MartyT

Dear Ones, As each of you accurately observe, this re-awakening of intense grief around the six-month mark is not at all unusual, and in fact is normal and very common. This is why we encourage the bereaved to consider joining a grief support group, most especially at this particualr point in their grief journey. It may help to read what these various authors have to say about finding support in a group (see below). Such writings also serve to explain why our own Grief Healing Discussion Groups can be so helpful: It is often difficult for a widow or widower to express genuine and at times, intense grief, because of our society’s tendency to view death as an unnatural occurrence rather than as a universal phase of the life cycle. Society also tends to put the widow or widower on a time schedule for the grieving process and usually prefers that the bereaved partner “get on with living.” A support group can combat this insensitive societal schedule by encouraging bereaved spouses to establish their own timetable for grieving. Bereavement support groups represent an excellent approach to this highly vulnerable population, because the small-group format can specifically address and lessen “the intense social isolation experienced by most bereaved spouses” (Yalom and Vinogradov 1988). In general, the literature advocates support groups for bereaved spouses . . . Support groups for bereaved spouses have several goals: •To assist members to cope with the pain of grief and mourning by creating a community in which they are deeply understood by peers. •To combat the social isolation that is so pervasive •To support members as they begin to understand the changes facing them as they begin to fashion a new future for themselves •To offer hope; to see that others who also know the darkness of loss are not immobilized by it •To obtain support from others who’ve shared a similar loss [source: The Loss of a Life Partner, by Carolyn Ambler Walter, © 2003 Columbia University Press, p. 229] The worth of [grief support groups] does not emanate from empirically supported treatments, but from something much more simple (yet powerful): the telling of stories. The meetings are anchored in honoring each member’s stories of grief and supporting each other’s need to authentically mourn. No effort is made to interpret or analyze. The group affirms the storyteller for the courage to express the raw wounds that often accompany loss. The stories speak the truth, and create hope and healing. [The leader’s] role is not so much about group counseling techniques as it is about creating “sacred space” in the group so that each person’s story can be non-judgmentally received. Effective grief group leadership is a humble yet demanding role of creating this space in ways that members can express their wounds in the body of community. The very experience of telling one’s story in the common bond of the group contradicts the isolation and shame that characterizes so many people’s lives in a mourning-avoidant culture. And, because stories of love and loss take time, patience, and unconditional love, they serve as powerful antidotes to a modern society that is all too often preoccupied with getting people to “let go” and “move on.” The creation of new meaning and purpose in life requires that mourners “re-story” their lives. Obviously, this calls out for the need for empathic companions, not treaters. Indigenous cultures acknowledge that honoring stories helps reshape a person’s experience. The stories are re-shaped not in the telling of the story once or twice or even three times, but over and over again. Mourners need compassionate listeners to hear and affirm their truths. [source: Companioning the Bereaved, by Alan D. Wolfelt, PhD, © 2006, Companion Press, pp. 82-83] I searched the Internet for hours to find groups that could relate to this pain. I was fortunate to know a few other mothers who had experienced the loss of a child. These mothers sought me out to offer me comfort and hope. We should not be alone during this time. We need to hear from others who have been there before us, who can listen to our stories and know what our sorrow feels like. We need to talk about our loved one to strangers, to proclaim to others that our beloved lived and was a real person. Other bereaved people know this and listen willingly. They share their stories also. We help each other by sharing our loss and pain. Eventually we find ourselves on the giving end of this compassion, reaching out to the newly devastated, helping them along, encouraging them, and listening to them. There is an old song we used to sing in church that had this refrain: “Bear one another’s burdens, and share each other’s joys, and love one another, love one another, and bring each other Home.” This is what our lives are all about. There are many people who have suffered the same loss that we ourselves have, who know what our pain feels like and who are able to reach out from beyond their brokenness to help us along. In time, we too are able to turn and help those who come after us on the same road. Together, stumbling, reaching out for help, pausing to offer comfort, walking together, we can complete our journey. In the process, we learn to love and to be loved much more fully. This is one of the gifts of bereavement. [source: Ann Dawson, in A Season of Grief] A knowledge that another has felt as we have felt, and seen things not much otherwise than we have seen them, will continue to the end to be one of life’s choicest blessings. – Robert Louis Stevenson

Shelley, dear ~ I am willing to comply with your request, but I'm feeling a bit confused myself, and I want to be sure I understand what you are asking me to do. Are you wanting me to delete this entire topic (that is, all the messages in the "Given Up" topic that have been posted since November 10), or just this latest message posted by you? For what it's worth, I think there is some benefit in leaving everything just as it is. Your struggle and your ambivalence are reactions that many of our members share (as I think you can see from the kind and caring responses you've received so far from Derek, Lorikelly, Shell, and Trudy). I think you've been on and around this board long enough to know that we’ve discussed the matter of there being no time frame for grief many times in these forums, and we’ve posted several articles on that topic as well. See, for example, I Don’t Care How Long It’s Been, You Should Be Over ‘IT’ We Don’t Have to be Strong In another post, Shell wisely suggested that you print out one or two of these articles for your brother-in-law to read ~ have you considered doing that? In any event, since your most recent posts, I hope we’ve all made clear to you that, whatever you decide to do (leave, stay, keep your posts as they are or delete whichever ones you choose) in this place there is no timetable for your grief, nor is there an expiration date on your membership. We are here for you, Shelley, we will not stand in judgment of you and your individual grief process, and we will not abandon you.

