with poise
and dignity, even when she had her long, flowing, chestnut hair
in a ponytail under a cap and wearing sweats.
Our endless conversations about the latest spiritual book,
or a profound weekend movie, were moving to both of us.
Sometimes a report on a weekend of lectures from well-known
sages contributed to her bank of knowledge. I will miss the
intimate dance of meaningful conversations that comes from
trust and love. I will miss the give-and-take of sharing our
human side, when we would often hide from the real world.
I hope that Lauren is with nature—she so loved the fragrant,
gardenia and jasmine flowers, willowing trees, and the ocean’s
waves. Lauren loved fairies, and we have a statue of a fairy
reading a book that looks a lot like her, sitting in our garden.
We also have a bird feeder, with hummingbirds flying to it
daily as we greet Lauren’s spirit.
But most of all, I think being of service to others gave her
the greatest joy. Perhaps after helping many, she continues to
help a new breed of needy souls, in another land, or on another
plane. Why else would her life have ended so abruptly?
Many times, growing up, we made visual memories by
closing our eyes during special times, like when we brought
a new kitten home, or moved into a new house. My soul is
depleted, my spirit is broken, but I hang on to that cord, that
rope, knowing that I will never relinquish it completely.
There are so many unanswered questions, but I do know one
thing: there is no prescription for grieving. v
Lynda Zussman lives in Newport Beach, California, and has
written the book Throw Me the Rope: A Memoir on Loving
Lauren, available at Amazon.com. You can read more at
Lynda’s website, throwmetheropebook.com, or contact her at
[email protected].
•
23
3/5/12 10:34 AM
The Staff of Thomas Miller Elementary School
in memory of Thomas Andrew Haynes, and in honor of
Janice Haynes
Tracy Milne
in memory of Andrew G. Milne
Mira’s Movement
in memory of all the children lost to cancer
Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell
in memory of William Alexander Lewis Mitchell
Nancy and Richard Moeller
Teboho Moja
in honor of Tumi McCallum
Nancy and Anthony Molle
in memory of William Lloyd Plummer; and in honor of Billy
Rudy Molnar
Maria Monahan
in memory of Tommy Monahan
Montefiore Medical Group
in memory of Vincent Cangro
Nancy Mooney
in memory of Dorothy Pellegrin
Judy and Otis Moore
in memory of Karen Moore Hayden
Karen Moore
in memory of Sam Moore
Sandy Moreland
Jane and Dean Moren
in memory of Joel Albert Moren
Loretta and Robert Morin
in memory of Michael Anthony “Tony” Morin
Linda and Larry Moris
in memory of Larry Matthew Moris
Bonita Morlese
in memory of Dwayne A. James
JoAnn and Frank Morrissey
in memory of David Michael Morrissey
Mike Moss
in memory of Morgan Moss
Mr. and Mrs. Most
in memory of Billy and Rebecca Most
JoAnn Mozelewski
in memory of Amanda Davis
Ann and Adam Mumm
in memory of Jack Adam Mumm
Art and Mary Narverud
Cathy and Robert Neeson
Kathryn Nejdl
in memory of Timothy L. Nickos
Betty Nelson
in memory of Mark Nelson
Judy and Bruce Nelson
in memory of Brian Nelson
Pat Nigro
in memory of Joseph Nigro Jr.
