Monday, December 31, 2007 10:57 am CST

It’s a New Year.

It’s a New Life.

I love these words from my friend, author Gary Zukav’s book The Seat of the Soul:

“The effort that you apply to each decision to align yourself with your soul is rewarded many times. The part of yourself that reaches toward Light may not be the strongest part of you at the moment that you choose to journey toward authentic power consciously, at the moment that you choose the vertical path, but it is the part that the Universe backs…

Think in terms of what it means to make decisions and try to cause the rest of you to fall into alignment with them, of responsible choice, and as you move into the healing of who you are and the conscious journey toward what it is you want, recognize that the Universe backs the part of you that is of clearest intention.

You are constantly receiving guidance and assistance from your guides and Teachers, and from the Universe itself. When you choose consciously to move toward the energy of your soul, you invite that guidance. When you ask the Universe to bless you in your effort to align yourself with your soul, you open a passageway between yourself and your guides and Teachers. You assist their efforts to assist you. You invoke the power of the nonphysical world. That is what a blessing is: the opening of a passageway between you and nonphysical guidance.”

I have said before that I believe the death of someone we love transforms us. It has to. The death of someone we love cannot NOT transform us. We get to decide if we are going to consciously participate in that transformation… or if our transformation is going to be unconscious. It’s not a decision we make once. It’s a daily decision.

Conscious transformation?

Unconscious transformation?

You decide.

I find great comfort in the words “the Universe backs that part of you that is of clearest intention.” That has been my experience.

So, as we countdown to the New Year… as we talk of making resolutions… it seems the perfect time to set the intention to consciously participate in our transformation as this new year unfolds. Even if the biggest part of you doesn’t really believe that healing is possible following the death of your loved one… set the intention anyway –

“The part of yourself that reaches toward Light (your own transformation) may not be the strongest part of you at the moment that you choose to journey toward authentic power consciously, at the moment that you choose the vertical path, but it is the part that the Universe backs…”

I’ve compiled a list of concrete steps I took to actively participate in my own transformation following the deaths of my daughter Erin in 1990, my wife Trici in 1999 and my son Rory in 2005.

As you set the intention to lean into your new life… what concrete steps can you take?

Commit to active mourning. I define mourning as “going public” with your grief. Make the effort to find a therapist, a support group, a “grief buddy.” Healing occurs when you find a safe place where you can excavate, explore and express your grief in the presence of others. Being stoic, pretending, repressing, rejecting, ignoring all that wells up inside of you is not a path to healing. Mourning, in the presence of others, is a path to healing.

2. Commit to going outside and walking in nature every day. Even if its only five minutes and you have to force yourself to do it. Build up to ten minutes. 15. 20. Loose yourself in nature. The trees. The animals. The scents. Try and feel yourself in your own body. Pay attention to your feet hitting the ground. The breeze on your face... notice.

Over time, notice the change of seasons.

Spring follows winter. Always. The days get brighter.

What appeared to be dead brings forth new life. Always.

Commit to finding ways to release the heavy, burdensome energy stored in your body. A massage therapist cannot only help you physically relax but he/she can help your body release stored energy and even memory that no longer serves you. If you are living in a cold climate… consider a massage with hot stones on a cold winter day. Make an appointment to see a Reikki master or a Craniosacral therapist or any other energy worker. At the very least, the physical touch will be healing.

Commit to spending quiet time with yourself every day – to simply BE with yourself and your new life. Again, even if you have to force yourself to be quiet and alone for five minutes – do it. “The Universe will back you up...” And, over time, five minutes becomes 10, becomes 15, becomes 20. If you keep running from yourself and your new life, how can you live it? How can you consciously participate in it? Pray. Meditate. Ask. Listen. Be. Receive. Allow. Surrender. Feel.

Commit to writing in a gratitude journal every day. First thing in the morning or last thing at night. Buy a journal. Put it by your bed. Write 5 things you are grateful for every day. Every day. At first, you may simply be glad another day is over. You may be thankful for the soft pillow, the comfortable bed, the warm blankets. And then you may remember that the first cup of coffee actually tasted good and you’re grateful for that. And one day you notice the sun in the sky.

Commit to being gentle with yourself. Really gentle. Trusting life enough so that you are willing to create new dreams takes time. Lots of time. As the saying goes, we often take one step forward and two steps back. Healing is a process. It’s a journey. Be gentle.

As this New Year unfolds… set the intention to heal. Set the intention to consciously participate in your own transformation.

Commit to a plan. What steps can you take to lean into your new life?

Expect the Universe to back you up. To support you. To guide you. To rise up and show you the way.

A New Year.

A New Life.

God bless you – today and always.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Sunday, December 23, 2007 5:55 pm CST

I’ve known Barbara for many years. I was producing special events for the American Cancer Society and she was the “Society” reporter for he Chicago Tribune. I was always trying to get her to cover my fundraising events.

Barbara is one of the most gifted writers I have ever read. I just love her pieces…including this one that appears in today’s Sunday Chicago Tribune. It’s worth reading.

A real life example of a man who is "leaning into his own transformation" as he learns to live with the death of his wife.

Filling the emptiness
A widower and his girls carry on a Christmas Eve soup-kitchen tradition in his wife`s memory

By Barbara Mahany | Tribune staff reporter

December 23, 2007

Used to be, she was the one ripping the bread into bits on the day before Christmas Eve. Used to be, she was the one cracking the dozens and dozens of eggs for the big foil pans that groaned under the weight of her egg-cheese-and-bread, piled-high puffs. Strata, it`s called, and that`s Italian for layered and gooey and lick-your-lips good.

She made it, year after year, Christmas after Christmas, for the folks who were hungry and woke up in a bunk in a windowless basement in an Evanston shelter. That strata was one thing the ones who were homeless could say was delicious about a soup-kitchen Christmas.

Only she`s gone now. Nina Combopiano, who was 34 when she gripped at her chest and fell to the floor in her kitchen two years ago May, died that terrible morning. And she left behind two little girls, then only 3 and 4 1/2, and a husband of nine years.

But Combopiano, more than anything else in her too-short life, lived to leave no one who knew her wanting for anything. She cooked and she fed till bellies were stuffed. She loved that way too, said her husband, Michael Whitney, a medical product developer who is now 37.

So, in the spirit of Nina, it`s her girls now, Claire, 7, and Katherine, 5, who take to the kitchen at Christmas with Whitney, a mighty fine cook himself, as a matter of fact.

The three of them, in a yellow brick house in Skokie, will tear apart loaf after loaf of wheat bread and white bread, "the squishy kind," Nina once wrote on a recipe card as she looked over the shoulder of her mother who made it, mostly, for company.

Yes, the little ones will try to crack eggs. By the dozens and dozens. Then, they and their papa will climb in the car, and do what their mama used to do too. They will knock at the door of the soup kitchen, lug in the very big trays, tuck them away in industrial coolers.

Come Christmas Eve dawn, when no one is stirring down in the shelter, someone upstairs will come in from the cold, turn on the ovens. And for the fifth year in a row, the kitchen will fill with the spices and richness of Combopiano.

"How could I not?" is Whitney`s simple answer to the question of why, after she died, he carried on with the ritual of making the soup kitchen`s strata, dropping it off in the dark, taking no praise for her labor.

"It was just a given. Charlie [Nina`s father] was going to help. It was definitely pithy. It had weight, the action had weight," he said of the first very sad Christmas, seven months after she`d died, when Whitney and the girls, and his father-in-law, stumbled their way through the recipe.

They tried to find some essence of Nina there in the pile of bread crumbs on the emptiest Christmas they`d all ever known.

You see, Combopiano, say the ones who loved her, had been the spirit of Christmas itself. Fifty-two weeks of the year.

Until the Thursday morning, in May 2005, when she was stricken by a blood clot in her lungs, collapsed and was carried off while the little girls watched, turning away from their morning cartoons only when they heard the squawk of the paramedics` walkie-talkies right there in the kitchen. Whitney, too, was right there.

Until then, Combopiano lived to give, to take care of the world, said her father.

She was a woman who, the Christmas before she died, had been out shopping with her girls and her father. On the way out of a Sam`s Club, she`d passed a Salvation Army bell ringer. She tucked the girls in their car seats, then disappeared, said her father, who is now retired and living in Florida.

"I didn`t know what had happened. Then I looked back to the front of the store. The fellow hadn`t eaten. He was homeless. She ran in and got a prepared lunch. She fed him. That`s Nina!" he said, before the words dissolved into tears that, for a minute, allowed no more talking.

He also had lost his wife, Claire, an opera singer who used to sing arias as she, too, ripped apart bread, cracked eggs, for the strata she had taught her only daughter to make. Claire died in a car accident six months before Nina`s 1995 wedding.

The last two Christmases Combopiano was in the kitchen with Whitney and his granddaughters, mostly staying out of the way, he says. This Christmas he`ll stay home in Florida. It`s too depressing, he said, "to look at Christmas without Nina."

But he, like others who loved the 6-foot-tall Nina with the laugh that could rouse the sleeping, and who cooked like an angel, will make her strata this Christmas and give it away. Give it to someone who, for any reason, needs a little spirit of Nina.

In the Whitney kitchen, though, the strata are called for, all six of `em.

It wouldn`t be Christmas Eve breakfast for the 30 or so folk who sleep in the south Evanston shelter, if they weren`t waking up to the cheesiest, most sausage-filled pans they`ve ever known.

They come back for seconds and thirds, there in the line that winds out the door and down the old creaky stairs.

You`d think maybe an angel had something to do with it. Hmm, maybe. You think?

- - -

In honor of a life-loving woman, last year someone birthed the Nina Strata Idea. It is, simply: Come Christmas time, make a batch of this egg-and-cheese goodness and take it to someone you know, or someone you don`t. It`s a dizzying image: all over the world, great aluminum pans of eggs, cheese and the richness of Nina, warming days that might otherwise feel way, way too cold.

-- B.M.

Nina`s Strata, as remembered by Michael Whitney

(Amounts are approximate, temps are imprecise, times are elastic)

Ingredients:

*Wheat bread (about half a loaf, the squishier the better)

*White bread (about half a loaf; again, go for squishy)

*Filling (a couple of cups): Here you can go in any direction you want. I like a combo of sweet and hot Italian sausage or sauteed veggies or a nice smoky bacon.

*Cheese (a couple of cups): Pair it with your filling and pick something that grates or crumbles well. Provolone with the sausage, mozzarella with the veggies, smoked Gouda with the bacon.

*Eggs (about a dozen)

*Salt, pepper and other seasonings, to taste

The night before you plan to serve:

1. Grease a 13-by-9 inch pan. I cannot stress this enough. Even better, use a disposable pan. Eggs cooked like this can be used as superglue in a pinch.

2. Break up the bread into pieces about the size of Oreos and mix together in the pan.

3. Saute/grill/fry the filling ingredients. They do not have to be totally cooked because the strata will go in the oven. Keep in mind that you can do two different fillings in the same pan if you like variety. Do one end meat and the other end veggie.

4. Add your filling(s) to the pan and distribute evenly, top to bottom. (Use your hands. Get messy. It`s fun!)

5. Add half of the cheese to the pan mixture and mix well with your hands, so it gets evenly distributed.

6. Beat all the eggs in a bowl. Add salt/pepper/other seasonings to taste. (Have extra eggs on hand just in case you need more.)

7. Ladle the eggs over the pan mixture, making sure to get eggs on all the bread. The eggs should soak all the bread but it should not be swimming in eggs.

8. Sprinkle remaining cheese over the mixture.

9. Cover with foil and put in the fridge overnight.

When you want to serve it:

1. Take strata out of the fridge but leave it covered.

2. Heat oven to 350 to 400 degrees.

3. Put covered strata in oven and bake for 30 to 40 minutes. Uncover the strata about halfway though to brown the cheese and bread on top.

4. Strata is finished when it has set up but is still a bit moist. Try not to dry it out. Serve immediately.

----------

bmahany@tribune.com

Sunday, December 16, 2007 5:46 pm CST

When my wife Trici died on New Year’s Day 1999, the mother of one my son Rory’s classmates (Rory was in 1^st grade at the time) sat down and wrote down everything she could remember about Trici. They didn’t really know each other well… two moms of first graders who would sit and talk a few days each week as they waited for their kids to get out of school. But she wrote down everything she could remember… typed it up… and gave it to me thinking that the kids might like to add her memories to their own. To help create a broader picture of “mom.”

I was so touched.

I asked her what moved her to do that.

She explained to me that her own father died when she was a young girl. As she got older she tracked down as many people as she could find that knew her dad… and asked them to share memories. So she could create that broad picture of dad.

None of us want to forget.

If you can’t think of the perfect gift to give someone you know this Christmas… someone who is learning to live with the death of someone they love… consider giving the gift that this woman gave me. The gift of her own memories. To add to ours.

And… if you happen to have your own photograph of the loved one… the person that has died. Enclose a copy of that photo with your written memories.

The pictures we have of our loved ones that have died are finite. There will never be any new photos taken. But we can add to our cherished photos if you take the time to go through your own photos … and share your memories with us. Isn`t that what Christmas is about?

Hope and peace,

Tom

Saturday, December 15, 2007 8:44 am

If you are sending a Christmas card this year to someone who is learning to live with the death of someone they love (regardless of when the death occurred) … consider adding a story you remember about that person in your handwritten greeting. Mention the loved one by name. Share a memory. Recount a funny or touching incident.

I promise you, this written gift will be cherished.

None of us want our loved ones forgotten. When their names are no longer mentioned it sometimes feels as if we are the only ones missing them.

Light a candle of memory this season for someone you know.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Friday, December 14, 2007 10:20 am

Greetings,

I’ve completed all of my workshops for 2007. I continue to be amazed by the transformational power of mourning. When we “go public” with our grief in the presence of others… healing occurs. I have seen it. I have felt it.

I recently finished facilitating a 4-part series called, “Honoring the Life.” Here is some feedback from those that attended:

“Changed my way of managing my emotions and feeling”

“I now know that my feelings of sorrow, anger and lonliness are all part of losing someone that I love dearly.”

“I didn’t expect such a relaxed experience.”

“I was anxious about coming four Tuesdays – was I wrong.”

“I have been to a few other groups – nothing let me walk away feeling good - until now. Thank you.”

“It brought out so many emotions and made me feel safe to express my feelings and share my experiences.”

“A great experience that has given me a lot of peace to trust/believe in my feelings.”

I also facilitated a one-day workshop called, “Death – The Last Frontier.”

Folks who attended had this to say:

“A safe place to talk about death and grieving.”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect – but it was perfect.”

“Thank you for validating my emotions.”

“No judgements. Simply the encouragement to be where I was.”

“The quotes/music and discussion were the perfect stimulus for experience.”

I am happy to announce that my schedule for 2008 includes:

Speaking at Emmanuel Lutheran Church in Rockford on Saturday afternoon, January 26^th. More information to follow.

I am offereing the following workshops at Womanspace in Rockford:

When Grief is New

Saturday, February 2, 2008 from 9:00 am to 3:00 pm

When death touches our lives, we’re often ill prepared, ill-equipped and caught off guard. I know I was. If the grief you are experiencing is new, spend a day taking a closer look and gaining a better understanding of grief, mourning and denial. I’m going to share much of what I’ve learned over the past 18 years about the journey through grief in hopes that you will discover some tools to help you begin to rebuild your own life.

Seasoned Grief

Saturday, March 1, 2008 from 10:00 am to 3:00 pm

After the first few years, most people assume you’ve “moved on” following the death of someone you love. I’m not sure we “move on” but I know we can learn to “move with” the death of a loved one and build new dreams and new lives. If the death you’re living with occurred more than a few years ago and if you’d like to revisit your relationship with the person you love that died, spend a few hours gently peeling back some of the layers setting the intention to live the life we were born to live.

Planting the Seeds of Rebirth

Four Wednesdays in April – 9, 16, 23, 30 from 6:30-8:30

Spring is a time of birth and rebirth. Take time to discover what wants to be born in you.

If you are living with loss of any kind – death, divorce, illness, disability, unemployment - join a small group of kindred spirits to create sacred space where, using simple expressive arts activities, we will excavate grief, mourn safely and gently lean into possibility for our life. Our open-hearted intention will be to reconnect with our inner voice, that we might step into the power of transformation and birth limitless possibility. No art experience necessary. All materials will be provided.

For more information, please email me at tom@tomzuba.com.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Wednesday, November 14, 2007 8:52 am CST

On Saturday, December 1^st I will be facilitating a brand new workshop called:

Death: The Last Frontier.

The workshop will be held at Womanspace in Rockford from 9:00 am to 4:00 pm. Cost is $60.00.

Is it possible that our thoughts and feelings (conscious and unconscious) about death – yours and mine – and an afterlife greatly color the way we live our life? Set aside one day to join a conversation about death using the CD “Graceful Passages: A Companion for Living and Dying” as a springboard. Reflect on what some of the foremost experts in the field of loss and transition, including Thich Nhat Hanh, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, M.D. and Ram Dass have to say about death. Set the intention to open to your own inner voice…that you might live life more fully.

The CD Graceful Passages is a beautiful collection of writings about death and an afterlife reflecting beliefs rooted in many different faiths, traditions and cultures including: Christian, Cherokee Indian, Buddhist, Jewish, and the Teachings of Confucius. Graceful Passages was a gift I received shortly after my son Rory died. Listening to it brought me great comfort and hope.

During the workshop we will spend time listening to each reading… and then have time to personally reflect on what we have heard. Small group sharing will follow and then we will meet as a whole to share thoughts and feelings.

Since there are no right or wrong answers… I think this can be a day of tremendous expansion for all of us. I hope you will consider joining the group. This workshop is open to everyone.

To register, please call 815.877.0118 or you may register online at www.womanspace-rockford.org.

For more information, please email me at tom@tomzuba.com.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Tuesday, November 13, 2007 9:38 am CST

This Thanksgiving, as you are trying to decide how to appropriately acknowledge the people in your life who have died I want to remind you of the Candle Lighting Ceremony. Feel free to adapt in any way to make your remembrance more meaningful. My friend Lynne posted this simple, yet meaningful Candlelight Memorial Service in the Guestbook. I have used it in my workshop, “Honoring the Life of Someone You Know that has Died

Candlelight Memorial

As time goes on, it is often difficult to find ways to include our loved ones in family get-togethers and celebrations. A beautiful way to accomplish this may be to create a new tradition by using four candles in a centerpiece - advent wreaths work perfectly - and as you light the four candles, read the following words:

As we light these four candles in your honor, we light one for our sadness, one for our memories, one for our determination, and one for our love.

We light this candle for our sadness. The pain of losing you is intense, and the grief we feel is often hard to handle. We want you to know that we miss you so much.

We light this candle for our memories. There is so much we remember - your smile, your laugh - the good times and the bad ones, too - when we were angry and when we were happy - all those times that never could have been lived with anyone but you. We want you to know that we will always remember.

We light this candle for our determination. Knowing you has brought us strength. We are changed because of you. Your life has made a difference in our lives. We want you to know that we will take the energy of your living to help us move forward in our own lives.

We light this candle for our love. The specialness that we shared with you can never be replaced. During this holiday season, our love for you will shine as brightly as this candle. We will pass that love on to others, and as we do, our hearts will smile because of you. We want you to know that we will always love you.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Wednesday, November 7, 2007 11:16 am CST

The holidays are approaching…

Such a mixed bag for so many people. There seems to be a lot of pressure to have fun. To be cheery. To get excited. To anticipate. To be bright.

As so many visitors to this site know, when you’re learning to live with the death of someone you love… the approach of the holidays takes on new meaning.

If you can – try and be proactive. Yes, yes, yes the holidays are approaching. Thanksgiving is two weeks from tomorrow. It doesn’t have to hit you over the head and completely knock you out. Try and be a tad proactive. Try and do a little planning.

What might bring you a little peace, a little rest, a respite, a little hope, maybe even a small slice of joy this Thanksgiving? Whatever it is you are looking for… is there a way to build that into your Thanksgiving weekend?

I have never been a huge fan of “permanent” memorials to the people I love that have died… although I know planting a tree, a plaque on a bench, a special something in a special place brings much comfort to many people.

One “permanent” memorial I did agree to…because it seemed like such a perfect fit to me…was to have memorial bricks laid in West Middle School’s Memorial Garden honoring the recipients of the Rory Zuba Spirit Award.

Rory loved to learn and the gifted program at West Middle School in Rockford was the perfect place for him to blossom. He really planted himself there and with the help of incredibly talented, giving, loving teachers … and wrapped in the arms of an amazing group of young men and woman (wise and sensitive beyond their years) … Rory found his niche.

After he died, a group of teachers, staff, parents and students met to figure out a way to honor and remember Rory. Those efforts gave birth to the Rory Zuba Spirit Award which was awarded in 2005 and 2006 to graduating 8^th graders who possessed some of the same qualities that Rory possessed: a free spirit, creativity, compassionate, tolerant, socially responsible, an active listener, and inspiring to others.

In 2005 the first recipient was Kalah Polsean.

In 2006, the award was given to Hayden Wilsey, Marecia Bailey-Mangreum, John Lim and Jordan Hoffmann.

So, this Thanksgiving, one of the things I am thankful for is that Rory got to experience West Middle School. As I said, it was the perfect place for him to blossom.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Friday, November 2, 2007 3:26 pm CST

On Tuesday, November 6^th I will begin facilitating a 4-part workshop called “Honoring the Life of Someone You Know that has Died.”

The workshop will be held at Womanspace in Rockford from 6:30-9:00 pm on the four Tuesday evenings in November… the 6^th, 13^th, 20^th and 27^th.

I purposely scheduled this workshop at the beginning of the holiday season – acknowledging that the holidays and the build-up prior to the holidays are often a very painful time for people who are learning to live with loss.

