grief digest v12i01

Love and Grief:In Communion and Greater Than the Sum of Their Parts

By Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph.D

By Darcie D. Sims, Ph.D

Mood BustersBy Elaine Stillwell, MA, MS

The Ice Storm, the Friend and the WardrobeBy Sharon K. Tschannen

National Day of Remembrance for Murder Victims Greater Orange County Chapter of Parents of Murdered ChildrenSeptember 25, 2014, Memory Garden Memorial Park, Brea, CA

By Brad Stetson

Pop-Up Memories are not Grief BurstsBy Nan Zastrow

Grief and the Roman CatholicDr. Gerry R. Cox, Andrea Sullivan. M. Div., Father Christopher W. Cox, CSC

Healing the ache of alienationBy Thom Dennis, D. Min., LCPC, CT

A Note from the editor

What gives this magazine its heart and soul are the contributions of the people who know the path of pain. Your stories and experiences and insights bring hope and encouragement to others who may be just beginning their journey into the world of grief. We encourage you to write and share. Write from your heart about what you know because you’ve been there! We like to keep the stories about 1200 words (but we are flexible), and we prefer that you use first person (I, me) rather than (“you should…”) etc. Send your contributions via email (preferred) or snail mail (acceptable) to Janet at [email protected] or mail to 7230 Maple St, Omaha, NE 68134. We’ll ask you to read and sign our writers’ guidelines (our permission to print) and we’ll need a recent photo of you and a one- or two-paragraph bio about you. If your material is published, you’ll receive complimentary copies of that issue, and we offer you a full page in that issue to promote whatever resource you’d like to share with our readers. Happy writing!

[email protected]

GD Featured Articles

Alan WolfeltDr. Alan Wolfelt is a respected author and educator on the topic of healing in grief. He serves as Director of the Center for Loss and Life Transition and is on the faculty at the University of Colorado Medical School’s Department of Family Medicine. Dr. Wolfelt has written many compassionate, bestselling books designed

to help people mourn well so they can continue to love and live well, including Loving from the Outside In, Mourning from the Inside Out, from which this article is excerpted. Visit www.centerforloss.com to learn more about the natural and necessary process of grief and mourning and to order Dr. Wolfelt’s books.

Elaine StillwellWife, mother, grandmother, educator, author and speaker, Elaine E. Stillwell, M.A., M.S., shares her gifts of hope and inspiration with the bereaved, simply telling what she has learned to cope and survive following the deaths of her two eldest children, twenty-one-year old Denis

and nineteen-year old Peggy, in the same 1986 automobile accident. In addition to being Founder (1987) and Chapter Leader of The Compassionate Friends of Rockville Centre, Long Island, New York, (along with her husband Joe), she is also a Charter Member of Bereaved Parents/USA since 1995. Elaine shares her unique gifts of caring and humor with audiences across the United States at workshops and seminars, in radio and television appearances, and through her numerous magazine articles.

Sharon K. TschannenIn June of 2006, I was active in helping form a grief support group for the parish church I attended. I was thrilled to be given an opportunity to companion others in their walk through grief. After my husband, Tom, died in 1993, and as a way of thanking God for his presence in my “new normal” life, I volunteered at

the Hospice Home of Northeast Indiana where I did a wide variety of tasks. I was also an active member of Toastmaster, International for several years. My heart’s desire is to continue to companion others in their journey through grief by facilitating at our group meetings and by writing.

Thom DennisThom Dennis, M. Div., MAPC, LCPC is currently the Bereavement Services Coordinator at NorthShore Hospice in Skokie, Illinois. He has nineteen years experience helping grieving families as a parish minister, hospital PRN chaplain spiritual director and counselor. He is the creator or Grief River TM, a nature-

inspired approach to understanding grief and its impact over the course of the entire lifespan. For more information, please visit: www.griefriver.com.

Nan ZastrowOn April 16, 1993, Chad Zastrow, the son of Nan and Gary died as the result of suicide. Ten weeks later Chad’s fiancée took her life. This double tragedy inspired the Zastrows to create a ministry of hope. They formed a non-profit organization called Roots© and

Wings. Through workshops, seminars, group presentations and other methods, Nan and Gary create community awareness about grief experiences. Additionally, they host an annual Spring Seminar and Holiday workshop. They also facilitate a Sudden Death Learning Series. Nan is the author of a book, Blessed Are They That Mourn, and over thirty Editor’s Journal Articles in Wings and other publications. The Wings non-profit organization is the recipient of the 2000 Flame of Freedom Award for community volunteerism. In May 2002, Nan & Gary earned their Certificate in Death and Grief Education from the Center for Loss and Life Transition in Fort Collins, Colorado.

Gerry CoxGerry R. Cox, Ph.D., is a Professor Emeritus of Sociology at University of Wisconsin-La Crosse. He served as the Director of the Center for Death Education & Bioethics. He has over ninety publications including sixteen books. He has served as editor of

Illness, Crisis, and Loss and for The Midwest Sociologist. He is a member of the International Work Group on Dying, Death, and Bereavement, the Midwest Sociological Society, the American Sociological Association, and the Association of Death Education and Counseling. He serves on the board of Directors of the National Prison Hospice Association.

Brad Stetson Brad continues to write on the psychology and spirituality of bereavement, as well as on topics of social and religious concern, in both nonfiction and fiction formats. Brad Stetson is author of Living Victims, Stolen Lives: Parents of Murdered Children Speak to America

(Baywood, 2003). He is a writer and funeral chaplain in Southern California. Seewww.bradstetson.com. He’s published ten books on a wide range of religious and social topics, including Tender Fingerprints: A True Story of Loss and Resolution (Zondervan, 1999). His work has been critically reviewed in academic and popular venues.

Bev DennisonMy son, Luke, took his own life on October 21, 2008. He was thirty years old, handsome, charismatic, adventurous. I have been an active member of a local Survivors of Suicide support group in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, and have made friends and found comfort

on the website www.suicide.org. I’ve lived in Northern Wisconsin all of my life and have been married to my high-school sweetheart, Bill, for thirty-seven years. We are blessed to have a second son, Jesse, and his two young children in our lives.

GD Contributors

“The keys to love also unlock

healing in grief. Just as you opened your heart to love,

you must open your heart to

mourn.”—Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph.D.

Lo v i n g f r o m t h e o u t s i d e i n , m o u r n i n g f r o m t h e i n s i d e o u t

“Your capacity to love requires the necessity to mourn,” writes Dr. Wolfelt in this new and deeply compassionate gift

book for mourners. In other words, love and grief are two sides of the same

precious coin. One does not—and cannot—exist without the other.

They are the yin and yang of our lives.

Internationally known grief educator Dr. Alan Wolfelt explores what love

and grief have in common and invites the reader to mourn well in order to go

on to live and love well again.

ISBN: 978-1-617221-47-7

96 pages | hardcover gift book | $15.95

O t h e r c O m pa S S I O N at e B O O k S

B y D r . a l a N W O l f e lt:

t h e m o u r n e r ’s b o o k o f h o p e

this beautiful little hardcover gift book offers Dr. Wolfelt’s thoughts on hope in grief interspersed with quotes from

the world’s greatest hope-filled thinkers.

h e a L i n g yo u r g r i e v i n g h e a r t

this flagship title in our 100 Ideas Series offers 100 practical ideas to help you practice self-compassion and

teach the principles of grief and mourning.

eight CritiCaL questions for mourners... And the Answers that will Help you Heal

this book provides the answers that will help you clarify your experiences and encourage you to make choices that

honor the transformational nature of grief and loss.

understanding your grief

Dr. Wolfelt’s most comprehensive book, covering the essential lessons that mourners have taught him in his

three decades of working with the bereaved.

N e W f r O m D r . A l A N W O l f e l t

phone: (970) 226-6050 e-mail: [email protected]

www.centerforloss.com/bookstore

Grief Digest Magazine, Volume 12, Issue #14

“We are all mirrors unto one another. Look into me and you will find something of yourself as I will of you.”

— Walter Rinder

Love is a sacred partnership of communion with another human being. You take each other in, and even when you are apart, you are together. Wherever you go, you carry the person inside you.

Communion means the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially on a spiritual level. When two people love one another, they are connected. They are entwined.

