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The Compassionate Friends
Brisbane Newsletter
February March 2006
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| Dare To Hope | New Language of Grief | Tears Are the Proof of Life |
| Dreams | ||
| Gerard Francis O’Donohoe | Is it Sadness or Depression | Gone From My Side |
| What Happens When We Don’t Grieve | Take This Thread | I Need You |
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DARE TO HOPE
She is dead.
How dare I carry on?
How dare I live, continue to exist?
How can I laugh or show a smile upon my face?
How dare I continue to move on, at any pace?
I want to stop, forever by her side,
I want to cling on and never let her go.
I must remember all the details of her life.
I must re-live all her suffering, her strife.
What of my needs? How irrelevant they seem.
What of my life? How’ll I live it without her?
How dare I eat.
How can I let go?
Indulge this body, that failed my baby so.
How can I dare to allow myself to wish?
To long to hold another baby in my arms.
Dare I grasp that glimpse of future hope?
How will it be?
How will I cope?
By Emma Curry, TCF Newsletter Spring 1999, UK
Index
The New Language of Grief
By Darcie Sims PhD, CGC, CHT
Darcie is a bereaved parent and a TCF USA member since 1976
There are many different schemes and ways to look at the grief process. Some
talk stages while others outline steps to be taken or tasks to be completed.
I like to think of grief as a journey. However grief looks to you, it is important
to understand that grief is not a sign of weakness nor a lack of faith. Grief
is the price we pay for love.
Much has been written about grief and has added to our knowledge. Some have
added to our confusion! Many still confuse the work of Dr Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
with that of other professionals such as Colin Murray Parkes, Erich Lindemann,
William Worden, Kubler-Ross wrote of patients coping with dying while Parkes,
Lindemann, Worden and others wrote of the grieving process which occurs following
the death of a loved one the difference between the two bodies of knowledge
is significant, although many do not realize that the “stages of adaptation:
that Kubler-Ross identified do not necessarily apply to the experiences of the
bereaved.
The work of Worden, Lindemann, Parkes and others clearly distinguished between
adaptation to impending change and the responses experienced following a death.
Yet today we still find the bereaved trying to fit their grief into a scheme
that makes little sense to them. It is time we found a new language—a language
that clearly defines the grief experience as we know it and one that gives us
hope instead of tasks to complete or stages upon which to play.
When we first become aware of our loss we may become numb. The literature refers
to this as shock. Shock is a physiological phenomenon which protects us from
further pain. When our circuits become overloaded we cannot accept further information.
Our numbness protects us from the reality of death. Our responses become mechanical.
Decisions are made. Actions are taken and events pass, all without our full
participation. Shock is what helps us get through the necessary details of death.
Our numbness can last anywhere from a few moments to several months.
When we are faced with difficult steps on our journey we sometimes wish to postpone
our progress. We want to sidestep the pain. Perhaps we are not yet ready to
deal with reality or perhaps we feel afraid, unsupported, unskilled or unprepared
to face the unfolding of a new life. “I won’t deal with it!”, “I can’t cope
with it!”, “I don’t want to face it”. Words that each of us has echoed again
and again. Instead of facing our grief, we postpone reality for a little while.
It is easier to pretend that our child is away at camp instead of facing the
bitter reality of death. And yet I know what it is that I am pretending. How
could I ever forget?
Perhaps we could replace the word denial with the word postponement. It accurately
describes what we do with a reality we are not quite ready to experience. We
simply postpone that part of our journey until we feel ready to tackle the new
reality. Denial is not a lack of coping but rather an accurate and creative
way of postponing, until we feel more secure, more skilled, more supported.
It takes a lot of energy to postpone reality for very long and so, eventually,
most of us run out of energy to keep things in fantasy land. Slowly we move
toward painful reality and begin the healing process of coping. When we feel
ready, we will move from postponement to acknowledgement and then to action,
in our own time.
Our journey towards awareness and acknowledgement hurts. Every part of us hurts.
There’s a tightness in the throat, a searing pain in the chest, a heaviness
in the heart. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. It hurts just to be! Sometimes
the pain is so intense we may develop physical symptoms. Sleep irregularities,
changes in appetite and gastro-intestinal disturbances are common. Heartache,
restlessness, muscle tension and sighing may occur.