This is the description I used in the Womanspace Program Booklet:

Join a small group of kindred spirits to create a safe, sacred space where we can excavate grief, mourn safely, and gently lean into possibility by remembering our loved ones. Our open-hearted intention will be to reconnect with our own inner voice, that we might step into the power of transformation and birth limitless possibility.

It’s my belief that we will always have a relationship with people in our lives that we loved that have died. It’s up to us to decide if that relationship is going to be healthy or unhealthy. Ironically, in editing the information that was sent to them…the Rockford newspaper has been promoting this workshop with the sentence, “Tom Zuba discusses closing relationships with people in our lives who have died.” In truth, nothing could be farther from the truth. I don’t think we “close” the relationship. I think the relationship is ongoing.

There is still room for 4 more people in this workshop. If you, or someone you know is interested in joining us, please call Womanspace at 815.877.0118 to register. If you’d like more information, you can email me at tom@tomzuba.com.

Here is some of the feedback I received from the folks who attended last Saturday’s workshop, “Living with the Death by Suicide of Someone I Know.

1. Did this workshop meet, exceed or fall short of your expectations?

I always gather hope in these classes.

Exceed

Exceeded. I knew it would be good. The participants were all “participating” and Tom has lots of insights to keep things going in positive and interesting ways.

2. What did you like best?

The openness

When people tell their story and what they are doing to go on today

Walking the labyrinth

I liked the rocks; they are a great way to make dialogue happen

Group discussions

3. What was most helpful to you?

Sharing

Meeting new people

All of it

It helped me to concentrate on the light

Other people’s views

Talking about death

If you are at all curious…I hope you will join us.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Thursday, October 11, 2007 12:21 pm CST

I will be facilitating the following programs at Womanspace, 3333 Maria Linden Drive in Rockford:

Living with the Death by Suicide of Someone You Know

Saturday, October 27, 9:00 am – 4:00 pm, $60

Join a small group of kindred spirits who all share the task of building a new life following the death by suicide of someone they know. Together we will create a safe, sacred space setting the intention of excavating grief, mourning safely, and gently leaning into the POSSIBILITY of real healing.

Honoring the Life of Someone You Know

that has Died

Tuesday evening, November 6, 13, 20, 27, 6:30 pm – 9:00 pm, $80

Whether the death occurred 30 years ago, 3 years ago or six months ago, we often innocently rush to “close” the relationship with people in our life that have died. During this holiday season, reexamine the relationship you have with someone that has died. If it’s not a healthy relationship, take the time to figure out what steps you might take to make it one. Join a small group of kindred spirits to create a safe, sacred space where we can excavate grief, mourn safely, and gently lean into POSSIBILITY by remembering our loved ones.

Death: The Last Frontier

Saturday, December 1, 9:00 am – 4:00 pm, $60

To register for any of these Womanspace events, please call 815.877.0118.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007 12:53 pm CST

I’ve said before that I think as a people we are ill-prepared and ill-equipped to deal with the death of someone we really love. I know I was. We’re caught off guard. We had no idea that learning to live a new life following the death of someone we love would be so difficult.

I talked about this a bit at Wellness House’s Day of Remembrance and one of the attendees emailed to let me know I really struck a chord with her. She asked if I’d repeat what I said. I’ll try.

When my daughter Erin died, when my wife Trici died, when my son Rory died…it was as if I instantly shattered into a million different pieces. Who I was “before” – no longer existed. At times it felt like “I” had literally left my body. Sometimes it still does.

The way I look at it…especially in retrospect…is that in the weeks, and months and even years that have passed since these deaths…it has been my job to “go out” (or perhaps “go inside”) and find these shattered pieces…one at a time. For me, it’s been a slow process. One that requires much patience.

Rebuilding a life.

Trusting life enough to dream a dream…again.

When I find a piece of “me” I take a long, hard look at it. Does it still fit? Does it still compliment the “me” that I’m now becoming. If it’s a yes-yes… then I welcome the piece back. The welcoming helps me feel more whole.

I’ve discovered that some pieces no longer fit. Because I am not the same person I was “before” … some pieces of the old me have to be discarded. To hold on to them might be too painful. It might be too burdensome. Or that piece simply might not fit anymore.

And I’ve also realized…that as I open my eyes (and perhaps my heart) more…I find brand new pieces of “me.” And I welcome these new pieces realizing there is plenty of room for them. They compliment “me” beautifully.

It’s a process.

It’s a journey of discovery.

It’s about leaning into transformation.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Monday, September 24, 2007 3:02 pm CST

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to meet many of the families that attended Wellness House’s Day of Remembrance in Hinsdale. Each family there had a story to tell. Each family is learning to live new lives following the death due to cancer of someone they love.

One elderly couple introduced themselves to me and thanked me for my remarks. They told me my words were helpful. Their son, a father in his early 40’s, had died almost a year ago. In about 3 weeks, they’ll mark the one-year anniversary of his death.

The woman leaned close to me and said,

“I am going to tell you something that will make you think I have gone crazy.”

She leaned even closer and whispered,

“I visit my son’s grave often. Sometimes, I go a couple of times a week. I talk to him when I’m there. He was a football coach so I tell him how his team is doing. If they won or if they lost. I tell him what his kids are doing. How the family is. What we’ve all been up to it.”

“I suppose you think I’m crazy!” she smiled.

“Not at all,” I said. “I think it’s wonderful that you talk to your son.”

And I said with a smile, “And even if you told me he talked back to you…I still wouldn’t think you were crazy.”

She nodded her head. She seemed satisfied.

Hope and peace as we lean into our new lives,

Tom

On Saturday, October 6^th I’ll be speaking at the 13^th Annual Ecumenical Brunch at Holy Family Church in Rockford. My presentation is called, “Resting in the Palm of God’s Hand.” This Friday is the last day to purchase tickets. For more information please click: You’re Invited.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007 9:47 pm CST

What does healing look like?

How can you tell if/when you begin to heal following the death of someone you love?

I’m sure on many levels it’s very, very subtle. And it probably requires more time and energy then any of us would have imagined.

For me… however, there are some concrete, tangible signs.

My son Rory died on February 22, 2005. Over 2 ½ years ago. It seems like forever since he’s been here. Sometimes I look at his picture and think, “Did you really walk this earth?”

In those 2 ½ years – since his death – I haven’t thrown out any of his medicine. I can’t really explain why. It’s just something I very clearly have not wanted to do. So I didn’t. I kind of worked around them. Sometimes I saw the medicine. Sometimes I thought about it. Most times I just kind of ignored them.

One of the blessings of the recent flood (and believe me, I have had to look hard to find a blessing or two here) is that I have been forced to sort through a lot of THINGS I have been holding on to. I have been tossing and giving away stuff left and right. It feels okay.

And what I’ve noticed…is that my tossing and giving away has expanded to include STUFF that was in no way affected by the flooding.

Today, I’m tossing out medicine.

After over 2 ½ years. I’m ready. It’s time. The medicine no longer has the emotional attachment it once did. I’m ready to dump it.

That feels like healing to me.

I’m tossing out the Potassium I bought on 1-16-05 at the Walgreens in Houston. We were forever watching Rory’s Potassium intake…giving him supplements when his levels went too low.

I’m tossing out the Vitamin C. Someone (more than one person actually) suggested that an increase in Vitamin C helped the body fight cancer.

I’m tossing out the damn Trileptal. The damn, expensive anti-seizure medicine. My insurance didn’t cover meds…so the kind nurse at the neurologist’s office would keep me stocked in samples. I always felt that rather than really try to figure out what was causing Rory’s seizures … the damn neurologist and his fellow docs simply attempted to treat the symptom… by increasing the Trileptal…while the cancer in Rory’s brain continued to grow.

I’m tossing out the NDF plus, the Chlorella Extract, the Arctic Cod Liver Oil, the Folic Acid, the Flaxseed Oil, the Selenium CWS, the MycoPhyto Complex (a powder made from “six medicinal mushrooms that was made into a mushroom tea that Rory usually gagged on), Vitalzym (an extra strength systemic enzyme dietary supplement), the Wild Blueberry extract and the Hydroxocobalamin prescribed by the doctor in Seattle. At least he offered us hope… and treated us with compassion and dignity.

I’m tossing out the Super-DHA recommended by the guy at the local Health Store…”to promote brain health” it says on the bottle.

I’m tossing out the BZYQ and SYGC herbal teas, the Healthy Brain Pills, the Bu Yang Huan Wu Wan pills and the Bu Zhong Yi Qi Wan pills recommended by the accupuncturer in Chicago and Jasmine.

I’m tossing out the Original Lima juice that’s been sitting in my refrigerator all these many months. It’s expiration date is December ’05. It was one of several “magical” juices people told us about…and we happily tried.

I’m tossing the Stevia we bought to try and sweeten Rory’s food in a healthy way.

I’m tossing the Senna-S I bought in Texas to try and help Rory when he was constipated as well as the “use one suppository rectally as needed for constipation” Dr. Hornbach prescribed for him on 2-12-05 – 10 days before he died.

I’m tossing the Prilosec OTC which still makes me sick whenever I see it’s ugly purple package.

I’m tossing the Clonidine… prescribed for the tics… long, long before the seizure ever it’s made its first appearance.

I’m tossing the little vile (2 mg) of Zofran.

I’m tossing the Acetaminophen Suppositories we used only once or twice when the pain in Rory’s head was to great for him to stand.

I’m tossing the box of 250 calorie Fruit Beverage, the $38.95 can of Optimized Whey Protein and the 350 calorie cans of vanilla nutritional supplement we hoped would add weight to Rory’s thinning body.

I’m tossing the bottle of Acetaminophen with codeine tablets.

I’m tossing the Dexamethasone. “Take 1 tablet 4x a day.”

I’m tossing the bottles of Juice Plus products.

I’m tossing the Potassium Chloride packets (mix with water) we tried when Rory was no longer able to swallow the Potassium tablets.

I’m tossing the oncomathRx Protein, Vegetable Capsules and Brain Vegetable Capsules we got from the Canadian Cancer Research Group in the 11^th hour.

I’m tossing the Barefoot Coral Calcium Plus.

I’m tossing the Nystatin Oral suspension. Rory was supposed to swish and swallow 1 teaspoon three times a day daily for two weeks.

I’m tossing the Beta Carotene supplements.

I’m tossing the L-arginine tablets.

I’m tossing the 3 boxes (120 capsules each) of Ecomer Shark Liver oil-alkylglycerois.

I’m tossing the bottle of Tumeric tablets.

I’m tossing the Energized Double Zinc Guard pills.

I’m also tossing the little zip-loc plastic bags I used to keep all of Rory’s meds organized. One is marked “morning,” another “afternoon,” “evening,” “9:00 pm,” and there’s a “breakfast, lunch and dinner” bag.

You can’t say we didn’t try.

As I said… all the purging feels good. I must be ready.

Hope and peace,

Tom

P.S. I’m even tossing the Depends I’ve been holding on to. It’s time.

Saturday, September 1, 2007 11:31 am CST

I was watching Larry King Live the other night and the topic was the depression and alleged suicide attempt of celebrity Owen Wilson. Among a panel of a few celebrities who were dealing with their own bouts of depression were two “experts.” The topic turned to depression following the death of someone you know – or even love.

One of the “experts” looked straight in the camera and said something like this to America… very matter-of-factly.

“Bereavement lasts between 6-12 months. Any longer than that and it’s time for professional help.”

Now I am a HUGE fan of “professional help” in its many, many forms… from individual therapy, group therapy, grief classes, massage, Reiki, etc., etc. etc. But to suggest that bereavement (however that is defined) lasts between 6-12 months???

It’s not been my experience or the experience of the many, many people I have encountered.

The other "expert" said something like,

“Grief usually lasts about half as long as the length of the relationship you had with the person that dies. And after that… there’s about a 10% level of grief that never goes away.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm. I have to think about that one!

As I’ve said before… I think we’re ill-prepared and ill-equipped.

What have you experienced?

Feel free to share your thoughts and feelings via our Guestbook by clicking:

GUESTBOOK.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Monday, August 20, 2007 9:46 am CST

I received an email from Meg sometime after Rory died. She had been following the Caringbridge site…and was impressed by my ability to “build a community of support” as she put it. She and her family live in Belvidere (the next town over) … and her “most amazing” 22-year-old son Andy was most probably in the process of dying … from cancer. We exchanged emails and I finally did get a chance to meet her…many months later…following Andy’s death.

Sean and I returned home from Door County 12 days ago - Thursday, August 9^th. Because of the flood (more on that later) our newspapers piled up on a chair in the family room. Two days ago, I had a chance to leaf through some of those papers.

This is what I found in the August 9, 2007 edition of the Rockford Register Star:

Belvidere mom organizes book drive in memory of her son

By Mike Doyle

Meg Hodge of Belvidere has found a way to celebrate the life of her son, Andy.

He was 22 when he passed away August 8, 2006. When well-wishers asked what they could do to help, Meg considered many options.

“I wanted to find something to do to celebrate his life in some way, totally unrelated to his tumor,” she said.

So she did two things: She combined her son’s love of reading with his “spirit of generosity.”

“I came up with the idea of a children’s book drive in his name,” she said.

Andy’s Books for Kids will provide new books for the six elementary schools in the Belvidere School District.

The schools, Meg said, “are always in need of new books and are often the only access some of the students have to them. This is something that is good for the schools, but also something that is in his name, something that he was passionate about.”

Andy could always be found with a book.

“He would read anything,” his mother said. “He liked some things better than others. He had read all of the Harry Potter books and all of Robert Jordan’s books, a lot of fantasy.”

Naturally, he was a “Star Wars” fan but he also liked to read science and history.

“He loved to read,” Meg said. “And once he learned how, there was no stopping him.”

The Hodges would like donated books to be geared for children from kindergarten through fifth grade, ages 5-12. They suggested local bookstores, such as Barnes and Noble, and Borders, both of which have large selections and online ordering.

In addition, those who would like to participate are asked to:

Donate a new book. More than one book can be donated as well.

Donate a hardcover book if possible.

Consider a monetary donation. “I will purchase books with any money received and include them with the donated books,” Meg said.

A bookplate will be placed in each book with the notation, “Donated by” followed by “Andy’s Books for Kids…Sounds Like a Plan.”

The phrase Meg said would be familiar to anyone who knew her son.

For more information contact the Hodges at 815.885.3686. Books can be dropped off at their home at 11709 Inverway, Belvidere, IL 61008.

Meg would like to have book donations collected by August 25, which would have been Andy’s 24^th birthday. The date also is two days after the start of school in the Belvidere district.

Meg included this in an email to family and friends: “Please…feel under no obligation to participate. One of Andy’s credos was that no pressure be applied when asking for something and I will follow his lead in that as well.”

I never met Andy…but from his mom’s description of him…he sure reminds me of Rory. I sent Meg a check. In honor of Andy. In honor of her. In honor of Rory. In honor of me. In honor of all of us who are learning – day-to-day – to live life with the death of someone we love.

I asked if it is possible to have the nameplate read,

“Donated by Tom and Sean Zuba in memory of Rory.”

We don’t want to forget. None of us want to forget.

Happy 24^th Birthday Andy Hodge.

I commend you Meg…for “leaning into your own transformation” and providing us with a means to lean a little too.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Saturday, August 4, 2007 8:25 am CST

My thanks to Andrea Gambill, editor of Grief Digest magazine for including in the July 2007 issue a letter I wrote to her about this website.

If you are visiting my site for the first time…as a result of that letter – welcome. Look around. Be sure you visit the Welcome First Time Visitors button at the top of this page.

If you are not familiar with the magazine, you can visit www.griefdigest.com.

I am leaving this afternoon for our annual vacation in Door County. I will have limited Internet access.

I want to share information with you about activities I will be involved with the Fall.

Wellness House "Day of Remembrance"

Sunday, September 23

12:30 pm - 2:30 pm

Wellness House

131 N. County Line Road in Hinsdale, Illinois

I am honored to be the Guest Speaker at this event planned for families who have been touched by the programs and services offered by Wellness House.

13^th Annual Ecumenical Brunch

Saturday, October 6

9:00 am

Holy Family Church in Rockford, Illinois

I am calling my presentation “Resting in the Palm of God’s Hand.” This event is open to everyone and tickets will be on sale soon. I am very happy to let you know that as a result of my participation in this event, a donation will be made in my son Rory’s name to the Rockford Public School’s program supporting district homeless students.

“Connections” group at Old St. Pat’s Church

Sunday, October 21

6:00 pm

Old St. Pat’s, downtown Chicago

I am so pleased to be returning to this sacred place…my old church. I am thinking of calling my talk, “Where is God in the Midst of ‘Chaos?’”

Living with the Death by Suicide of Someone You Know

Saturday, October 27

9:00 am – 4:00

Womanspace in Rockford, Illinois

Honoring the Life of Someone You Know that has Died

Four Tuesday evenings in November

6:30 pm – 9:00 pm

Womanspace in Rockford, Illinois

Death: The Last Frontier

Saturday, December 1

9:00 am – 4:00 pm

Womanspace in Rockford, Illinois

The new Womanspace Program Booklet should be out at the end of August.

For more information on any of these events, please email me at tom@tomzuba.com.

Hope and peace to you this week,

Tom

Thursday, August 2, 2007 7:38 am CST

In the days and even weeks following the deaths of my daughter Erin, my wife Trici and my son Rory… a highlight of each day would be mail time. I loved opening cards and letters from folks. It helped me feel not so alone. It felt like people were accompanying me. They noticed what had happened to my life.

And then – inevitably – one day – the cards and letters stopped coming. And that felt odd. I couldn’t help but feel that the message was something like… “Enough already. Time to move on. Get up. Dust yourself off. Get moving.”

And I wanted to say… But I’m not done yet. I need a few more cards and letters… please."

A day or so ago I received a hand-addressed envelope in the mail from Colorado.

The card inside had a gorgeous photograph of a Broad-tailed hummingbird on the front. And inside, these words…

Hello Tom,

Have been traveling quite a bit this summer and have not been able to have a quiet moment to let you know once again the treasure of knowing Rory.

Being in Rory’s presence was a royal treat – he was always wide eyed and bushy tailed and a “very special” and unconditionally loving young soul to be around.

Memories of California:

Telling you to give honey to Rory and Sean for their allergies. Rory took it fine, Sean vomited.

Calling you the summer before you left, and you couldn’t talk because it was Rory’s birthday and you were going out. You were very excited for the wonderful day ahead.

Rory, Sean and you came over to my home in Walnut Creek for a Shabbat dinner. You brought lasagna. You knew when it was time to leave, as Rory’s watch broke. “It was time to go.”

Driving out of California with Rory and Sean in the back. Sean was asleep, Rory was very quiet.

You took Rory to an acting class or perhaps an improv class of a woman who taught comedy. I believe Rory loved the class.

You were such a proud father of Rory, loving to share who he was. He filled your life with awe and wonder when you felt sad, he lifted you and propelled you to carry on to be a great father. I believe he is still lifting you.

Right after you left California, I went to Nob Hill, the grocery store in Walnut Creek and over the intercom as I walked in someone said, “Rory, Rory are you in the store?”

Memories of Rockford:

Rory sitting in the back seat as you were taking him for a haircut. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life and again “very special” comes to mind.

Sitting with Rory on a couch in your family room and he shared with me a Celtic book on Rory, the Red King that his aunt had given him. He was so proud of his name and his Irish heritage.

Rory telling me of the five books of Merlin as a youth by T.C. White that he had. Rory let me read two of the books of the series and they told how Merlin could reach his mother, through the sea.

Relating to Rory after his passing:

Unexplainable how I was at his burial and staying in Oakbrook, near Hillside. I picked up the Chicago Tribune and read that he had died earlier that week.

At the same time in Rockford you were having his memorial, or celebration of Rory’s life on a Sunday at 3pm, I had won tickets to Fiddler on the Roof, which began at the same time (2 pm in Colorado). The opening scene was a young boy playing the violin. I had no idea that Rory played the violin. After the play, Gary told me the first time he saw Fiddler on the Roof in Illinois was at a movie theatre in Hillside.

Happy Birthday Rory!

Love and Light,

Cindy

Also enclosed were two photos Cindy took when she visited. One is of Rory and Sean sitting on the steps in this house shortly after we moved here (5 years ago this week) and the other is of the three of us. Sean looks so incredibly young… and Rory has his hair spiked straight up… with is California pukka shells around his neck.

I met Cindy in a gardening class I took in California. Something she said…prompted me to ask her if she had read The Seat of the Soul. “Would you like to come to the Soul Circle I host in my home.” The rest is history. Cindy and I were together the morning of 9-11. We got a brief glimpse of the news before our morning walk… through the foothills. It was not until we returned that we realized the full impact of what had happened.

Thank you Cindy. For listening to my request. And then doing your best to honor it.

Your letter helps me feel seen…heard…and accompanied.

Hope and peace,

Tom

P.S. The other day my friend Leslie and her daughter came over to swim. As we were floating on our rafts… Leslie said something like, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we knew for sure what happened to us after we died?”

About 10 minutes or so later…Leslie asked her daughter what time it was.

“2:22”

Not 2:21.

Not 2:23

2:22

Tuesday, July 31, 2007 8:16 am CST

The 16^th anniversary of my son Rory’s birth has come and gone.

I have been told (more than once) that my expectations are too high… that I expect way too much of people.

Perhaps.

I knew I wanted to mark Rory’s birthday in a significant way. The thought of July 24^th coming and then going with no mention of Rory made me sick. It felt really lonely.

So…I decided to be proactive. I decided to come right out and ask people for exactly what I wanted. I wanted people to talk about Rory. To mention his name. To tell me a story about him. To share a memory.

It’s what we all yearn for… I think.

I felt very, very vulnerable asking.

Sometimes it’s hard to ask for help.

People can say “no.” I’m not going to help you. Or perhaps it’s “right now, I simply can’t help you” (even thought that still often feels like – No, I’m not going to help you.).