The word “communion” comes from the Old French comuner, which means “to hold in common.” Note that this is different than “to have in common.” You may have very little in common with another person yet love them wholeheartedly. Instead, you hold things in common—that is, you consciously choose to share one another’s lives, hopes, and dreams. You hold her heart, and she holds yours.

This experience of taking another person inside your heart is beyond definition and defies analysis. It is part of the mystery of love. Love has its own way with us. It knocks on our hearts and invites itself in. It cannot be seen, but we realize it has happened. It cannot be touched, yet we feel it. When someone we love dies, then, we feel a gaping hole inside us. I have companioned hundreds of mourners who have said to me, “When she died, I felt like part of me died, too.” In what can feel like a very physical sense, something that was inside us now seems missing. We don’t mourn those who die from the outside in; we mourn them from the inside out.

The absence of the person you love wounds your spirit, creates downward movement in your psyche, and transforms your heart. Yet, even though you feel there is now a “hole inside you,” you will also come to know (if you haven’t already) that those you love live on in your heart. You remain in communion with those you love forever and are inextricably connected to them for eternity.

Yes, you will grieve the person’s absence and need to express your feelings of grief. You must mourn. You must commune with your grief and take it into your heart, embracing your many thoughts and feelings. When you allow yourself to fully mourn, over time and with the support of others who care about you, you will come to find that the person you lost does indeed still live inside you.

Love abides in communion—during life and after death. And mourning is communion with your grief. With communion comes understanding, meaning, and a life of richness.

Love and Grief:In Communion and Greater Than

the Sum of Their PartsBy Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph.D


Greater Than the Sum of Its Parts“Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together,

but do so with all your heart.” —Marcus Aurelius

When you love another person, it can feel like one plus one equals three.

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” Love is like that. Two people can come together and form a partnership that enables each person to be “more” in so many ways.

Here’s another way to think about this idea: Love is like an orchestra. You may be a clarinet—a strong, fine wind instrument all by yourself. But when you surround yourself with other instruments, each of whom do the work of carrying their own parts and practicing their own music, together, as a group, you can blow the doors off the place. I much prefer this expansive concept of love over the long-held reductionist belief that “two become one.” If two become one,

both participants in the relationship are diminished. Conversely, what truly feeds the soul of a loving relationship is expansion, mutual-nurturance, and growth.

Without doubt, being part of a synergistic, two-makes-three relationship, requires a conscious commitment. Did your relationship with the person who died feel enhancing or diminishing? In synergistic relationships, there has to be space and encouragement to be real and authentic. Were you empowered to be your true self or disempowered to be something you were not? Did your two make three, or did your two make you less than one? If so, perhaps you are now faced with mourning what you never had but wished you did. How human is that?

If, on the other hand, your relationship with the person who died made you greater than the some of your parts, what happens now that one of you is gone? You may feel diminished. You may feel empty. You may feel “less than.” Your self-identity may even seem to shrink as you struggle with your changing roles. If you are no longer a wife (or a mother or a sister or a daughter), what are you?

Also, the experience of mourning can feel piecemeal—a cry here, a burst of anger there; a deep sadness today, a crush of guilt tomorrow. You might feel a sense of disorientation from the scattered and ever-changing nature of your grief.

But when you trust in the process of grief and you surrender to the mystery, you will find that mourning, like love, is also greater than the sum of its parts. Leaning into your grief and always erring on the side of expressing rather than inhibiting or ignoring your thoughts and feelings—no matter how random and disjointed they might seem some days—will bring you to a place of transformation. You will not just be different from the person you were before the death. You will be greater. Your experience of love and grief will create a changed you, a you who has not only survived but who has learned to thrive again in a new form and in a new way. And just as love connects you to others, so should grief. You need the listening ears and open hearts of others as you express your thoughts and feelings about the death. You need the support of others as you mourn. Yes, love and grief are both greater than the sum of their parts. The lesson I take from this is that whenever you engage fully and openly in life, experiencing both the joys and the sorrows head-on, you are living the life you were meant to live.


By Darcie D. Sims, Ph.D.

“Good morning” is perhaps the most common greeting we hear every day. We say it without even realizing

we have spoken. It is a universal greeting that expresses hope and optimism, but often is not a part of our

conscious speech. It can also be a command of sorts, “Have a good morning.” Yet, there are sometimes

when I am not in the mood for a good morning.

Some days I still hurt, and so do you. The trouble is when we are hurting, no one seems to recognize it

or even care. Maybe that’s because you and I have learned to wear a mask. The bereaved have long ago

learned of the importance and necessity for masks, and we are very talented in creating masks that rival

the best of the Halloween costumes we cherished as children.

We learn quickly that no one wishes to know how we “really are.” Oh, people ask; they dutifully inquire

about our well being with such polite phrases as, “Hi, how are you?” Or, “How are things going?” Some-

times they ask the question with a built-in answer: “You’re doing okay, aren’t you?”

Are we all afraid to recognize pain? Are we afraid to speak of hurt in such honest terms, or are we simply

unaware of the length of time that healing requires? Have we truly become the “Fast-Food, Fast-Forward”

society where microwaves and e-mail have replaced homemade brownies and handwritten notes?


Even when someone does ask, “How are you?” their foot-steps carry them quickly away before I can even think of an “appropriate” response. Does anyone care anymore, or have we run out of time for caring?

I’m bereaved, and there are days when I want to share that and days when I don’t. But no one can tell the difference because I have learned to wear the mask and to always look the same, regardless of what is dwelling just beneath my surface smile. I have learned, as we all do, to smile quickly and to turn away slightly when tears threaten to spill down the cheek. The mask is in place.

I don’t want to wear a mask anymore. I have run out of energy to pretend that I am fine when I’m not and to smile even when my heart is breaking inside. Maybe bereaved people should limp a bit on those days when we feel scat-tered or shattered or hurt or empty inside. Maybe we should recognize the depths of the wounds that grief inflicts instead of trying to soothe the rest of the world. I’ve noticed that people are nicer to those who limp a bit. We hold doors open for them. We offer them a seat on the bus. People who limp a little seem to get more sympathy and understanding than I do in my grief. I’m not asking for a lot of sympathy—in fact, maybe none. But I would like some comprehension that grief isn’t something you “get over” quickly (or ever).

I’d like to let people know that I still am capable of moments of extreme pain, even years after a loved one has died. I want the freedom to hurt and to heal, both publicly and pri-vately. I don’t want to have to limp in order to have a kinder, gentler world at my door.

I just want to be, whatever I am, wherever I am. No more masks—just me trying to hang on one more day. I want a sign, an outward symbol of my bereavement, so others will know that I am bereaved, not crazy or sick. I want some-thing to wear that will tell everyone I am working my way through a terrible hurt.

In the “old days” black armbands were worn to acknowl-edge one’s bereavement. Some cultures still wear a piece of torn cloth to symbolize the tear in the family fabric that death causes. Some communities still place a black wreath on the door of a grieving family so others may know of their hurt and offer their support rather than their curiosity. I want a sign that says, “I’m Bereaved” and I want a hug.

Since signs and masks are too cumbersome, I’ve found the perfect symbol. You’ve seen it on lapels everywhere, in many different colors, each carrying a special message. I’ve found a Grief Awareness Pin that is a simple and dignified way to saying, “I’m bereaved.” It is a small, simple black-enamel ribbon pin, similar to the ones you’ve seen in red (for AIDS awareness), pink (for breast cancer) and green (for organ donation). This one is black for bereavement, and it is outlined in gold to represent the spirit that lives and shines forever like a star in the summer sky. Black for grief and gold for hope…a perfect symbol for our grief! It can be worn anywhere, anytime you want to recognize and honor your

grief. Awareness ribbons have become a universal symbol of support and compassion, and those who wear them become members of a universal family of understanding. What a ter-rific way to create a community of support! No longer will grieving people have to limp a little in order to receive some small amount of care and support.

Grief doesn’t end at the funeral or the cemetery! You don’t stop loving someone just because they died. Why should the bereaved try to hide their sorrow just because the rest of the world can’t stand to see them hurt?