Dear Ones, An interesting article I found today that I think is worth sharing with all of you: How Grief Relates To The Work Of The SoulBob Olson: I'm pleased to be interviewing Laura Scott today on the relationship between grief and soul work. Laura is a psychic, spiritual teacher and channel for healing, and she is going to teach us how grieving is a natural part of our growth process in this journey we call life. Laura, I think it is safe to say that most adults will deal with grief in their lifetime. Do you believe that the grief process is part of most everyone's life purpose? Laura Scott: Hi Bob, it's always a pleasure to connect with you! Yes, sooner or later we will all experience grief on one level or another. It is unavoidable. Grief transcends social classes, cultures, countries, education, backgrounds and more. It is a great equalizer. We grieve the physical loss of loved ones, beloved pets, family members, as well as less tangible things like losses of life roles, health, loss of status, phases of our lives, jobs, ideas, youth, freedom - you name it and someone has grieved for it intimately. Scientists have recently discovered that no matter what the cause, all forms of grief create physical pain and chemical reactions in our body. In other words, grief in any form takes a measurable toll on us physically, one that can actually be quantified and seen in laboratories. The second interesting thing about these studies is that grief over the loss of loved one, whether human or animal, both measured the same identical effects in the body. So whether we are grieving a spouse, or a beloved animal companion the effects in our bodies are equal. That is an important finding because it offers us an opportunity to have more compassion for ALL those who grieve, not just those we can relate to, or those losses we deem 'worthy.' It's a huge opportunity for a lesson in compassion and expanding our inadequate models for understanding grief. Read more . . .

Shelley, dear, From the e-mail messages you’ve sent to me and from the messages you’ve been posting in all of our forums, I understand that you are looking for whatever support you can find. I also understand that you are hurting from the loss of your parents and the home you had with them for so many years, from the loss of your friends and your job and whatever family togetherness you used to feel with your siblings, from the loss of your dog Chelsea who now lives with your brother, and from countless other losses you’ve endured over these last two years as a result of all the changes in your life. There is nothing any of us can say or do to remove your pain or change your circumstances ~ we can offer only our continued presence, and our willingness to walk beside you as you travel this journey. I also want to offer you this. Over the last week I’ve been reading a lovely little book by Daniel Gottlieb entitled Letters to Sam: A Grandfather’s Lessons on Love, Loss, and the Gifts of Life. The book is a series of letters written by a grandfather to his young grandson. The author is truly “a wounded healer,” and knows from his own experience about living with and growing through devastating loss. He was severely injured in an auto accident twenty years ago, left paralyzed with quadriplegia, and has been confined to a wheelchair ever since. He’s also a practicing psychologist and psychotherapist who hosts a call-in radio show for a National Public Radio affiliate in Philadelphia, and he writes a regular newspaper column for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Six years ago Daniel's beloved grandson Sam was diagnosed with autism, when the boy was just under two years old. This book is his effort "to teach [sam] what I've learned about fighting against the kind of adversity that I face almost daily and that I fear he will face in his life. And I wanted to tell him how peace comes to us when we simply stop fighting. Most of all, I wanted to tell Sam about love . . . I wanted him to understand that as he gets older, giving love may be even more important than receiving it." In one of his letters to his grandson Sam, “Losing Your Binky,” Daniel writes eloquently about attachment, loss and transition. In an effort to comfort Sam (who’s reluctantly agreed to give up his pacifier on the occasion of his fourth birthday), this wise grandfather notes that every change in life involves losing something we want, and the older we become, the more we are faced with adjusting to change, and loss, and longing for that which we have lost. He also makes the point that pain is transitional. He reminds us that our reactions to loss are temporary, and eventually they will pass. He writes, Happy fourth birthday! I want to congratulate you on an important year for your growth and development . . . Sam, change is difficult for all of us. The older we get, the more change we face. All change involves loss, and whenever we lose something, we ache to have it back. Everything I have lost in my life – big things and little things – I’ve wanted back at first. So because we know that all change is loss and all loss is change, your mom and dad worried about how you would react when it was time to give up your beloved pacifier – your ‘binky.’ For several months before your birthday, your parents told you that four-year-olds don’t use binkies. In the final weeks, I could see you were both excited and scared about giving it up. On the big day, your mother took you toy shopping and traded in your binky for a toy. When you got home, you cried. ‘I don’t want to be four anymore!” you wailed. “I want to be three!” Many years ago a British psychoanalyst named D. W. Winnicott coined the term ‘transitional object’ to describe how you move from dependence on your parents to independence. Things like baby blankets and pacifiers represent a parent’s touch and help you to manage anxiety and insecurity during this transition. Remember how you cried that first night? Now that you no longer have your binky, you have nothing to protect you from your anxiety. That’s why transitions are hard. Those transitional objects give us the illusion of security. When they are gone, we are left with the insecurity that’s been there all along. Sam, almost everything we become attached to we’ll eventually lose: our possessions, our loved ones, and even our youth and health. Yes, each is a blow. But it’s also an opportunity. There’s an old Sufi saying: “When the heart weeps for what it’s lost, the soul rejoices for what it’s gained.” As much as anyone who loves you would like to rescue you from your pain and give the binky right back to you, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Each stage of growth involves loss. Without it, you can’t have the gain. So when you feel the pain of loss, please don’t grab at something to take away the pain. Just have faith that pain, like everything else, is transitional. Through it, you will learn about your ability to deal with adversity. You will learn about how you manage stress. You will feel pride. On the other side of the pain, you will learn something about who you are. A friend of mine recently told me she had so many difficulties in her life that she felt like she was living in a nightmare and didn’t know what to do. I told her to find the bus station and wait for the bus! She looked at me like I was crazy. I explained that all emotions are temporary, and we can wait for them to pass as though we were waiting for a bus. We can wait with frustration, anger, or feelings of victimhood, but that won’t make the bus come any faster. We could wait with patience and relaxation, but that wouldn’t make the bus come any faster, either! Like all buses, it comes when it comes. We just have to have faith that it’s coming. Everything is temporary – good feelings, bad feelings, binkies, grief. But maybe I don’t need to tell you that. When I visited you last week, just one week after your birthday, you didn’t bring up missing your binky one single time. And you seemed quite proud to be four instead of three. Source: “Losing Your Binky,” in Letters to Sam: A Grandfather’s Lessons on Love, Loss, and the Gifts of Life, © 2006 by Daniel Gottlieb, Sterling Publishing Co., Inc., New York, ISBN1402728832, pp 109-111.