So… with some people…people that knew me…and Rory…I was very direct. I asked them to share a piece of the Rory-puzzle with me. And with others, the “ask” was more subtle… more of an invitation to read the memories I was logging under the “Remembering Rory on His 16^th” tab – hoping they’d be moved to share a memory of their own.

And… memories starting coming in. And it has been wonderful reading them. I am grateful to each person that took the time to remember…and then to write…and then to press the “send email” button. I am glad to have their piece of the Rory puzzle.

And I am bewildered by those folks who decided (Is it a choice? I don’t know.) not to share a memory of my dead son with me. It feels personal. Although, I suspect it is not. Like everything…it must be more about them then it is about my request. Still… was I asking too much?

I can only assume… that they have no idea how precious each memory shared is…

Those of us living with the death of someone we love… do not want to forget. And we are comforted knowing that others haven’t forgotten.

When people stop talking. When they stop saying the name. When the memories and stories dry up…

It feels like they have been forgotten.

And that feels lonely.

Hope and peace and much gratitude to those who remembered with me,

Tom

Thursday, July 26, 2007 6:42 am CST

My “Daily Thought” email for today:

"You pray by touching the deepest part of you that longs, that needs, that Is.
Let it speak in its own language, more often than not without words."
~Emmanuel (as compiled by Pat Rodegast and Judith Stanton)

Quote is taken from page 66 of: Emmanuel`s Book

My folks introduced Trici and I to Emmanuel via a videotape not too long after Erin died. Another important step in my spiritual journey. Since then, I have read all three of the Emmanuel books – several times. Look into them.

What I did on the 16^th anniversary of my oldest son Rory’s birth -

As I do most mornings, after grabbing my cup of coffee, checking my email and reading the newspaper…I head out to my garden to commune with my plants. Sean has said, on more than one occasion, that he wonders if I love my plants more than him. Well… the plants never talk back.

As I’ve said more than once on this site…as I look at my life – in retrospect – it does seem as if “life prepares itself for life.”

That summer of 2004, before the seizure, I felt moved to create three new flowerbeds. Along the creek. Where before there had been only grass. I knew that the colors had to be purple…yellow…and white. Although I have since added a touch of more color here and there. After Rory died that winter… anticipating the new growth in those new beds helped carry me a bit. Tending those beds that spring… and that summer…helped me remember that rebirth was possible.

After gardening I drove to Womanspace to drop off material for their Fall Program Booklet. I will be facilitating three workshops … the first two are brand new for me, the third one was very well received last year, so I wanted to offer it again. I’ll be posting more details shortly…

Death: The Last Frontier

Living with the Death by Suicide of Someone You Know

Honoring the Life of Someone You Know that has Died

My friend Sheri invited Sean and I to swim in the afternoon…to honor Rory’s birth day. My sister Ann Marie and her 4 boys came…as did my brother Mike’s wife Anne and Jack and Laura. Sheri and Carrie decorated with balloons and “Happy Birthday” signs. Sheri even had the Program Sheet from Rory’s Memorial Service framed and centered in the middle of the snack table.

Mid-way through the swim – with candles on the birthday cake – we all gathered around and sang Happy Birthday to Rory. It felt good. Like the right thing to do.

Afterwards, I stopped to ask Sheri if she had ever met Rory. Sheri is one of the earth angels that came into our life as a result of Rory`s cancer. "You know, I don`t think I did," she said. Amazing what some people are capable of.

Big hearts.

Sean started football training this week… from 5:00-7:00 pm each night. My folks and I went out to dinner. My mom reminded me that she still has a frozen pop tart in the freezer… a pop tart that Rory had placed there. And we talked about his fascination with complex puzzles at such a young age. And I told of his love of Fantasia. And insects.

When I arrived home after dinner… I was greeted by a beautiful sunflower sculpture. I smiled and instantly knew it was from my friend Jude. I love it.

Rory and sunflowers.

If my memory is correct…it was Jude’s son Troy that handed me a gorgeous bouquet of sunflowers…in the dead of winter…following the Candle Light Vigil. “These are from us, Tom.”

And then, my sister, I think found another bouquet for the Visitation in my home.

And I planted them in my garden.

And now the sculpture.

Rory and sunflowers.

Sean decided he wanted to see the latest Harry Potter movie on Rory’s birthday. I slept through about 1/3 of it. Loved the rest... of the movie, I mean.

But all-in-all, a good time was had.

Happy 16th Rory Brennan Zuba.

I love you.

With much gratitude,

Tom

Tuesday, July 24, 2007 8:37 am CST

July 24, 2007

Sixteen years ago today my oldest son Rory Brennan Zuba was born.

To those of you who are still uncertain of a Higher Power…a God, if you will… this morning, when I read my “Daily Thought” email, I found this quote:

"A human being is part of the whole, called by us `Universe,` a part limited
in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as
something separated from the rest - a kind of optical delusion of his
consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to
our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our
task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of
compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole [of] nature in its
beauty."
~Albert Einstein

Two days after Rory died, I opened our local newspaper and read the following. Then I read it again.

It wasn`t until a week or so later, at his Memorial Service, that I learned that Mary Kaull, mother of one of Rory`s friends and assistant editorial page editor for the Rockford Register Star wrote the piece. She had obviously spent some time reading the Caringbridge site: www.caringbridge.org/il/rory. She had spoken to another reporter - Carrie Watters - who had interviewed us that past December preparing for the newspaper`s piece on the Pancake Breakfast. (I was amazed that Carrie had taken such detailed notes...and that she had kept them.) And then, it feels like Mary Kaull opened her heart to our experience...and wrote.

I love this piece.

I love that it captures my relationship with my son.

I am stunned and delighted - that in a "public" newspaper - we read "Could there be any question that the brilliant scientist visited the brilliant boy - through his dreams, through his pain, through his hope, and, finally, through his death?"

Beautiful.

Thank you Mary. Thank you Rockford Register Star.

Rockford Register Star

February 24, 2005

Incredibly gifted child dies surrounded by love
OPINION

Just 19 days after brain surgery, Rory Zuba, the boy who had made everyone expect miracles, didn`t disappoint. His left temporal lobe removed, he hiked through White Pines State Park with his family last November, jogging through the mud, fording creeks and hopping over concrete barriers. That night, lying next to his father on a huge bed in the park, he wondered about a world in which his sister died at 18 months, his mother died when he was 7 and his brain still held remnants of a fast-growing, malignant tumor.

"DO YOU THINK someone is trying to tell us something?" he asked his dad, Tom. Yes, Tom said, someone was trying to tell them something -- and did he agree?

"Yes," Rory said, "but I don`t know what."

Tom said he was sure it was "wrapped up in love -- the power of love, and how important it is to love, love, love."

Rory, 13, died Tuesday morning in the light of that love.

After cancer treatment that took the family across the country. After candlelight prayer vigils given by his friends at West Middle School in Rockford. After hundreds of people around the world had shared their hopes for him on the Internet through CaringBridge, a nonprofit group that offers free Web pages to patients.

A seventh-grader in the gifted program at West, Rory was gifted in many ways -- gifted with intellect, gifted with insight, gifted with courage. Certainly he was gifted with a father who refused to succumb to pity and who believed in a world that was full of miracles -- just not the ones we expect.

Tom was the Register Star`s Person of the Year earlier this month. He moved back to his hometown of Rockford more than two years ago as a widower to raise Rory and Sean, now 9.

After Rory`s death, he wrote, "We`ve created the illusion that death is to be avoided at all costs, especially for our young. Rory`s incredible life and equally spectacular journey these past six months gives us a chance to rethink that notion, if we choose."

Rory chose to think, always. He was a deep thinker, as his West counselor, Anna Borchers, said. Last spring, Tom wrote that Rory started feeling burdened by the problems of the world -- overpopulation, not enough food, destruction of natural resources. "He often said, `a kid my age should not be worrying about these things.` " So Tom rented the movie "Gandhi." "Rory loved it. Inhaled it." Then they watched three movies about the Dalai Lama.

"RORY REALIZED that one person could change things, one person could bring a lot of hope into this world. I remember him saying, `When I grow up, I want to influence lots of people. Let`s make a list of influential people ... Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jesus. I want to read about their lives to see what I can learn from them.`"

Instead, people read Rory`s Web site and found out it was they, not Rory, who had a lot to learn.

Before his mother, Trici, died of a blood disorder similar to one that caused his sister`s death, Rory said to his parents, "Whichever of you dies first, when you are in heaven, please tell Albert Einstein to visit me in my dreams. I really want to meet him."

Could there be any question the brilliant scientist visited the brilliant boy -- through his dreams, through his pain, through his hope, and, finally, through his death?

"A HUMAN BEING," Einstein once wrote, "experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest -- a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us.

"Our task," Einstein said, "must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole nature in its beauty."

Rory`s circle was so wide, it seemed there was one degree of separation between him and just about everyone.

As he was dying, he was taken to OSF Saint Anthony Medical Center, where his aunt, Jeannine Zuba, works as a nurse. After his death, she wrote on the Web site: "Let us all show our incredible little teacher that we have learned well."

The problem is how.

"One of the things I have learned big-time these past six months," Tom wrote after Rory`s death, "is that life is easier when we hold hands and take care of each other."

What brilliant advice.

After Rory’s death… my mom said,

“Tom, you were the perfect person to be Rory’s dad.”

I was. I am.

And it continues to be my honor and privilege.

My sister told me the word I usually use to describe Rory is that he is amazing.

Yes, Rory Brennan Zuba is amazing.

Happy Birthday Rory.

Love,

Dad

Tuesday, July 17, 2007 9:26 pm CST

I took this photo of of a hummingbird this evening as Sean and I ate dinner on the patio.

While I was speaking at the Neuroblastoma Conference last month… I heard myself say something … that I thought/think is extraordinary. To the best of my knowledge, I had never said it before. And I’m not really exactly sure where the words came from… perhaps a place – Divine.

Remember that I was speaking to a room of parents (mostly) who had all accompanied their beloved children, as they died over years some of them, months, weeks, and days for others from this thing called a neuroblastoma.

I said that I found it quite ironic… that at a time when (after our child has died) the thing we want to do most with our life is parent our little child…

to be mommy…

or to be daddy …

in the physical sense, to that child we love so much

… BUT...we are no longer able to do that.

AND… that at this most vulnerable, delicate, explosive, confusing, tender time in our life… the rest of our life after the death of our child… what we really need/want is to be mothered… or to be fathered.

To be parented.

But the truth is… at least in my experience… that the only one who can truly mother me… or truly father me… is me.

So…at a time when the only thing we want to do… at a time when we would do anything… absolutely anything to get our children back and parent them again…

It is up to us… to parent ourselves… in the physical absence of our children.

My 18-month-old daughter Erin Brennan Zuba’s death on July 18, 1990 is tightly woven to the birth – 371 days later – of her brother, Rory Brennan Zuba.

I always felt that Rory saved Trici and I… following Erin’s explosively sudden death.

We consciously defied conventional wisdom that says, “Wait a year following the death of your child until you get pregnant again.”

I knew I loved being a family. I knew that Erin’s arrival transformed Trici and I from a married couple to a family. And, as I said, I loved being a family.

So when Erin died… I did everything I could to convince Trici that we should create a family – again. And she trusted me on that one.

So…Rory’s birth on July 24, 1991… a little more than one year after his big sister Erin died… was another new beginning for us.

When Erin died… Trici and I talked and talked. And we talked and talked. And we talked some more. We talked about Erin’s death. Picking over the details – again and again – trying to make sense of it.

And we talked about Erin’s life. A complete life…as Trici called it. All 18 months of it.

And when Trici died in 1999. Rory and I talked. Not so much about the details of her death… although as Rory grew older, of course he did ask questions. But we mostly talked her life. He asked questions. Lots of them. We remembered. We looked at pictures. We watched videos. And as Sean grew – he was only 3 when his mommy died - we helped him remember. Through stories and pictures and videos.

When Rory died in 2005… I lost my closest link to Trici. The three of us shared 7 years together… and because Rory had such an incredible memory…it was easy to talk to him about his mom.

I’ve noticed… that because I’m human… I forget things. I forget things about Erin’s life. And Trici isn’t here to jog my memory.

And I forget things about my life with Trici… and Rory isn’t here to jog my memory.

And now, I’m noticing that I’m forgetting things about Rory’s life… details.

And I don’t want to forget.

So…again, I’m asking those of you who are reading these words… who knew Rory… to share a memory of him with me. I’m asking you to help me remember.

Please don’t think that your memory isn’t important enough…or significant…you carry an important piece of the puzzle of Rory.

You can email the memory to me at tom@tomzuba.com.

I am posting the memories (and any digital photos of Rory you may have) at the “Remembering Rory on His 16^th” tab at the top of this homepage.

Thanks for taking the time to help me parent me!

Hope and peace,

Tom

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 8:08 am CST

July is a BIG month for my family.

My 18-month-old daughter Erin died on July 18, 1990. (That’s 17 years ago…had she lived, she’d be going off to college soon.)

My wife Trici’s due date – for our 2^nd baby – was July 18, 1991…

And Rory Brennan Zuba was born July 24^th of that year.

Had he lived…we’d be getting ready to celebrate his 16^th birthday in two weeks. (I’m not sure of the language…do I say, “Rory is going to be 16 on July 24^th”… or “Had Rory lived, he’d be 16 on July 24^th.”)

Do people age “in heaven?”

Years ago, I promised Rory that when he turned 16…I’d give him the Honda Accord I am currently driving. He thought that was wonderful. (Me too, cause I thought I’d get a hot, little sports car to mark my 50^th year and celebrate a mid-life crisis.)

When Rory died on February 22, 2005… I was not ready/able to “celebrate” his life.

Way, way, way to devastating for me.

I was barely able to breathe.

Initially, I had the words “A Celebration of Life” on the Memorial Service Program we handed out to all who attended. But at the least minute…I changed the language to “A Celebration of Love.”

I have been thinking of ways to celebrate/honor/remember/stay-connected-to my most amazing son Rory Brennan Zuba as his 16^th birthday arrives.

At first I thought of a big party – perhaps. But that seemed way too overwhelming.

So… I sat with “it” for awhile… the desire to “mark” the day … and what “bubbled up” for me was a “virtual” party… where people who knew (can we say know?) Rory… or know/knew of him… could gather together (online) and share a memory.

My truth is – that because I am human – I forget. I forget things I once knew about Rory… so by gathering together YOUR memories of him (and any electronic photo you may have of him)… we create a BIGGER picture of who this amazing kid was.

So… I held on to the thought of a “virtual” party honoring/remembering Rory Brennan Zuba.

And the day I returned home from my recent California trip…

I received this email…from Taya…a friend and classmate of Rory…

In Memory of Rory Zuba

I must say i never knew that your site existed until
one this morning

i decided to get up and search for Rory Zuba on google.

Although i couldn`t figure out as to why i was doing
this, i decided their had to be a logical reason as to
why i would have a sudden desire as to want to get up
and search for Rory.

On February 22 ,my brothers birthday... At West
Middle, the counselors stepped into the auditorium and
told us the most horrible news we could ever have
herd,

to some this was to much to bare.

I was affected, the counselors tried to help the student by
having them go to the office and talk. thinking it
would help i went. We were told to tell what we
remembered about Rory

so i told them how i had him in my orchestra class and how i had the biggest crush on
him and how i would drop my bow almost everyday in that class just so he could pick it up for me and then i could say thank you.

Rory and i were quite alike in many ways, i was in
gifted and in orchestra just as he was and i too am
very fond of Japan...

When Rory died on February 22 i was never able to
think of that day the same...i completely changed...I
dropped out of orchestra, and i also dropped down from
gifted... it had affected me so bad... that this girl
who everyone once knew as the girl who liked to
compete had dropped down all the way back to regular
classes...

to this day i was never in orchestra again
neither was i in any kind of gifted class...

But this morning, when i awoke, to the feeling that i
had to search for Rory Zuba online...i never knew i
would be thinking of this again but... i am now going
to go back into gifted, and once again i am going to
pick up my bow

and i am going to play the violin and never again let
go...

I thank you for being so strong...

i want you to know
that i prayed every night about overcoming this... and
when i found your site this morning, i figured it was
Rory looking down on me from heaven saying its OK

...If my own father can overcome this so can you...

For my sixteenth birthday i was going to go to
Japan, but when Rory died, i backed out to afraid to
face it, but you have become my inspiration, and when i
go i will i will take a pictures, and i will send you
as many as i can..

i will go to all the gardens in
Japan...

Rory too will be their...

i am taking the yearbook of
2004 and my bow that Rory would pick up everyday and
when i get their i will go to the biggest garden they
have and it is their that i will walk into the middle
of the garden and leave the yearbook and the violin
bow that i use to have him pick up everyday for me so
that he may always be in his favorite place and so
will the memories that i had with him...

i will take a
picture... and i will send it to you... so you can see
how happy he is about being in his favorite place in
the world...

his memory will always be with me,

I plan to go to that garden every other year for his
birthday and i will open our orchestra book from the
year of 04-05 and i will play as many pieces of music
as i can... to show him that i have improved... and
that he will always be remembered!

May god be with you

Rory`s classmate

Taya

And I interpreted Taya’s email as the Universe (God’s) way of saying…

”YES, Tom…that’s a great idea. Honor/Remember Rory with a “virtual” 16^th Birthday Party."

So… I am asking – inviting – those of you that knew/know Rory… and those of you that know of Rory…to share with me/us.

Can you share a specific story about Rory? Something funny? Uniquely Rory?

What do you remember about him?

How is your life different – because of him?

Do you have an electronic photo of him…that you can email me, so that I can post it here?

Email me at tom@tomzuba.com.

If you read this… and know of someone else that could add to the memories of Rory… please invite them to read this post… and “join the party.”

I`ll post everything I receive at Remembering Rory on his 16th ...so we can celebrate and honor and remember...together.

Thanks,

Tom

Sunday, July 1, 2007 10:10 am CST

That summer after Trici died… the first one… summer of 1999. I took the kids to Southern California for three weeks in August.

Three full weeks.

We stayed at my college buddy Jim Oehler’s 2-bedroom pad in one of those incredible high-rise buildings in Century City. Jim is a lawyer who worked 24/7 … so; unfortunately he was rarely there. The kids loved living “in the sky” … swimming in the pool, saying hi to the doorman, fighting to see who got to push the elevator button… trying to remember whose turn it was to unlock the condo door… finding the car (Jim’s – which he let us borrow) in the building’s underground parking lot… spending the day at the beach… make that beaches. Walking the Santa Monica pier…and tasting many of the wonderful (different) things Southern California had to offer a grieving dad and his 2 now-“motherless” boys from Oak Park, Illinois.

Sadly – for me – Jim is one of a handful of people I have lost touch with along the way. I think it’s a case of he-didn’t-know-what-to-say … so he-said-nothing … and, as time went by … the saying-nothing seemed to be SO HUGE … that it was easier for him to stay away.

Are their people like that in your life?

If only they knew that there is usually nothing (profound) to say… other than,

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say…I wish I did. This is uncomfortable for me… and I don’t want you to be alone…so, I will try not abandon you. But if I do…will you forgive me?”

I’d say – for most of us – there is a really good possibility that we would welcome our “lost friends” back with open arms. They usually hold a connection to those in our life that have died… and we’d love to have that connection – again.

Okay…so, one day I take the kids to Malibu. We walk the beach.

We get to the point in the beach…having walked north…where there is a chain-rope blocking anyone’s attempt to walk further north along the beach…

And a sign hanging from the chain-rope saying something like,

“Private Beach – Keep Out.”

Rory was 7 at the time…and being a first child (well, he wasn’t really a first child…but because Erin died before he was born, I guess he was a first child in a way) he obeyed the rules.

ALL THE RULES. ALL THE TIME!

It was kind of sad, for me… because I thought he missed out on some really great adventures.

Of course, being a 2^nd child…I saw the chain-rope and the ominous sign as an INVITATION that said, …

“Tom, you are welcome…please come in…look around…we are happy to have you.”

Sean was 4 – so he pretty much did what I asked (to a point).

Rory DID NOT… and I repeat, did not, want to enter the forbidden beach…so, this time I dragged him along.

Of course the beach was beautiful…the Hollywood movie star homes breathtaking. I told the kids to “act like we belong here” … which has been my mantra in many a’uncomfortable situation.

So…we acted liked we belonged…greeted the few people we saw with a “hello” or a subtle (wealthy) wave…and all was well.

A gentleman was approaching us at a leisurely pace. We were walking north…he was coming south. My plan was to “act like we belonged” and nod my head with a subtle “hello.”

As the man got closer and closer and closer… I whispered to the kids…

“Do you know who this is?”

Yes, yes… they both said.

It’s “Mr. White!!!”

From the movie “That Thing You Do.”

Which Trici has seen…and loved…and bought.

The kids inhaled the movie – over and over and over. We knew all the words, all the lines, all the songs (we had the soundtrack, too) … and all the dance moves.

Yes…we had just passed Mr. White

from “That Thing You Do.”

I said hi.

He said hi.

Life was good.

You know Mr. White as Tom Hanks.

A few weeks/months later I was paging through an issue of Vanity Fair…and saw a full page photograph of Tom Hanks… walking the Malibu beach. The photo accompanied an article promoting his new movie “Cast Away.”

Fast forward.

I speak at the Neuroblastom Conference Friday in Chicago.

One of the fathers present asks me a question about clinical depression.

At the break… we talk more.

Syd tells me about his son James… who died.

We talk a little more.

As we say good-bye – Syd gives me a copy of his book,

“Ya Can’t Let Cancer Ruin Your Day – The James Emails.”

I drive home… wondering what those in attendance thought/felt about my presentation. I had forgotten to bring evaluations… so had no written account of how the parents were feeling after our 3 hours together.