Let’s create openness and tolerance and understanding of the universality of grief and a willingness to be present for each other. Whenever you see someone wearing a black Mourning Pin you will know that a life has been lived and loved and that sorrow isn’t a weak or negative face. No more masks, please. Let grief have its place among the living as a symbol of how much you loved.

Grief doesn’t end at the funeral. In fact, it’s just beginning and we are going to need all the hugs and hope and help we can get. Lend me some support. Lend me some hope, but please don’t ask me to give you a smile I don’t have or a face I cannot wear. In time, I will smile again and I will be “fine,” but right now this little black ribbon says, “I’m bereaved,” and I have earned the right to grieve.

Entire communities have worn this ribbon to show sup-port for those caught in the web of pain and sorrow that bereavement brings. Individuals can wear the Mourning Pin whenever they wish to acknowledge their grief: anniversaries, special days or every day.

We are all fellow strugglers on the path, but grief is a jour-ney that does not have to be traveled alone. Wear the black ribbon pin to support those who grieve or to acknowledge your own bereavement. You will not be alone. We are a uni-versal family, broken by death, but mended by love.

The Black-Ribbon Mourning Pin is available for purchase through Centering Corporation. You can visit their website: www.centering.org or email [email protected] or call (866) 218-0101 to order the pins.

Reprinted in honor of Darcie Sims, Grief Digest contributor for 10 years.

Thanks for this little while.


Is it hard to get out of bed in the morning? Even harder

to make it through the day? Where do we get the energy

to rebuild our life after our child or loved one has

died? What helps us put one foot in front of the other,

day after day, trying our hardest to cope and survive?

What could give our hearts a boost, especially on a bad

day? We can congratulate ourselves making it through

anniversaries, birthdays, and the holidays, but what can

we do on a regular day when our heart and soul ache

for our child while we seem enveloped in a dark cloud

and mired in black quicksand sucking the life out of us?

What Mood Busters can we call on for relief?

After my 19 year old daughter Peggy died instantly

in a freak car accident, my 21 year old son Denis died

four days later from the same accident, the day after we

buried Peggy. As I planned two separate funerals in one

week, I wondered if I would ever get up again, much

less smile, laugh or have a life. In those early days, each

minute, hour and day was a struggle.

Luckily, along the way, I found a few things that

comforted me and seemed to shorten the endless

hours that challenged my broken heart. Each time

I discovered something that eased my pain, I added

it to my “Rescue List” so I could repeat it (and also

remember it) for the next time I needed to scrape and

claw my way out of that dark hole of grief. You, too,

can create a list of “Revivers” to navigate you through

a rough patch. You might like to try a few of my Mood

Busters and then create some of your own.

Treasure that Book. Curling up on a comfy sofa

or bed with an inspiring support book while enjoying a

cup of coffee or tea or sipping a glass of wine, learning

from those who walked before me brought moments of

relief and hope to my fragile spirit. Inviting comforting

words into my soul and taking time to ponder their

motivating message was like handing me a roadmap

out of my misery. It felt like an angel pointing the way

to better days. Run to the library (155.937 section),

your favorite bookstore, or check out amazon.com for

a motivating book to give you ammunition to fight

the gloom and anxiety. Fill your head with positive

thoughts, inviting strategies, and inspiring phrases

that speak to your heart. You might even want to write

MAKd BustersBy Elaine Stillwell, MA, MS


down or memorize some words, like those of Viktor Frankl advising us, “Things don’t go wrong and break your heart so you

can become bitter and give up. They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all you were intended to be.” You

discover that words have magic and power and can be great Mood Busters.

Write Your Heart Out. No one ever suggested that I keep notes in a journal, recording the ups and downs of my roller-

coaster days of grief. But instinctively, I helped my heart by writing about my children and about the things that helped me

survive. I guess I was emptying my heart of the pain, pouring it onto paper – and later into my computer. It helped me express

what I was feeling, allowing all the suffering to spill our rather than to fill up and later become a disastrous Niagara Falls. Writing

helped me discover my pattern of grieving. That enabled me to make decisions and choices knowing what my heart needed as

I was creating my “new normal.” Start jotting down a few sentences when you feel the blahs closing in. Discover the power

of words as you reveal what makes you tick. Armed with the knowledge of what helps you and what makes you crazy, you can

boldly face the enemy and watch those crippling emotions make a fast retreat as Mood-Busters take over and come to your aid.


Glue Yourself to Loving People. How wonderful I

found it was to be surrounded with loving people who were

simply there for me! No demands, no shoulds, no advice,

just trying to make sure I was all right. They were like an

invincible fortress around me as I struggled and fought with

the gloom of the long, empty days without my two children.

Surround yourself with these loving people. They listen

to your story (without rolling their eyes), hear your moans

and groans, wipe your tears, encourage you to take care of

yourself, make no judgments and “walk the walk” with you.

We might not be able to lean on immediate family members

and close relatives since they, too, are battling grief, but good

friends could be our anchor. They realize that our heartache

and tears are a tribute to what we lost. They acknowledge

that the depth of our pain testifies to the depth of our love.

Since our grief gives our loss significance, we don’t want

anyone to “fix it” or take it away. We just want to wallow in

it, savoring every minute as we adjust to the loss of our child.

Don’t let anyone hurry you. Make your own timetable. Go at

your own pace. Stick with this special circle of loving friends.

Welcome their calls or visits, share a cup of tea or friendly

beer, designate chores to them that seem overwhelming to

you, and bask in their love as they wrap you in hugs – all sure

protections against dreary days. They are definite, valuable

Mood Busters.

Revive the Spirit. It could be time to break out of your

grief shell. Taking a peek at the calendar we can choose a

date to do something fun that we enjoyed before our child

died. It could be as simple as going to a movie, or rooting for

Notre Dame. I walked the ocean beach, put up a Christmas

tree, celebrated “Hallmark” occasions – all bringing back

precious memories. Remember, a date on the calendar gives

meaning to a day and gives us something to look forward

to. Or maybe it is the time to schedule a get-away weekend,

either to a relaxing resort or to visit that special person we

would be thrilled to see. Every chance we got, my husband

and I visited our daughter 250 miles away at college, totally

enjoying seeing her and delighting in the amenities of a lovely

hotel nearby. Just the change of pace, getting out of the house,

taking a ride, seeing different scenery, enjoying being with

loving company or just eating inviting meals could be a tonic

for our aching heart. Plan ahead and keep that gloom at arms’

length by immersing yourself in the joys of yesterday that

provide sweet memories and also in the creation of the new

joys of today. Discover your own Mood Busters.

Keep Moving. When you’re grieving there’s no such thing

as too much physical exercise. Get yourself up and moving,

even if it’s just walking around the block. It gets you out

of the house, seeing others, noticing nature, and away from

sitting all day, popping pills, drinking too many relaxers, or

raiding the refrigerator. In those dark days, my daily exercise,

rain or shine, was walking my black lab Mickey three times

a day. It was like a catharsis for me, walking together as I

told him all my secrets and cried my brains out. We could

jog and run, roll in the snow, and walk in the rain, wind and

sub-zero temperatures – all refreshing and exhilarating to

the spirit when grieving 24/7. Come to think of it, I think

Mickey actually walked me around the block. Today many

folks handle exercise a little differently – they run straight to

the gym, especially when they’re having a bad day. They’re

not ever afraid of those torture machines. They welcome

them! They find that working-out doesn’t take away their

excruciating grief pain, but it does clear their mind, exhausts

their body, provides an outlet for their raw pent-up emotions,

enables them to breathe easier and perhaps even get a better

night’s sleep. The extra bonus is that they are taking good

care of themselves while getting in really good shape to chase

gloom away, a real Mood Buster.

Save the Day. Don’t let emotions, comments, situations,

people, weather, panic attacks or Hallmark days get you

down. Be prepared. Who you gonna call? Mood Busters, of

course!!

Wife, mother, grandmother, educator, author and speaker, Elaine E. S9llwell, M.A., M.S., shares her gi=s of hope and inspira9on with the bereaved simply by telling what she has learned following the deaths of her two eldest children, 21-‐year-‐old Denis and 19-‐year-‐old Peggy, in the same 1986 automobile accident.