From Sandy Goodman's Love Never Dies Holiday 2006 Ezine: TEN ten christmas dinners ten lighted trees ten nights of candles burning by your grave. ten years, a decade . . . of missing you and still my breath catches when i close my eyes and call you to me and see your smile and hear your laugh and feel your love. you are not gone from our season of joy. you live on and touch us to remind us that trees and candles and family dinners are the memories we fill with the light of love to sustain us for eternity. © 2004 by Sandy Goodman, author of Love Never Dies: A Mother's Journey from Loss to Love and reprinted with her permission. Contact Sandy at sandy@loveneverdies.net; visit her Web site at Love Never Dies. To subscribe to Sandy's e-newsletter, click on Love Never Dies Newsletter and follow the instructions there.

While this author writes from the perspective of a bereaved parent, her observations about “the energy that stems from a passion born out of deep sadness” speak to anyone who is mourning the death of a loved one: When Everything Matters© 2006 by Nita Aasen naasen@wilsonpublishinghouse.com Despite the seriousness of the condition known as clinical depression – a mood disorder caused by a chemical imbalance – the word depression has a tendency to be overused and misused when talking about sadness. The assumption is that these words are inherently synonymous and interchangeable in their meaning; that is, if one is sad, one is depressed. My sadness following the deaths of Erik and David was definitely profound. Caring others suggested that I seek out a prescription for an anti-depressant; the magic bullet that would “fix it” and help me be my “old self” again. Prior to my own experience with parental grief, I would have likely joined this chorus of well-wishers. However, as I learned, situations viewed from the outside frequently seem easier to solve than when lived from the inside. After experiencing the double whammy of a catastrophic loss – that is, living with an intense grief that also resulted in devastation of my world view, I questioned that “easy fix.” Around that same time, I found myself reading a book (Gili’s Book, 1998) written by Henya Kagan-Klein, a bereaved parent and psychologist. She asserted that deep sadness was a more accurate term to use for parental grief than depression, since the chemical imbalance that forms the basis for a diagnosis of clinical depression was, in most cases, not a factor in the sadness of bereavement. Another helpful distinction noted by Kagan-Klein was that those living with deep sadness continued to respond to touch, warmth, and reassurance, whereas those experiencing clinical depression were more likely to feel like giving up on life. When nothing matters in serious cases of untreated clinical depression, it became difficult to function; those affected lack the energy to do the most routine activities of daily living, verbalized a sense of hopelessness, and most seriously, may have had suicidal thoughts. Recently Gloria Steinheim, appearing on CBS Sunday Morning, made another astute observation about the difference between depression and sadness. She succinctly said, “With depression, nothing matters, but with sadness everything matters.” In the world of sound bites, this one actually provided an accurate synopsis of the primary difference between the two conditions. Further clarifying the distinction between sadness and depression, John Schneider (Finding My Way, 1994) asserted that the sadness of bereaved parents was focused on the death of their child and his lost future, whereas those experiencing depression clinical depression focused on distorted and negative thoughts about themselves. Another significant difference was that parents know without question that their sadness was a result of their child’s death, compared to depression where the cause was usually not inherently obvious. Kagan-Klein concluded that a turning point in parental grief occurred when they began a spiritual-like quest for a mission, because it mattered that their lives continued to have a sense of meaning and purpose. A nugget of wisdom from Martin Luther King said, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” With this perspective, individuals are encouraged to give a voice to their mission while living with loss, understanding that continuing to remain silent about things that matter will accomplish nothing. This concept would apply to anyone who is working hard to assimilate, in a meaningful way, the death of their loved one into the fabric of their lives while also readjusting their world view (those assumptions, beliefs, and values constructed to make sense of one’s world and serve as a basic framework for living one’s life) to fit their current reality. There are an untold number of possible missions. Many bereaved become more sensitive to the needs of those experiencing intense grief and provide support by volunteering at a hospice or becoming involved with a bereavement group. Many others choose a mission that is directly related to the cause of the death of their loved one – accident, suicide, illness, or murder. In these situations, their deep sadness frequently becomes the impetus to invest huge amounts of time and energy participating in organizations or projects that work towards preventing similar tragedies because they refuse to be silent about things that matter. As examples, those whose loved ones have died by suicide may become involved in organizations that educate others about the risk of undiagnosed clinical depression, or they actively support legislation that imposes severe penalties for driving drunk, advocate for stiffer laws against sex offenders, domestic abusers or any cause of murder or discrimination. These actions, having strong connections with their loved ones, have frequently resulted in laws that have saved lives, protected victims, and/or stiffened consequences for offenders. Their passion to do something positive in honor of their loved ones and to make this world a better place becomes a major driving force in their efforts; it gives them a reason to get up in the morning and to keep on going on. Just as important, these bereaved individuals begin to sense that their lives continue to have purpose. The energy that comes from a passion born out of deep sadness has frequently yielded impressive results when everything related to life, death, and love matters. However, other missions, seemingly unconnected to their loved one are, in fact, deeply connected. The daughter of a bereaved parent couple loved animals. While horses were her passion, another of her dreams was to have a family-operated dairy farm. Following her death, her parents took a significant financial risk to bring the dream to fruition. Their sense that their daughter’s spirit was cheering them gave their lives a purpose that went well beyond the basic need to generate an income. It mattered. Through reading the literature following Erik and David’s deaths, I came to understand that my deep sadness was the catalyst in my search for a mission honoring my sons. My initial goal was to use insurance monies and memorials to establish several scholarships and other tributes carrying Erik and David’s names because it mattered that their names be remembered. Over the years, I cross-stitched a number of hand-made gifts for those who had been a significant influence on their lives; it mattered that I thanked them for that relationship. About two years after the accident I began writing to other bereaved parents. Even though there was nothing I could say or do to diminish their grief or deep sadness, I could acknowledge their emotional pain and their never-ending love for their child; it mattered that they know that they were not alone in their grief journey. As my mission evolved, I began writing essays. Since I did not readily sit down to write except as needed for my work life prior to my sons’ deaths, it was rather surprising that writing became my primary survival strategy. While writing helped clarify the many issues surrounding my grief journey, more than that, it mattered that I do my part to shed some light on the grief experience for others, including those who want to provide appropriate support to their bereaved loved ones. Kagan-Klein also point out that any mission is subject to unplanned twists and turns as it evolves. Some outcomes may be slightly or significantly different from the original vision. Despite the disappointment some experience, what tends to matter most when everything about life, death, and love matters is that no stone has been left unturned in the process. Being able to say, “I did my best; I gave it all I had,” is likely to bring a degree of purpose and solace into one’s life. With this insight, the bereaved discover just how resilient they are while also gaining the hope and strength needed to continue seeking meaning as they are learning how to live with loss. – Source: Living with Loss Magazine, Summer 2006, pp. 32-33, www.livingwithloss.com Reprinted with permission of the publisher. [Working as a nurse in various clinical settings for many years, Nita Aasen cared for countless patients and family members as they confronted death and dying, loss and grief. As a nursing instructor she brought these clinical and educational experiences to the classroom. But it was years later, when two of her three young adult sons (Erik, 27 and David, 25) were killed in an auto accident on Thanksgiving Day, 1994, that Nita learned how little she truly knew about grief. Her book, Living Still, Loving Always was published in 2004 by Wilson Publishing House.]