I felt good about my work. Great, in fact. I had shared – from the heart – as best as I could. I am grateful, because I learned a lot…as I was hearing myself speak to these parents. I taped the presentation…on brand new equipment…and am hopeful that I actually did RECORD…and that I will be able to play it back…and even hang it on this site. I like to listen to what I said… because I often go “into the zone” … and am sometimes not exactly sure what I said. I can usually recall how it “felt” … but the actual words…?

So…I felt good.

I arrive home at about 3:00 and immediately check my emails and read this…from John. I am hoping he does not mind that I post it here. When you are finished reading…if you can…please go to Penelope’s website…and let John and his wife know (via the Guestbook there) that they are not “in this alone.”

Hi Tom,

I lost my daughter Penelope to neuroblastoma on may 19th (41 days ago) after a long and painful battle with the disease that was filled with pain and suffering in the end, but many moments of joy and laughter before the struggle turned ugly. www.caringbridge.org/ny/penelope

I am completely overcome with feelings of sadness, emptiness, anger, desperation, fear, anxiety...and on and on. I really don’t want to live but I will not do anything to myself because I wont do that to my wife and son. But that is the feeling. Anyway, my friend Syd just called me. He was one of the Angel parents at your talk in Chicago a few hours ago. I just wanted to tell you how moved I am by your story and also the fact that you have found a way to navigate out of the darkness and towards the light. It is amazing and inspiring to me. I can’t really find the words to describe it but thank you for doing what you do.

I just spent some time on your web page and read the "About Tom" tab. I have been crying for awhile now. You are incredibly courageous and giving and your story has helped me get on better footing, if only for today. So I am just one person in the darkness and sadness who wants to say again how thankful I am that you are sharing your journey with people like me who feel like life ended with the end of their child`s life. You have given me a sliver of hope that there is a way through this pain.

John

I interpret this as the Universe/God’s way of saying (pretty directly) –

TOM, you are moving in the right direction.

Hallelujah!!!

I emailed John back…

And this morning, received this email from Syd. Again, I am hoping that Syd does not mind me sharing this…

Tom,

My good friend John has just let me know that you took time to respond to his email to you, and that your words brought him great encouragement. Thanks so much for looking out for my buddy. I had in fact called him within minutes of the end of your session at the Chicago conference, which, by the by, I considered the highlight of my two days there. I read him my notes, and urged him to visit your website. I am so glad he did

I can`t think of a more worthwhile way of you turning your triple tragedy into something meaningful than the work you do with the brokenhearted. My sincere thanks,

Syd

Help Fight Childhood Cancer
Visit www.JamesFund.com
Honorary Patron Tom Hanks
www.GreenTrainBooks.com

Okay…Syd has written a book - as I told you… and Mr. White – I mean Tom Hanks has written the forward to his book.

Tom Hanks is also the Patron Sponsor of The James Fund For Neuroblastoma Research at Sick Kids.

Full Circle?

Random, chaotic, up-for-grabs Universe?

Or kind, loving, compassionate, orderly Universe…

that I simply cannot fully comprehend?

Hope and peace today…July 1^st.

Tom

Wednesday, June 27, 2007 8:27 am CST

I returned home from a week in heaven – I mean California – late Monday night.

Friday morning I am speaking from 9:00 am to noon at

The Children’s Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation’s National Conference in Chicago.

The topic is:

My Child Has Died: What Now?
Taking a Closer Look at Grief, Mourning and Denial.

It’s my intention to record my presentation and then hang it here on the site… so others can listen to it at their convenience.

I have a friend who is a reporter for the Chicago Tribune. She is simply one of the most gifted writers I have ever met. Her ability to tell a story is stunning. Often times her assignment is to write one of those feature stories… 2-3 pages long, supported by several carefully selected photos. It’s my hope that one day…she will write a feature for the Tribune on the work I am doing to change the way we look at “life… after the death of someone we love.”

We were both hoping that Friday’s speaking engagement would be the time…

My friend pitched the story (more then once) to the powers that be at the Trib… but alas… they didn’t see the attraction for their readers.

Who wants to read about a bunch of parents learning to live following the death of a child? … too depressing.

Not when we can give them more info on Paris Hilton’s latest escapades…now that’s news.

I’m putting those words into their mouths… I have no idea (really) why they nixed the story. I can only imagine.

For those of you that read the Guestbook… you may have read Mark’s entry about Lelsey Jordan… who I had the pleasure of meeting last September when I spoke in Buffalo. Lesley is an incredible soul…doing incredible work… helping people who are navigating the wilderness of grief.

And the hospital wants to cut her position…

Probably to save money so they can buy more advertising space to let the community know much they care about the patients they serve - a.k.a. competition is tough and we need to get our market share of sick people choosing our hospital…not too sick though, cause we might loose money on them.

Again, I have no idea what the hospital administrators in Buffalo are thinking…if, indeed, they are thinking at all.

One can only imagine.

We’re still the last taboo… we can talk about cancer, sex and gay people… but we still can’t talk about death… and those of us learning (trying) to live with the death of someone we love.

Oh how I hope that tide is changing.

I’m going to do my part.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Monday, June 18, 2007 6:00 am CST

I leave this morning for Sonoma, California. I will be reunited with many of the people I met while enrolled in a Certification Program though Saybrook Graduate School called "Expressive Arts for Healing and Social Change: A Person-Centered Approach. I haven`t been with these folks for two years. I am looking forward to the reunion.

In May of 2004...when life was "good" and both of my children were alive and well...I wrote this paper following my first week of the program. That first week was called: "Nourishing the Soul."

Birth, Death and Rebirth

May 28, 2004

Abstract

Immersed in the safety of a consciously created environment, I went on a very profound, journey; a journey inward. This inward journey was traveled with chalk, oil pastels, scissors, glue, and pen and pencil in hand. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my 15-year life journey of Birth - Death - Rebirth unfolded step-by-step, expressive arts experience-by-expressive arts experience at Westerbeke Ranch. It unfolded in great detail in chalk scribbles, in oil pastel drawings, in clay sculpture, in journal writing, in music making, in movement, and in collage. Interestingly, the complete story of my Birth - Death - Rebirth presented itself midway through the week through that which I resisted most-- Authentic Movement--in a session called Melting and Growing. In my “once upon a time” story written the last day of class, all of the expressive arts experiences-- the pieces to the puzzle--fit together perfectly. The thread running through all of my week’s worth of experiences was now visible to me. In this paper, I give special focus to my rebirth.

Birth, Death and Rebirth

It is not entirely clear to me when, where and how my journey towards experiencing and learning about the healing powers of Expressive Arts and Carl Rogers’ Person-Centered Approach began. I suppose I could argue that it began with my birth, the moment of conception, or even in a life or lives lived long before this one. I’m not sure it’s possible to know the precise beginning, nor am I convinced that it is important. What I do know is that I am on this journey and that I can identify pieces of the thread that runs through it.

My heart leapt when I read the first email announcing Saybrook’s new Certificate Program. On a very deep level, I knew this program was for me. I remember reading the “welcome email” from Natalie Rogers where she suggested that our journey together had already begun. Her words resonated with me and I, too, felt like our journey had begun.

During that same time period, I “happened” to watch a Wayne Dyer PBS special that presented material Dyer had included in his new book, The Power of Intention. I had been vaguely aware of Dyer for a long time, but had never read his books, or watched him on PBS. I was moved by the television show and immediately bought and devoured his book, The Power of Intention. In his book, Dyer suggests that, “Intention is not something that you do, but rather a force that exists in the universe as an invisible field of energy!” (Dyer, 2004, p.6). He goes on to say that, “Some prominent researchers believe that our intelligence, creativity, and imagination interact with the energy field of intention rather than being thoughts or elements in our brain” (p.6). The following passage excited me:

A tiny acorn with no apparent power to think or make plans for its future contains intention from the invisible field. If you cut the acorn open, you won’t see a giant oak tree, but you know it’s there.…Intention doesn’t err. The acorn never turns into a pumpkin…Every aspect of nature, without exception, has intention built into it, and as far as we can tell, nothing in nature questions its path of intent. Nature simply progresses in harmony from the field of intention. We, too, are intended from the energy of this field. (p.6-7)

During the last weeks of March and early weeks of April, as the Midwest winter was breathing its last cold breaths and spring was desperately trying to make herself known, I was fascinated by the bulbs my young son and I had planted the autumn before. Together we had placed over 500 oddly shaped, different sized bulbs into the cold dirt. Some were called tulips, others were daffodils and still others were known as crocus’. I was fascinated by the truth that given the right conditions each bulb would become what nature had intended it to become. All the tulips bulbs would become tulips, all the daffodil bulbs would become daffodils. There would be no mistakes. It was equally fascinating to realize that nature was ready and willing to provide all the conditions--warmth, light, water, soil--necessary for each bulb to reach its full potential.

Some weeks later, while reading from The Carl Rogers Reader I came across, “The person-centered approach…depends on the actualizing tendency present in every living organism--the tendency to grow, to develop, to realize its full potential. This way of being trusts the constructive directional flow of the human being toward a more complex and complete development. It is this directional flow that we aim to release.” (Kirschenbaum & Henderson, 1989, p.137)

Given a safe, nurturing environment, the acorn becomes the oak; the tulip bulb, the tulip; and the daffodil bulb, the perfect daffodil. Likewise, given a safe, nurturing environment, each human being can grow, can develop, can realize its full potential.

While I was sitting on the plane, flying from Chicago to San Francisco to begin my first class, I had an unfamiliar, unstoppable urge to draw in my brand new Art Journal which I had packed away in my carry-on bag along with a box of brand new colored pencils. I want to restate how completely foreign this urge to draw was to me. Nonetheless, following the urge, I began to draw a tiny green stem pushing itself through the rich brown/black soil. The green plant was clearly an infant with only one tiny, fully-formed leaf and another leaf beginning to take up space. Beneath the soil, I drew my tiny plant’s strong, deep, tap- root reaching down into the earth, anchoring this plant. Also anchoring the plant were a series of long, strong roots that reached out horizontally, some just beneath the soil surface and others almost at a 45 degree angle to the soil line. It was clear, this plant had strong, deep roots. It was firmly planted. In the sky was a vibrant, vibrating red-orange-yellow sun sending warm, full yellow swirls of light into the clear blue sky. (I have since named this drawing “Supported growth.”)

Having completed the drawing, I wrote in different colors:

Deep, strong, sturdy, anchored roots

Supporting tender, hardy, determined growth

Being fed by such rich, rich soil

And nurtured and warmed and called for by a glorious

“everywhere” sun

Hanging in a perfectly blue sky that sometimes provides warm rain

Again, I want to reiterate how completely unusual it was for me to spontaneously draw something and then write words to support the drawing.

As I reflect upon my week in Sonoma and the weeks that have passed since, I can identify several themes, several threads that run through the experience. As I traveled to Westerbeke, the activity that I dreaded and feared most was Authentic Movement. My first introduction to Authentic Movement was the reading I did prior to this course. The thought of moving, free form, for an extended period of time with other people watching me scared me to death. Could I do it? Could I do it right? Would I feel stupid? Would I look stupid? Would other people think I was stupid?

Much to my surprise, the second Authentic Movement session, “Melting and Growing” was very powerful for me. I began the session moving really, really BIG; flowing, and full of life; reaching upwards and outward. Gaining insight from discussing the experience with my Authentic Movement partner, I realized that these movements and the feelings I had at the beginning of that session paralleled my life when I was first married, especially the period when my daughter was alive. Life seemed very BIG, and full, with lots of hope, love, energy and promise. My melting that followed was very, very painful. It was a slow, drawn-out melting leaving me spread-eagle on the floor unable to move for a long period of time. As I lay there, I felt the coolness of the hard floor beneath me. It felt good. After a long time of stillness, my legs started to slowly move. One leg brushed up against what felt like another person. The human contact felt good.

After quite a bit of time passed, with me lying on the cold, soothing floor, I began to grow again. Slowly, I began to grow. I wasn’t as tall, or as big or as flowing as the first time. Although I did manage to take very cautious, small steps away from center to try and get a sense of what the “world around me” was like. I would cautiously venture out a little and then return to what I thought was a safe place. As I ventured out, I didn’t want to get hurt by anybody, nor did I want to hurt anyone that might be moving around the room.

I melted a second time, this time much quicker than the first time. I melted into a tight, round, safe, closed ball, where I stayed for quite awhile. Again, a human leg or an arm brushed up against me and it felt good to have that contact. Slowly, I turned over onto my back and my body began to open from it’s tightly closed ball. The session came to a close.

I realize now, that through Authentic Movement, that which I resisted most, I moved/relived/retold the story of my journey from birth--my birth as a husband and father in the mid-to-late 1980s--to death--the death of life as I knew it triggered by my own daughter’s death fifteen years ago--to rebirth--the struggle to choose life again, the decision to stay married, to have two more children, to go into business for myself--to death, again--the obliteration of the second life my wife and I had created, caused by her sudden death in 1999--to being poised, again, for another rebirth. I literally ended that session laying on my back, beginning to open from a tightly closed ball, taking the first small steps necessary to become ready to receive.

One of the threads that ran through my experiences that week was this thread of Birth - Death - Rebirth. I will shed light on the rebirths that the Expressive Arts activities helped me give form to.

As I look at my week’s worth of artwork, I realize that something was added to the acorn, the tulip bulb and the daffodil bulb that made themselves known to me in the weeks before class began. An egg was added. During the weeklong process of creating, an egg kept appearing and reappearing in my work. The egg appeared in my drawings and in my clay sculpture. As I hiked to the creek one day, in addition to seeing a snake, many different caterpillars, an empty cocoon--all symbols of transformation--I stepped over a tiny egg--cracked open and empty. So, I ask myself the question, “What is in the egg?” that keeps appearing in my work?

My second picture, a scribble drawing, drawn to a heavy, drum-beating piece of music, disturbed me because of the messy, chaotic red lines that showed up in the middle of the black paper. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what the red mess could be. On the last day, as I wrote my “once upon a time” story the following flowed:

All of a sudden - with no warning whatsoever, the egg exploded. Dark, red blood squirted and sprayed and stained everywhere and everything. The blood was far-reaching. The egg and whatever was inside of it was shattered…and whatever was growing inside of it was shattered. The naked eye could see no traces of the egg…or its contents. The flowing, soft colors that had nourished the egg exploded as well and were shattered in all directions.

The explosion was a visual of my 18-month old daughter’s death and my response to it; my first, painfully slow melting during Authentic Movement. That egg--my life as Erin’s father--was shattered.

Another egg appeared in my 3^rd art piece. In my “once upon a time” story, I wrote:

Slowly, oh so slowly, over such a long period of time…the colors started to find each other. They had been searching for each other. The pinks found the pinks and they were pinkier than they had been before the explosion. The oranges found the oranges to discover that they too were organgier than they had been. The same was true for the yellow and the green, and in time, new colors appeared. Black, purple, blue and red. In fact, the darkest colors - black, purple and dark, dark blue provided support for the lighter, softer, more delicate colors.

And in the sky, surrounded by a green light appeared a yellow egg.

Another egg appears. New life after death; my rebirth, as expressed through Authentic Movement. My slow, not so big, not so full reentry to life. I asked the question, “What was in this yellow egg surrounded by the green light?”

Inside the egg was a black hole.

As I was writing these words, the last day, for my “once upon a time” story, I felt such resistance to the thought that the yellow egg, surrounded by the green light contained a black hole. I sat with that truth for awhile, trying to figure out how to tell the story a different way. There must be a “prettier” way to tell this story. But the truth was staring at me. Nothing I could do would change it. Inside the egg was a black hole.

The black hole was surrounded by a thick yellow shell…Suddenly the egg cracked open. The blackness escaped first. Beneath the blackness was a golden light, and from the golden light sprang a beautiful, HUGE bird. How had the small egg contained the incredible, graceful bird…with colorful wings and a sweeping, rainbow tail? How had the egg contained the bird? (I later named this piece, “Rising From Darkness.")

The incredible, graceful bird seems to represent the life my wife and I created following the death of our daughter. Our egg first contained blackness. Beneath the blackness, however, was a golden light. The beautiful bird--our life with our two sons, our comfortable home and our thriving business--was birthed from that golden light--born of the blackness.

The bird turned it’s head. One more glimpse, one more look and it flew off.

The bird flew off. On January 1, 1999, my wife, and the life we had created together, was gone in a heartbeat. Once again, in a matter of hours, my entire life melted before me. And in my 6^th drawing, another egg appeared. I wrote:

An orange egg appeared…thick, orange shell protecting a bright, red center. The egg was lovingly held in a flowing, river of color, so soft and so smooth. Surrounded by yellow and black and red and green and brown and blue and firmly anchored in black. There was plenty of room for each color. They flowed side by side, each respecting and aware of the other’s space. And the egg erupted and exploded with no warning.

The morning of the second to last day, I woke early because I did not want to miss the morning Chi-Gong session. I had never done Chi-Gong before this week, but by the fourth day, was feeling somewhat comfortable with the movements. I enjoyed being in the room with other people. It felt like a good way to wake up my body. As the class was winding down, and people were given the opportunity to move into their own type of meditation, it became clear to me that I needed to grab a piece of paper, some oil pastels and move outside into the sunlight.

In the center of the paper emerged a man. A solid, sturdy, broad-shouldered emerging man. His arms were rhythmically moving up and down in large, sweeping motions, reminiscent of angel wings. He looked ready to take off in flight. However his feet were firmly planted on the earth. Long, thick, strong, brown roots reached deep into the earth, anchoring him in place. A huge egg-shaped circle of light and color surrounded the man. A circle of yellow, orange, red, blue and purple fire-like light surrounded the man. I wrote the words protected; powerful; strong, deep, roots; and separate on the drawing. I took another step and tried using the “I am” with each word. “I am protected. I am powerful. I am strongly, deeply rooted. I am separate.” I felt resistance to “I am separate.” So, I tried using “I feel.” “I feel separate.” That felt better. (The piece is called, “Here I Am.”)

As I look back, I am struck by the similarities between my “urge-to-draw-on-the-plane” drawing, “Supported growth” and “Here I Am.” The tiny, fragile, tender plant in the first piece is now a “solid, sturdy, broad-shouldered, emerging man.” Both have strong, deep roots firmly planted in the ground beneath. Both are surrounded by powerful, multicolored light-energy. However, the tiny plant seems to be nurtured and fed by the yellow, orange, red light emanating from the sky ball. The man appears to emerging from the yellow, orange, red and now blue and purple field of light.

This last art piece is certainly a prime example of what Natalie Rogers refers to as the Creative ConnectionÆ in her book, The Creative Connection, Expressive Arts as Healing.

The creative connection describes the process of allowing one art form to influence another directly. Using various expressive arts in sequence heightens and intensifies our journey inward…Frequently what we then create comes from the unconscious. We may be surprised by what appears. (Rogers, N. 1993, p.43)

“Here I Am” was influenced by that which preceded it - the Chi-Gong session. In fact, I am not certain exactly where this drawing came from other than to say it had an energy of its own. N. Rogers would say it may have come “from the unconscious.” (p.43) It certainly surprised me! The emerging man wanted to be birthed and I said yes to him. I allowed the piece to be birthed through me. In writing about him, I said:

I emerged from the egg. Surrounded by a rainbow of color. An expansive, protective, rainbow of color--clearing the way before me--making room for my presence…another resurrection.

When describing the Person-Centered Approach, C. Rogers states that:

The central hypothesis of this approach can be briefly stated. It is that the individual has within himself or herself vast resources for self-understanding, for altering his or her self-concept, attitudes, and self-directed behavior--and that these resources can be tapped if only a definable climate of facilitative attitudes can be provided.

There are three conditions that constitute this growth-promoting climate…The first element is genuineness, realness or congruence. The second attitude of importance…is acceptance, or caring, or prizing--unconditional positive regard. The third…is empathetic understanding.” (Kirschenbaum & Hendersdon, 1989, p. 135)

This way of being resonates deeply with me. I like the notion that I possess, within me, vast resources. I like knowing that I am not dependant upon an outside “expert” to tell me what I need to do to lead a happier, fuller, more productive life. I like knowing that the Expressive Arts can help me tap into those vast resources.

During the week at Westerbeke, many of the conditions that constitute a Person-Centered growth-promoting climate--if not all of them--were present. I felt safe enough in that environment to travel on a very, very deep journey and take a look at pieces of the past fifteen years of my life. It was during that journey, that the images of my birth, death, and rebirth--and of experiencing real resurrection--came up over and over again. The depth of my journey was certainly intensified by using various expressive arts in sequence--the Creative Connection. My seemingly unrelated drawings, sculpture, writings, and movement throughout the week were in reality all parts of a bigger picture. As I viewed the week’s work as a whole, it was clear to me that I was retelling my birth as a husband and a father; the painful experience of living through my daughter’s death in 1990; my rebirth in the years that followed; my own death, again, as my wife died in 1999; and, now, my second rebirth, as I define and give shape to my new life.

References

Achterberg, J., Dossey, B. & Kilkmeier, L. (1994). Rituals of Healing: Using Imagery for Health and Wellness. New York: Bantam Books.

Dyer, W. W. (2004). The Power Of Intention. Carlsbad, CA: Hay House, Inc

Ganim, B. (1999). Art and Healing: Using Expressive Art to Heal Your Body, Mind, and Spirit.New York: Three Rivers Press.

Halprin, A. (2000). Dance and Healing Art: Returning to Health with Movement and Imagery. Mendocino, CA: LifeRythm.

Kirschenbaum, H. & Land Henderson, V. (1989). The Carl Rogers Reader. New York: Houghton Mifflin.

Pallaro, P., editor. (1999). Authentic Movement: Essays by Mary Starks Whitehous, Janet Adler and Joan Chodorow. London and New York: Jessica Kingsley.

Rogers, N. (1993). The Creative Connection: Expressive Arts as Healing. Palo Alto: Science and Behavior Books.

Saturday, June 16, 2007 6:39 pm CST

Nancy, Joel and me

The June 5th email invited me to come to Elgin.