In addi9on to being Founder and Chapter Leader of The Compassionate Friends of Rockville Centre, (Long Island) NY, 1987-‐present, with her husband Joe, Elaine has been wri9ng for Grief Digest since its first issue in July 2003. She was also Bereavement Coordinator for the Diocese of Rockville Centre, 1998-‐2010, working closely with 134 parishes and local agencies,

where she trained support group facilitators, maintained a web site lis9ng of area support programs, and chaired the annual bereavement conference each spring.

Known for her passion and zeal, Elaine shares her unique gi=s of caring and humor with audiences across the United States at workshops and

Elaine believes “if their song is to con9nue, then we must do the singing.”

ELAINE STILLWELL

The Death of a Child By Elaine Stillwell Reflections for Grieving Parents. Bereaved parents know the excruciating pain of losing a child. Elaine, mother of two children killed in a car accident, offers this collection of life-giving lessons gathered over years of expericence as a grief minister. Includes creating a new normal, bearing the soul, seasons and more.

Code: DECO Price: $10.95

www.centering.org

A Forever Angel by Elaine Stillwell.Instructions on making angels in honor of your loved one. Healing activities include: Baking a Batch of Angel Cookies, Creating Angel Decorations, s, and more.

Code: FOAC Price: $4.47

Phone: 1-866-218-0101


By Sharon K. Tschannen

The ice storm was wicked. Had I wondered through my wardrobe? Was I in Narnia? It was two weeks before Christmas. I glanced in awe out the window. The once mellow branches of the Maple trees, fixed and frozen in ice, smacked the shingles and struck the glass windows with an astounding clatter. Winds wailed and higher branches splintered and crash landed on branches below propelling them downward. No wonder my cats, Mercy and Grace crouched under the down comforter on the bed one minute and darted under the bed the next. The electricity would surely come on soon I told them and we would be warm and comfy.

The

Ice

Storm,

the Friend and the Wardrobe


The temperature nose-dived and the birds squabbled for the last of the seed in the feeders. Walking with caution over the ice, I filled the feeders and with curiosity I gazed over the wonderland. I had to be in Narnia. I thought of my friend, Sue. She had no zest for another winter. Her husband, Wes had died seventeen months ago. His death had set her afloat on a journey of grief. A journey through grief can be wicked. One day your life is “normal” the next you’re floating through a wardrobe and into Narnia; where the wicked Witch freezes you into a cycle of mourning with her glacial powers. In the movie, ‘The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe,’ Lucy was playing a game of “hide-and-seek “ with her siblings when she found the world of Narnia by passing through a magical wardrobe. Like Lucy, I had played “hide-and-seek” with my own grief after my husband, Tom had died. Suddenly, I had wondered through my wardrobe and into Narnia, an unknown land of Arctic woe. I tried to hide from the grief one minute and would seek it the next. On first arriving in Narnia, Lucy said, “Winters not all bad. There’s ice skating, snow balls and Christmas.” It was the Christmas card that Sue had written informing me of Wes’s illness that caused me to phone her and we chattered for the first time in over twenty years. I promised myself I would phone her often. A promise unfulfilled. When I heard of Wes’s death, I invited Sue for supper. We broke the ice and I accompanied Sue on her journey through Narnia. We rekindled our friendship. I grew to love her in so many ways. I felt special knowing her because she made me feel special. I accompanied her to grief support meetings provided by Hospice and she became an active member of the grief support group held at my house. I introduced her to everyone as my friend from the past, which I had raced through twelve years of school with. Sue shared with us a quilt that her daughter, Linda had lovingly stitched using the material of her father’s shirts. Sue’s emotions froze in her throat as a tear broke free and fell on the quilt. She attended every meeting until October. In October, her skin turned a dark yellow. She was taken to a hospital in a far off larger city. And in December, she died of liver cancer. I loved her. I now needed others in the support group to companion me. The purpose of our grief group is to companion others in their journey. We do this by providing head knowledge about the grief process and heart knowledge using personal experiences. Narnia had been turned into a world of eternal winter by the white Witch. Our worlds likewise can be turned into years of eternal winters of grief without the help of others. I had shared with Sue many stories of my own grief experience. She loved the stories. Said she always knew I would have the words to make her feel better. There she was again making me feel special. Why had Sue appeared in my life for such a short time? Was our encounter just a dream? At times, I felt like I had let her down; talked about peace and hope and finding a “new normal” life without Wes. I don’t know why God had chosen this path for Sue, but I believe she is in His hands. After the prayers at the grave-site, I knew she was. There in the sky, on a blistery December day appeared the most enchanting rainbow, a sign of God’s covenant promise. At the end of the movie, Narnia is released from the glacial freeze and the children are crowned princes and princesses. We all feel frozen in our grief for a while, but the ice will thaw and Sue will be remembered as the special person she was in our minds and hearts forever. I will remember her today and feed the birds, tell her story at the support group and keep her memory alive. Sue is just on the other side of the rainbow…waiting for us all!

The

Ice

Storm,

the Friend and the Wardrobe


National Day of Remembrance for Murder Victims

Greater Orange County Chapter of Parents of Murdered ChildrenSeptember 25, 2014, Memory Garden Memorial Park, Brea, CA

By Brad Stetson In 2007 the United States Congress passed resolutions establishing this day each year, September 25, as the National Day of Remembrance for Murder Victims. As are you, I’m glad they did it, but as with you, I ask, “What took them so long to do it?” Well, the answer to that question is more complicated than the usual reasons we hear for the fumblings of politicians. It’s the M word. Murder. People are afraid to say it, people are afraid to talk about it, and people are afraid it will happen to someone they love. For everybody knows, deep down, that it’s the worst thing that could happen to their child or brother or mother or sister or father or any other loved one; and they also know that having a loved one murdered is the worst thing that could happen to them. And they shudder and recoil at the thought of what that murder would do to them. They know, dimly and just by intuition, what you have come to know in brutal, harsh reality: each murder does not end one life, it ends many lives. It changes everything. Whether the murder of your loved one happened 30 years ago, 20 years ago, 10, five, one or even just a few months ago, you know that you have been changed, and the person you were the day before the murder is gone, completely gone. The fact you----and so many members of your family and the way you interact with them----changed on that dreaded day is just one part of what makes murder the most evil act and the worst sin a human being can do, the most heinous crime. Dr. Wanda Bincer who’s adult daughter was murdered, writes of her experience at realizing every parent’s worst nightmare: “I was thrust into the world of senseless violence, grief and anguish with the sudden news of the murder of my oldest child and only daughter. It began with utter shock and disbelief and a slim hope that a mistake had been made. The shock and disbelief still catch me at times, even though four years have passed. And of course a terrible mistake was made; some cruel and misguided man ended the life of a young woman, who loved life, people and animals. She picked up stray puppies, loved children, had a radiant sunny smile and wanted to start a camp for mentally retarded and disabled children. A part of me was killed with her and I will never be the same again. Indeed, she will never be the same again. I guess all of you already know that.