Dear Rebecca, I'm so sorry to learn of the difficulties your fiance is having since the death of his mother, but I want to applaud you for wanting to better understand what he may be going through so you can offer appropriate support. As you may know, a person in mourning can look awfully "crazy" to the rest of us, especially a few months after the death has happened, when that first wave of shock and disbelief wears off, and especially at this time of year, when it seems as if all the rest of the world is expected to be making merry. Sorrow can look a lot like "depression," but more often than not, what you're seeing is a very normal reaction to losing a loved one. From what you've stated in your message, it seems clear that your fiance is aware that he is having a problem with his grief, but since he isn't the one who is posting in this forum asking for help, it's difficult for me to evaluate this situation. I don't know your fiance and I don't know how he sees his own circumstances. Nevertheless, I will offer to you what I can. First, it's important to recognize that everyone grieves differently according to their age, gender, personality, culture, value system, past experience with loss, and available support. Grieving differs among members of the same family, as each person’s relationship with and attachment to the deceased family member varies. How anyone reacts to a death depends on how they’ve responded to other crises in their life; on what was lost when this death happened (not only the life of the person who died, but certain aspects of their own lives as well: their way of life; who they were in their relationship with that person and who they planned to be; their hopes and dreams for the future); on who died (spouse, parent, child, sibling, grandparent, relative, friend or other; how they lived together and what that person meant to them); on the person’s role in their family; on when the death occurred (at what point in their life cycle: theirs as well as that of the person who died); and on how (the circumstances surrounding the death, and how the death occurred). Also, when evaluating someone else's grief as normal or abnormal, we need to keep in mind that, although certain patterns and reactions are universal and fairly predictable, everyone's grief is as unique to that individual as his or her fingerprints. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, and there is no specific time frame. Some folks experience grief in primarily emotional ways, having all sorts of feelings such as anger, guilt, sadness or loneliness. Others react in physical ways, feeling a need to keep busy as a way of handling the unpleasant feelings of grief. Neither way is right or wrong; they are just different from each other. In general (and please understand that I am only generalizing here) men express their grief in a masculine rather than in a feminine way, which often leads women to assume that they are not grieving at all. For example, a woman may take a man's silence as a sign of disinterest or lack of concern. Used to being in the role of strong protector and capable provider, a man may be afraid to share his grief for fear of embarrassment or of giving others the impression he is weak or otherwise incapable of "handling it". Your fiance's responses aren't necessarily unhealthy; they may be perfectly understandable and normal under the circumstances in which he finds himself. If you feel comfortable in doing so, you can gently inquire whether your fiance thinks he is making any progress in coming to terms with this particular loss, and if not, has he ever considered talking to someone about it and the effect it may be having on him now. I also think it would be helpful for you yourself to learn all you can about normal grief and what resources are "out there" and available. I don't know where you live, but I can tell you that most cities and towns have all sorts of places and people waiting to help with grief. You might consider calling your local library, mental health association, mortuary, church, synagogue or mosque to see what other resources are available. Many organizations nowadays offer bereavement support groups (at no cost) as well as individual bereavement counseling. I think what's important here is not that you try to assume the role of grief counselor yourself, but rather that you make yourself aware of what bereavement resources are available, so you're armed with that information when you approach your fiance on the subject. Whether he decides to take advantage of those resources is really up to him, but certainly you can go so far as to help him find out what and where they are. You might also try spending some more time on the various pages of my Grief Healing Web site, especially on my Articles and Books page. Scroll down the page till you come to the section labeled "Articles by Marty Related to Human Loss and Grieving" and follow the directions there. See also the articles listed on my Links page. You might also be interested in Tom Golden's WebHealing site, which focuses on male grief. Tom's book Swallowed By a Snake is excellent. Another outstanding book on this topic is Men Don't Cry . . . Women Do: Transcending Gender Stereotypes of Grief, by Terry Martin and Ken Doka. (These links will take you to Amazon's online description and reviews of each book. You are under no obligation to buy, and both books should be available through your local library. If they're not, you might ask your librarian to order them for you.) Take a look, too, at my site's Helping Someone Who's Grieving page. I've also written an on-line e-mail course which you might consider ordering for your fiance; you can get a sense of it at The First Year of Grief: Help for the Journey. Another alternative is to take the course yourself. Just knowing what normal grief looks like, knowing what to expect and knowing how to manage the typical reactions to it can be very, very helpful for you. Then, if and when the timing seems right, you can gently offer to share with your fiance some of the resources you yourself have discovered and explored (so you'll know why you're recommending them.) You might try printing out some of the articles that you find (or lessons in my course as they come to you via e-mail) and giving them to your fiance to read, along with a gentle comment such as, "I found this interesting article that shed some light on something I've been wondering about -- I thought maybe you'd be interested in it, too. Maybe we can talk about it together, after you've had a chance to read it." Be aware, however, that your fiance may not be open to or ready for your offers to help -- especially if he does not see that there is a problem here that requires your intervention in the first place. I don't know if what I've said offers you much help, Rebecca. Unfortunately, I don't think you can "fix" this for your fiance, but you certainly can learn more about it yourself so at least you can understand better what may be going on with him. You'll also be in a better position to encourage him to find the help that is available to him should he choose to seek it. I know it's difficult when you want to do something to make things better for someone you love, and you're not certain if they want or even need your help. Unfortunately, as a counselor I cannot force my help or unsolicited advice onto a person who does not seek it directly. As a matter of fact, I cannot force my ideas onto anyone who seeks my help, because all I would get in return is resistance. I simply cannot "make" someone else do what I think is best, regardless of how "right" I think I may be. Whatever you do, please know that I am thinking of you and your fiance, and I hope you'll find the help you both deserve. Wishing you peace and healing, Marty T