Anger and guilt are common emotions. You may feel angry with God, your spouse,
your children or with others either involved or totally separate from the death.
You may be angry with yourself. You may want to withdraw and be left alone.
Anger and guilt may be revisited many times. Depression and feelings of emptiness
or hollowness may temporarily overcome you. You may become preoccupied with
images of your child. You may “see” or sense your child’s presence. You may
begin to wonder if you are going crazy.
As long as we are changing the language, I’d like to replace acceptance with
acknowledgement. Acceptance, to me, means agree with, and I will never agree
with what has happened. But I can work towards acknowledgement of what has happened.
As I begin to feel safer, more supported, more knowledgeable about the grief
process and feel more skilled at grieving, I can allow whatever I have cast
into postponement to resurface and begin then to resolve my grief.
I want to change one more word in the language of grief. Let’s get rid of the
word recovery and use healing instead. Recovery is a medical model word, designed
to describe broken bones, not hearts. We recover from a broken arm or the chicken
pox. We don’t get over the death of someone we love. We get through it, one
moment, one hour, one day, one hurt at a time. Healing is a hopeful word.
Healing doesn’t happen all at once nor does a language get changed quickly.
Healing is a matter of choice. It begins to occur when we learn to reinvest
our energies, emotions and love rather than replace them. We will always love
our children and we will continue to have a relationship with them for the rest
of our lives. We do not stop loving someone just because they die!
You know you’re making progress when you fully understand that putting your
child’s things away does not mean you are forgetting him/her. You do not have
to say goodbye. We no longer save for a child’s college education, but perhaps
we contribute to a scholarship in her name or create a living memorial to the
love we shared. Our child died, but the love we share between us can never be
destroyed.
The words we speak dictate our journey. Yet it seems more hopeful to speak of
postponement instead of denial, acknowledgement instead of acceptance and healing
in stead of recovery. We are diminished by grief, replenished by love, held
by hope. I want a language that reflects hope, a language that reminds me of
joy remembered, of love given and received, of life lived, not lost. May love
be what you remember the most.
TCF Newsletter Spring 1999, Issue No 119, UK (adapted)
TEARS ARE THE PROOF OF LIFE
Taken from the online version of TCF Atlanta Newsletter May/June, 2001, (adapted)
Author Unknown
“How long will the pain last?” a broken-hearted mourner asked me.
“All the rest of your life,” I answered truthfully.
No matter how many years pass, we remember. The loss of a child is like a major
operation; part of us is removed, and we have a scar for the rest of our lives.
This doesn’t mean that the pain continues at the same intensity. There is a
short while, at first, when we hardly believe it. It is rather like when we
have cut our hand, we see the blood flowing, but the pain has not yet set in.
So when we are bereaved, there is a short while before the pain hits us. But
when it does, it is massive in its effect. Grief is shattering.
Then the wound is healed, so to speak, the stitches are taken out…
The scar is still there, and the scar tissue, too. As the years go by, we manage.
But the pain is still there, not far below the surface. We see a face that looks
familiar, hear a voice that has echoes, see a photograph in someone’s album,
and it is as though the knife were in the wound again.
But not so painfully. And mixed with joy, too. Because remembering a happy time
is not all sorrow; it brings back happiness with it.
“How long will the pain last?”
All the rest of your life. But the thing to remember is that not only the pain
will last, but the blessed memories as well. Tears are the proof of life. The
more love, the more tears. If this be true, then how could we ever ask that
the pain cease altogether. For then the memory of love would go with it. The
pain of grief is the price we pay for love.
Index
DREAMS
By a TCF Qld member who wishes to remain anonymous
This article was written in response to a request from the Newsletter Editor
to share our stories.
Dreams after my youngest son died aged 9 years, were very useful in clarifying
my feelings about his death. He died from Myocarditis (viral infection of his
heart). Not long after his death I remember 3 dreams in particular and I had
all 3 on the same night.
Dream 1: “After coming back from the cemetery on the day of the funeral, I found
myself in a chapel, but this time I was at the back of the chapel. Then my son
was wheeled in on a hospital trolley, face down but with his head raised up
and laughing and joking which was his usual attitude to the world. As he went
past me I said to him ‘You had better lay back down—everyone thinks you’re dead.’.”