But I would like to suggest to you tonight, something that might on its face seem crazy, something that at first may seem ridiculous, and something that might even seem offensive, hurtful or disrespectful to your loved one. Of course, I want you to know it is not any of those things, but it can be hard to hear at first. It can be hard to hear at first. It is this: You have been changed, but it just might be, it just might turn out later to be, that you have been changed for the better. In a profound triumph of life over death, of love over hate, of memory over malice, and of persistence over pain, your very presence here tonight at this time of remembrance of your loved one stolen from you by murder, shows that there is within you and even perhaps already upon you new qualities of life, new powers of humanity and compassion that have come into fruition because of the fire you have passed through, and live within every day. Like a hillside that has been ravaged and scorched by a terrible blaze, and later sees the slow return of living things, so the contours of your soul---shocked, burned and crumpled by the cruelest, ultimate unfairness---murder, may yet have given rise to the growth that a new and different season brings. Now when I daresay that the changes you have endured and are enduring are ones that can be for the better I am not saying any of the following horrible, absurd ideas: the murder of your loved one has turned out to be okay, it’s all been for the best, or you’re glad it happened. None of those crazy thoughts are true at all. I know you would give anything and everything not to be here tonight and to have your loved on back. But because of your love for them, because of your living commitment to them, and because of your persistent declaration of their life and its everlasting beauty and value, the turning of time’s pages are seeing a new story written. The indescribable agony you experience as a survivor of homicide is being written as a part of the larger story of your transformed life. You are not defined by grief and victimization, but rather you are defined by the love you had and will always have for your murdered loved one. You are defined by the banner of their precious memory that you hold high every day, and you are defined by your affirmation that your love for them will never, ever dwindle or diminish one tiny bit, and that your pursuit of true justice for them and for your family will never stop. You are defined by your survivorship and by your glorious human victory over vengeance, for you are better than the barbarity you have seen. The uniqueness of your epic loss and grief coupled with the courage you are showing as a survivor is empowering you to grow through grief, journeying through the storm to a shore that is different from where you were before. It’s not where you wanted to be, but there are aspects of this place that have their own unusual, secret beauty to them, a beauty known only to you, the survivors. What are these new and deeply human beauties? Well, they are hard to define precisely, they can only really be understood by people like you who are on this odyssey of sorrow. I can just describe what they look like:--I once saw the mother of a murdered son greet a newly bereaved mother at a POMC meeting with a strong hug. She just hugged the sobbing mother, they silently hugged and cried together for a couple of minutes. Then she told the new mother, “I know what you’re feeling, only you and I can know what this is like.” She told the mother that her shock and dismay was normal and would last a long time, and that she should talk to other survivors—when she was ready, about what she was feeling. That was extraordinary sensitivity.

---I once saw the father of a murdered son tell the enraged and frustrated mother of a murdered child that she must not show emotion in the courtroom during the trial of her son’s murderer, because if she did, it could impair the case against the assailant on trial. It was not what the mother wanted to hear, but it was the hard truth she needed to hear. That was extraordinary compassion. ---I once saw the mother of a murdered daughter start and lead a chapter of Parents of Murdered Children, and work for years at developing the chapter into an ongoing resource for other relatives of homicide victims. Every month this incredible woman---permanently wounded by the rape and murder of her treasured daughter---would show up at the meetings, and lead discussions about terribly difficult topics and model for other survivors the uncommon strength and dignity that characterizes the people who lead and participate in chapters of POMC all across the country. That was exceptional courage. Great sensitivity, great compassion and great courage, those are only three of the changes that took root in the burnt soil of the soul of survivors, but they were lovely in their ability to give hope to the hopeless, wisdom to the weary and strength to the suffering. It is amazing to think that a human being can be utterly devastated, and yet come back again and offer to others help, comfort, support, strength and guidance. And, all of those to an extraordinary extent, to a degree which they probably would not have been capable of, had their loss not been so great. Out of great suffering came great goodness.Yes, in the survivors of homicide who gather here tonight we find heroes, heroes everywhere. Why heroes, because you have taken life’s hardest blow, the most powerful punch human wickedness can render, and you have stood back up, and you stand here still tonight. Perhaps before your life was changed by murder you didn’t think you were capable of being a hero, of doing great things. But not of your own choosing you have become someone new, and of your own choosing you have become someone extraordinary, someone who is now gifted in special new ways, special ways maybe not yet fully realized. From the cocoon of a grief like no other you sit here this evening with new wings, a person inwardly more beautiful and more powerful than you know. And who knows where you will choose to fly from tonight, and who knows whose life you will enhance in a profound way, because of what you have become---and are becoming---changed and changing always in honor of that forever cherished someone for whom your love is supreme.

September 25th, Every Year


By Nan Zastrow

Recently, we experienced a pop-up memory of Chad. We (my husband and I) were driving home and

stopped at the signal lights. A shiny beige pickup truck came whizzing through the intersection of the

busy street and easily caught our attention. In the bed of the pickup truck was a 3’ x 5’ American flag

whirling in the breeze. Simultaneously, Gary and I had an instant pop-up memory to a long ago time,

when our son Chad, did the very same thing! I haven’t seen such a display since Chad’s death, and this

pop-up brought kudos, a smile and a story to Gary and me.

If you are a web surfer, you are familiar with “pop-ups.” In many situations, they are frustrating and

distracting, but they do get your attention. Web pop-ups are those images that appear suddenly and

unexpectedly in the middle of something else you were doing. Pop-ups in the Internet world can also lead

Pop-Up Memories are not Grief Bursts


you on a trail from site to site to discover a hidden piece of information. You are

intrigued, and your senses become alert challenged by the clue.

As your grief begins to heal, you are likely to experience more pop-ups than

grief bursts. I define grief pop-ups as a light-bulb kind of recognition that

instantly recalls an event or moment in the life of your loved one that may

have been a forgotten or a “buried” memory. It doesn’t require a specific

trigger; it often just surfaces. It usually occurs when the mind is peaceful and

is not focusing on any outside stimuli. The memory suddenly pops-up in your

thoughts (whether stimuli or non-stimuli induced) and creates a highly pleasant

sensation that brings a smile and a story associated with the recollection.

The story behind our pop-up memory on this particular day, was a high

school senior, our son Chad. At the time, he was a member of the Wisconsin

National Guard, and passionately patriotic. His patriotic spirit was displayed

every time he donned his army fatigues with the bloused pants over his tanker-

style, infantry boots (not typical army issue). He was the young man who,

with permission, drove an Army jeep to his homecoming celebration. He slept

beneath a patriotic quilt. Camouflage was his preferred choice for casual dress.

He joined the Army National Guards in his junior year of high school because

he was motivated by Desert Storm. He lived and breathed his commitment.

But the pop-up memory smile had to do with his 1976 Chevy truck. In the bed

of his truck, he mounted a 3’ x 5’ American flag and proudly drove to school,

work, the National Guards, and play with this symbol of pride. Seeing some

other young man with the same spirit of adventure on this day invoked an

awesome pop-up memory from the past.

Differences between Pop-Ups and Grief Bursts:

The important element of pop-up memories are the stories. These differ from

grief bursts. Most bereaved are familiar with the term grief burst and can attest

to having one. Grief bursts typically bring on a feeling of being overwhelmed

with resident emotions of grief. They create a sensory jolt that typically comes

from something that triggered the recollection. Grief bursts signal a single

characteristic of a loved one that coincides with a familiar place, a smell, a

song, a fragrance, or a glance of someone who looks like your loved one, just to

name a few triggers. They may bring happy or sad memories. They create an

opportunity for you to express your sorrow and re-acknowledge the reality of

your loved one’s death. In contrast to pop-ups, they seldom tie to a life-story or

event to go along with the memory.


Pop-up memories can happen when you least

expect them. Working in my kitchen one day, I

had a pop-up memory of Chad and Jenny making

pizza in a different house that we built. The pop-

up memory recalled the story of the two of them

camping on the shore of the Rib River and raiding

the refrigerator and house for camping supplies.

While writing this article, I had a pop-up memory

of Chad returning from advance military training

sporting his proud tattoo. I easily recalled the

story that went along with the conversation over

the phone with Chad about making an appropriate

choice for a tattoo.

The reality about pop-up memories is that every

story recalled through a pop-up memory revives

our connection to our beloved son. Pop-up

memories always connect to a life story. You feel a

need to retell the story or discuss it with someone

else because the vision recalled is so captivating

it begs repeating! You visualize your loved one

in his/her time actively doing exactly what the

pop-up memory awakened in your mind. It’s

every bereaved person’s wish to be able to talk

about the times in the life of their loved one that

were special and pop-up memories provide that

opportunity. These stories bring great comfort.

What I like about pop-up memories is the warmth

I feel years after the death. It allows me to re-live

the happiness of who this person was and the

special joys he brought to my life.

Embrace your pop-up memories

There will always be a place in your heart and

your life for memories of your loved one. It’s a

comforting and healing part of grief when the

memory you experience can bring you moments

of joy as you recall the story of what created the

memory. Pop-ups can create instant connections to

positive feelings like an instant replay at a sporting

event. Details, sights, sounds, colors, and joyful

emotions are vivid. You feel like you are right

there again. Pop-ups interrupt the moment and

connect the past to the present moment in your

life. Merging the two confirms that out loved one

lives forever in our hearts, our stories, and our

memories. Love lives on!