“…I wanted to drop you a line about this weekend. If you and Sean are available Saturday morning, I`d love to have you guys come to our 4th annual "Walk 5k for Caitlin". It`s a very casual 3.1 mile walk, though there are some runners, if that`s more your style. Last I heard, my cousin Mary Lou was coming down from Rockford with her kids. She teaches at the school Rory and Sean attended and is the one that sent me to your website. Anyway, again, if you can make it I`d love to meet you and Sean but I know how weekends are for everyone this time of year. Take care Tom.”

I had never been to a walk like this one before…created to remember someone who died. I visited the website: http://www.walk5kforcaitlin.com/

I learned more about Caitlin --- and about her mom Diane who had died 10 months ago --- and about her dad, Joel … who is Mary Lou’s cousin. Mary Lou told Joel about my site. Mary Lou’s kid went to the same school as my son Rory. Mary Lou and I worked together on the school’s PTO fundraiser together.

Small (perfect) world.

And I “map quested” the distance… less than an hour.

I’m going.

And I did.

And I’m so glad I did.

I had never been to a walk like this before…

200+ people. Most wearing sky blue T-shirts printed with: “Walk 5K for Caitlin.” We carried pink and blue balloons through the streets of Elgin. Policemen stopped traffic for us. From the sidelines, people asked questions…”Why are you walking?”

To remember. We don’t want to forget.

To raise money. For a scholarship in her name… and to help get drunk drivers off the streets. So this doesn’t happen again.

And we said Caitlin’s name…CAITLIN...

and we said Diane’s name … DIANE...

and we asked questions.

How did they die?

How did they live?

Tell us what they were like?

And some people cried as they talked…and we knew that was okay. We let them cry.

And then the dad spoke.

And he radiated. Radiated.

And he cried a little… why wouldn’t he? He missed his wife and his daughter. He missed their life together. This was the first time Diane was not by his side (physically) at the walk.

This was a safe place.

And I could feel Caitlin’s presence. And I could feel Diane’s presence. Of course they were there – why wouldn’t they be?

And for me – Joel defined FATHER for me that Saturday morning.

He was proud, and happy, and sad, and protective, and welcoming, and grateful, and vulnerable … all at the same time. And he was much more. He was real. Authentic.

He allowed us to see him feeling his feelings and emotions.

And he was mourning. And his mourning gave us all permission to mourn. That’s how it works. Following his lead…we knew it was okay to “go public” with our own grief.

And healing occurred.

That’s how it works.

And I am so grateful I drove to Elgin that morning.

Thanks for reaching out and inviting me, Joel!

My own daughter Erin has been dead since 1990, my wife Trici (who master-minded the Father’s Day festivities each year) has been dead since 1999, and my son Rory died in 2005.

I think about them every day. Every day. Most days I think about them many times a day. I don’t dwell on the truth that they aren’t here physically anymore. I used to. For me, that what part of the process. But I don’t anymore.

Mostly, I “dwell” on the truth that they were here in the first place. That they lived. That we shared experiences together. Life. Love.

It’s rare that I hear people mention their names anymore…even more rare that someone will share a story… a memory… a funny incident… a photograph.

And… when their names are not spoken… it seems as if they are even “more dead.” If that’s possible.

So… I remember. Because I don’t want to forget.

Father’s Day!

Hope and peace,
Tom

Friday, June 15, 2007 11:20 am CST

If you know a little (or not so little) boy or girl whose mommy died (or is out-of-the-picture)…it’s not too late to take that child shopping so he/she can get their daddy a present for Father’s Day this year.

You might even consider helping them make a home-made card for Dad.

Everyone wins.

Hope and peace,
Tom

Wednesday, June 13, 2007 11:02 pm CST

Cookie posted this in the Guestbook. I wanted to share it with as many people as possible...

"I`m sharing this with you all today...but, I posted it several weeks ago on Diego`s carepage. I guess that because I am having a "good" week, I want to validate the right for any of us to have a "bad" day, or week, or minute or whatever it takes!

I can "hear" Tom in his writing to us...to be gentle with ourselves. Please try to have as good a day as possible!

So here is the entry:

And why does my husband have to be in harm’s way, walking the horrible streets of Baghdad and swimming in even more suffering and death than we’ve already had? And why do I have to wonder every day if somebody in a uniform might show up at my door with a chaplain?

Why do men run to war and battle when they can’t find common ground? What makes us think that the killing of small children, the children left without mothers and fathers, the mothers and fathers grieving their children…what makes us think any of it can be justified or worth the cost of a war?

And if the best man wins, what really makes him the best man? Winning? And what did he have to do to win? What is the price of a victory like this? What is the prize? Is it enough to gain a country, a people, a trophy, a prize?

Can a man enjoy their reward or feel good because he got the last word, forgetting that the bullets, rockets, bombs didn’t hurt anybody or devastate families? Most days, I mostly rejoice.

My life is rich.

My family is precious and spectacular.

Today, I cry. Today I can see that I have a right to cry.

Surrounded by love, by God, by family, by friends. But, alone in this room. Surrounded by his toys, his books, memories and emptiness.

Not surrounded by him. Knowing that in this life, in this world, his arms will not reach up to me. His lips will not kiss me. His eyes will not look into mine. His laughter will not fill a room I am in. His little feet will not run through the house. He will not sing to us…not here.

Today I cry. Today I can see that I have a right to cry.

Today I know there is nothing more appropriate for a mother, but to cry. I feel lonely and there is nothing anybody can do to change that. It’s just what I feel today. I have to feel this way today.

But, at least I feel.

Even if the feelings make me wish so deeply that things could be different. And the feelings cause me to search and struggle for contentment in this moment. It’s wishing my husband was here to comfort me and for his sadness to be next to mine.

Today I am wishing that his grief would hold hands with mine and that his longing would join my own. With downward glances we could shake our heads and wonder at how unbelievable it all is.

And when the tears finish for today, we might hold hands and which of us would say it first? “It still doesn’t seem possible. I still feel like he’s going to come through the door any minute now!”

There is so much to feel.

Surely, God sits near us and cries with us. This is how we are together in spirit, God, me, my husband, and all of the ones who have been left behind by one they love so dearly.

This is why I am not alone.

It should be raining somewhere today.

Paz para hoy... cookie mama to Diego: 07/29/2000 - 08/02/2006
www.carepages.com / DiegoLand

cookie santiago < csantiago@ec.rr.com >

Jacksonville, NC, USA 6/13/2007

Thank you Cookie. Allow us to hold you, your husband, and your whole family - even from a distance.

Hope and peace,
Tom

Wednesday, June 13, 2007 9:44 am CST

Following up on yesterday’s Journal entry…the CNN piece on Miles Levin got bumped to tonight. Wednesday, June 13^th.

Anderson Cooper.

9:00 pm CST.

Watch it.

Try and open your heart even more.

On Saturday, October 6^th I will be speaking here in Rockford to an ecumenical group of men and women from the greater Rockford area at an annual brunch.

My topic is:

“Resting in the Palm of God’s Hand”

Love that!

We’re not exactly sure where the brunch will be held – as soon as I know I will post.

The event will be from 9:00 a.m.– 11:30 a.m..

I believe the cost will be $12.00.

Proceeds will help support Rockford Public School District 205’s Homeless Program in memory of my son, Rory.

Did you know there were homeless students attending our Rockford Public Schools?

Save the date. Details to follow.

I am facilitating the last of my Spring workshops at Womanspace beginning at 6:30 tonight. Light a candle for us. Send us loving energy. Say a prayer. Think of us.

As I’ve said…because we are connected…as we (tonight) consciously participate in our own healing transformation… you, too, will be healing. Open to it.

As you heal – I heal.

As I heal – you heal.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Tuesday, June 12, 2007 11:23 am CST

When you heal…I heal.

When I heal…you heal.

We’re all connected.

Literally.

No separation.

If you are able, please visit Mile Levin’s Caringbridge site.

You can accompany Miles by visiting his site at http://www.carepages.com/ (register, then type LevinStory)

Miles will be on CNN Anderson Cooper this evening. 9:00 pm CST.

Open your heart/your heart will open.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Saturday, June 9, 2007 6:45 am CST

I am happy to announce that I will be presenting at The Children`s Neuroblastoma Cancer Foundation’s upcoming National Conference 2007 on Friday, June 29, 2007 from 9:00 am to noon.

My presentation is called:

My Child Has Died: What Now?

Taking a Closer Look at Grief, Mourning and Denial.

REGISTRATION is OPEN

The conference is scheduled for:

JUNE 28-JULY 1, 2007

Hyatt Regency McCormick Place
2233 S. Martin Luther King Drive
Chicago, IL 60616

For more information about the organization and conference go to: http://www.cncf-childcancer.org/

If you, or someone you know, is living with a child who has a neuroblastoma – please consider attending this conference.

If you, or someone you know, is living with the death of a child who had a neuroblastoma – please consider attending this conference.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Friday, June 8, 2007 7:33 am CST

My son`s make-up baseball games are at 2:00 and 6:00 tomorrow - Satuday. Therefore, I will be able to walk in the Walk 5K for Caitlin tomorrow morning (see June 6th post). If anyone else who visits this site is planning to attend...and you would like to walk together in honor of all of our loved ones - please email me.

Thanks Joel.

Hope and peace,
Tom

Wednesday, June 6, 2007 6:09 a.m. CST

Joel has been part of the circle that has grown from our Guestbook over the past year +. This Saturday morning…Joel, family and friends are hosting the “Walk 5K for Caitlin” in Elgin, IL. Please take a few minutes to visit the beautiful website that has been created… http://www.walk5kforcaitlin.com/index.htm - learn more about the event, about Caitlin who was hit by a drunk driver and died in 2003… and about Joel’s wife Diane who died in August, 2006.

If Saturday morning baseball games permit … I am going to try and attend the event. I met Bev (from this site) last September when I spoke in Buffalo… but, to date, have not met anyone else. I’d love to meet Joel.

If anyone else who visits this site is able to attend the Walk Saturday morning… let us know. Perhaps we could connect… in honor of Caitlin and Diane.

In my opinion… this event… and the website created to support the Walk 5K for Caitlan are two wonderful, tangible examples of mourning… of “going public” with that which is inside of us…grief.

Of healing. Of stepping into our own transformation. Of living BIG!

I told Joel… that one of the reasons I’d like to be there Saturday morning is that I am quite sure that both Dine and Caitlin will be present in such a magnificent, powerful way…I’d like to experience that first hand.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Monday, June 4, 2007 10:54 pm CST

Yesterday was one of those cloudy, kinda cool, kinda rainy Sundays. A great day to do a whole lot of nothing. Much to my surprise, Sean wanted to watch old family videos. He picked two.

The first one was Sean’s 7^th birthday. He just turned 12 in April…so the video we watched together was five years old. We were living in California. His mom’s sister, Aunt Maureen had come to visit – timed to help Rory and I celebrate Sean’s big day.

The second video Sean selected was from 2004. A lifetime ago.

Sean was in 4^th grade. From as long ago as I can remember Sean has excelled at sports. From day one…if it was round and rolled, Sean loved to hit it, throw it, catch it, kick it or swing at it... It seems as if he was born with a ball in his hand.

That year, in my desire to make sure Sean was “well-rounded,” I made him try out for his school’s production of “Annie.” In addition to his athletic ability – I thought he had some acting and singing talent. I wasn’t completely surprised when I learned he was cast as Rooster…the guy who tries to steal Annie so he can collect the cash reward.

Sean’s a funny kid. Even though he did a great job in the role and sure looked like he was enjoying himself…to this day, he swears it was the worst experience of his life…and that he will never try out for another play again.

The second video Sean selected was the tape of Annie.

The end of that tape is Christmas of 2004. The last Christmas Rory was alive.

I had watched the tape before. Several times since Rory died. But I bet a whole year has past since I watched it last…

Seeing Rory on the tape took my breath away. Not in a bad way…but it took my breath away nonetheless.

Intellectually, I know he had a stroke during his brain surgery. As a result, I know his gait was unsteady. I know he never regained full motion in his right arm…it kind of hung there. I remember that his face was bloated from the Decadron. I know the sound of his voice was softer. Slower. It was harder for him – at times – to find the right word to say. In my head – I know all this.

But I had forgotten. I had forgotten how different the post-surgery Rory was from the pre-surgery Rory. I had forgotten how drastically Rory had changed - on the outside …in what seemed like an instant.

And as I watched the tape… from the seat I am sitting in today…I wondered how I survived? How did I do it? How did I survive those months, those weeks, those days, those hours, those minutes…following the news that, “yes, Mr. Zuba your son has brain cancer…and no, Mr. Zuba there is no cure. No hope.”

How do any of us "do it?"

As I’ve said before… I still think the first year is the “hardest” … whatever “hardest” means. And I know that many of you would argue with me…no, no, no the second year is harder, still.

I’ve done it three times…and what I’ve noticed is that a protection of sort sets in and leads me/us to believe that “it really wasn’t as bad as it was.”

I had forgotten how different the post-surgery Rory was from the pre-surgery Rory. I thought I remembered…but I had forgotten.

I think that protection is necessary and helps us/allows us to say YES to life again., when/if we are ready. The reality that we lived through softens a bit… we forget things, moments, experiences…

I think – to some extent – we forget the brutality, the cold sharpness, the startling, suddenness of the words…”your loved one is dead.”

As Angelique said that “one minute.”

Even though it may not seem so...I think we forget parts of it. I think we have to - in order to survive. The death of a loved one can be THAT devastating!

I think the second year…the third year…the fourth year…can be about allowing the reality of the truth that we will not see our loved one in his/her physical body again – at least while we are walking this earth - to sink in. How do we allow that unfathomable truth to pull up a chair and sit next to us?

Wrestling with that truth can be incredibly painful. And I think, for me, it’s a different kind of pain than the initial pain that accompanies a death...that "first year."

And then – when/if we stop resisting the truth of death – if indeed we ever do - we’re given the opportunity to make peace with our life…and begin anew.

On a somewhat related note (I think) a woman who would describe herself as a good, Christian woman…a mother, a nurse, a sensitive, caring human being…

is worried about Sean and me.

“Isn’t he spending too much time wallowing in his grief? It’s been two years, shouldn’t he just move on? All that focus on death can’t be good for Sean. It doesn’t seem healthy.”

Two years? Following the death of my wife...following the death of my daughter.

Who really understands what happnend during those two years...other than the person LIVING those two years...or two days, or two weeks, or two months?

Two years is such a short/unbelievably long time when one is learning to live with the death of someone they love.

Isn`t it?

In addition to everything else…we’re asked to deal with Innocent Ignorance.

Maybe it’s for comic relief?

Hope and peace,

Tom

Thursday, May 31, 2007 8:19 a.m.

The Dalai Lama, The Secret … and me

Stepping Into a New Life Following the Death of Someone I Love

I’m not sure when I first became aware of the phenomena that has caught the attention of many throughout the world – known as The Secret. But when Oprah devoted not one… but two shows to the book and DVD… I knew this was BIG.

I take issue (a.k.a. i don`t understand) with the lady who said we can cure ourselves of breast cancer… but that discussion is for another day.

My book club decided to watch (and discuss) The Secret DVD.

I’m not sure anything presented in the DVD was new to me… nor was it a secret. But coming from a marketing and public relations background… I sure give that lady from Australia BIG POINTS for wrapping the Law of Attraction in such seductive packaging.

Several members of my book club felt the same as I did, after our viewing. Something about the DVD left me cold. Unfinished. There’s a piece or two missing…

Surely the “great secret” of the Universe is not about manifesting a brand new shiny red sports car? A diamond necklace? A $5 million home? The perfect partner?

Or is it?

Then I heard rumblings among members of my own private “posse” that there was actually a “The Secret #1" that had been released a few years before and had (obviously) not done as well…no one heard of it. So the smart Australian lady repacked, retooled and reissued.

BINGO!

A big postcard arrived in the mail… “Introducing ABRAHAM the secret behind “The Secret”…

“To call the Law of Attraction a secret is comparable to calling gravity a secret, as if you could keep its obvious results from being noticed. The secret they continue to hide, because of their fear of the response from the general public, is that nonphysical voices have once again, in your time, revealed, with precise detail, your reason for being, your relationship with all that is – and the power of your connection to Source.

By editing out the heart and basis of this message, they have omitted any means of your understanding the affect of the Law of attraction in your life. Without an understanding of the relationship between you and the Source within you, you are without guidance. And so, they world that surrounds you often seems secretive and ridden with problems beyond your control.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Esther Hicks says she channels Abraham. For more info go to: www.abraham-hicks.com.

Interestingly (coincidentally???) I had seen Esther (and her husband Jerry) in Marin Cty a few years back while living in Northern California at a full-day workshop. At first Esther reminded me of some version of a circus performer… but as the day unfolded… she grew on me. BIG TIME!!! As did Abraham. And the fascinating message… of which the Law of Attraction was a part.

As a result of being a guest on The Oprah Winfrey Show in 1999, I have become friends with Gary Zukav, author of The Seat of the Soul. As I’ve said before, that book is in my top 5 of all-time life-changers for me.

Gary had recently revamped his website (www.zukav.com/) and I noticed he offered a “Journey to the Soul member site” as he calls it. Here’s what I read:

For the price of a movie, quench your deepest thirst. Gary Zukav and Linda Francis are delighted to offer you the in-depth experience of their Member Site, the Journey to the Soul. This Journey is $9.95 billed monthly or $99.95 billed annually. You are free to stay a member as long as it is nourishing your Soul, you may easily cancel your membership at anytime.

Membership Includes:

New Video Lessons Weekly

New Audio Lessons Weekly

New Quotes Daily

New Written Exercises Weekly

New Questions Answered by Gary Weekly

New Subjects to Explore Essays by Gary Twice a Month

New Guest Essays Monthly

Current Soul Guest Essay by Mike Myers

By the way membership for your spouse or significant other that you are living with is included in your membership too, we are excited for you to explore authentic power with your partner!

Also Included

Connect with Gary and Linda LIVE on our monthly Teleclasses. Gary and Linda will speak on a subject and then open the lines for your questions. They are so delighted to be able to share and interact with you this way.

Cool.

I decided to join for a year.

On April 3^rd Gary and Linda facilitated a 90-minute Teleclass called “Authentic Power and The Secret. " They offered a follow-up 90-minute Teleclass on April 16^th called "Authentic Power and The Secret: Going Deeper."

Both Teleclasses are archived and for the cost of one month’s membership ($9.95) you can listen to them (and several other Teleclasses) over and over.

If you are interested. I highly recommend it.

Gary and Linda’s Teleclasses regarding “The Secret” – for me – identified some of the missing pieces to The Secret puzzle… and helped me make it more of a whole.

So…

I shake hands with the Dalai Lama.

Transformational.

As I’m settling in for the 1 ½ hour drive home from downtown Chicago… I’m affirming what I think I believe about The Secret… readily admitting that a lot of it I still just don’t get...in my head!

But what I’ve noticed… is that very often… my life unfolds in ways bigger, grander, more colorful than I could have imagined. So… I’ve said before that I’m glad I don’t control the unfolding (not really certain if I do or not)… I’m glad I’m not responsible for “manifesting all of it” – because “God can dream a bigger life than I can” – as they say!

So, I’m driving home… feeling quite content that surely I did not “manifest” the hand holding and eye gazing with the Dalai Lama, His Holiness the 14^th reincarnation of the Buddha of Compassion.

Did I?

No… I decide that some things I do manifest … and others are gifts from a kind, loving, compassionate Universe.

And as I continue to drive… content because my life theory (of the moment) has been affirmed… I realize that:

When I was in Buffalo in September – at the same time the Dalai Lama was in Buffalo – I set an intention to see him. I really wanted to see him. Lots of emotion and feeling behind that desire. I did everything I could to see him… but the timing was not right.

Thich Nhat Hanh in no fear, no death says:

When conditions are sufficient things manifest. When conditions are no longer sufficient they withdraw. They wait until the moment is right for them to manifest again.”

Apparently conditions were not right for to see the Dalai Lama last September.

I felt I completely released any desire to see the little man again.

And to be honest…I am not certain where the desire to see him in the first place was born. A place Divine?

Yes, I had watched the 3 “main-stream” movies about the D.L. with Rory. No, I am not Buddhist. Other than the information presented in these three films – which may or may not be accurate…I knew very little about the man.

Perhaps the desire was born somewhere else? In that place where the vision of ALL THAT MY LIFE COULD BE is held?

Not sure. Perhaps.

So… I didn’t see him in Buffalo.

Released the desire to see him.

Many months later, I saw a full-page ad in the Sunday Chicago Tribune announcing the D.L.’s visit to Chicago on Sunday, May 6^th. I noted when tickets went on sale online in my daily planner. I wanted to be online, credit card in hand… ready to pounce on a few tickets the nano-second they went on sale. Not certain why.

Why? I had no idea. I followed the impulse. No questions asked. Trust. Do it.

As I’ve said, I uncharacteristically bought two $100.00 tickets – having no idea who I would go with.

So…clearly I put action behind this strongly felt intention I had set many months back… never once putting 1+2 together to = 3.

And the rest is history and continues to unfold.

I felt a pulse – an impulse.

I set an intention and backed it with strong emotion.

I put action behind that intention.

I observed (and allowed) life to unfold in a bigger, grander, more colorful way than I could have imagined.

I am grateful.

Cool.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Wednesday, May 30, 2007 6:49 am

My grandfather, my mom’s dad…Tim McInerney was many things.

One of them – an award-winning gardener.

We share a love of gardening.

His Chicago bungalow – 7919 East End on Chicago’s south side - had a “standard-size postage stamp” back yard. Every inch of it (and then some) was devoted to my grandfather’s flowers.

Prize-winning flowers.

Dahlias.

My mom said that as a child… they would ride the streetcar with their dad… holding trays of his Dahlias… to be entered and judged at the next Flower Show.