This, I believe, was my subconscious informing me I did not accept his death.
Dream 2: “I was watching my son standing up against a wall with a bewildered
look on his face. Then a very large hand appeared in front of me holding a very
small pocket pistol pointed at him.” That was all the dream consisted of—but
it said a lot about my feelings—the bewildered look was my bewilderment at what
could happen to a small child and that he did not know what was happening either.
Of course the large hand was the hand of fate and the small pistol represented
what looked like a usual childhood illness of tonsillitis (as our family doctor
told me it was), but in actual fact it carried a hidden deadly cargo which would
eventually kill my son.
Dream 3: “About 3 weeks after his death, I was standing in our family room looking
at a newly painted picture of him (a family friend at the time was an artist).
Then I heard the screen door of the kitchen open and close (the room next to
the family room). Then my son appeared in the doorway between the 2 rooms (he
didn’t come into the room I was in). His beautiful strawberry blond hair was
shining radiantly, his face, smiling and happy was a picture of health. For
a long time after this dream I didn’t know if I had dreamed it or it actually
happened, but I’m sure now that my son appeared to me in a dream to tell me
he was fine and happy and well. But this had a negative effect on me as I already
had feelings of guilt associated with his death—after all, I reasoned, it was
my fault that he caught the virus in the first place wasn’t it? - I should have
made him eat his broccoli was the most ridiculous thought I had.
Has anyone else had positive or negative experiences relating to dreams?
If so, would you like to share any of these with other bereaved parents by sending
in your dream story for publication in the newsletter?
I am sure it would help others understand and therefore learn from their dreams
as well.
FROM OUR EMAIL MAIL BAG
Trisha of the Sunshine Coast, Qld writes:
It’s that time of year again—so many mixed emotions for those of us who contribute
to these pages.
Some six years and five months ago, my 20 year old son died. The journey since
his death has been incredibly arduous. When I look back at my first message
posted on the TCF site (18/08/1999) I am truly amazed at my “concern” that,
some six weeks after Matthew’s death “the pain is still unbearable”. The word
that amazes me now, six plus years on, is “still”! It took me so very long to
realise and accept that there’s no time limit. And certainly six weeks was a
totally ridiculous expectation of myself that I “should” have been coping better.
I am sure that there are endless reasons for my approaching my grief as I did.
None of them matter.
It took me a long, hard, five and a half years to begin to LEARN how to continue
living following Matthew’s death. During that time I can honestly say that I
was totally lost. I imagine it’s like being in “Limbo”.
Despite regular grief counseling, I simply wasn’t coping. Work became a trial
(I dealt with children everyday and felt I wasn’t worthy to be there!); my long-term
personal relationship ended (he couldn’t deal with me and my grief) and my relationship
with my daughter (older sister to Matt) was, to say the least “wobbly”. My “turning
point” came following four days that will be forever lost to me. I woke up in
an Intensive Care Ward in a Brisbane Hospital.
It was very soon after that that I realized I had a choice. I could try my best
to learn how to live or I could choose not to live. I chose the former. I was
so fortunate in that I met and “clicked” with a psychiatrist who helped me to
help myself. I genuinely LEARNED how to live again.
I can’t in all honesty say that I’m happy, but that’s ok. I am OK about being
alive and I have finally come to terms with the fact that Matthew is no longer
here.
The odd thing is, that in so many ways, he actually is here. My five year old
granddaughter talks about her Uncle Matthew (my daughter has always talked to
her daughter about her brother). My second granddaughter, 19 months old, bears
a great resemblance to Matt. And, for me, the most important thing of all is
that I FEEL him. I’m not a religious or spiritual person but I know that I hold
my son somewhere in my being. And that gives me great comfort.
And so here I am, checking out the TCF site, and what’s more writing a (very
long) message. I don’t have any words to alleviate anyone’s pain, no one does.
But perhaps there is a newly grieving Mum out there who thinks she “should be
able to cope better”; and if there is, I beg of you, please, don’t allow yourself
to suffer in that way. It CAN be different; it WILL change, I promise. I know
how you all feel, just as you know how I feel.
Thank you TCF for providing this outlet where we can feel safe, where no-one
will make judgments and, most of all where everyone REALLY understands.