Kim Nissen
in memory of Mark F. Vermeern
Etta and Chuck Nissman
in memory of Jeffrey Nissman
Ellen and Alan Nunes
in memory of Tyson Nunes
Joan and Bob Nypaver
in memory of Theresa Marie Nypaver
Ellen and Charles Oakley
in memory of Dale Timothy Oakley
Sherry O’Brien
in memory of Kevin Patrick O’Brien
Janet and Pat O’Donnell
in memory of Brian Patrick O’Donnell
Shirley and Dennis O’Donnell
in memory of Lauren O’Donnell and Paige Gibson
Connie and Darrell O’Kelley
in memory of Maureen Nicole O’Kelley
Carol and Tom Olesen
in memory of Travis J. Olesen
Judy and Harvey Olitsky
in memory of Aaron Samuel Olitsky
Christine and Robert Onges
Doris O’Reilly-Dillon
in memory of Heather Dillon
24
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Cheri Ormsby
in memory of Josephine Marlenga
Karen O’Rourke
in memory of Carrie Scott Ortiz
Leila Otey
in memory of Brad Spelman
Mary Anne Owens
in memory of Mary Kay Owens
Linda and John Pace
in memory of Keith A. Pace
Robin and Pete Padavana
in memory of Peter J. Padavana
Rao Palagummi
in memory of Padmapriya Palagummi
Iris Palley
Mary and Ted Palmer
in memory of Mark C. Palmer
Diane and Richard Panke
in memory of John Richard Panke
Cheryl Paquette
in memory of Bryant Paquette
Linda Parkin
in memory of Sarah Day Heddy
Mr. and Mrs. Partridge
Rezondala and Thomas Patrick
in memory of Carmelita Patrick
Dan Pearson
in memory of Justin Pearson
Wendi and Charles Peer
in memory of Ryley Peer
Vicki and Pete Pellerito
in memory of Annemarie Pellerito
Mr. and Mrs. Pequignot
in memory of Wade Pequignot
David Perkins
Shirley and Leonard Peters
in memory of Mari Peters Prill
Norma Petersen
in memory of Eric A. Petersen
Julia and Mark Peterson
in memory of Nicholas Paul Peterson
Lisa Peterson
in memory of Daniel John Ramirez
Betsey and Pat Petit
in memory of Sarah Ellen Petit
Michael Petrizzo
in memory of Michael David Petrizzo
The Phoenix Security Group
in memory of Tiffanie Collins
Phojoe
Judy and Bob Pinsonnault
in memory of Joshua Sullivan
Judy and George Pizzo
in memory of Amber Pizzo
Ken Porizek
in memory of Jeffrey Michael Porizek
Wanda and Robert Praisner
in memory of Stephen John Praisner
Denise and Jeff Pratt
in memory of Nikolai Luczki
Arlene Priest
in memory of Marc Priest
Layton Priest
Karen Protiva
in memory of John A. Protiva
Shirley Pruitt-Streetman
in memory of Gary Pruitt
Frank Pruss
in memory of Nicholas Raphael Falco III
Norman Pudenz
Doreen and Patrick Raftery
in memory of Coleen M. Raftery
Linda Ramga
in memory of Douglas C. Ramga
Kathy and Dan Rausch
in memory of Max Benjamin Rausch
Beverly and Benton Rayborn
in memory of Bobby Gale Rayborn
Catherine and Peter Read
in memory of Mary Karen Read
Mary Reader and Stacey Green
in memory of Lindsey Hayden McLain Reader
Carole Reese
in memory of Tania Tre’panier
Dianne and Herman Reininga
in honor of Ellen and Terry Noble
Remembering Our Children
in memory of their children
Mary and John Ribecky
in memory of Kathryn Elizabeth Ribecky
Ellen Rieger
in memory of Ethan Everett Martin
Sherrill Rigney
in memory of Michelle Lynn Rigney
Cheryl Rinda
in memory of David C. Bill
Pat Rizzo
in memory of Daniel C. Rizzo
Gail and Jeff Roberts
in memory of Claire Aubrey Roberts
Jennifer Roberts
Mary and Vic Roberts
in memory of Craig Matthew Roberts and
Joshua Evan Roberts
Melissa and Don Roberts
in memory of Shane Roberts
Nancy Roberts
April Robichaud
in memory of Teddy Haeussler
Jane Robinson
in memory of Richard “Rick” Douglas Robinson
Mr. and Mrs. Robles
in memory of Robert A. Robles
Darline Rodgers
in memory of Morgan Aaron Rodgers
Leslie Rolison
in memory of Delaney Leigh Rolison
Norma Rollinger
in memory of Celeste Ann Kinney
Nancy Rollins
in memory of Christoher M. Rollins
Jacqueline and Danny Rolnick
in memory of Mia Sofia Rolnick
Jodi Rooney and Family
in memory of Brendan Terrence Rooney; and in honor of
Leo Terrence Rooney
Marilyn and Larry Roseberry
in memory of Evan Roseberry
Bettye and Sam Rosenberg
in memory of Michael Rosenberg
Toby and Herbert Rosenberg and Family
in memory of Dina Faith Rosenberg
Barbara and David Rosner
in memory of David R. Rosner
Lauren Rossi
Shirley Rubin-Rollins