On the way home – at the end of the day – they’d carry his ribbons as they made their way back home.

He laid planks of wood throughout the flowerbeds to get closer to his precious plants without harming any of them. I understand this. It was pure heaven…as a child to be able to sneak into the backyard and play hide-and-seek among the plants. This was a rare event. Grandpa must have been out when this happened.

On a few occasions, my grandmother let us use the clothes lines to make a tent…blanket draped over…clothes pins used to stake the ends into the earth.

Be careful of Grandpa’s plants. Watch the plants.

A few short weeks before Rory’s seizure… when life was so good for us… I visited a friend of my folks. She had beautiful gardens. They needed to be thinned. We could take whatever plants we wanted. Perennials. Take whatever you want.

I took yellow, purple, and white.

I created three new beds bordering the creek.

Pure joy!

I finished phase one of the three beds… and prepared to wait. I watered. I weeded. I fed.

I watched.

I anticipated.

I wondered.

Mostly, I waited.

And a few weeks later Rory had a seizure.

And everything changed. Again.

And Rory died…as I’ve said…at the perfect time, in the perfect way.

In February. Winter.

And a few weeks later…I remembered my three new garden beds.

And hope and anticipation and a yearning for beauty… and a connection with nature where born in me – again.

And I wondered/wonder… was life preparing me for life? Again?

I think so.

Because life is like that. When you notice and pay attention.

As summer begins...I am honored to be facilitating two more workshops at Womanspace in Rockford. You can register for both or either workshop by calling 815.877.0118 or visiting www.womanspace-rockford.org.

Give yourself the most precious gift of time. Time to BE present. Time to be open. Time to listen to life. In a sacred circle, reconnect with the voice within. Allow that voice to speak to you through simple expressive arts activities.

These two workshops are for folks who have worked with me in the past.

Because you are familiar with the format I use...we will not start at ground zero. You will chart your course.

We will sit in circle. There will be candles. Music. The talking ball. Art materials. More music. Sharing. The labrynth. More sharing.

Remember???

If you are in contact with someone else who has worked with me...please spread the word!!!

Open Studio

Wednesday, June 6 and 13

Prerequisite: Prior attendance at any of Tom’s experiential workshops

6:30-9:00 pm

$15.00 each session

What others have said about my workshops:

“comforting and empowering amidst the pain of ‘excavation.’”

“a journey of transformation and healing with the support of others on the same journey”

“a great healing experience”

“a safe place to open and share feelings with others”

“you helped me feel so comfortable and gave me a safe place to express my fears”

Hope, peace, love,

Tom

Tuesday, May 29, 2007 8:27 am

A few entries ago I gave an update on the Rory Zuba Spirit Award…

Asking if there are folks out there who are interested in helping me figure out a way to continue to keep Rory’s memory and spirit alive – especially among the current freshman class at Auburn High School…the incredible human beings who were Rory’s friends, companions, teachers, confidants – and all-around-posse!

I received this email from Hayden…who said I could share it with you here:

I can`t help but be moved. Every time I read a posting of yours, I have to look at some pictures in your photo album, remember, heal, grieve. You know that I would love to collaborate and find a new way to remember my classmate, rival, and friend.

You know, maybe you`ve heard this story, I do not recall if I`ve told you it before, but I had my first challenge with Rory in 6th grade. You see, for "march madness," since Mrs. Laskonis was pregnant, we had a long-term substitute in math class. For about a week we had matches where we would play an intense math game to see who would win. It was the finals and Rory and I were the two contenders. He knew more than me, just a little bit more, but enough to intimidate me.

My only advantage was my quick finger. I`d push the button, often times before I knew the answer, and by figuring out how much time I had and the question, I`d either guess or know the answer.

The first time we played, I was ahead by 300 points, a truly promising lead. Then, Joey Harson reaches his hand over, while only I was looking, and he pushes the reset button. The screen goes blank and our substitute teacher tells us that there is "nothing he could do" and we`d need to start another round. We did, after much protest by myself and those who saw the incident, and I couldn`t help but feel left out. I was ahead, I was going to win, I had him on the ropes, but as time goes on, I realized that Rory`s life was simply that to the effect of unstoppable.

Rory was impervious, he couldn`t lose even on a bad day. And to tell you the truth, he didn`t. He beat me by a close 40 points. Later that day, in gym class, he was letting everyone know that Rory Zuba had slain the underdog, who had a glimpse of hope against this unstoppable giant. I got angry for a few minutes, but forgave him due to his sharp wit, and humor. He had beaten me, but I hadn`t really expected to win. I just wanted to prove myself, and ever since that day we would talk more often, and joke around. I guess you could say that was the beginning of our friendship.

Or maybe it was during all of the hustle and bustle of 5th grade graduation. We both had last letter last names, and in line we would be caught having a jolly-good old time. If you have ever read the novel A Separate Peace, you would think that Phineus was the equivalent of Rory, and I can place myself in Gene`s shoes. This book describes the rise and fall of my good friend throughout roughly 1 and 1/2 years. This is the time period that I got to really meet, and learn of, and enjoy Rory`s company. This novel depicts him perfectly, and you will find this true once you enjoy

A Separate Peace.

I will spread the word of this new way to remember Rory.

God Bless you Tom, Shawn, and Rory, you three and your families are always in my heart and mind.

Peace, Love, and Good Vibes,

~Hayden

I believe that Hayden is 15 years. 15 years old!!!

Rory would be turning 16 on July 24^th had he lived – he was one of the oldest kids…because he was so timid and clingy (to me) when it was time to enter Kindergarten... Trici and I asked him if he wanted to go to a new school for Kindergarten…or stay at The Academy of Music and Movement (do you love that name?/Trici found this perfect preschool for our kids) in Oak Park…for one more year … enabling him to move upstairs to the Yellow (or was it orange?) Group. He opted for Yellow!

Hayden (and Rory) and their classmates in RPS 205’s Gifted Academy are some of the most fascinating human beings you will ever meet.

They give me continued hope for a kinder, gentler, more compassionate and tolerant world community.

I am so glad to know them – and their families – and am so very, very grateful that they took Rory (and Sean and I) in – as one of their own – as we entered the scene when Rory was in 5^th grade.

Reading Hayden’s email gave me a glimpse of what Rory might have been like had he lived…

Sunday, I received this second email from Hayden:

Yesterday, Jordan Hoffmann called me up and said that since his laptop wasn`t working, they were going to go to the Apple store in Woodfield, then they were going to go visit Rory`s grave. They wanted to know whether or not I wanted to go.

I said yes, despite the constant warning of the Bio Final on Tuesday, but I put my priorities in order, and decided to go say hi top my friend, and your son, Rory Brennan Zuba.

We got there, and went to the computer, and printed off a piece of paper saying where he was buried. Grave 282, lot 30, section 26. We looked until we found his mother`s and sister`s headstone. I cleaned its weeds off, and began searching. We eventually figured it out, sort of. You see, we couldn`t find Rory`s headstone, but by using the numbered grave system, we figured out that he was just to the right. Utilizing a stick, a rory forever band, and a bouquet of flowers, we created our own headstone.

If you go there tomorrow and find your wife`s grave cleared away, and the work of Jordan Hoffmann and I just to the right of it, then could you please take a picture of it for me? I`m so glad we went yesterday, and even though I almost cried, would do it again if I could.

Peace, Love, and Good Vibes,

~Hayden

Thank you Hayden.

Thank you Jordan.

Thank you Hayden’s family.

Thank you Jordan’s family.

Hope, hope, hope,

Tom

Sunday, May 27, 2007 6:52 a.m.

Memorial Day Weekend…

Remembering.

It was my friend Nancy (the same Nancy who came to our home in December of 2004, set up her table in front of our fireplace and “did Reiki” on Rory – which he loved every minute of --- the same Nancy who came to the house the morning of Sunday, February 20, 2005 to “do” Reiki on Rory again. His body was so different this morning…and his spirit, I think, had already begun to leave his body. In spirit – not really words – Rory let Nancy know that “this time…there was no need for Reiki”, his work was almost finished…he was getting ready to go – home. So, instead, Nancy “did” Reiki on me that Sunday morning…preparing me for the next leg of my trip.

So, it was my friend Nancy who opened the door of Kaneland High School to me and arranged for me to work for 3 weeks with a group of students who were learning to live with the death of their mother or their father.

I found the students to be incredibly connected to life…and to themselves. They were very observant, willing to be vulnerable, wise beyond their years…and all wanted to “lean into” their own transformation.

Friday I received a note from one of the participants. I want to share with you some of the words…in my experience, these words are universal…true, honest to the core. So beautifully written…

“I am trying not to suppress my feelings so much, but I’ve bottled up my emotions for as long as I can remember. It was something my mother always tried to get me to stop, but I was always unable.

After the last meeting, I went home and took a look at my mother’s Bible, which believe me, is very unusual. I was just randomly flipping through it, when I noticed a verse that my mother had circled: John 11:33 “Jesus wept.” This verse is supposedly the shortest, but I think it holds a lot of meaning. John 11 is about the death of Lazarus and I guess Lazarus was a friend of Jesus.

I think my mother or someone is trying to tell me its okay to cry, which I already believe. But for some reason I can’t bring myself to let it out. I have nothing against other people crying and I don’t think it makes them seem weak and vulnerable. But my mind tells me that if I cry or show any of these emotions related to grief, I will become weak and vulnerable. I’ll fall apart.

I know I probably need to fall apart, but I really don’t know how long it would take to put myself back together.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I know it is okay to mourn for those you have lost. I mean if Jesus can do it so can I. I just don’t know how to get over my fear that I’ll completely loose myself to grief. I don’t have the time to break down and build myself back up, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep going…”

The intention I set when I allowed this site to be birthed through me…when I said YES to the possibility… to the impulse … was “to create sacred space where people can excavate grief, mourn safely, honor the gifts of denial and lean into their own transformation.

We can/will accompany you if you are at a place where you feel like you are going to fall apart. Or if you have fallen apart.

We will accompany you for the long haul… as you slowly, gently, lovingly find the pieces of yourself that have been shattered and scattered by the death of someone you love.

We can accompany you as you decide which found pieces no longer fit and that you are ready to discard… which pieces still fit perfectly… and which new pieces you choose to add to the puzzle…that is YOU.

We will accompany you as you gloriously transform into the person you were born to be…

It’s possible. I’ve seen it happen.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Thursday, May 24, 2007 9:05 am

Dear Friends,

A few entries back I wrote of a young man – Miles Levin – whose story I saw on CNN. Miles has cancer. Through their Caringbridge site, Miles and family are sharing their journey on the Internet. A worldwide community – a circle of love and support – is growing larger every day.

For those of you who have been “traveling” with me since November 2004 (has it been that long?) the unfolding will sound very familiar.

Another family. Another circle. Another opportunity to love and to be loved. Another chance to “consciously participate in your own transformation.”

Miles and his family are choosing to LIVE BIG!

Thank you Miles. Thank you Miles’ family.

This is the recent post on Miles’ site posted by “the mom.” I’m reprinting it here. I hope she doesn’t mind. I’m going to step out (why would I suddenly stop now?) and “converse” with “the mom.” To share with her what I have learned along the way.

What I would say to her…and to anyone who reads these words…is that if they resonate – GREAT. If they don’t – move on…no big deal.

Dear mom,

Thanks for sharing your words, your thoughts, your feelings, your hopes, your fears, your self, your life - your son - with us. By accompanying you – we learn more about ourselves. Thank you.

One of the blessings of my wife Trici’s death in 1999 was that I got to “mother” our two boys, Rory and Sean. At first I resented being the single parent…when I stopped resisting and resenting my new life…and allowed myself to lean into it…I could feel my heart opening, softening, expanding, loving in ways I think only a mother does.

So while I did not physically birth my two sons…I do feel I have been able to experience moments of a “Mother’s Love”… and as you – “the mom” - know, it is glorious.

One of the blessings of my son Rory’s death in 2005 is that I learned…at the age of 48 that I am capable of loving bigger and broader and more completely than I had ever imagined possible. . Because he left his physical body…and because I missed him so deeply – to the depths of my core, I thought – I learned the depth of my love for him (and for LIFE)…and that is a really good thing.

So…as I read your recent post… mostly I ached for you and your family. I could feel the weariness. And I thought…maybe, just maybe…I could share something that will resonate – that will lighten the path – or maybe even enlighten the path.

So…my words come from a place of love…and if even one word resonates – GREAT. If not, that’s okay, too.

from the mom

The news from New York was, obviously, fantastic, but for me it was more of a relief. We`re still in the game. It`s not over. The fat lady isn`t singing; she may be humming, but she isn`t singing.

What I’ve come to learn is that the fat lady singing is simply an illusion. It’s never over. YES, we will all leave our physical body… and for most of us that are “left behind” (what a horrible phrase we have pinned to us ” survivors”) there may be indescribable anguish, pain, anger, despair, etc. etc. etc. (it’s all grief) … following the death of someone we love.

But it’s not forever – or it doesn’t have to be. When the dust settles… and we are able to breathe again… we often realize that the relationship still exists…and that we get to decide if it’s a healthy, productive, life-enhancing relationship… or if it’s something else.

After the death of my daughter Erin in 1990…my wife and I had many, many long talks about the afterlife… heaven… where do we go when we die? Do we still exist? Is there a God? If so – what is it/he/she/they? What did “it” have to do with our daughter’s death.

We concluded that we did indeed “live on.” And that we would be reunited. So, Trici and I made a pact…and discussed it frequently – and recommitted to it often… that whoever died first – would do everything possible to ‘come back’ and let the other know that “all was well.” A favorite movie of Trici’s was ‘Somewhere In Time.”

As she was dying... I said over and over and over again… verbally in quiet whispers… but also through the impulses of my heartspeak, “If Erin is here – if you dad and sister and grandmother are here…go, go, go…we will be fine. We both know that you will be so much more powerful on the other side. But if you do go…if you go…YOU COME BACK TO ME. A promise is a promise.”

She`s kept her promise.

It was different with Rory – if he died, I knew I would survive. I didn’t think I would want to, tho. So – from that place in my heart I whispered to him…”I have always trusted you honey. You know best what you need to do… so do it. I trust you. But let it be known that I do not want you to go. I can’t bear the thought of your leaving. Don`t go!”

I even screamed at his mom a few times: "You can`t take him. He`s mine. Don`t take him!"

I did the best I could at the time.

Next time… I’d like/hope to be able to talk more about the adventure of death… the transition. What may be “through the door?” “Beyond the veil?” And I’d talk more about creating a plan to communicate…How will I know it’s you? How will I recognize the signs? How will we stay connected?

I never go too far from the hub: I don`t get too excited; I don`t get too down. This is a marathon, and this is a roller coaster. I take seriously the counsel of Lao Tzu: HOLD FAST TO THE CENTER. Can`t spend all my energy on one uncertainty. The cancer ride is fraught with setbacks and small victories. They are a given. It`s not that they don`t mean anything; it is that they don`t mean everything.

One thing I learned in New York during our last visit is that the ride up the road a piece is uncertain. I say: as long as he is still on the planet, and as long as there are options and there are but we don`t know what they are, there is hope. Prior to this visit, I had thought, no, I knew that we were in capable hands with Dr. Wexler, but now what we need - and have - are creative hands. We`re headed into uncharted territory, making it up as we go...discovering new recipes...adding a little of this (chemo) and perhaps a little of that (some yet to be discovered ingredient). In the meantime, I`m enjoying the scenery.

If it’s any consolation at all…

I’ve come to believe that each person dies at the perfect time… in the perfect way.

And YES, YES, YES… the experience of living with cancer can remind us (perhaps for the first time) how much we LOVE life…and how much we LOVE life walking hand-in-hand with those we love. AND how we simply cannot bear the thought of that changing.

When my son Rory was diagnosed with a glioblastoma the docs told me there was no hope. None. Chemo and radiation would simply buy a few more months. I believed them. So I went elsewhere. Searching for hope.

We flew from our home in Illinois to an Einstein-like doctor in Seattle… he offered hope. He pointed us to another controversial “Einstein” in Houston. He offered hope…and my son Rory said, “Yes dad – this is the treatment I want to try… let’s try this.” And we did.

And we tried acupuncture and Chinese herbs…Jasmine offered hope and love and serenity. And Rory loved her.

We tried massage … Jen and Marilyn soothed him.

And Reikki from Nancy.

And Meg did Craniosacrel. And one day Meg and Jasmine worked together on Rory’s body.

And Ruth brought sacred ashes from India.

And a friend of my mom’s brought water and a rosary from Medjagoria..or was it Lourdes? And does it matter?

And Fran brought water from John of God… and we mailed him a photo and waited for herbs.

And Maggie brought her crystal bowl.

And the ladies from Holy Family prayed and sang in a circle…and asked if their priest could anoint us with holy oils. Yes, please.

And the Jehovah Witness’ visited and said that they too would pray.

And candles were lit all over the world…every night at 7:00 pm for us.

And people prayed their own prayers... and the banged drums…and they placed us in the center of their circles.

And I consulted psychics and medical intuits.

And the man in Wisconsin had Rory’s photo and used his electromagnetic healing machines.

And I played chakra-balancing CDs at night.

And if they would have said, “Paint your house green…and run around your house three times yelling at the top of your lungs…" I would have done that, too. As I imagine you would too.

Anything to keep our sons alive.

And I kicked and screamed and cursed and demanded and prayed and begged and tried to bargain his life back. To erase the cancer. Or make it disappear.

And he died anyway.

And nothing I could do was able to stop that.

He died at the perfect time in the perfect way. And I don’t begin to pretend that I fully understand it.

It occurred to me last night, as I accompanied Miles while he struggled to pry himself from the couch and lift himself and his heavy backpack filled with fluids and chemo up the stairs to his bed, that this has been a long road, a very long road. We`re approaching our two year anniversary next week. With the exception of a three month break (of so called remission) Miles has been a steady customer of chemo. That takes stamina. How he, and I for that matter, and Jon, and Nina, continue, I really don`t know. I could say, and do, what`s the choice, but there is one. Not that it`s appealing, but there is one. I don`t think I fully recognized Miles` strength until last night. His humor, his insight, his outlook, and of course his writing skill have become apparent, but I hadn`t appreciated his strength until last night. Fighting cancer takes brute strength. And endurance. And guts

This is the image that sustained me through the 6-month journey of my own son’s cancer…and the time since his death. It continues to sustain me.

I find peace when I believe that I am held , like the child in the wooden sculpture -

(always held, regardless of what I do, think, say, dream, curse, believe, hope, etc., etc., etc.)

by a loving, compassionate, gentle God/Universe.

And that all of it/life – particularly the stuff I don’t understand…like cancer … is “of God.” It couldn’t be any other way. And as I said… I don’t fully understand it.

Hope and peace to you and yours,

Tom

Monday, May 21, 2007 10:13 am

Using my cell phone, I took this photo of the Dalai Lama Monday morning, May 7, 2007 at about 7:55 a.m. at the Wabash Street entrance to The Palmer House Hotel in Chicago.

The Palmer House Hotel

The BIG American Cancer Society Campaign Kick-off Party was scheduled for Tuesday, February 29, 1984 in the Red Lacquer Room (3^rd floor) of The Palmer House Hotel in downtown Chicago. I had been promoted about 6 weeks earlier…an event that allowed me to move from my hometown of Rockford, Illinois to the up-and-coming Printer’s Row neighborhood in Chicago’s South Loop. I had seen Trici before. We had exchanged sentences. Only short sentences. She was tall. Beautiful. And as I’ve said before – way out of my league.

I was there to meet and greet American Cancer Society volunteers. She was there to support her friend Anne. Trici was in charge of media relations for the Cancer Society on the state level…Anne was her counterpart for the city of Chicago.

We couldn’t have been in the room more then 30 minutes. I was eating a hot dog. And across the room, this frightenly, mysterious, gorgeous woman – with the weirdly spelled first name - caught my eye – beckoned me over with the wave of her index finger – and my life changed. Again.

That evening I discovered that we spoke the same language.

We spoke of our Irish grandmothers. And our big, sprawling Irish Catholic families. And I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. And I couldn’t move away from her. And it all frightened/excited me. It felt ALIVE. I felt alive.

And at the end of that evening I walked her to the train. In the dead of a cold, icy, windy Chicago winter. My nose was running…and much later, after she had died…when I told Rory and Sean the story of that evening…they loved the part about my snot freezing in my moustache as we walked and talked. It was that cold.

Later I was to learn that before she got on her train, Trici called her friend Lily to tell her that she thought she had met the man she was going to marry. Me.

And I called my friend Ann to tell her I thought I had met the woman I was destined to marry. Ann suggested we go on a real date first. Very practical and pragmatic.

Trici and I were married 13 months later.

Once married, Trici moved into my South Loop apartment. 600 S. Dearborn Street. The Transportation Building. Printer’s Row. The building had a doorman. Huge windows. We walked everywhere.

We walked to work. Most mornings hand-in-hand. Out the door. North on Dearborn Street. East on Madison. North on State. Cut through the ground floor walkway of The Palmer House Hotel…, which came in handy on a cold, windy, rainy or sweltering hot Chicago morning. Out the Wabash entrance. Continue ½ block North on Wabash. East on Monroe. Enter 37 S. Wabash. The American Cancer Society. Where we both worked.

I cut through that ground floor walkway of The Palmer House Hotel every day – 2 times a day – for 6 years.

Fast forward.

Mid-July of 1991, the Easter Seal National Staff Meeting was at The Palmer House Hotel. (I had left the Cancer Society after 6 years for a better job with Easter Seals.) Trici and I had moved from the South Loop to Tony and Adrienne’s building in Oak Park. 120 South Taylor Street. Huge 2^nd floor flat nestled in the tall trees. 2 bedrooms. Eat-in kitchen. Hardwood floors. Lots of windows. A front and a back porch. Heaven.

And then our daughter Erin died.