Much love, .....Trisha
Index
Birthday Roses for Rebecca in Heaven
If roses grow in heaven
Lord please pick a bunch for me.
Place them in my daughter’s arms
And tell her they are from me
Tell her I love her and miss her,
And when she turns to smile,
Place a kiss upon her cheek
And hold her for a while.
Because remembering is easy,
I do it every day,
But there’s an ache within my heart
that will never go away.
Contributed by Patricia Cotterill, TCF Qld, for her Daughter Rebecca’s birthday
on Valentine’s Day, 14th February.
Rebecca was born on Valentine’s Day 14/2/77 in Brisbane and passed away on Christmas
Day 25/12/02 in Amsterdam
Gerard Francis O’Donohoe
9-3-84 TO 21-8-04
To a wonderful son, brother, brother-in-law and uncle who would be 22.
I have a son no longer here
But I still do hold him so dear
I miss him so much
To just feel his touch
Even if a wet finger in my ear.
Oh how I would take these annoying traits
Just to see him and his ute drive in the gate.
But no this can’t happen now you see
Because someone else’s selfish act
Took his life and he can’t come back
Gone to be with his Dad and Shannon
Now they all look down from Heaven
Watching over us left behind
I hold him forever in my heart.
We miss you and will always love you
Mum & Greg, Becka, Jason, Jess & Deb, Marce & Scott.
Lovingly submitted & written by Deirdre Lowery , TCF Qld
Is it Sadness or Depression?
By Robert R Thompson, MD, Zumbrota, Minnesota
“Sadness is not the same as depression. Depression is the inability to experience
joy as well as sadness. Sadness is a healthy and necessary emotion. It helps
us adjust to a significant loss. As our energy and enthusiasm for life’s activities
drop, this introspective withdrawal gives us the opportunity to mourn a loss
or frustrated hope and to understand its consequence in our life. The stronger
our longing for what was lost, the more intense and uninhibited will be our
weeping. It is in this release that our sadness turns into a relieving and healing
experience. Sadness is not the opposite of happiness. It is one of the myriad
ways in which we respond from our whole self to what life brings. It is a path
toward healing life’s hurts. Let the anguish in your heart be heard.”
An excerpt from “Is it Sadness or Depression”, Bereavement Mag May/June 03 www.bereavementmag.com
Index
GONE FROM MY SIDE
The tears that always fall.
The darkness that is all.
The heart that never mends.
The pain that never ends.
You are gone from my side.
Never again to walk there in this world.
How am I supposed to live my life without you?
My beautiful. My precious, my love. My dear little girl.
Lovingly written and submitted by Jeanette Gustafsson, TCF Qld, 6/10/05
Index
What Happens When We Don’t Grieve?
By Rachel Blythe Kodanaz, Highlands Ranch, Colorado (adapted)
“Grief in the Workplace”, Bereavement Magazine May/June 2002, www.bereavementmag.com
Bereavement doesn’t really have a formal definition, because if it did, we could
accurately predict, over the next two years, the behaviour of a person who has
lost a child. While there are many similarities in the way people grieve, the
ways in which they react, understand their loss, and move toward acceptance
will differ, based on their individual grief processes.
There are many resources available that define the grief process and help us
to understand what a grieving person is experiencing. Most of them define the
actual stages of grief (varying slightly): shock, numbness, denial, guilt, anger,
disorientation, panic and acceptance. People who are grieving will experience
most of these stages at different times. While it is hard to believe that we
ever accept the loss, we find some tranquility in keeping alive the spirit of
our child and our memories. Going through the stages is very important in the
psychology and health of the bereaved.
What happens when we don’t allow ourselves to grieve? It will catch up with
us at some point—on a special occasion, a story on the news, the death of someone
else or perhaps while reading a book. We must not mistake a setback as an indication
that we did not allow ourselves to grieve. Setbacks are usually shorter lived
with fewer emotions. Coping with grief is a mechanism for “survival”, and some
people cope better than others. Some strong indications that we did not allow
ourselves to grieve are continual depression, drug or alcohol abuse, negative
family issues, lack of communication of feelings, and unmet daily needs.
How does this all relate to the work-place? One might interpret the issues as
only personal, but they really do affect the workplace, which further emphasizes
that the workplace should embrace a grieving employee to prevent the issues
mentioned above.