in memory of Jason Louis Patterson
Coralease and Willie Ruff
in memory of Candice (Kandy) M. Ruff
Lu Ruff
in memory of Carene Young
Kathy and Rae Runck
in memory of Daniel James Runck
Christine Rundell
Jill and Robert Runke
in memory of Amanda Runke
Sandra and Kenneth Rupp and Family
in memory of Chris E. Rupp
Libby and Jim Rush
in memory of David Louis Rush
Bonnie Russo
in memory of Matthew Russo
Chris and Greg Russo
in memory of William F. Pyra
Donna and Edward Rutkowski
in memory of George Rutkowski
Amy and Joe Rutledge
in memory of Quentin Rutledge
3/5/12 10:34 AM
Lisa and Tim Sabatino
in memory of Timothy James Sabatino
Jean and Don Safreed
in memory of Rachel Anne Safreed
Russell Sage
in memory of Michael Vincent Sage
Barbara and Evan Salop
in memory of Dr. Bob Bauer
Robert Salter
Kate Sanders
in memory of Brenton Sanders
Lucinda and William Sanders
in memory of Christopher Lee Sanders
Nina Sanders
in memory of Susan Sanders
Martha and Mike Santoro
in memory of Paula Rosina Santoro
Jeff Saper
in memory of Riley Saper
Donna Sasenick
William Sawyerr
in memory of Esteé N. Sawyerr
Martin Scafidi
in memory of Daniel M. Scafidi
Rosanna Scannell
in memory of Benjamin Edinger
Lois Schneider
in memory of Shannon Marie
Schneider Electric/Square D Foundation
in memory of Heidi & Wendy Klenotiz
Elaine and Mark Schnurle
in memory of Tim Schnurle
Barbara Schrage
in memory of Olivia Mary Catherine Cerone
Susanna Schroadter
in memory of Logan Christopher and
Archer Logan Schroadter
Joan Schroeder
in honor of Karl, Sue, and Karen Snepp
Vickie and Norm Schuring
in memory of Michael James Schuring
Patty and David Schwartz
in memory of Andrew J. Schwartz
Jonathan Scilken
in memory of David Scilken
Deborah and Tim Scott
in memory of Justin Stewart Scott
Joan and Stewart Senator
in memory of Stephen Eric Senator
Karen and Wallace Serbus
in memory of Scott Jerome Serbus
Lorrie Shafer
in memory of Eric S. Schalow
Rose and Norman Sharp
in memory of Diana Rose Sharp
Madeline and Robert Sharples
in memory of Paul Sharples
Anne and John Shattuck
in memory of David E. Hobson
Barb and Greg Sheehy
in memory of Todd Seth
Diana and David Shelton
in memory of Mindy Lea Shelton
Beverly Shepard
in memory of Kevin Michael Shepard
Stephanie and Harold Shields
in memory of Evan and Garrett Shields
Marti and Julien Shoemaker
in memory of David H. Shoemaker
Willadean and J. L. Short
in memory of Danielle Lee Short
Ron Sibley
in memory of Laurie Jean Sibley
Craig Siegman
Carmela and Tom Slivinski
in memory of Francesca Slivinski
S. Nancy Simches
Sue and Philip Simonson
in memory of Kyle Davis Simonson
Ginny and Walt Simpson
in memory of Greg Simpson
Pat and Bob Simpson
in memory of Teresa A. Simpson
Lorraine and Craig Skrzypecki
in memory of Finley Mitchel Skrzypecki
Debbie Sladek
Donna and Don Smith
in memory of Andrew J. Smith
Janet and Robert Smith
in memory of Kristi Smith Wainscott
Judith Smith
in memory of Tyler Leger
Fran and Jeff Snyder
in memory of Sean J. Snyder
Marchelle Snyder
in memory of Daniel Patrick Snyder
Dianne, Daniel, and Joshua Solomon
in memory of Zachary Solomon
Joseph Sortino
in memory of Thomas F. Sortino
Karen Sowinski
Rose Marie and Gene Sprando
in memory of Richard and Rebecca Sprando
Kristine Spykes
in memory of James Paul Spykes
Cheryl and Michael Stader
in memory of Michael S. Strader II
Kristen and David Stafford
in memory of Dale and Jesse Harrison
Adrian Stanford
in memory of Kayla A. Stanford
Audrey Stanley
in memory of John Craven
Julia Starkey
in memory of Carson Starkey
Barbara Starr
in memory of David Charles Starr
Georgianna Starz
in memory of Christopher Starz
Ellen and Tom Steele
Phyllis Stemmons
in memory of Amy Bartelmey and Stephen Hough
Zelda Stern
in memory of Michael Yale Stern
Bob Stevens
in memory of Laura Diane Stevens
Connie and John Stitt
in memory of Margaret Mutschler Carney
The Stockdale Family
in honor of Charles and Glenda Merwine
Kim Stokes
in memory of Edward Kenneth Lee
Peggy and Lewis Strader
in memory of Christopher L. Strader
Diane and Phil Strahm
in memory of Carly Ann Strahm Tenpenny
Mark Struckhoff
Bobbie Stubler
in memory of Nicholas Stubler
Mr. and Mrs. Stutts Jr.