The pop-up memory of Chad driving his truck

with the billowing flag stayed with me for days. It

encouraged me to look through a couple picture

albums again. Maybe it was a fluke that the

summer’s patriotic holidays were upon us. Or

maybe it was just coincidental that we crossed

paths at the intersection at the same time as these

young men. What are the odds of that? Or maybe

it was just one of those little miracles that Gary

and I have recited almost every day in the past 20

years since Chad’s death that remind us that Chad

will always live in our hearts and will always be

the wind beneath our Wings™!

___________________________________________

Note: Pop-up memories is not a clinical word

or familiar word in the vocabulary of grief

counseling. It was adopted by me as a result of this

experience and its likeness to every day Internet

surfing! Please feel free to use it as a means to

describe healing grief stories! It is my wish that

you too can recall the joy and pass it on! Nan


A Mother’s Love By Bev [email protected]

I answered the phone, and heard your voice again

But this call was different; I could hear your pain.

The words that you spoke haunt me to this day.

I thought that I could love you enough to make you want to stay.

I tried to encourage you with loving words a mom should say.

How could I have ever known you would end your life this way?

Your world held everything, or so it seemed to me,

But the pain and the hopelessness were all part of your misery.

I was sure that you could cope with whatever came your way,

Never doubting that a mother’s love could make you want to stay.

True love, a home and happiness, all these belonged to you

But behind your brilliant smile more despair than anyone knew.

Waiting for a call from you through long hours the next day;

Sure that I could love you enough to make you want to stay.

When I heard three car doors slam, my feet hit the floor.

Three officers were on the porch knocking gently at my door.

Their words were so surreal all I could do was pray

And look to God for answers for why you couldn’t stay.

“Go fast—take chances,” that’s how you used to live

Eager to take everything that this life had to give.

But somewhere life turned sad, and you couldn’t face another day.

How will I ever understand why you couldn’t stay?

Memories unfulfilled, loving words left unsaid

All of these realities spinning ‘round my head.

I watch your friends get married; I hold their babies, feel their love,

Knowing that you see all of this from your new home up above.

I miss your bear hugs and your smiles, and I ache to hear your voice.

Yet I know that in your heart you felt you had no choice.

And, as I am still grieving, getting through day by day,

Loving you, somehow accepting, I couldn’t make you want to stay.

Volume 8, issue #2–Phone: 1-866-218-0101

–6–

With Love From Mom

To Luke, Forever My Leprechaun,

March 17, 1978—October 21, 2008

By Bev Dennison The dull pain in my heart still comes and goes, Much the way that a tide ebbs and flows.Alone, I endure this anguish and despair;There is no one who comprehends with whom I can share. In my guilt and my grief I’m completely aloneThe light of my life—my son—now is gone.Your brilliance extinguished by your own hand,An effectively lethal act—spontaneous, unplanned. In one brief moment, the decision you madeTo end your life—the ultimate price paidFor a life so full, yet somehow beyond sad,Suicide the only option that you felt you had. You’re never to know just how widespreadWas the shocked disbelief at learning you were dead.My world in shambles, nothing ever the same,Irrationally feeling as if somehow, I were to blame. My brave façade shows the world my smiling face,Though inside, emptiness has taken my heart’s place.But at night, safe in my bed, where no one else hears,My new best friend—my pillow—accepts my silent tears. Desperate for answers, I search and wonder and ask God, “Why?”I know God listens, but as yet, there’s no reply.Yet, His Word assures me that in another time, another placeI will once again see your beautiful, heavenly face. That thought sustains me and I somehow carry onIn a way once thought impossible after you were gone.Though now a new person, changed in ways I’d never dreamed,Learning through tragedy that you weren’t who you seemed. This painful journey must be solitary and alone;No way to avoid it; the grieving must be done.So for a brief span, but a lifetime, we will remain apart,Till I see you and hold you and reunite with my heart.

My Heart

With Love From Mom,

To Luke, Forever My Leprechaun,

March 17th, 1978–October 21, 2008


Grief and the Roman Catholic

Dr. Gerry R. CoxAndrea Sullivan. M. Div.

Father Christopher W. Cox, CSC

Death, grief, and bereavement are difficult for people of all

faiths. The traditional grief and bereavement practices have less

utility for Roman Catholics than for people of other faith traditions.

Perhaps American Indians are most similar in their grief and

bereavement practices. For Catholics, the focus is upon restoring

the community and the communion of saints. Catholicism is not

an ego-centered religion. The focus is less upon the individual

than upon the community or group. Attendance at Mass or at a

specific parish is not based upon the personality or performance

of the priest, but rather is based upon the community of believers.

Priests come and go. While some are decidedly more popular,

charismatic, and personable, the community of believers remains

despite the quality of the priest. While the focus upon community

is not as strong as it was in earlier generations, the emphasis upon

community remains. Catholics also believe in the communion of

saints which emphasizes that the dead do not leave us permanently,

but rather are waiting for us in heaven. The grief of Catholics is

strongly influenced by these major beliefs. Catholics mourn death,

but not without hope!

Catholic approach to Death

Many faithful and observant Catholics approach the end of

their lives with a concern about what will happen when they die,

especially if their children are not observant or practicing Catholics

(Rogers, 2008: 170). Will they be given a “proper” Catholic Mass

and Catholic burial? Has the twenty-first century abdicated from

the rich traditions of teaching, caring, and ritually providing for the

dying and dead? As an ancient and traditional religion, the Roman

Catholic Church has a long history of helping people manage dying

While some are decidedly more popular,

charismatic, and personable, the community of

believers remains despite the quality of the priest.


and death. The Church has historically taken very seriously the task of aiding people through the process of facing death and providing reassurance and support of the dying and their families. While they lacked the theories, models, and concepts that are available today, they knew that they were doing very important things and tried to do them very well. The life and death of Jesus has been used as a model for Catholics. Catholics generally are taught to die as they lived as Jesus did. The focus in dying is not upon “saving the soul” of the dying, but to allow them to strengthen their relationship with God. The priest offers sacraments, prayer, and support, but does not judge or condemn the dying or their way of life. The traditional approach was not focused upon achieving life after death, but upon the importance of the way life is lived before dying, of living responsibly, of the community of believers, of the Communion of Saints, of the sacraments, and of the love and forgiveness of God. The belief is that God offers grace and forgiveness that will allow even those who have lived egregious and evil lives to still be able to achieve Heaven. Like Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, most will tremble and show fear when facing death. Some bury their thoughts of dying and death, hoping that it will not happen by doing so. Many will try to pretend that death will not happen by closing their eyes to what is happening to their body, their age, or their loss of faculties. They will focus upon the many diversions in life and act as people with blindfolds hoping or believing that death will not occur. When facing death, time is lost when focusing upon distractions. No matter how tight the blindfold, death cannot be conquered or avoided. Time is the one thing that all can choose how to use. The question, “Do I have time for this,” might better be, “Is this worth my time?” Time spent watching television, playing video games, chatting on your cell phone, playing games on Facebook, or whatever means time that you did not have for your family, friends, learning, love, spirituality, or other things that might be important. Life is larger than language. The language of the death awareness movement has developed in the last 40 to 50 years. We now discuss collective grief, disenfranchised grief, stages of grief, stages of dying, and so forth. We have sanitized the dying and death process. Few of us have experienced being with another person as they die. Few of us have prepared the body of a loved one for burial or other disposition. Professionals now run the show. We are individual, unique people, but we are also products of society. Collective solutions contain and express a wisdom of which the individual is not capable. This is not to say that the collective solutions are inherently superior, but only that they are richer and take into account more aspects of the human experience than the individual mind is capable of seeing. Thus, it is often the case that the individual is railing and rebelling against custom and convention as a manifestation of a lack of appreciation for the depth of the conventional and customary solutions. What we are suggesting is that before we reject out of hand funeral dinners, sending flowers, offering expressions of sympathy, and so forth; that we ask ourselves what needs