Trici wanted to buy a house. We did. Our first. A unique bungalow built in 1919 one house down from the corner of East and Jackson in Oak Park. The house with all the windows between Karen and Tami’s houses. Trici had walked by it every day for 8 years on her way to and from Ascension School.

We moved in the end June.

We were waiting the birth of our son. Any day now. We had decided to name him Rory. “The Red King.” Bobby Kennedy was Trici’s idol. She patterned her life after his. A life of service. Giving voice to the voiceless. When Bobby was shot…Ethel was pregnant…with their daughter. Their Rory.

We were waiting for our Rory.

And in my room at The Palmer House Hotel, the phone rang. In the middle of the night. In the middle of my sleep. And Trici’s voice said, “My water broke. The baby is coming. Come home, Tom. Come home.”

And I grabbed my things. And I grabbed our car – parked in the Madison lot across the street from the side entrance to The Palmer House Hotel. And I flew home.

I came home.

And our son was born. And life changed. Again. And through our tears, hope grew stronger. Again. We had witnessed another miracle. Again!

Jimmy, Rita and Nancy

Even though Trici beckoned me ‘cross the floor of the Red Lacquer Room with the wave of her finger that February 29^th night…we didn’t actually start dating till that September. I told you – she frightened/intrigued me.

And we dated every night.

We got engaged 6 weeks later. We recognized each other. We spoke the same language. We remembered. We said YES – again.

And Trici wanted me to meet her friends. Her best friends, Nancy and Rita. And Rita’s husband Jimmy. And Nancy’s husband-at-the-time, David. Trici called him David. Nancy called him Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaave.

I met them first at the very elegant, very upscale restaurant Philanders in Oak Park. I liked them all immediately. I hoped they liked me. I could see how much they loved Trici. I already knew how much she loved them. She had told me. Many times. Trici was like that.

Rita and I clicked immediately. Like a brother and a sister. Among the many things we had in common was our relationships with our mothers-in-law. I’ll leave it at “complicated.”

And Trici and Nancy spoke almost every day. For hours it seemed. Best friends.

Trici was the first of the three women to turn 40. I hosted a surprise dinner for her at Nancy’s house on Saturday, May 27th of 1995. Our son Sean was just a few weeks old. Trici was radiant. I loved to remind them that they would always be a few years older than me. I was the baby.

And a few weeks later Jimmy invited us to an intimate dinner party. Celebrating his lovely wife (my friend Rita) at Entre Nous’ at The Fairmont Hotel in downtown Chicago. Saturday, June 17, 1995. Rita. Nancy. Trici. Me. Jimmy. It’s what Rita requested. Jimmy delivered. As always.

The evening was magical. Trici and I had arrived at a safe place. Again. Two healthy boys. A marriage intact. Great friends. Delicious food. Wine. Ambiance.

Beth

When I was little we lived on the “other” side of town…having moved to Rockford from Chicago when I was three. I went to West View School (a public school) for Kindergarten.

First grade was at St. Bernadette’s. The first of 12 years of Catholic education. Beth was in my class.

In December of 3^rd grade, we moved across the river. New house. New school (St. James.) New friends. New life.

I saw Beth again in high school All the Catholic elementary schools in town funnel into our one Catholic High School – Boylan.

I remember us being friendly. But we didn’t “hang” with the same group(s).

Post high school … we would see each other occasionally. Around town. At class reunions. Always hello. Always friendly.

Shortly after I moved back home almost five years ago now…I was going into Barnes and Noble and Beth was coming out. We stood there for some time and caught up. I was glad to see her. My friend from first grade.

For the past year or two a group of high school friends have been making an effort to get together for drinks and dinner ever few months. It’s a fluid group…people come when they can…and we always laugh ( a lot) and remember - and it feels so good to reconnect with people who knew me… when. Some of the kids (we’re turning 50 this year) I’ve known since kindergarten.

A few weeks ago – Beth came to dinner. It was her first time. We sat next to each other.

We talked. Enough so we both realized we were on similar life journeys.

A few days later, Beth called to let me know she wasn’t done talking… could we have coffee? Later she would tell me the call was prompted by an impulse. As all things Divine are.

In the course of our conversation(s) – among the many things we discussed and discovered… Beth expressed her desire to see the Dalai Lama. He was scheduled to be in Chicago in the upcoming weeks.

I told her that I had uncharacteristically purchased two $100 seats to see the fascinating little man … having no idea who I was going to go with. Why didn’t she use my extra ticket?

The Dalai Lama

About a year before he died.

Before any of us concerned ourselves with the possibility of brain cancer. Before I knew what a lumbar puncture was. Or Trileptal. Or a PIC-line. Before I was expected to learn how to administer my son’s “meds” – as they say – using a syringe Before I wondered about the “hot spot on his left temporal lobe.” Way before any of that stuff.

Rory was concerned. More than concerned.

He would literally lay in his bed at night. Crying.

“Daddy, I am so worried about overpopulation. There are simply going to be too many people living on this earth in a very short time. We are destroying Mother Earth. There is no regard for nature. Little concern for conservation Or recycling. We are destroying the earth.”

And then he would add, “I am too young to be worried about all of this. A 12-year-old boy should not be thinking about these things.”

But he did.

And it concerned me so.

I tried to offer comfort.

I wanted him to know that I felt there was always hope. And that one person – the right person – could indeed change the world.

So, I rented the movie Gandhi. And Rory inhaled it. Loved it. Was mesmerized by it. Took in every detail…at levels I did not understand.

And we watched the movie Kundun.

And Little Buddha.

And Seven Years in Tibet.

And Rory said, “Let’s make a list Dad – of all the great leaders, all the people of influence. I want to study them. When I am older, I want to change the world. And I can learn so much from those that came before me. I don’t have to start at ground zero. I can learn from them.”

And we started to compile our list.

That spring I started my Expressive Arts class in Sonoma. And during one of our breaks – I walked the town square. Entered the bookstore and purchased the book, A Simple Monk – Writings on His Holiness the Dalai Lama.

For Rory.

So he could study. And learn.

He loved it.

Just a few months later, Rory was in the hospital. The first time. Following his seizure. It was the end-of-August-beginning-of-September. Michelle’s son Andrew came to visit Rory. Andrew was 5-6 years older than Rory. They were both brilliant. They connected on some level. I would imagine they understood a part of each other that few other people could.

Andrew brought his guitar. “Is it okay if I play softly in the background as Rory’s visitors come and go?”

And he brought Rory a gift. Tibetan prayer beads. They reminded me of the rosary beads my Irish grandmother and my own mother love so much.

And Rory loved them. And I still do.

The Dalai Lama in Chicago

We decided that Beth’s nephew would sit with me in the “good” seats. Beth, her husband and members of her family would sit on the lawn. The “good” seats had sold out quickly.

I drove my car to Cumberland that morning. Parked. Hopped on the blue line and got off downtown. The Dalai Lama was speaking at 1:00 pm at the Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park. Gates opened at 11:30. My two $100 tickets got me into a specific section…but within the section it was open seating. I wanted to get the best seat I could find.

Beth said to meet them on East Randolph. “Call me when you get downtown.”

As I headed east on Randolph, I called. “We’re having breakfast at The Fairmont. At Apria. Why don’t you meet us here?”

Sounded good. I was confused, tho. I thought The Fairmont was the Swissotel and had a little trouble finding the right hotel I asked the woman walking the Doberman – thinking she must be a local. She pointed me in the right direction.

The entrance to The Fairmont felt familiar. Of course it would. I had been there before. On many occasions. “Where is Apria?” I asked the concierge. “Across the lobby, past The Moulin Rogue, to your left.”

It was all coming back.

Apria looked so familiar to me. “What did this restaurant used to be called?” I asked the hostess.

“Entre Nous’” she replied.

I had been here before. For Rita’s 40^th. With Jimmy, and Nancy…and Trici. I had been here before.

Once at the park. We waited in line for close to an hour. But the sun was shining. The weather warm. The spirit light. It was such an adventure. We were going to see the Dalai Lama.

Past the metal detectors. Bags searched. We kind of walked-ran to claim our seats. Great seats. Not front row. Those were $400 each. Not the first section. Those were $150 each. We had 2^nd row seats in our section. Great seats. We could see it all.

People streamed into the Pavilion. They said he wouldn’t begin speaking until everyone was seated. On stage there was dancing. And singing. And chanting. The colors were gorgeous. The energy – so peaceful. At times I wanted to fall asleep. I think that may be part of the healing – that is available.

And then Bill Kurtis spoke. And Senator Durbin said a few words. And Maggie Daley came out.

And then the Dalai Lama.

He presented them each with a white shawl. Wrapped it around their neck. Ceremoniously. Gently. It’s a Tibetan welcome I was told.

A “simple man” as he said.

The 14^th reincarnation of the Buddha of Compassion.

And the next day, Monday… we were told to be at the Wabash entrance to The Palmer House Hotel. Be there at 8:00 a.m.

I left Rockford at 5:30 a.m. I wasn’t sure about traffic. I didn’t want to miss this.

I parked in the lot on Madison Street. Across from the side entrance of The Palmer House Hotel. The lot I was parked in the night before Rory was born.

I found my spot near the Wabash entrance to The Palmer House Hotel. The entrance I had passed through 2 times a day for 6 years to and from work. The entrance to the hotel that contained the Red Lacquer Room… where I first chatted at length with Trici. The hotel – where when the phone rang and woke me in the middle of the night…I heard Trici’s voice, “Come home Tom, Rory is coming.”

And we waited. Security was in place. A group of Tibetans were to our right. White “welcoming” shawls in hand.

And we waited.

The energy changed. The motorcade pulled up. Traffic was stopped.

And His Holiness the Dalai Lama, the 14^th reincarnation of the Buddha of Compassion exited the hotel.

He moved towards the group of Tibetans. And very gently, very sweetly, received their white shawls…and ceremoniously returned each shawl to its rightful giver…with a loving gesture.

And he moved down the line. Slowly. Deliberately. No rush. Each person was as important as the one before…and the one to follow.

We knew this was BIG!

And I got to shake his hand. As he got to shake mine.

And our eyes met.

“Peace,” I said.

“Peace,” he said.

With lots of hope,

Tom

Friday, May 18, 2007 8:15 am

We had been back “home” (home for me – a brand new town for Rory and Sean) less than a year. The accident was just down the street from us. It sent ripples throughout the community. A young soccer player. On her way to practice. Killed. In a car accident.

My niece went to school with her. My brother and sister-in-law knew her parents.

And that second summer we were home. I met "the mom" and "the little brother." My sister-in-law introduced us. All three adults had kids in summer basketball camp.

Yesterday, in our local newspaper’s sports section – in BIG BOLD BLACK letters:

Not forgotten

Boylan soccer players keep teammate in their memories

By Brenda Young

“…(Kari Lotko’s) memory continues to live strong through both the school she attended and the friends she made.

Those friends – most of them her teammates – have honored her memory each soccer season. Lotko, who would have been a senior on this year’s Titan’s team, has never been far away from their minds.

‘Our coach always tells us to find something to play for. I know each and every one of us seniors, we play for her and she is always on the field with us no matter what. I think that’s a good sign of team unity, because we play for her.’

Last Feb, 6, on the anniversary of Lotko’s death, her teammates held a tree dedication ceremony in the school’s courtyard. The tree stands with a large orange ribbon with the letters ‘K and L’ attached.

…She was buried in her Boylan soccer uniform No.8. There’s no one on the varsity team that wears that number.

Since October 2005 (the Sirens soccer club) has held the Octoberfest Kari Lotko Memorial Soccer Tournament. … there is also a memorial college scholarship given each year to a graduating female high senior…

In their three-year tribute to Kari, the seniors have worn T-shirts with the initials ‘K’ and ‘L’ or ‘8’ in remembrance. This year, they wear lime T-shirts with ‘K8L’ on the front.”

I share this with you today for several reasons.

I think it’s a wonderful example of mourning…

“Going public” with grief in the presence of others. I’ve said before that I’ve noticed that children and teens do a much better job of mourning than adults do. It doesn’t appear that they have yet bought into…and are bound by… the unhealthy constraints we have connected to what is and what is not “appropriate behavior” following the death of someone we love.

A month or so after my son Rory died I was invited to attend a meeting at his middle school attended by teachers, students and parents who wanted to find a way – or ways – to keep Rory’s memory alive. Many ideas were floated. We collectively settled on the “Rory Zuba Spirit Award” which would be given out each year at the school’s annual “Rites of Passage” ceremony.

I had some trepidation moving forward…because, down the road, I did not want to become the parent of the dead child who came knocking at the school’s door every spring saying…

Remember me?

Remember my dead son?

Remember we were supposed to give an award each year in his memory?

We gave the award that first year. The kid’s decided that we would identify a student who possessed some of the characteristics and qualities they associated with their friend Rory.

They saw him as a:

free spirit
creative

compassionate
tolerant

socially responsible

active learner

inspiring to others

The 2005 recipient of the Rory Zuba Award was Kalah Polsean.

The following year – the year Rory would have graduated from middle school - we decided to give the award to four students:

Hayden Wilsey,

Marecia Bailey-Mangruem,

John Lim,

and Jordan Hoffmann.

This year there have been many changes at Rory’s middle school. A brand new administrative team. Lots of new teachers. To be honest, I have no idea how many adults in that building knew Rory… ever met him.

So…we decided to retire the award. We end with last year’s recipients. I’m pretty much okay with that decision. As I said, I don’t want to be the dad knocking on the school’s door…remember me?

Remember my son?

The one that died from brain cancer.

There is a beautiful memorial garden on the school’s front lawn. There is an opportunity to purchase memorial bricks.

So, with money raised for the Rory Zuba Memorial Fund… I’ve decided to purchase bricks to honor the five recipients of the Rory Zuba Spirit Award…and to permanently remember Rory at the school he loved so much.

I’m hoping the bricks might be finished by Memorial Day.

For the most part… the award was born from the energy of Rory’s friends and classmates who wanted to stay connected…to remember.

I think one of the blessings of a private school…like Boylan…where Kari Lotko played soccer and is so beautifully remembered and honored each year is that for some of the students (the lucky ones) there is a feeling of family there. Administrators, teachers and families are there for the long haul. There is a sense of continuity and permanence.

Very different experience at our public schools in this town. Although I believe that may be changing...

So… the people who may be affected the most by our decision not to continue naming a Rory Zuba Spirit Award recipient are his friends and classmates… who are now completing their freshman year of high school.

As I’ve said before…I have no idea who still reads my posts and visits my site.

But if any of Rory’s friends still visit… or their parents visit… if there is an interest in creating a new way to honor and remember Rory… for the kid’s who accompanied him on his short journey here in Rockford… let me know. I’m sure we could come up with something worthy of the intention.

Hope and peace,

Tom

Thursday, May 17, 2007 6:57 am

When we pay attention…

To be of service to others.

These last few days I have been thinking about a quote I have read many times. The quote is attributed to Mother Teresa. The quote is about service.

It’s about being of service.

It’s about moving away from one’s “self” (and all that that involves) and moving towards another… and being able to see, to be with, to possible help… another human being.

The quote is rooted in a memory of mine… from when I was in college… when my mom and I were talking about “being happy.”

Being really happy.

My mom told me that she thought being happy… being really happy… was rooted in being of service to others.

I remember telling my long, lost friend Jane Tanner… when we both worked at the American Cancer Society… during a deep conversation when we were questioning the meaning of life… that being happy was rooted in being of service to others…at least that was what my mom said.

"The fruit of prayer is the deepening of love, deepening of faith. If we believe, we will be able to pray, and the fruit of love is service. Therefore works of love are always works of peace, and to be able to put our hearts and hands into loving service we must know God, we must know God is love, that He loves us and that He has created us--each one of us--for greater things."
~Mother Teresa of Calcutta

(anyone that knows me through this site knows that I would change the reference to God from a definitive “He” to “he/she/it/they” … and I let Mother Teresa’s words stand unedited by me)

"...and the fruit of love is service.

As life so often unfolds… when we pay attention…

This morning I received the Mother Teresa quote I had been thinking of for the last few days... in a daily meditative email I subscribe to.

Did any of you see the CNN Anderson Cooper story about Miles Levin the other night?

Miles has cancer.

Miles ia teenager.

Miles has a Caringbridge site.

Miles is sharing his life – his journey - in a real, honest, authentic way...through his words.

Miles’ words are resonating.

With many people.

All over the world.

Miles is being of service.

"...and the fruit of love is service."

You can accompany Miles by visiting his site at http://www.carepages.com/ (register, then type LevinStory)

As you heal, I heal. As I heal, you heal.

Hope and peace to you today,

Tom

Thursday, May 10, 2007 9:36 pm CST

As we approach Mother`s Day 2007...

I think Mother’s Day can be a complex day for many people. People who are separated from their mother…either by death or distance or disagreement. People who are longing to become a mother … or a father. People who never knew their mother. Or finally found and got to know a mother…who never really wanted them in the first place. And people who love being mother … and a father … and due to the death of a beloved child … are not quite certain anymore exactly where they fall into the definition of mother … or father.

Mother’s Day can be complex.

My own mother is still very much alive. And I am grateful for that.

I was the helpless, unprepared, broken husband - standing by as my wife Trici grieved and mourned the loss of our 18-month-old daughter Erin in 1990…while I grieved and mourned our loss as well...in my own - different - way.

And I was the broken, not-quite-as-helpless, not-quite-as-unprepared father who carried my sons, 3-year-old Sean and 7-year-old Rory, when their mother Trici died in 1999.

And by 2005, I had become the mother/father who discovered the real depth of “A Mother’s Love” as I accompanied my 13-year-old-son, Rory on a 6-month journey that ncluded his death on February 22, 2005.

I share an audio message with you. It’s about 14 minutes long. I hope you will take the time to settle in, grab a cup of coffee, and “be” with the words … and feel the feelings that the words bring up in you…

If you find value in this message … if it resonates with you … I hope you will share it with others on your email list by inviting them to visit this site and listen themselves.

And today, I hope you have a moment or two of peace, of connection, of remembering… I hope, for a moment or two, you feel “a mother’s love,” an open-armed, room-for-all, comforting, encompassing, accepting, nurturing, compassionate, kind, loving mother’s love…for yourself…and for all creatures on this earth.

Peace - and HOPE - to you this Mother’s Day.

To listen to the audio click: A Mother`s Love

Here is a copy of the text if you would prefer to read it:

My wife, Trici cared deeply about many, many things. Bobby Kennedy was her role model and she decided early in life that she wanted to be of service…to make a difference. Her entire professional career was spent lending her considerable talents to making a difference in other people’s lives. She started at the Rehab Institute of Chicago helping to pass state legislation that would make wearing seat belts mandatory in Illinois. She moved to the American Cancer Society where she helped promote the messages of early detection and cancer prevention. As media relations manager at United Charities she gave a voice to the poor and underserved in Chicago. She gained a reputation as a competent, trustworthy public relations professional among her peers and the often-times hard-nosed Chicago media.

But, as important as her life’s work was to her…anyone that really knew Trici would tell you that FAMILY was even more important. Family meant everything to her. It was her center. And I think the thing she loved most in life was being a mother to our three children. Trici simply loved being a mom.

I remember a woman coming up to me at Trici’s wake commenting on Trici’s obituary. It listed Trici’s many accomplishments and affiliations. That woman told me that she was so impressed by all the things that Trici had done with her life…and that even though she and Trici were about the same age, this woman’s accomplishments paled in comparison to all of Trici’s. I told her not to be fooled by the long list … the thing that Trici was most proud of, and the thing she did best was being mom to Erin, Rory and Sean.

When Trici died in 1999, I was simply overwhelmed by the thought of raising Rory and Sean by myself. Sean was only three years old. Rory was seven. Even now when I see a three year old I wonder how I did it. A three year old needs help putting his shoes on, putting his jacket on - and taking it off, he needs someone to help cut his meat at dinner…every night. A three year old is only three.

In those early weeks, which somehow turned to months, I often thought that my life would be so much easier if I only had one child to raise. One seemed doable; two seemed impossible. I resented being the only parent for a long, long time…several years, actually. I was not proud of the resentment – but it was the truth. I resented having to raise Rory and Sean by myself. This was not fair.

I couldn’t imagine how we would survive that first Mother’s Day. I was sensitive to the fact the Mother’s Day messages seemed to be everywhere…as the day approached it seemed as if every commercial was selling something related to Mother’s Day. So that year, our first without Trici, I took the kids to Disneyworld. It was an extravagant thing for me to do…and it felt right. I wanted to have good time – and I wanted them to have a good time. I took lots of pictures. I wanted proof – so that in years to come I would be able to show both Rory and Sean the photographs and tell them that, even then, I was certain we could be happy again as a family – the three of us.

So, we went to Disney and created wonderful memories. And I took lots and lots of pictures.

The second Mother’s Day, Rory really caught me off guard.

That Thursday, Rory came home from 2nd grade in a great mood…full of energy and so excited. They had made Mother’s Day cards at school. He showed me his immediately. On the cover is a huge pencil drawn heart, surrounded by many, many little hearts. In the middle of the big heart, Rory wrote the words, “Happy Mother’s Day! We Miss You. From, Rory”

Inside he wrote:

“Hi Mommy! Me and Sean really MISS you. I don’t believe you’re gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. There’s so much I want to ask you, so much I want to do with you. I really, REALLY miss you. I love you mommy…I love you more than all the love in the whole world combined. I have soooo many memories, some good, some bad. But no matter what I know you love me, Sean and daddy. Dead or Alive.”

On the back of the card he wrote:

“Happiest Memory: My happiest memory of you was I remember when you and me always cuddled.”

Now Trici and I were not “cemetery people.” We rarely visited our daughter Erin’s grave … maybe once a year. But after Rory showed me his Mother’s Day card, he told me he thought we should pick a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my backyard garden and place them on Mommy’s grave. I couldn’t believe my ears. Even though Trici had been dead almost 1 ½ years, I hadn’t even purchased a grave marker – couldn’t bring myself to do it.