in memory of Russell R. Stutts III
Demet and Taclan Suerdem
in memory of Sevi Suerdem
Laura Sulkowski
in memory of David Michael Sulkowski
Lawrence Sullivan and Carla Wood
in memory of Lauren Renée Sullivan
Norita Sullivan
in memory of Capt. John T. Spolsky
Ida Summlion
in memory of Carrington L. Summlion
Barbara and Buddy Suter
in memory of Jodi and Adam Suter
Ann Marie and Bob Sweeney
Suzanne and Michael Sylvina
in memory of Stacy Sylvina Connell
Alisa Taylor
in memory of Alex K. Taylor
Roe and Tiho Teisl
in memory of Christopher Teisl
Elaine Timbers
Kim and Joel Tiss
Diane Tobin
in memory of Pamela Roberson
Elizabeth and Robert Tolley
in memory of Alan Clark Tolley
Martha and Carl Tomanelli
in memory of Kristin Underkoffler
Patricia and Lawrence Toole
in memory of Daniel L. Toole
Bridie and Paul Tracy
in memory of Paul Tracy Jr. and Tom Tracy
Kelly and Rick Trieb
in memory of Tyler Owen Trieb
Connie and David Truelsch
in memory of Rebecca H. Truelsch
Judy and Mike Truitt
in memory of Frank A. Thompson III
Jo Ann Turner
in memory of E. Dean Turner IV
Katharine Uhle
in memory of Raymond John Uhle
Marilyn and Kenneth Umble
in memory of Jordan Matthew Umble
Karen Umstot
in memory of Matthew Umstot
Untapped
Tiffany Uszynski
in memory of Michael John Uszynski
Diana and John Vagianos
in memory of Nicole Vagianos
Deb Van Epps
in memory of Stephen Eisenhauer
Margie and Ron Verostek
in memory of Ryan Verostek
Manu Videki
in memory of Kavita Jain
Clara and Clifford Vogt
in memory of Dave Snepp; and in honor of Karl, Sue, and
Karen Snepp
Rita and John Volz
in memory of Dustin Volz
Kathleen and Jeff Wachtel
in memory of Julia Ciervo
Nancy Wallace Briordy
in memory of Danny Wallace
The Walner Family
in memory of Rocket Williams
Molly and Robert Walsh
in memory of Drew Walsh
Jeanne and Robert Walz
in memory of Kelly Jeanne Thompson
Kim Ward
in memory of Aaron Selchow
Iris Warren
Kelly Warren
in memory of Kayla Stanford
Marcie Warrington
in memory of Johnny Warrington
The Wassweiler Family
Gail and Chip Watterson
in memory of Isaac Gordon Hupana Watterson
Cathy and Fred Wayand
in memory of Timothy F. Wayand
Arlene and Richard Weaver
in memory of Roger W. Weaver
Jean and Tom Webb
Rod Webber
in memory of Mike Webber
Linda and Rudy Weissberg
in memory of Rudy Weissberg
Varda and Arnie Wendroff
in memory of Lauren Michelle Wendroff
Martina and Robert West
in memory of Serena
The Westenberg Family
in memory of Patrick J. May
Wendy and Russell Wheeler
in memory of Kyle Wayne McKibben
•
25
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Richard Carlson
After the beautiful candlelight
ceremony last night, I found myself
tossing and turning until 2:00 in the
morning. I decided to get up and not
fight it anymore. I was remembering
Brandon and all the pictures of the lost
loved ones we had honored. Then my
overactive, stimulated mind thought
of baseball. You might ask why, in the
middle of winter, I was thinking of
baseball and not hockey or football.
It might be that I’m already looking
forward to spring, but I think baseball
was on my mind because I feel there can
be some similarities to how it mirrors
life. Let me explain.
When we start our lives, we go into
what is the equivalent of spring training.
We learn about the different positions life
can offer. We learn how to hit, to throw,
and about the rules of the game. As a
baseball player learns from the old pros
on the team, we in life (if we are smart)
learn from our parents, and grandparents.
I realize that most of us come away from
this process saying, “No way am I going
to make the same mistakes that they did,”
but I think this is part of the exuberance
of youth, and once spring training is over
and we get into the game, these thoughts
begin to change.
The length of spring training is
different for all of us. For most it ends
when we graduate from high school, go
off to college, or get married. Eventually
we join the big game, and we find that
the learning continues. We learn about
our teammates, opposing players, and
where the game is going to be played.