they meet which are not apparent to the casual observer. For example, a person told me that they did not want to have their casket open at the wake for people to gawk at the body. The major benefit of the open casket is not to allow people to see how bad you appear, but rather, the purpose of the open casket is to confirm for the survivors that you are truly dead. Sending flowers is hard on one’s budget, but to have no one send flowers is quite disruptive to survivors who we then often believe that no one cared or loved either them or the deceased. Part of our reaction to the death of a significant other is the sense of abandonment and a fear of the consequences of abandonment. Many social rituals and processes may help alleviate these fears. Dying will eventually happen for all of us. There are many ways to face dying and death. Some work better for us than others. Each of us must make our own journey. We will be called upon to make choices: palliative care, hospital treatment, and hospice. As families and patients, we need assistance that others can offer. Remember that your Parish has services that it can offer the dying and their families. Most Parishes have “Caring Ministries” of one sort or another to aid the dying and their families. Families and friends also need assistance. The journey is taken by both the dying and his or her survivors. Refusing to think of death may make today easier to face, but it leads to a catastrophe when it happens to a loved one or when one is forced to finally face impending death. If nothing else, the lesson of death is a warning on how one should live. As Catholics that means being a part of the community of believers, attending and participating in Mass, and receiving the sacraments. When thinking about what is an earthly life versus what is an eternal life is answered by the Church. Dying is to be born into a new life. Christians die in order to live. As with plants and animals, humans give and receive. Love and learning are the major preoccupations of humankind. Humans devote themselves to absorbing all of the knowledge that they can. Small children are so excited to learn about the world around them. They show genuine excitement in learning. As they get older, they may still enjoy learning, but they are socialized to not show others how much fun they are having. As children love to share what they have learned to others, they also share what is in their minds and hearts. They share their dreams, thoughts, desires, loves, and dislikes. Over time, humans share less, perhaps to avoid hurt from others, but their minds and hearts do not stop dreaming. Humans devote themselves to serving others, and at the same time, receive love and learning from others. Humans spend their lives seeking love and knowledge. For many, this search leads to happiness. God is viewed as all knowing and all loving. The search of humans for love and learning will not reach that level, but the amount of love and knowledge that can be gained is limitless. God reaches down to humans as they reach out to each other, but God offers grace, the strength of the Eucharist, and His love for the journey. Perhaps all people have special skills or gifts which may or may not be tapped or developed. If the greatest talent for


playing chess never learns the game, the world is deprived of the gifts of that person. As our gifts or talents may be hidden even from us, so, too, is grace hidden from us. It is freely given from God, but may go unnoticed. As humans with imperfect lives, not sufficient love, and never learning quite enough, in death humans are offered a view of knowledge and love that is not possible in the earthly life. Such a vision of the eternal life cannot be experienced by those in the earthly life. For the Christian death is a passing to a higher, eternal life that offers a chance to participate in the divine life which grace allows us to do in the earthly life at a lesser degree. Those who have died should perhaps be envied rather than mourned. Catholics believe that when a person dies, a saint has been born! Those who have died will no longer suffer. They will no longer face death. With death, loneliness, pain, fear, guilt, suffering will no longer be a part of their lives. Rather, the dead will experience joy, grace, love, and discovery at levels not experienced in the earthly life. While some may argue that it is a fault or even blasphemy to grieve in excess or refuses to take faith into account because of great sorrow, God does not forbid grief. If we were really convinced that our separation was only temporary and that the souls of the dead find peace with God, we probably would not have such difficult grief. Reason does not control faith or our fears and emotions. We may cry when our mother leaves the room as a child. We may weep when our spouse takes a business trip. Why should we not weep when someone dies? Our grief may cause us to not want to eat, to not go to work, or to care for our children. As Catholics, we have a duty to follow our beliefs, to comfort those who mourn, to feed the poor, and so forth. We can only manage our intense grief by reviving our faith and hope, by maintaining the bonds beyond the grave, and by continuing to prepare our own soul for our heavenly journey! The love of God keeps us from being separated. Everyone we love is not

in the room with us at this time. We can still love them! Death can shatter our lives, joys, and well-being, but it cannot break the bonds of eternal love! Some look to the heavens for their loved ones. Some may pick out a particular star, but though we weep, grieve, and love, as long as we believe, we can cope! Our losses are great, but God’s love is greater! Catholics believe that human love is imperfect and can never be as pure and strong as heavenly love. Those in heaven love us! We should love them properly for their own sakes and not for our sake. They are saints in heaven. Why should we be sad for them? Is our need for them and attachment to them for their sake or for ours? Would they want us to wallow in our grief or to have joy in our lives? If we worry about their happiness, they are happier than they ever could have been here. If it is their presence that we miss, their conversation, their affection, then we are self-seeking and selfish. As Catholics believe in guardian angels, so, too, can you believe that your loved ones are here with you. You can dedicate whatever you are doing to them. You can share whatever you are doing with them. As you shared sunsets, ocean views, or children’s actions with them when they were alive, you can share with them in death. If they are watching over you, they will see what you see. For some Catholics, the idea of their loved ones being in Purgatory makes them watching over us less likely. If they are in Purgatory, how can they watch over us? Of course, we can pray for those in Purgatory. We can still help them as they helped us. As we ask for the intervention of the Virgin Mary, the saints, the angels, and even God, we know that both the living and the dead can know God’s mercy. Rather than fearing the sternness of God’s judgment, Catholics focus upon the mercy of God. As Catholics, we participate in the divinity of God through Holy Communion, the sacraments, the Church, the Communion of Saints, and the grace given to us by God. Rather than fear, Catholics focus upon hope of redemption. Of course, there are always doubts. No Catholic is able to model the perfect Catholic as a faithful, sinless person. All humans commit sins. All humans are imperfect. But even the most evil among us are eligible for God’s mercy and the opportunity to go to Heaven even such people as Adolph Hitler, Ossama Bin-Laden, or Henry Lee Lucas. While we may not think such people should go to Heaven, God’s mercy is infinite. That should make us have more hope. If such evil people have hope, how much more should we? As Catholics, we should live every day as if it were our last, but with the hope that we live fully for however many days we do have. If there are hopes, dreams, acts, or things that you want to do in

life, do them while you can. This could be your last day. Live

every day as fully as you can!

BibliographyBenedict XVI, Pope. 2007. Jesus of Nazareth. New York: Doubleday.Rogers, Tony, “The Roman Catholic Experience: Change in a New Century.” In Jupp, Peter C., ed. 2008. Death Our Future: Christian Theology and Funeral Practice. London: Epworth. Pp. 169-178Sheen, Fulton J. 1955. Way to Happy Living. New York: Maco.


Volume 10, issue #4–Phone: 1-866-218-0101

–31–


By Thom Dennis, D. Min., LCPC, CT

Reece’s friend Jeremy was murdered when he was out of state visiting a relative. The circumstances surrounding his death are still somewhat unclear; there are no suspects. She wasn’t even informed about his death until a few days after the funeral. You might imagine that Reece’s grief fluctuated between shock, rage and profound sadness for quite some time. She tried to find out more information about his death but could find little more than the details printed in the newspaper. Jeremy’s family didn’t approve of their relationship and Reece’s family didn’t even know about Jeremy. It wasn’t as if she was trying to hide him from them, it was just that she never really knew how to explain who he was to her. The truth of the matter was, Reece had a hard time defining the relationship, herself. Reece and Jeremy had known each other for more than ten years. At first they were just friends, but over time their relationship evolved into much more than that. Because work required that they lived in different cities, they never really got around to defining their relationship.

A few months after his death, the attorney handling Jeremy’s estate contacted Reece and gave her an envelope containing a letter and a diamond ring. The attorney explained that Jeremy must have had some kind of premonition because before he left for his trip, he had written a Will and, in the event of his death, arranged for Reece to have the ring. The letter explained that he had purchased the diamond a few years back in the hopes of one day asking her to marry him, but life never seemed to provide the right opportunity to pop the question. Ironically, he had finally expressed his undying love for her and he begged her for forgiveness for not acting sooner.

Reece had been having a hard time dealing with her grief before she received the letter and was now completely devastated. Although she had secretly hoped he would propose, now that he had finally expressed the depth of his feelings for her it was too late. She felt like a widow, but no one would be granting her that title. She chastised herself over missed opportunities and words unsaid. She struggled with the murder, the unanswered questions, and the open-ended injustice of it all. She grieved for a future life together that would never come to pass, but the deepest wound of all was the fact that nobody could really acknowledge her loss.

