"The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves, silent and apart:  the secret anniversaries of the heart".
TO OUR SURVIVING CHILDREN

      
What does it Mean to Relove Our Grief?

Grief is defined as the reaction to loos and to "relove"
something means to change or transform it.

Therefore, grief resolution means to change or transform
our reation to the loss of our child.

It's been 20 years since my son, Arthur was killed.  I don't
hurt anmore when I think of him.  I am always aware that my
family is incomplete and frquently I experience a feeling of
regret for what might have been.  But I no longer think of
Arthur every day or feel the searing pain of loss that I felt
for so long.

I can remember what a beautiful child he was. I can remember
cute things he did.  I can remember the not-so-cute things
he did, also.  I remember many precious things about him, but
remembering does not hurt anymore.

Of course, not hurting does not mean that I don't care that
Arthur is dead or that his six short years haven't affected my
life - even today.  It says I have changed how I react to his death. 

That's what "reloving your grief" means.  It means that you can
go through a day or week without intense pain and longing. 
It means that you can think of the years you had with your child and smile.  It means that you can enjoy yourself again without
feeling guilty.

It means tht  you can live and invest in new interests, even
though they don't include your child.  It means that  you
can think of him without hurting.  It means that your reaction
to your child's death is changed.  As one mother put it, "Now I
can think of his life more than his death.   For me, that's resolution".

Mararet Gerner,
TCF, St. Louis, MO.


Heart hath its own memory, like the mind.  And in it are enshrined the precious keepsakes, into which is wrought the giver's loving
thought.

Sweet Baby Girl

It's been five long years,
Yet it feels like yesterday
Since we held you and kissed you good-bye
That early Easter morning.
So few memories to hold on to,
As we left the hospital with empty, aching arms.
Gone, were the hopes and dreams we had for you.
Replaced, with only the intense pain and tears of grief.
How could we say good-bye...
When we really never had a chance to say hello?
Your foot prints will remain on our hearts forever,
Time cannot diminish our love for  you...

Mommy and Daddy
Debbie and Clay Pearson, TCF, Winnipeg, Canada


Grief only becomes a tolerable and creative experience when love enables it to be shared with someone who understands.

Simon Stevens,
Founder of The Compassionate Friends.  


Please See Me Through my Tears 

You asked, "How are you doing?"
 As I told you, tears came to my eyes...and you
looked away and quickly began to talk again.  All
the attenion you had given me drained away.

"How am I doing?"...  I do better when people listen,
though I may shed a tear or two.
This pain is indescribable.  If you've never known it you
cannot fully understand.
Yet I need  you.
When you look away,
when I'm ignored,
I am again alone with it.
Your attention means more than you can ever know.

Really, tears are not a bad sign, you know!
They're nature's way of helping me heal...
They relieve some of the stress of sadness.

I know you fear that asking how I'm doing brings me sadness
...but you're wrong.
The memory of my loved one's death will always be with me,
only a thought away. 
My tears make my pain more visible to you, but you did not
give me the pain...it was already there.

When I cry, could it be that you feel helpless,
not knowing what to do?
You are not helpless.
When I feel your permission to allow my tears to flow,
you've helped me.
You need not speak.  Your silence as I cry is all I need,
Be patient...do not fear.
Listening with your heart to "how I am doing"
relieves the pain,
for when the tears can freely come and go, I feel lighter.

Talking to you releases what I've been wanting to say aloud,
clearing space
for a touch of joy in my life.

I'll cry for minute or two...
and then I'll wipe my eyes, and
sometimes you'll even find I'm laughing later.

When I hold back tears, my throat grows tight,
my chest aches, and my stomach knots...
because I'm trying to protect you from my tears.

Then we both hurt... me, because my pain is held inside,
a shield against closeness...and you,
because suddenly we're distant.

So please take my hand and see me through my tears...
then we can be close again.

Kelly Osmont,
mother of Aaron,  her only child, and
author of Parting is Not Goodbye