Most of the time we find that the position
we trained for is not the one we end up
playing. In fact, we find out that as we
go through the game of life, we may play
many different positions. Sometimes
we find ourselves sitting on the bench
because of injuries and wondering,
26
•
“What am I doing here?” We don’t even
know how many hits, errors, or runs
we’ve had, or how long the game is
going to be.
In my case I started the first inning
and got well into the game just being
fat, dumb, and happy. I had some hits,
scored a few runs, and definitely made
some errors. Then four years ago, or
somewhere in the middle inning of
the game, it all changed. It was at that
time that I was faced with nine pitches
and three strikeouts; the last due to a
curveball. The death of my son Brandon,
changed the whole makeup of the game.
The rules changed, and I found myself
going back into training.
I woke up and found that the inning
was over and a new one was about to
begin. I found that I had to relace my
spikes even tighter, and that pounding my
glove may have formed a new pocket,
but it hurt my hand. I could have chosen
to get a new glove or new shoes, and for
some people that is the way to stay in
the game, But I found comfort in a glove
and shoes that were well worn. I found
that I may have been knocked out of that
inning, but the game was still going on
and I had to learn the new rules, I had to
try to get more hits and score more runs.
The errors are another issue.
Although the game is still going on,
I do not know what the score is or what
inning I’m in. Like when I was hit by
a foul ball in high school, I now know
that I’m better at keeping the scorebook
than backing away from a sweeping
curve. So now in the later innings of
life, I keep the bench warm, my laces
tight, my glove next to me, and my
pencil sharp. As a scorekeeper, I’ve
tried to use the eraser to wipe out that
one really horrible inning, but the home
plate umpire keeps reminding me that
he is the one who controls the game. He
reminds me that he will decide when
the game is over, who’s out, or if we
play extra innings. In the meantime,
I’m ready to go in to pinch-hit, to be the
pro. I know that my other children have
already said that they are not going to
make the mistakes that Dad did. They
have had the same bad inning in their
game that I have had with Brandon’s
death, but that is where the similarities
in our games end. My hope is that I will
be able to be there for my grandchildren
and give them the opportunity to say,
“I’m not going to make the same
mistakes that Grandpa did.”
Baseball is a great game, while the
game of life leaves a lot to be desired.
In baseball there are very few perfect
games, very few no-hitters. The same
thing is true for life. We know that our
perfect game was spoiled by the death
of a loved one. We have had one bad
inning, but the game still goes on to give
us many more opportunities to score in
future innings.v
Richard Carlson and his wife, Sharon, have
six childeren; Kristi, Michelle, Shanda,
Allicia, David, and Brandon, who died on
Thanksgiving Day a little over four years
ago. Richard is retired, and together with
Sharon, founded the St. Paul Chapter of
Compassionate Friends.
We Need Not Walk Alone
Winter/Spring 2009–2010
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Creative Expression: A Tool for Healing Through Grief
Unspeakable Loss: Helping Parents Cope with a Child Suicide
The Money-Burge Act: In Memory of David Christopher Money
For Brothers and Sisters: Feed Me
For Grandparents:
Healing Your Child as They Grieve the Loss of Their Child
Book Review: What Does That Mean
The Letter
Talking to Children About Death
Worldwide Candle Lighting®
Lariat of Love
TCF 33rd National Conference in Arlington, Virginia
Focus on Your Journey
Now Accepting Advertising
We Need Not Walk Alone is now
accepting paid advertising for grief-related
information and products.
Ads are available in 1/4-page, 1/2-page,
and full-page sizes, and are accepted in
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additional information, including pricing,
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
BOOK REVIEW
•
BOOK REVIEW
~By Harriet Hodgson
~Review by Dr. Heidi Horsley
Harriet Hodgson, the author of 30 books, is no stranger to
overcoming adversity and finding happiness after loss. In her
latest inspirational and moving book for all those who mourn,
she asks, “Will I survive? Will I ever be happy again?”
After she was left to raise her twin grandchildren, while
grieving for four family members, including her daughter,
Harriet vowed not to let her deceased daughter down. Her
pledge then and now: Helen, I will not fail you. Although
Harriet has faced many challenges in her life, she describes
multiple losses as the worst. Despite great adversity and loss,
she reminds us that we are not alone in our grief, and, though
losses may define our lives, they will not destroy them.