Of course Reece and Jeremy are not their real names and a few details have been changed or omitted to protect their identities but their story is true. Having experienced your own loss, I am sure you can sense just how complicated her situation is and I trust that your heart reaches out to her with compassion. Reece could be the poster child of what grief counselors describe as disenfranchised grief. The term was coined in 1989 by Dr. Ken Doka, Ph.D., and he defines it as “grief that persons experience when they incur a loss that is not or cannot be openly acknowledged, socially sanctioned or publicly mourned.” He suggests disenfranchised mourners fall into one or more of the following scenarios: 1. When the relationship is not recognized2. When the loss is not acknowledged3. When the griever is excluded4. When the circumstances of the death are troubling5. When the way the individual expresses their grief is not valuedDr. Doka says that in every society there are unspoken rules that specify who, when, why, how, how long and for whom a person should grieve. When these conditions are not met, the bereaved person is often left to mourn silently or alone.

Relationships that are not based on kinship ties are seldom acknowledged publicly at funerals or in obituaries. Consequently friends, neighbors, co-workers and roommates are often not even counted among the bereaved. Persons in second degree relationships such as siblings, grandparents, cousins, foster-parents, former spouses, in-laws or step-relationships also grieve but are often not extended the same consideration as first degree relationships. Even today, non-traditional families, such as cohabitating couples and life-partners, gay or straight, are often not afforded the same support as legally married surviving spouses.

Healing the Ache of Alienation


Age is, also, often a factor: children and the elderly may not be considered capable of truly grieving. The same could also be said of the dementia patient, the mentally ill or developmentally challenged. And yet, they grieve; perhaps on levels that we can hardly comprehend, but they do grieve! I have also observed that when the one who died has reached an advanced age, the bereaved are often afforded less sympathy and less time to grieve. In fact, there are all sorts of situations where the loss is not considered significant: the death of pets, the death of celebrities or admired public figures, the loss of a job, friends moving away or relational break-ups.

Feeling ostracized often accompanies traumatic death. Suicide, murder or deaths that occur in the context of a crime are particularly alienating for all families involved. Intrusive media coverage puts their personal losses on display as legal cases unfold. Perinatal loss and intentionally terminated pregnancies are often endured without a community rallying for support.

When a person’s grieving style is not socially sanctioned, their reaction to the loss is suspect. The community might question their reaction to the loss or judge the relationship negatively. When this happens the grieving have few public opportunities to express their authentic feelings and to experience the comfort and consolation that comes from neighbors, co-workers, friends and family. The disenfranchisement usually begins long before the death and extends though all of the significant mourning rituals. This is unfortunate because these activities help facilitate healthy grieving. Like

Reece who wasn’t even told of Jeremy’s death until after the burial, some people are excluded from caring for or visiting the dying, planning or participating in funeral rituals or shunned at these important events.

Confronted by a life crisis, we simultaneously reach in two directions to guard against becoming overwhelmed: 1) We turn inward and search for previously acquired internal coping skills that might offer direction as to how to deal with the new crisis, and 2) We turn outward for external resources and support. Sometimes our existing coping skills are adequate to meet the presenting challenge. However, at least initially, we typically won’t know how to cope, so we will rely on our support network to carry us. Most of us will eventually learn new coping skills and adjust to life without the deceased, but this takes time, intentionality and lots of external support. Again, the challenge for the disenfranchised is that this essential external support is offered minimally at best, or never offered at all.

In American society people tend to avoid potentially emotional provocative topics like death, politics and religion. So to a certain extent, all who grieve will experience some degree of disenfranchisement.

Around the circle of grief support groups and in counseling rooms across America, the bereaved commonly express their disappointment, frustration and anger with best friends and confidants who are unwilling (or unable) to support them in the ways that they need. Sometimes spouses can be insensitive or impatient with the long debilitating nature of grief. Siblings who differ in temperament and need become estranged. Managers and co-workers have short memories, and even professionals, like clergy persons, could fail to acknowledge the enduring impact of loss. Empathic failures such as these lead to the same kinds of struggles as those whose grief meets the more traditional definition of disenfranchised grief.

So what can be done? I would encourage Reece (and all the disenfranchised) to do two things: First, find at least one ally who can bear the burden of her loss with her. It will do her no good to try to carry the load all alone. William Shakespeare offered wise counsel to the disenfranchised when he said, “Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.” Second, I would encourage her to use her creativity to invent her own rituals of remembrance. In the absence of participating in culturally prescribed memorials she has the freedom to customize her mourning. By creating personal memorials that are meaningful to her, she might feel empowered to claim some of the consolation she was previously denied.

Additionally, I think we all need to recognize the universalizing nature of loss. Although we can never know exactly how someone else feels, we know how our own losses feel. Grief is difficult in any circumstance. Imagine how much harder it would be without the support you currently experience. If any good can be said of grief, it is this: it has the capacity to teach us compassion.

Compassion means to suffer with. If we can put aside our assumptions and biases and reach out with our wounded hearts to others who suffer, we will go a long way in healing the ache of alienation. An amazing thing happens when we extend our hearts to others, the comfort and consolation we focus on them radiates in all directions.

“Under the guidance of Dr. John D. Morgan, Series Editor [Emeritus] of the Death, Value and Meaning Series, we have come to appreciate the Baywood ‘logo’ when it comes to researched and carefully crafted materials on this subject. Stetson has brought another fine contribution to this Series and to all of us as he captures the heart and spirit of many forgotten people. . . parents whose children have been murdered.”

The Rev. Richard B. Gilbert, BCC, CT, PhD Resources Hotline, Volume 6, Number 4

“Wake up, America! Doesn’t half-a-million murders in America in the last 20 years shake you to reality? The millions of survivors of homicide want you to know about the excruciating pain caused to us by losing a loved one to murder. Not for pity, but to help you understand our grief and why we fight to put a stop to this insanity. Living Victims, Stolen Lives should be carefully read and pondered by anyone who comes in contact with parents of murdered children, including police officers, district attorneys, criminal defense lawyers, journalists—and murderers in prison!”

Elsie Purnell, Chapter Leader Parents of Murdered Children, California

“Judea-Christian morality has always maintained that human life is sacred. Brad Stetson’s book underscores this truth by showing us the pain caused by the willful taking of any innocent human life. Readers of this well-written volume will gain a renewed appreciation for the sanctity of human life.”

Alvin J. Schmidt, PhD, Emeritus Professor of Sociology Illinois College, Jacksonville, Illinois

“Within this volume, Brad Stetson sensitively reminds us of the horrible unfairness of murder, and the profound toll it exacts on those it leaves behind. lt is fascinating and moving reading.”

Joseph G. Conti, PhD, Lecturer in Religious Studies California State University, Long Beach

Living Victims, Stolen Lives: Parents of Murdered Children Speak to America is a gripping

and instructive sketch of the intense psychic pain, anger, and frustration experienced by

parents of murdered children. Drawing on intimate interviews with parents enduring

murdered-child grief and the insights of professionals counseling them, this unique

book gives a deeply moving psychological, emotional, and spiritual portrait of people

immersed in epic tragedy and loss. Living Victims, Stolen Lives is not meant to be

a comprehensive or definitive treatment of murdered-child grief or the sociology of

crime and murder. Rather, its intent is to contribute to a more sober public outlook

toward murder. This volume is an introduction to a topic that is, relative to its moral

importance and the unmatched human suffering it causes, shockingly underdiscussed.

Though these pages contain a painful and disturbing snapshot of the soul-trauma

endured by parents of murdered children, they are an important source for social and

personal reflection, for only by gaining a renewed understanding of the torment the

scourge of murder is bringing to families throughout the nation can we begin to move

in a healing direction.

In Praise…

About the Book…

About the Author…Brad Stetson holds a Ph.D. in social ethics from the University of Southern California. He is a lecturer and veteran writer of books and articles, including Tender Fingerprints: A True Story of Loss and Resolution (Zondervan, 1999) and editorials for The Los Angeles Times, The Orange County Register, and Christianity Today. His diverse interests have led him to investigate some of the most urgent social and personal concerns of the day. Dr. Stetson is director of the David Institute, a social research group, and an associate professor of political science at Azusa Pacific University, California.

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