Patti and Kay, thank you. I think it's so important that our members who are a bit further along on this journey occasionally make a point to reassure our newer members that, while the pain of loss never completely leaves us, the intensity of it does lessen over time. We can get so mired down in the hopelessness and despair of grief, and it's only those who've been there, who have the credibility of their own experience with loss, who can convince us that, if they can make it through this, then there is hope that with one another's help, compassion and companionship, the rest of us will make it, too. Bless you both for sharing that hope with us today.

Sent to us today by Love Never Dies author Sandy Goodman, who received it from Natalie Blakeslee: Balloons 4 Healing ProjectAs I was speaking by phone to Denise Platz, the bereaved mom of a precious son named Aaron, I realized that she was now living too far away to visit her son's grave. She had moved from the Fairview-Girard PA area to California. We spoke about the upcoming sixth anniversary of her son's passing. She had just visited home a couple of months earlier and couldn't come back again this soon. I asked myself how I could help her make the day less stressful for her, as she would be missing and grieving her child even more on that day. And so I told Denise, "You can still lay flowers, balloons, gifts, whatever you wish, at your son's grave. I would be more than happy to do it in your place." With her imagination as her only limitation, she was free to get her feelings out, knowing that someone who truly empathized would stand in for her and present her gifts to her son. She called a shop near my home and placed an order for the kinds and colors of flowers and balloons that she wanted, with a yellow rose accompanying her special note. On that Saturday I picked everything up and went to her son's gravesite. With Denise on the phone, Dr. Steve Hodack and I took pictures and made a video recording, as we released the balloons and placed the flowers on his grave. Scissors and markers were left behind the tree for any members of the family that might visit. As it rained, tears flowed. We shared stories of our children and I listened as she told me about Aaron. I had lost my eldest daughter Carrie almost a year earlier. It turned out that we were not only joined in our grief, but that our children had both passed from the same illness, leukemia. Dr. Steve ventured out in the rain one more time to grab a few photos, one of which included the gravestone of Denise's husband, which she hadn't yet seen. Her husband, Aaron's father, had passed just one year prior. We laid balloons at his grave with a note asking him to give Aaron a huge heaven hug for her. As we drove away from the cemetery, Dr. Steve said, "I think you have developed something here that could help bereaved parents all around the world." And this was the start of "Balloons 4 Healing". WE ARE MOMS HELPING MOMS THROUGH THE GRIEF.... "Keeping our child alive through the memories we share and the balloons and butterflies we release" is our slogan. Group Name: Balloons4Healing E-mail Address: Balloons4Healing@yahoogroups.com For information, please e-mail nataliemedium@adelphia.net

I think what I REALLY need is a way to find kindred spirits locally. A Guidebook for sourcing out like-minded people . . . And I'm not sure of this, but if you were suggesting that I might try to set up something myself like what Kara did?....I don't think I have that kind of energy or hope now. Maylissa, dear ~ I agree completely with your statement about needing to find kindred spirits. I also recognize that your energy is very low and you’re feeling quite hopeless right now. Given the fact that we’re in the midst of the holiday season, I know that this may not be the best time for you to be thinking, “Where do I go from here?” (You may be interested in reading the article I posted in my message to Starkiss earlier today: When There Is No Jingle in the Bells.) But by now I also know you well enough to recognize your many talents and skills. I have too much faith in you to believe that you will stay forever in this place of misery and despair and hopelessness, and I know the day will come when you’ll feel more ready to think about moving forward in your life. Clearly you’re an animal lover. Clearly you know a great deal about homeopathic medicine, both for people and for animals, and you care passionately about it. Clearly you understand the normal grief process, and repeatedly have demonstrated to all of us that you have a real gift for reaching out to others who are in mourning. These interests, talents and skills are the strengths that will become the foundation for your “new normal,” Maylissa, but only when you feel ready to tap into them and decide what you want to do with them. In the meantime, as Doug Manning says, give yourself permission to grieve, “for as long as it takes in any way that works . . . permission to do what you can do . . . permission to change traditions . . . permission to be where you need to be . . . permission to be with the ones who bring peace and comfort . . . When there is no jingle in the bells, don’t try to shake them until the jingle returns.”