This book is a must-have for anyone who has lost a
family member. Written in a conversational style, the
•
BOOK REVIEW
chapters are a chronology of a grief journey, and the
titles include:
• Life’s New Roles
• The Impact of One Loss and Many
• Weaving Your Safety Net
• Unforeseen Challenges
• Tapping Your Inner Strength
• Self-Care Steps
• Affirming Yourself
• The Happiness Choice
• A New Normal, a New Life
Readers may turn to the resource section for more
information, and there are blank pages for you to jot
down your personal happiness plan. From start to
finish, this book is all about help. In the preface Harriet
tells how to make the most of Happy Again! and writes:
Think of this book as a happiness guide and the
recovery tips as signposts. Like all signposts, you may
follow them, ignore them, or return to them later. The
choices you make depend on your needs, which change
from day to day and, in the throes of early grief, from
hour to hour. The suggestions in this book will help you
plan the new life that awaits you.
This book tugged at my heartstrings. Harriet’s
account of a journey from despair to hope is filled with
practical suggestions on how to once again have a
meaningful life. Her twin grandchildren were 15 years
old when they moved in with her, and as the months
passed, Harriet realized life had given her a choice. She
could choose to be happy or choose to exist. Harriet is
someone that has not only survived multiple losses, she
has gone on to thrive. This book tells how she chose
happiness, and gives you tools, tips, and sage advice
for doing the same.
As the executive director for the Open to Hope
Foundation, I highly recommend this book! Not
only will I recommend it to bereaved families, I will
recommend it to professionals and graduate students
working in the field of grief and loss. Happy Again!
Your New and Meaningful Life After Loss inspired me,
and I think it will inspire you. v
Dr. Heidi Horsley, PsyD., is a bereaved sibling, as well as
a psychologist. She is the executive director of the Open
to Hope Foundation, cohost of the Open to Hope radio
program, and an adjunct professor at Columbia University.
This book is published by the Centering Corporation,
and can be ordered through their website at
www.centering.org, or by calling 866-218-0101.
Free shipping is offered to TCF chapters and members.
•
27
3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Sam Turner
Our meetings average 35 attendees. We break into three
smaller groups and tighten the circles so we are knee-to-knee.
We can now hear the soft voices of grievers, and we share a
sense of closeness that is so important in the circle process. A
newly bereaved may feel more comfortable and is more likely
to share with a smaller group. The larger the group, the easier
it is for the newly bereaved to disappear into silent tears and
not share. One facilitator in each group guides the discussion
and acts as a “gatekeeper” to ensure that each member has a
chance to speak.
At a recent meeting, I found myself in a group of six
“seasoned” grievers, three of whom were facilitators; a rare
happening.
So . . . what do “seasoned” grievers talk about when in a
small circle? What could possibly be said that the six of us
have never discussed before? Our facilitator began by telling
about her daughter’s art book that her teacher recently found.
That led to discussing the book Elsewhere, by Gabrielle
Zevin, a young adult book with an unusual theme.
“It’s difficult to imagine my daughter at age 32, but I know
what she looked like when she was eight!”
The subject was a springboard for sharing memories of
enjoyable experiences. We were relaxed as we spoke of
remembered events. We drifted rudderless, from one thought
to another, until someone mentioned gravesite visitations.
A member told of trying to grow grass on his son’s grave
but it always died. It turned out that some of his son’s friends
regularly visited the site drinking beer . . .
Another member spoke of feeling comfortable celebrating
Mother’s Day by having a beer while sitting next to his
mother’s crypt.
We talked about pennies, dimes, and butterflies . . . We
talked about “visits” by our children’s spirits.
There was laughter.
There were tears.
We spoke of loneliness and moments of closeness. Of most
importance was the feeling of togetherness that this small
group shared. We agreed that small-group experiences like
this are the very heart of The Compassionate Friends!
At hour’s end, we all spoke our children’s names in unison:
kennydrewsabrinaariellemercerrobert! v
Sam and his wife, Phyllis, are coeditors/facilitators of Walking
this Valley, the monthly newsletter for the Tucson Chapter of The
Compassionate Friends. Their son Robert died of a sleep disorder
July 2, 1997, at age 23. They have three surviving children.
Subscription and Patron Form
The Compassionate Friends, Inc.
900 Jorie Blvd., Suite 78 / P.O. Box 3696, Oak Brook, IL 60522-3696
[Quantity subscriptions are available. Contact the National Office toll-free at 877-969-0010.]
____ Yes, I would like a subscription to
We Need Not Walk Alone, the national
magazine of The Compassionate Friends,
published triannually.
( ) $20 U.S.A.
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( ) $30 Foreign Countries
____ Yes, I would like to make
a Patron donation and receive a
subscription to We Need Not Walk
Alone. As a Patron, I understand
that I will be assisting TCF in the
promotion of the positive resolution of grief and the fostering of
emotional and physical health of
bereaved families throughout the
United States following the death
of a child.