One of the most common work-place indications of not grieving the loss of someone
close results in under-performance. The workplace will be more tolerant of a
grieving employee in the first year of grief, and will expect to see the employee
begin a recovery process. If you avoid the early stages of grief and then begin
distancing yourself from your responsibilities long after the death, management
will be less forgiving of your performance. This could result in a job loss,
a demotion or not being considered for advancement. While that may not seem
important to a depressed, grieving employee, it really is. Working provides
an outlet, and without it, the depression may worsen, not allowing for rebuilding
and recovery.
Most companies have a zero tolerance for drugs and alcohol. Substances may be
perceived as a “perfect crutch” for those who do not allow themselves to grieve.
As the depression begins to set in, the griever may turn to drugs or alcohol
to provide a “high” to cope with the situation. Drugs may begin with anti-depressants
and lead to a dependency on drugs, or one glass of wine might lead to being,
drunk every night. Unfortunately, this behaviour will enter the workplace in
the form of lack of concentration, exhaustion, under-performance and lack of
enthusiasm toward the workplace. Once again, the employer will be more tolerant
if the grief occurs in the first year rather than down the road.
Another indication that bereaved people did not allow themselves to grieve is
their inability to communicate their feelings, needs and issues. This can be
a result of depression, drug and alcohol abuse or pure sadness from the loss.
If you experience this within your own house, your family members may be more
forgiving than your employer.
Communicating in the workplace is a crucial element of most businesses. Strong
communication is needed to enable teamwork and hand-offs to other departments
in getting the job done If the bereaved have allowed themselves to withdraw
emotionally, job performance may suffer. If this occurs in the first year, management
may help the bereaved by placing them in a more individual contributing position,
but if it happens much later, management may be less forgiving, resulting in
complicated issues.
Common sense says that if you are sad at home, your sadness will be carried
into the workplace. Working through the grief early in the recovery process
may avoid some of the issues that occur with depression, substance abuse and
communications. When we bring our family issues into the workplace, it can result
in reduced performance, lack of team involvement, poor attitude and disconnection
from the workgroup. Again, this could be accepted at the beginning of a grief
process but less tolerated later on.
Working through your grief with the support of family, counselors, support groups
and your employer will help avoid the extreme situations associated with grief.
It has been proven over and over that those who do not allow themselves to grieve
in the first year following the loss of someone close will result in future
grieving issues that may be more extreme than those of the traditional grief
process.
Index
TAKE THIS THREAD
Carolyn Salter, TCF Walcha, NSW Focus, TCF NSW, No 125, Oct-Nov-Dec 2005
Take this thread Of hope
And let it be A new beginning -
A thread in the new fabric of life
You must now weave.
Choose your colour:
You have known the blues
And sunk deep into them
Yet also known the calming
Of a cloudless sky
You have known the reds
Sublime sunsets
Flashes of anger
Flames of passion
What about green?
You have known the gentle cushion
The balmy restfulness
Of a grassy verge
Known also the green-eyed monster
Jealous of those who still have
What you have lost.
You have seen the sunny yellows
Absent for a while now
Overtaken by the grey
Always the grey.
Choose these threads of hope
Draw them together;
Take the positives
Turn the greys to silver.
Remember how it was
And know you will once again, some time,
Come to that place of harmony.
But first choose your threads Carefully
And much later
Much stitching later
Weaving, working
After much hard work,
Love and care
Your fabric will glow again - A different fabric
For it can never
Be the same
But it will be beautiful
A new form of beautiful.
I NEED YOU
Your eyes were my sky.
Your smile was my sun.
Your love was the air I breathed.
Your heart was my existence.
You were my reason for living.
I would give you my life.
If it meant you could come back to this world.
By Jeanette Gustafsson, TCF, Qld, 6/10/05
Index
The Compassionate Friends supports and cares for thousands of
people worldwide each year following the death of a child. Ultimately we wish
we could prevent death from occurring... then we would still have our beloved
children with us, but sadly we can't. Please help to support our organisation
so we may continue to care and support the many families who face the most devastating
loss of all...... the loss of a child.
Thank you very much, all donations of $2
and over are tax deductible.
Your support is greatly appreciated!!!
Index
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