My dear Ann, I'm so very sorry for your loss, and I cannot imagine how difficult all of this has been for you and your mother. At the same time, I think your mother is blessed to have you as her daughter, and I think, too, that regardless of what words were said or not said between you and your father, surely he knew from your actions how very much you loved him. Keep in mind that your love for your father, and his for you, did not die when his life here in this realm ended. Love is forever, and as long as you keep him there, you will always have a father-sized space in your heart for your dad. Please don't worry about what you are feeling or not feeling right now. Just let it be whatever it needs to be ~ and know that you are not alone. We are right here walking beside you as you find your way through this. Wishing you peace and healing, Marty T

Shelley, dear ~ In response to your concerns, a wonderful article by Doug Manning that I hope will help you and others, as we all struggle with the difficult days ahead: When There Is No Jingle in the Bellsby Doug Manning It was all she could do to open the door and walk into the party. Her husband, Charles, had died a few months before, and now she found herself going to an office Christmas party she could not find a way to avoid. Mary and Charles had built the company together, and now the whole burden was on her shoulders. She did not want her grief to rob the employees of their annual party, which had always been one of the highlights of the year. The employees always brought their families along, so this became a time of bonding together. There were always toys for the children, good food and entertainment. Mary could hardly stand the thought of not attending such an event, but she could not stand the idea of canceling either. The party would be a crushing reminder that Charles was no longer here and would never be here for these events. The joy the party would bring seemed to make light of his death. Laughing and having a good time seemed totally out of place and somehow wrong. She drove to the party, full of dread and anger, but she went. The first person she met as she walked in the door was her pastor. He was a fixture at these events and was invited as usual. He grabbed her hand and said, “Mary, the secret is just to be happy.” She rightly thought that was one of the worst platitudes she had ever heard, but she smiled and said nothing. Then she met the pastor’s wife who said, “Mary I know this is a hard time for you, but doesn’t it give you great comfort to know that Charles will be spending this Christmas with Jesus?” Mary, the dedicated church pianist, heard herself scream, “No! He should be spending it with me!” She still blushes when she tells the story, but there is a hint of pride in her voice even as she blushes. That was exactly what she should have said. The holidays can be a very difficult time for people in grief, and it usually comes as a complete surprise. No one expects these times of family traditions, fun and celebration to become times of deep grieving and depression. No one expects the holidays to become a source of intense pressure and family conflict. Even when these facts are expressed, the family usually has a hard time believing them to be true. They may think you need the holidays more this year than ever. You seem sad, so the logical thing is to find ways to “cheer you up.” What better way than a family gathering to celebrate holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas or Hanukkah? So the family begins to pressure, and you begin to react. To celebrate a holiday may seem to trivialize your grief right at the time when every part of your being is dedicated to establishing the significance of the life and the loss of your loved one. You want to talk about what your loved one meant to you. You want to inventory and discuss what the loss will mean in your life. You want to hear how much your loved one meant to others. For the holidays to go on just like nothing happened cuts deeply into this need. The first time you laugh, you may feel a surge of guilt well up and think, How dare I laugh when my loved one is gone. Those same feelings are brought on in a constant stream by the growing rush toward the coming holidays. Everything else is supposed to take a back seat. All other emotions are supposed to go away. It is holiday time, and that is all that matters. But that is not all that matters to you. The holidays are meant to create joy and family unity, but now they can create great divisions. The family may want the holidays to go on just like they always have. The traditions each family observes become deeply set and hard to change. The family may feel it is time for you to “get on with your life.” They may not realize that the traditions must change, and they can never be the same again. For example, if the stockings were always hung on the fireplace and a child in the family dies, what is to be done with the stockings this Christmas? Should they all be hung, and everyone just pretends the child is still there? Should all but one be hung, and let the blank space serve as a constant reminder of the loss? If the stockings are a family tradition, the family may almost insist that they be hung. If they are not hung, the family will feel a sense of loss, and Christmas will not be the same. So the dilemma grows. These conflicts are present at all the holidays, not just Christmas. The celebration of Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, Easter, Yom Kippur, Valentine’s Day and any anniversary of birth or death is likely to create these kinds of family tensions. The hardest part of the holidays is the demand placed on those in grief. Suddenly you are faced with the need for emotions you do not have. All of your emotional strength is vested in getting through each day as it comes; there are no reserves left for feeling joy or thanksgiving. You don’t want to be the Grinch that stole the holiday, but there is no jingle in your bells, and a one-horse open sleigh sounds cold. There are no emotions left for much fun. The holidays demand a focus you cannot give. Grief brings on times when your mind “browns out.” You can’t concentrate on anything for very long. How then can you think through all of the things that go into a holiday season? The key word in grief is permission. When you boil down all of the speeches, books, and seminars on grief, they all come down to the one essential element of finding permission to grieve. There are no magic words to be said. There are no magic people to take away the pain. It all comes down to giving yourself permission to grieve as long as necessary in any way that works, and finding that same permission from family and friends. The holidays are no different. The best advice you can ever find is to give yourself permission. The best advice for your friends is to step back and let it happen. It might be a great help if you asked your family and friends to read this article. If they don’t know of the need for permission, they are not likely to grant it. You need permission to do what you can do. I suggest that you make a list of what you think you can do and what you want to do for each holiday. If you have always cooked the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, you should be free to decide if that is what you want to do this year. If so, fine. If not, then inform the family of what you want to do, and stick by your plans. You need the permission to change traditions. Many families find healing in new traditions built around the memories of a life. My grandson was born on Christmas Eve and died on Christmas Day. In the seven years since his death, we have built a new tradition into our Christmas. Just before the gifts are opened, we light a candle in honor of Isaac Burns. As the years have passed, the other grandchildren have picked up on this tradition and now remind me to get the candle ready, and one of them will ask for the privilege of lighting the candle. Find a new way to remember the life that now lives in the family memories. You need permission to be where you need to be. The son of one of my former employees died by suicide. The first Christmas her immediate family went to Disney World. The extended family put on unbelievable pressure saying, “We need you here this year more than ever,” but she stood her ground. She knew she was not ready for this family experience, and she had enough courage to withstand the pressure to go where she felt safe. It is not possible for every family to go to Disney World, but you should be free to be where you are comfortable. If that is home alone, then be home alone. It must be your call. You need permission to be with the ones who bring peace and comfort. This is tricky, because it may sound to the family as if others bring comfort, and they do not. Grief needs safe people and safe places. There is no explanation for why some people feel safe and others do not. Very often your best friends will not be the ones you want to be with during your grief. Often your family will not be the ones either. The friends and family have not done anything wrong and neither have you. There will just be some people that, for some reason, feel good during the hurt. The holidays are a good time to be with those folks. That is not rude or selfish, that is simply getting through some especially tough days. The day will come when old friends and family will feel as comfortable as an old shoe. Until then, feel free to be with the old shoes you are wearing. When there is no jingle in the bells, don’t try to shake them until the jingle returns. By Doug Manning, in Bereavement Magazine, November/December 2001, Bereavement Publications, Inc, (888) 60-4HOPE (4673), grief@bereavementmag.com. Reprinted with permission of the publisher. Visit Doug Manning’s Web site, Insight Books, at http://www.insightbooks.com/DougManning.aspx