So…Mother’s Day morning we went into the backyard and cut two bouquets of flowers from the garden…tulips, daffodils, bleeding hearts and whatever else was in bloom at the time. One was for Rory, the other for Sean. We wrapped the stems with wet paper towels hoping to keep the blossoms fresh and then tightly twisted tin foil around the stems.

The three of us drove to the cemetery. Our first time visiting together. It took me a while to find the spot where Trici and Erin were buried…but the sod was still quite a bit greener than the surrounding grass…so we were able to find it.

There we were. Me in the center, Rory on one side, Sean on the other - all three of us holding hands. I sobbed like I had not cried in a long time.

Incomprehensible. Tom, Rory and Sean standing over the dead bodies of Trici and Erin. How could this be? How could this be? Sean was uncomfortable seeing his daddy crying so he laughed a little and tried to move away. Rory just stood there - silent. Taking it all in.

After a short time, we got back in the car and drove away.

A year and a half after Trici died, the kids and I moved to Northern California. Slowly, I began to realize that while our life was certainly DIFFERENT than I thought it would be … the traditional American version of family - mom, dad and 2.5 kids…DIFFERENT didn’t have to be bad.

As that 3rd Mother’s Day approached I didn’t want to focus on what was missing in our lives but rather focus on what the three of us had created, and were continuing to create. So, a week or so before Mother’s Day…a wonderful idea popped into my head. I sat both of the kids down and mentioned that Mother’s Day was approaching. Of course, Trici was their mommy, she was in heaven, and we would honor her and remember her that day. But I told them that I had been thinking of all the things a mom does…a mom usually cooks, cleans, washes the clothes, buys the new clothes, helps with homework, volunteers at school, and tucks them in at night. I asked them who in our family continued to all those things. They both kind of laughed and acknowledged that I was the one doing all the “mom jobs.” So, in a lighthearted way, I told them that we would be celebrating Mother’s Day in a new way that year. We would be celebrating my role as the mom. I told them I expected cards and presents. Sean asked if they could prepare breakfast in bed for me. Of course, I said yes. So, that Mother’s Day a huge shift occurred in our family. We went from feeling a “LACK OF” on Mother’s Day to celebrating what we had. Our family was different than we thought it would be. But we could still celebrate…and we did.

The resentment I felt about being a single parent – and having to raise Rory and Sean by myself gradually faded…and made room for an awareness of how blessed I was. I felt (and still do) like I was let in on a secret that mothers have been aware of, probably since life began. And that is that there may be no greater gift than being able to love as a Mother does.

Believe me, when Trici was alive, I thought I was a very involved, engaged, loving father. I am sure I was…but in no way did it compare to the experience I had once I let go of the resentment and simply mothered and fathered on a day-to-day basis. As a father I didn’t “carry” my kids with me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week…like a mother does. I didn’t have to because Trici did. I think that is probably true for many fathers.

But as the mom…I thought about the kids 24/7. I am sure I thought about them even when I wasn’t thinking about them…simple things like – are their clothes clean? Do their clothes fit? Do we need to buy new clothes? What are we having for dinner tonight? Do we have enough milk? Did I buy his favorite cereal? Did I sign the field trip permission slip? Did I give them lunch money?

And then, once I got the hang of taking care of all the day-to-day needs…it dawned on me that it was also my responsibility to care about the REALLY important stuff…their emotional needs, their spiritual needs. Who were they becoming as human beings? Were they happy? Sure their underwear fit…but were they growing into good people? Did they feel loved? Did they feel secure? Did they know they were valued? Did they feel listened too?

So…one of the gifts of Trici’s death is that I got to be the mom. I got to experience what it means to love a child as, I think, only a mother does. It’s a gift I am very grateful for.

And one of the gifts of Rory’s death…is that I know – without a shadow of a doubt – that I am capable of loving someone deeper and truer and more unconditionally than I had ever, ever imagined…as a mother does.

I hope there are many gifts – material and nonmaterial - for all the Mother’s out there today… and all the people who find themselves in a mothering role … be you male or female.

I feel blessed to join the celebration!

Happy Mother’s Day!
Tom

Wednesday, May 9, 2007 6:00 am CST

And the day came when the desire to remain the same, was more painful than the risk to evolve.

- Author unknown

Good morning,

I will be interviewed on our local radio station this morning (Wednesday) from 9:30-10:00 am. The station is WNTA 1330 AM. The topic is “Men and Loss.”

If you are not local…you can visit www.wnta.com and listen to the live feed.

If you are visiting this site as a result of hearing me on the radio this morning…and are interested in learning more about programs I could facilitate specifically targeted at men who are living with loss (of any kind) … please let me know of your interest by emailing me at tom@tomzuba.com. I will get back to you with more information.

May you feel hopeful today,

Tom

Tuesday, May 8, 2007 8:27 CST

I had the opportunity to see and hear the Dalai Lama speak in Chicago Sunday afternoon. This quote is printed on the program booklet:

“When we have inner peace, we can be at peace with those around us. In the practice of tolerance, one’s enemy is the best teacher.”

-His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama

It’s been my experience – that as a people – we have decided that death is the enemy. Our own death. And most certainly the death of someone we love…in all but a few seemingly “merciful” scenarios.

It’s been my experience…that this so-called enemy – death – has been my best teacher.

The Dalai Lama spoke of the importance of lighting fires of hope in the world. He feels that the growing lack of hope…is resulting in an increase of suicides. That feels right to me.

I have been talking and writing about planting seeds of peace.

It’s feeling to me like before peace seeds are planted…there must be seeds of hope.

So…I offer you hope today,

Tom

Please set aside 14 minutes to listen to my Mother`s day audio, (click)

A Mother`s Love

Saturday, May 5, 2007 6:57 am

Spring.

New birth.

Rebirth.

What seeds are you planting?

What wants to be born in you?

Mother’s Day is next Sunday. I invite you to spend 14 minutes WITH yourself listening to my Mother’s Day audio “A Mother’s Love” from last year. Get a cup of coffee. Get comfortable. Be with the message. Allow it to wash over you.

My message is for men, too.

If you know a man – whose wife has died – who is raising their children by himself…please reach out to him and invite him to this site…

Invite him to listen to this audio.

A Mother`s Love

This Sunday, May 6^th…people gathering at a spiritual center on Penang Island in Malaysia will be celebrating their Mother’s Day by listening to this audio message…amazing.

This Sunday, May 6^th…I will be gathering with thousands of people from across the world to be with the Dalai Lama in Chicago…powerful.

Did you see Christine McFadden on Oprah the other day? Her ex-husband murdered their 4 children about 3 years ago, I think. She has since remarried and has a baby. I thought/felt sadness oozing from her…understandably so. She and Oprah talked about the children “living on inside of her…in her heart…in her memory.”

This is the part – of late – where I want to scream…

“Who would you be if you believed that your loved one is more than just a memory? More than a feeling in your heart?”

“Who would you be if you believed your loved one is right here…simply beyond the veil…always. Right here. Now. In this moment.”

“Who would you be?”

On Wednesday, May 9^th from 9:30-10:00 am CST I will be a guest on our local AM radio station WNTA 1330. The topic is Men and Loss. You can listen to the show – wherever you are – by visiting the station website www.wnta.con and listening to the live feed. I do not believe they archive their shows…so you will only be able to listen live.

I would like to facilitate some type of workshop for men who are living with loss. If you are a local man (whatever local means to you – I am in Rockford) and might be interested in participating in some type of workshop…1/2 day, full day, evening…whatever works best…please email me at tom@tomzuba.com and let me know of your interest.

Peace,

Tom

Friday, May 4, 2007 9:22 a.m.

Last night I stood in line for 50 minutes to tell Diane how sorry I am that her beautiful and most loved 18 year old son Bradley was shot and killed over the weekend. As his obit said, "Bradley Adam "B-rad. Billy the Kid Berogan, 18, did the chipotle into heaven at 6:35 pm Friday, April 27."

My 22nd wedding anniversary.

The first time I met Diane was at my friend Jim`s 40th birthday celebration...sharing a few laughs over drinks and chips. I met her a few more times because Jim hired her to help care for his son Leo. "Diane is part of the family." And today, at 2:00 pm Diane and her family will bury Bradley.

I will be at Kaneland High School at 2:00 pm today working with a group of 7 high schools students...all are learning to live a NEW life with the death of one of their parents. Nancy works at the high school. Nancy invited me to work with the students.

Jim introduced me to Nancy...when Rory was sick. Nancy "did" Reikii on Rory. For free. In our living room. In front of the fireplace...one cold, December morning. Nancy wanted to offer her gifts. She did.

I do too.

And I still choose to believe that:

On more than one occasion – upon hearing of my life experiences with the death of my daughter, my wife and my son…people ask, “How did/do you survive? How have you been able to keep living and create what seems to be a full life? I’m not sure I could do that!”

I try to explain that among the many things I have learned along the way is the

I GET TO DECIDE WHAT I BELIEVE.

And…I choose to believe things that bring me peace.

As I’ve said before…I love the notion that Einstein said something like

“the most important decision we will ever make is whether we live in a loving, compassionate universe

one that is chaotic, random and unkind."

I have CHOSEN to believe that we live in a Universe that is loving, kind and compassionate – even when – or perhaps I should say ESPECIALLY when - it does not appear – to these human eyes- that it is so.

That notion is what CARRIED me through the WORDS-CANNOT-ADEQUATELY-DESCRIBE catastrophic journey that ended in my Son Rory’s death a little more than 2 years.

I choose to believe – even though I did not understand it… and perhaps never will, as long as I inhabited this human body… that the world is a loving, kind and compassionate place.

And for me – that has made all the difference.

The photo I’ve posted is similar to a wooden sculpture that my father had in his office – and has since given to me. I see myself…and you…being held in the LOVING hand of…well, of LOVE itself.

I don’t believe we are sometimes being held. I believe we are always being held in the hands of love. When we are “good” and when we are “bad” to borrow two words from my childhood.

Always.

Always

Regardless of what we do, think, say, feel.

Always.

Love holds us.

We may not hold love… but LOVE does not let go of us.

It’s impossible for that to happen.

Allow yourself to be held,

rocked,

cradled,

nurtured,

comforted

by LOVE today.

Peace,

Tom

May 1, 2007 7:57 am

I just read in our local newspaper that Tony Snow, White House press secretary, just returned to work and declared himself “unbelievably lucky and unbelievably blessed” as he prepares to undergo chemotherapy. Snow, 51, returned to work five weeks after doctors discovered a recurrence of his cancer.

“Anyone who does not believe that thoughts and prayers make a difference – they’re just wrong,” he said.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I certainly believe that prayer is important. I think it can change the person who is praying - from the inside. And I believe that thoughts (and words) have the power to create our experience (altho I don`t completely understand how it works.)

But do I believe in a God sitting at his (?) desk… ready, willing and able to redirect a person’s life if/when they say enough prayers…

or the right prayer…

or pray in the correct way…

or gather the right number of people to join in the praying…

Hmmmmmmm.

I think he/she/it/they might leave that work to us.

What do you believe?

Peace today,

Tom

Monday, April 30, 2007 6:41 am

To all who visit today,

You are welcome here.

D.J. I am glad you posted in the Guestbook…sharing some of the details of your journey. I am sorry that your husband died. And so recently. Part of me is amazed that you posted so soon after his death.

I took my son Sean to a White Sox game yesterday…it was Kid’s Day. A perfect day to be at a ballpark. Sunny. Cloudless. 80 degrees.

It took us about 1.5 hours to get downtown – where we parked and then took the ‘el’ to U.S. Cellular. On the drive in to the city, we listened to the soundtrack from “Wicked.” Sean and I saw the musical some time ago.

As I lost myself in the music, I remembered what I felt like in the days and weeks after Trici died and after Rory died. To be honest, I’m not sure if I felt the same immediately after Erin died. I may have. Or I may have been engulfed in shock…since it was my first experience with an intimate death (as an adult).

Anyway, I remember feeling like much of ME had left my body. Literally. It seemed as if the trauma of the news that Trici had died…and that Rory had died…had sent ME swirling beyond the confines of my physical self. Do you know that feeling?

And – I felt as if the walls between this physical reality and a reality more Divine were blurred. And it was much easier for me to move from one to the other…almost literally.

I’m not sure if I am describing it in a way that one can really understand what I’m trying to say.

I do know…that along with the intense feelings of grief (fear, disbelief, sadness, anger, rage, helplessness, etc.) and physical pain I was feeling … I also felt a freedom and a connection to something greater than me.

Something Divine.

I felt closer to wisdom.

And closer to truth.

And closer to pure love.

And after time passed…a few months probably…that feeling of being so directly connected to something so Divine receded…wasn’t as prominent.

I don’t think I’ve ever read anything describing this phenomenon…nor have I talked to anyone about it.

But I know I experienced it…and welcomed it (in an odd sort of way) the 2^nd time around.

I’m wondering if anyone who reads these words has felt (or is feeling) something similar.

Dear D.J. – and everyone else who is learning to live with a very, very recent death…I wish you peace, send you love and hope that you will be oh so gentle with yourself.

The rest of us will continue to plant seeds of peace – believing that as we heal and transform – so does the world,

Tom

Here are the lyrics to the song “For Good” from the musical Wicked - I really like the lines about forgiveness.. If you want to hear a recording…”Google it.”

“For Good” from Wicked

I`ve heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don`t know if I believe that`s true
But I know I`m who I am today
Because I knew you:

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I`ve been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You`ll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend:
Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I`ve been changed for the better?
But because I knew you:

Because I knew you:

I have been changed for good

And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I`ve done you blame me for

But then, I guess we know
There`s blame to share

And none of it seems to matter anymore

Like a comet pulled Like a ship blown
From orbit as it Off it`s mooring
Passes a sun, like By a wind off the
A stream that meets Sea, like a seed
A boulder, half-way Dropped by a
Through the wood Bird in the wood

Who can say if I`ve been changed for the better?
I do believe I have been changed for the better?

And because I knew you:

Because I knew you:

Because I knew you:
I have been changed for good.

Friday, April 27, 2007 11:47 am

^{The other day, I was in my car early (early for me… it was between 9:30 and 10:30 am) listening to one of our local radio stations, WNTA, 1330 AM. I was surprised and pleased to hear that a weekly half-hour segment was being co-hosted by Melinda Hagerman, the Family Services/Aftercare Coordinator for a local funeral home, Fitzgerald’s. I couldn’t remember if I had ever met Melinda, but I had always heard wonderful things about her. I believe I was listening to the first of what were to be weekly shows… dealing with death, and grieving and funerals, etc. etc. etc.

I’m not certain if it was “my” thought… or if because I was paying attention (or maybe I was really present and for a moment my head was clear) I heard or felt or “whatever” the impulse…

as I was listening to Melinda and Doug speak…

“I should be on that radio show. I should be talking to Melinda and Doug”

...pulsed through me.

My response was a resounding YES!!! Great idea.

And then I went about my day… and to be honest, don’t think I ever thought about it.

This morning I got a call from Melinda asking me if I’d be interested in being a guest with her on the radio show the morning of May 9^th.

Yes, yes, yes.

We’re going to talk about men and how they handle loss.

I am so aware that they way men can heal – really heal – from the experiences of loss they are living with is –

To excavate grief,

And then mourn – to go public with the internal in the presence of other people,

However, it is so counter to the damaging definition of “what it means to be a man” – that we have bought into.

No feelings.

No emotions.

Little communication.

Be tough.

Suck it up.

Be a man.

Pretend. Pretend. Pretend.

In silence.

All alone.

You can listen to the radio program on Wednesday morning, May 9^th from 9:30-10:00 a.m. CST LIVE by visiting www.wnta.com.

I am in the process today of finishing my video to submit to the folks at Harpo in response to their request for “Inspiring Ways to Cope w/the Loss of a Loved One.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

************************
My wife Trici and I were married 22 years ago today, April 27^th at 4:00 p.m. at Ascension Church in Oak Park, Illinois.

I remember the day I first laid eyes on her. July 14, 1983. I had recently moved back to Rockford from Southern California and was working for the American Cancer Society as a lowly field representative. Trici worked out of the state office as the assistant director of public relations. We met at the all-staff summer conference held at what was then called the Bismark Hotel in downtown Chicago. I took one look at her and knew she was out of my league.

We were assigned seats at the same table for the entire day. I think there were eight people assigned to the table. Trici and I sat next to each other. The day was spent listening to speakers and sharing ideas and thoughts ‘round the table. Lots of interaction and discussion.

Trici and I never spoke to each other the entire day. The entire day.

For two HUGE talkers… that required an enormous amount of energy.

As I reflected back… I knew I was attracted to her. Instantly. And it scared me.

When the conference was over… I went back to Rockford and tried to find out everything I could about the incredible woman with the oddly spelled name: T-R-I-C-I.

That January, I accepted a promotion, which brought me to Chicago – and closer to Trici - my destiny.

Very, very slowly we got to know each other… and when Trici left for 2 weeks in Ireland at the end of that summer… I really missed her.

When she returned at the end of August, I asked her out… again, and again, and again. We dated for six weeks… and on October 13, 2004 got engaged. We were married six months later.

Looking back, I think one of the reasons Trici was born was to teach me what unconditional love is. She was a great teacher… I was a reluctant, rebellious, cautious, frightened student.

To say our relationship was passionate, volatile, alive, colorful - would be an understatement.

And finally, after experiencing the death of our first born, after years of therapy, after saying YES to our two sons…after creating (finally) a new normal…I let down my guard and allowed Trici’s unconditional love in.

And about 3-4 months later, she died.

Mission accomplished, on her part!!! Tom finally gets it.

Do I still have a relationship with Trici? I do. It feels healthy to me. Supportive. Loving.

Do I think about her every day? Yes. 99% of the time with a warm, peaceful smile on my face and in my heart.

And my life – here on this earth - with Trici seems like lifetimes and lifetimes ago… so much has happened since she “left.”

And I’ve tried to continue to expand, and learn, and grow, and heal, and love… and move WITH the experiences of my life.

Peace to you,
Tom

Thursday, April 26, 2007 6:53 a.m.

If the tool I purchased for this website to “count” new visitors is working correctly, we had over 40 new visitors to the site yesterday. We are averaging about 30 a day.

I don’t know who most of you are – how you found this site – if you only visit once – or if you return again and again. You are welcome here.

I hope the words and feelings and intentions and desires shared here are connecting with you… are resonating at a deep level. I hope you feel less alone on your journey. I hope you feel more HOPE-filled.

I know this next statement is all about me… AND, I would love to hear from you. Anything. Anything at all. Please consider posting in the Guestbook.

I know that the Guestbook may feel like an exclusive “club” to some… since the circle that has formed has not been able to WELCOME a new participant in quite some time...because there have been none. I know I speak for all who feel comfortable posting… there is room for you. Whoever you are. Whatever your experience has been – or is. Join us – when you can!

I know that some professional caregivers visit this site. And I know that many of us play – or played the role of caregiver to people we love.

Care for the Journey – Messages and Music Sustaining the Heart of Healthcare is an INCREDIBLE CD. I think you can find it online at www.companionarts.com
.
In the 2^nd track, Angeles Arrien, PhD (I don’t know who she is. Do you? I’m going to Google her.) says:

“Illness...
is an introduction to coming home again to a deeper sense of self and well-being...:

Let those words sink in.

“Illness is an introduction to coming home again to a deeper sense of self and well-being…”

That just FEELS right to me. That concept “fits” at a deep level. It’s nothing I have to convince myself to believe. It feels like the “essence of me” is recognizing TRUTH. I think it’s how “it” all works.

For some time, I have been thinking about finding a therapist for my son. I am a huge fan of therapy (can you tell?) … have worked with several therapists over the years… and believe that MOST people who are learning to live with the death of someone they love SHOULD be seeing a therapist somewhere along the journey – realizing it is sometimes very hard to find a GOOD therapist.

My son was 3 when his mom died, 9 when his brother died. I think – hope – he will check-in with a therapist many times as he travels his life-path.

A little more than a year ago, he worked with a therapist for about 3-4 months…his request. He was no longer able to sleep in his own bed or sleep over at friends` homes… that bugged him. We found a therapist he was willing to work with – she used EMDR (more about that at a later date) … and he accomplished his goals. Back sleeping in his own bed. No problem sleeping over at other people’s homes.

Back to the present… I asked around for referrals… and the same name kept popping up. I visited the website – and for the most part – it resonated deeply with me. So… I made an appointment. Not an easy thing to do for me… “turning my kid” over to someone else. What’s that line about “ our perception gathering evidence
to prove that our beliefs are right.”

I recognized the therapist. “Haven’t we met before?”

“Yes, at Alan Wolfelt’s seminar in Wisconsin a while back.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I thought.

I spent some time with her. Sean spent some time with her. He agreed to see her again. VICTORY!!!

I’m not sure what prompted me to say this…but as I was leaving I said, “Did you know Dr. Wolfelt (www.centerforloss.com is speaking in Peoria in a few weeks?”

“I went through his certification program.” She told me. “I studied with him.”

HUH?

Once again - I’m in awe of the power of the perfect Universe.

“Is there anyone else in town that went through that same program?” I asked.

Nope, I’m the only one.

I live in a town of over 150,000 people…. I can only imagine how many therapists, counselors, social workers, etc. there are…

Sean and I are lead to the one who has studied with author – Alan Wolfelt – that I have found to be THE BEST person out there writing about grief and mourning today.

Coincidence?

Or – am I being held by a loving, kind, compassionate Universe. Even when it doesn’t feel that way?

Perhaps, especially when it doesn’t feel that way.

Peace,}

Tom

To read past Journal Entries click a Book:

Book 2 (April 2007 - May 2006)

Book 1 (May 2006 - February 2006)

This site launched on February 22, 2006.

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