Patron Plan*
( ) Simon Stephens Founder’s Circle
$10,000 or more
( ) President’s Circle
5,000 to 9,999
( ) Circle of Love
2,500 to 4,999
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1,000 to 2,499
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*Annual subscription to magazine included
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28
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
~By Deb Kosmer©
Today someone I loved died. I can’t believe it. I don’t
believe it. I won’t believe it. Family comes. Friends come.
The phone keeps ringing. The doorbell rings again and again.
The ringing seems far away. I hear it but I seem unable to
answer. My legs won’t move. My feet won’t move. I am
glued to the chair. Others answer for me. They seem to know
I don’t remember how.
Tomorrow comes. I didn’t want it to ever come. I wanted
to go back to the time before you died. There, I said it. You
died. Does that make it true? There must be some mistake,
I tell myself. Maybe this is just a bad dream I need to wake
up from. If only someone would wake me up. When people
ask me what they can do for me, I try to tell them the only
thing I want is you. They look sad, they gently shake their
head, they hug me, and still you’re not here.
Your funeral is over. Everyone says I did so well. I hardly
cried. Don’t they see I can’t cry, not yet. I am in shock.
I hear someone else say, “Give her time, that’s all she needs.”
I wonder: Can it really be that simple? If it is, I just want to
run through time, however much it takes to get to the place
where I don’t hurt so bad, don’t miss you so much. But no,
I can’t do that. Even if I could, I would only be farther from
you. My heart cannot bear that.
Days pass. Tomorrow will be one month since you died.
I wonder how I can just skip that day. I am afraid of it; of
reliving every single detail of your death, knowing that one
month ago you were here with me and my world was okay.
Now I have no world. Everyone keeps telling me I just need
to make a new world. But I liked my old one. I never asked to
have it taken from me. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know how
to start over. I don’t know where the beginning of that world
TCF CHAPTER SUPPORT
Circle of Friends ($50–$199)
Madison County Chapter (Edwardsville, IL)
in memory of Jim Monday, Margie Friedline, and
Frank Leonard
Wolf Point Chapter (Wolf Point, MT)
Circle of Caring ($500–$999)
Billings Chapter (Billings, MT)
Circle of Love ($2,500–$4,999)
Nashville Chapter (Nashville, TN)
Camille and Hugh White
in memory of Hugh A. White Jr.
Donna White
in memory of Diane White
Nancy and Ron White
in memory of Keith C. White
Mona and Bob Whitley
in memory of Peter Whitley
is or how to get there. Everything is so hard and makes me so
tired. I just want to stay in bed.
Days pass and turn into weeks. I am stuck in a world
foreign to me, wondering where it is that you are and how
you could have left me.
I force myself to go through the motions of living and
caring for others. They don’t seem to notice it’s just pretend
and I am starring in the hardest role of my life. If only they
had just an inkling of the place that I am in, of my fractured
and broken heart.
I never used to read the obituaries. Now I feel compelled
to do so. I feel like a kindred spirit to others who must also
travel the road I am on. I still feel so alone. Now they will
feel alone, too. I feel like I should say something to them, but
I do not know them; I only know their pain.
Months continue to pass. I am back at work, back in
church, getting my hair done. It all still seems strange,
different, and doesn’t matter like it used to. Friends call.
Sometimes I say, “Yes, I will go to dinner.” Other times I
say, “Thanks for calling, but not today.” Many days it is still
easier to just be alone where I don’t have to hide my tears
when they come, where I can talk to you and not feel strange,
where I can just be however I am that day and not try to fit
into the place others have carved out for me.
Finally, one day I surprise myself. I am humming a tune.
For a little while, I feel lighter. I almost smile. I begin to judge
myself. What’s the matter with me? How can I be even a little
happy when you’re not here? But then I hear your voice in my
head—or is it my heart, the place where you live—saying you
are glad that I am humming, glad I can smile, encouraging
me to live again. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I do
both. But later that day I find myself humming again, and I
smile and I know that I am going to be okay. v
Deb Kosmer has worked in hospice for the past eleven years as a
bereavement coordinator and social worker. She is the bereaved
mother of a son and a stepdaughter, and is a bereaved sibling.