Shelley, dear ~ You said, I wish I had some idea of how to handle what is happening to me now ... I wish some how that there was so class or workshop set up with different ways to deal with grief for example having different role play situations... Nowadays many hospices, funeral homes, places of worship, and bereavement organizations offer groups, classes and workshops for those in mourning, most especially during the holidays. If transportation is still an issue for you, there is always the Internet, where grief support and information are as close as your computer keyboard. I think you already know that the Links page on our GriefHealing Web site is a wonderful place to start. Perhaps if we had a better idea of what is happening to you, or the specific situation you're struggling with, our members would be in a better position to offer some suggestions.

Maylissa, dear ~ I am reminded of a line by David Kessler (nationally recognized leader in the field of hospice and palliative care, who co-authored with Elisabeth Kubler-Ross the book,On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief through The Five Stages of Loss) which he shared during a presentation on compassion fatigue: Why do we keep looking for support in all the wrong places? It's like shopping for milk in a hardware store! While I can certainly understand your husband's need to go out and have a good time (perhaps as his way of escaping the sadness at home, if only for a while), it seems to me that in your present state of mind, it just makes good sense to protect yourself by intentionally avoiding situations and gatherings where you are more likely to encounter the insensitivity of others ~ such as at noisy holiday parties where (despite how they are feeling on the inside) everyone is expected to put on a happy face, merry-making is the order of the day, alcohol flows freely and the conversation is superficial at best. In any event, I just discovered an article that could've been written just for you, Maylissa ~ and if you take the time to explore the rest of this site, I think you'll find some comfort as well as some good information there. Click on Winter Holidays ~ Trying to Cope. See also A Different Kind of Parenting, which explains how Kara Jones came to develop her "ezine" ~ and please do let me know what you think.

Hi Jeff, Dealing with the insensitivity of others is one of the hardest aspects of mourning, most especially when such unhelpful responses come from a person who's supposedly experienced a significant loss of his own, and still doesn't "get it." I think you might find these articles helpful: What Is a Compassionate Friend? You Should Be Over "IT" See also Christine Jette's insightful articles on this important topic.

My dear Deanne, We're all so very sorry to learn of the death of your father, and you have our deepest sympathy. You've asked, Does anyone have any helpful tips to maybe make this holiday season a little easier? and I'd like to point you to another post that addresses this same question: Holidays?

Hi Jeff, In addition to the book that Lori has recommended, you'll find lots of helpful reading suggestions from several of our other GH Discussion Groups members. Be sure to see this post: Grief Bibliography The topic of grief dreams is one that's been discussed at length here, too. If you've not seen it already, you might want to read the post in our Behaviors in Bereavement forum entitled "Strange Dreams about Death," dated 28 November 2005. You can access it directly by clicking on this link: http://hovforum.ipbhost.com/index.php?show...&#entry2900

Join with The Compassionate Friends (TCF) as we honor the memories of our children. In 1997 a group of Internet volunteers from The Compassionate Friends conceived the idea to create a virtual day of remembrance -- a special day to honor and pay tribute to children everywhere who have died, but are not forgotten. Ten years later, their vision speaks for itself as The Compassionate Friends Worldwide Candle Lighting® is believed to be the largest mass candle lighting on the globe with hundreds of organized memorial services around the world and thousands of smaller memorial candle lightings in homes with just family and friends. All groups holding a candle lighting open to the public are invited to submit information about their service for posting on the TCF national Web site. A memorial message board is available during the event on the TCF national Web site, and all are welcome to post a message of remembrance, a special poem, or other thoughts that relate to the death of a child or the Worldwide Candle Lighting®. The Compassionate Friends Worldwide Candle Lighting® is held every year on the second Sunday in December at 7:00 p.m. for one hour local time around the globe -- a 24-hour wave of light in memory of all children who have died. On Sunday, December 10, 2006, hundreds of community candle lighting ceremonies will be held in parks, churches and other public places by TCF chapters and other groups. Thousands more will be held informally at home. It takes only you and one candle to join hearts with the world ". . . that their light may always shine." Watch The Compassionate Friends national Web site for information about the Worldwide Candle Lighting® and memorial services as they become available. Light a Candle Online: A Guided Memorial Ritual

Oh my dear Derek ~ What this tells me is how much Carson takes after his wonderful father and his precious mother. What a fine boy you are rearing! As a parent and as a man, you have my deepest respect and admiration.

Maylissa, you said, I guess I really should have started a separate thread here for all this, but I didn't even think about it at the time! Sorry, all! (maybe Marty can move this to a more appropriate place....) I've placed your most recent posts (along with responses you've received) under a new topic entitled "Nothing Out There for Me." If you prefer a different title, just let me know and I will change it.

Dear Ones, I'm so glad to know that you're finding Christine Jette's Web wonderful, informative Web site so helpful! Please do re-visit her site often, as Christine is always adding to and polishing her work. (On more than one occasion she's humbly described herself to me "not as a writer, but as a REwriter!") I'd like to share with you the lovely note I received from her just yesterday afternoon: Dear Marty, I keep thinking of more to write on December's Deep Grief. Strange, but I sense that Mom is helping me to write it somehow. Even if her help is in my imagination, well, God gave us imaginations, too. The thought of her helping me is comforting and I guess that is all that really matters. DECEMBER'S DEEP GRIEF: Loss Amidst the Merrymaking Please do check back periodically because I am adding to it almost daily. It's very healing for me to write. I hope my writing helps someone else, too. I get a lot of visitors and I believe it is a direct result of your links to me. Thank you! Peace to you in the season of hope, Christine Jette www.findingthemuse.com

Dear Ones, In her first Christmas season without the physical presence of her beloved mother, bereaved daughter and gifted writer Christine Jette shares her thoughts about grief and the holidays in DECEMBER'S DEEP GRIEF: Loss Amidst the Merrymaking

Shell, you said, "I've been reading about dementia and researching everything I can! If anyone has any suggestions or experience to share, I would greatly appreciate it!" Yours is not an easy task, and you deserve all the help you can find. Please be sure to check out some of the excellent sites I've listed on the Care Giving page of my Grief Healing Web site. And know that you are always in our thoughts and prayers

KayC, dear ~ You've given us something very special to celebrate this Thanksgiving Day ~ we are sooooooooo happy for you! And we know your new employer will be giving thanks as well, for having had the good sense to hire wonderful you!

My dear Maylissa, I know that you are struggling with this dilemma, and I’m not sure that any of us can come up with any profound words of wisdom that will help you to solve it. Clearly you are on the horns of a dilemma, you are ambivalent about your choices, and you know that either way you choose to go will not be without pain and sacrifice. I know your message has received no responses since you posted it last Monday and you may have feelings about that, but I think it stems from the fact that we all recognize that it really does not matter what we think you “should” or “should not” do in this situation, because regardless of what you decide to do, there will be consequences stemming from that decision, and we know that you alone are the one who must live with those consequences. What I can do is share some observations and some things I’ve learned along the way that I hope may help you clarify your thinking in this situation. First, there is no doubt that, (like me, if I may say so) you are an extremely compassionate person, particularly when it comes to caring for and loving animals. Compassion is a gift, and I dare say it makes people like us very good at what we do. There is no button we can push to “turn off” our compassion – this is part of who we are. But this same gift can be our downfall, Maylissa. Compassionate people may fall into the trap of thinking that if we don’t do it, it won’t get done. If we think that no one can “do it” better than we can, we may take on more and more responsibility, whether it belongs to us or not, until we buckle under the weight of it all. Instead of looking at what we’ve done already and giving ourselves credit for that, we tend to look at what we haven’t done yet. We are our own worst critics, because no one is harder on us than we are. We are only human beings, yet we judge, punish, re-judge and re-punish ourselves when something, anything, goes wrong. It does not seem to matter that, for every one thing we may have done wrong, we can find five things we did right. You say that the attention you’ve been paying to this stray cat has “already caused one fight with my H,” adding that “a couple of friends already gave me royal hell for even helping him out.” As you already know from your experiences with Sabin and Nissa, maintaining a marriage and relationships with friends can be very difficult when you’re engaged in long-term caregiving. For the last two years of Nissa’s life, it may have seemed as if you and your husband were two ships passing in the night. No matter how understanding your friends may have been during that long period of caregiving, they probably wished you’d had more time with them, but you couldn’t seem to find that time. And now, just as it seemed that you would be more available to your husband and your friends, along comes this stray cat who's taking your attention away from them again. Feeling so deprived of you for so long, is it realistic to think that they wouldn’t be disappointed and resentful? You’re probably right in your assessment that your husband and friends are placing their own needs and wants ahead of your own need (to take care of this stray cat), and ahead of this cat’s needs (to be fed and sheltered) as well. But your husband and your friends are only human – and sometimes it’s even healthy that humans would be selfish enough to put their own needs and wants ahead of someone else’s! The problem with being a very compassionate person is that, in the world of caring for others who need us (whether human or animal), there is never any end to the need, Maylissa. There is always more to do. Unless we set realistic limits for ourselves, we are at risk for developing compassion fatigue, and then we are of no use to anyone. At some point we have to ask ourselves, How do we not let this gift for compassion wear us out? How can we set limits and establish boundaries for ourselves? Where do our primary responsibilities lie, and what are our priorities? How can we step out of the caregiving role long enough to live our lives, nurture and restore and re-create ourselves, pay sufficient attention to our loved ones, and maintain our relationships with friends and neighbors so that resentments don’t develop? How do we give what we can give to the sick, the dying and the bereaved, and let it be enough? What can we do to take care of and give to ourselves first, so we’ll have something left to give to others? I cannot answer these questions for you, Maylissa, and I cannot tell you what to do in this situation – I can only alert you to the dangers, and continue to urge you to take as good care of yourself as you are willing to take care of others. As I once heard a wise man say, “To feel too much is dangerous. To feel too little is tragic.” With love (and compassion), Marty