Gina Whitsel
in memory of Matthew David Campagna
Willie and Darrell Wickman
in memory of Geoffrey Deemer Wickman
Becky and Dan Wieder
in memory of Lisa Wieder
Jill and Gregg Williams
in memory of Morgan Leigh Williams
Mia and Taylor Williams
in memory of Rocket Williams
Pamela Williams
in memory of Meredith Williams
Sally Wilmeth and Terry Geurkink
in memory of Jenni and Kyle Geurkink
Sue Wilson
in memory of Allie Tease
Loretta and Jerry Winters
in memory of Don Bruce Winters
Nancy and Daniel Wisley
Karen Wolf
in memory of Brad Wolf
Kim and Randy Wolken
in memory of Adam Wolken
Sue Worrell
in memory of Charlie Williams
Jennifer Worthington
in memory of Cyndy Geissler
Beverly and Jim Wright
in memory of Rhonda L. Andrews
Jane Wrigley
in memory of Joshua Marvin
Kay and Gary Yanka
in memory of Eric L. Yanka
Ann and Ford Young
in memory of Kendall Young
Susan and Amnon Zaks
in memory of Joseph Harry Zaks and Matan Zaks
Karen and Ronald Zaylik
in memory of Brian Ludlow
Mr. and Mrs. Zelmanowitz
in memory of Adam Zelmanowitz
Suzanne Ziegler
in memory of Kristi Leigh Ziegler
Barbara Zinman
in memory of Allison Weingarten
Mary Joyce Zonfrillo
in memory of Michael A. Zonfrillo III
Sandy Zoulek
v
•
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Editor
Catherine Patillo
Copy Editor
Deborah Wiseman
To have material considered for publication,
send to:
[email protected] or [email protected]
or Catherine Patillo, WNNWA
P.O. Box 526194
Salt Lake City, UT 84152-6194
THE COMPASSIONATE FRIENDS
Executive Director
Patricia A. Loder
TCF National Office
900 Jorie Blvd., Suite 78
P.O. Box 3696
Oak Brook, IL 60522-3696
Phone: (630) 990-0010
Toll-Free: (877) 969-0010
Fax: (630) 990-0246
E-mail:
[email protected]
Website:
www.compassionatefriends.org
One complimentary copy of
We Need Not Walk Alone is sent to
bereaved families who contact the
National Office. To receive future issues,
please use the subscription form in this issue or visit
The Compassionate Friends on the Internet at
www.compassionatefriends.org.
Contact the National Office
for information on quantity subscription prices.
Copyright © 2012 The Compassionate Friends, Inc.
All Rights Reserved. We encourage the reprinting
of individual articles, unless specified “one time only,” but
ask that proper credit be given to We Need Not Walk Alone.
This magazine is not to be reproduced for distribution
in its entirety without written permission from
the National Office.
•
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3/5/12 10:34 AM
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Home of The Compassionate Friends
35th National Conference/5th International Gathering
July 20-22, 2012
When you’re grieving the death of a child within your family, nothing seems real, nothing
seems normal. So often friends and relatives don’t know how to give you the support
you need. They mean well, but don’t know how to react to your loss. When you attend a
Compassionate Friends National Conference, you know that everyone is the same—you’re
all grieving for a child, a sibling, or a grandchild. Some will be further along in their journey while others will just be
starting. A TCF National Conference gives you the opportunity to open up about your loss and to learn from others.
Here’s some of what you can expect at the upcoming Compassionate Friends National Conference:
• Four outstanding keynote speakers: Lois Duncan award winning author of 48 books including “Who Killed
My Daughter”; Kathy Eldon, journalist, producer, activist, author whose son, a Reuters photographer, died
at the hands of an angry mob in Somalia; Darcie Sims brings her wit and wisdom as an international speaker,
bereaved parent and certified grief management specialist; and Reverend Canon Simon Stephens, founder of The
Compassionate Friends worldwide and bereaved sibling who recognized that the bereaved can often support
each other in a way no other can.
• More than 100 workshops covering most areas of grief after the death of a child
• Complete sibling program
• Friday evening special entertainment
• Remembrance Candle Lighting
• Sharing sessions, hospitality rooms, meditation room, butterfly boutique, bookstore
• Thirteenth annual Compassionate Friends Walk to Remember
• Much, much more!
One of many positive comments received after last year’s national conference: I attended my first conference and it was
one of the best things I have ever done. The friends I made were incredible and the feeling throughout the whole weekend was so
healing. I never thought I would have to belong to such a club, but am grateful it is there to help. Thank you TCF!
For all the latest information including registration information and online reservations for the host hotel, the beautiful
Hilton Orange County/Costa Mesa hotel, visit www.compassionatefriends.org and click on “TCF 2012 National/
International Conference” under “News and Events,” or call 877-969-0010.
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