Wednesday, April 25, 2007 7:20 a.m.
I’m not sure where to start…
I am now avoiding most of the news stories about the Virginia Tech shootings… well, not avoiding them completely… I still am curious about what is being said… so I tune in with one eye open and one eye closed before I decide if I am going to switch the channel.
Pain and suffering seem to be oozing… and from my seat, much of it seems to be self-created, self-inflicted...innocently, for sure. Perhaps opportunities to learn and grow?
I never know how far I should push the envelope.
I don’t want to offend.
I would like to help. To be of service.
I have one week left facilitating my workshop, “Planting the Seeds of Rebirth.” A group of courageous, bold, admirable people have gathered in circle… and are in the process of stepping into their own transformation. It is glorious to be part of. It spurs me on. It helps me heal.
Last Tuesday one of the participants who is living with the death of her son blurted out, “I WILL NEVER DANCE AGAIN!!!”
As gently as I could I repeated her declaration… “YOU WILL NEVER DANCE AGAIN?”
“If that’s what you believe… than that is what you will experience. Could you leave the door open (even the tiniest bit) to the possibility that you might dance again?”
She told me she would.
Last night – as we each checked in – among many things shared… this same woman said, “I’ve noticed I feel better this week.”
When she was finished sharing… I asked her if I heard her say, “I feel better this week.”
She said, “Yes, I did say that.” And she smiled.
I pushed the envelope and as gently as possible asked,
“Do you think you might even dance again?”
Smile broadened.
“I think I might… this summer.”
If you haven’t read the book, “The Four Agreements” – I highly recommend it. I’ve written before about the author`s belief regarding the power of OUR OWN SPOKEN WORDS. The power to create our experience.
I shared this quote before but it bears repeating:
“Our perception gathers evidence
to prove that our beliefs are right.”
Does that make sense? Can you open to the possibility that it might be true?
I’m going to push the envelope some more…trying to surround my words with love with the intention of facility healing for whomever might read them…
All these words are based on my own experience…I share them realizing that everyone moves in their own way, at their own time… and it’s perfectly unfolding.
(Enough of my fear-based disclaimers)
In her beautiful, vulnerable, authentic, heart-revealing last post Cookie wrote:
“memories I try not to acknowledge, because memories are all that is left.”
When I held the thought – the belief that “memories are all that is left” I could hardly get out of bed…what could the purpose be? Why should I continue to live? Way too painful!
And then I realized that I will ALWAYS have a relationship with my daughter, Erin… with my wife, Trici… and with my son, Rory. I get to choose whether or not these relationships are healthy or unhealthy. The message we get for the most part from “society” is – after a relatively short period of time – to wrap our relationship, our memories, our linking material possessions up in a box, tie tightly with string…and tuck that box away…far away...to be open again quietly, secretively and not very often.
This – a healthy relationship – does not make.
When I realized that my daughter, my wife, my son – THE THREE OF THEM – are always available to me, are always with me… in a very REAL sense…my experience changed. Less lonely. Less of a feeling of being abandoned.
Consider it.
Susie wrote:
“I also believe that we will recognize those that have died before us”
I believe that too Susie. I believe that God (or whatever you choose to call him/her/it/they) defines LOVE in a way that is incomprehensible to us…it is so profoundly, all-encompassing… perhaps that’s why those that have near-death experiences come back to describe the experience as moving into the brightest, whitest, most loving, peaceful light imaginable.
I believe that THAT LOVE will reunite us with those who have died before us – who we long to see again.
That belief changes my experience.
Consider it.
Who would you be if….
Welcome back Nancie…hard to believe so much time has passed since your mom went “home.”
Nance wrote:
“I know she`s proud of me and my family and I feel her smiling down from above.”
I know the “American-version” of heaven is that it’s a “place up there.” It’s a belief that has caused me tremendous pain.
When my wife died, I couldn’t bear the thought of telling my 3 year old and 7 year old that mommy was now “up there.” So… I told them both that mommy was RIGHT HERE. In the same way that I told them that God was not tucked far away in “heaven" … but rather God was in our midst – or rather we were in God’s midst… and Erin, and mommy and now Rory are in the presence of God – of the Divine… right here. No separation.
And that belief changed my experience.
Less pain.
More peace.
Thanks to all of you for sharing so deeply from your heart,
I wish you peace,
Tom
Tuesday, April 24, 2007 6:59 a.m.
It’s been 8 days and the NEWS COVERAGE regarding the Virginia Tech shootings appears to be slowing. I’m not seeing the glaring headlines…the bloody photos.
In all likelihood – in a few days – another story – deemed MAJOR by the news media - will bump this one to the back pages… and then, for the most part, Virginia Tech will disappear…until the 1st year anniversary.
It’s what we “do” here in the United States. Have you noticed?
These words appeared in our local paper this morning…pulled from a wire story – which means they could be printed all over the world:
“Chemistry professor Joe Merola tried to give a lecture Monday, but looking out at 100 Virginia Tech student’s faces – and the sweat shirt he’d placed on the seat of a wounded student – he couldn’t do it.”
“the sweat shirt he’d placed on the seat of a wounded student”
The professor placed a sweat shirt on the seat of a wounded student.
What a beautiful example of mourning… “going public” with our grief… the internal, automatic, unlearned response to loss.
In the same article, these words appear:
“We kind of talked and hugged. There were tears and stuff,” said Paul Deyerle, 20, a sophomore from Roanoke who attended three classes. “It was good closure.”
CLOSURE???
After 8 days?
As I’ve said many, many times - we are ill-prepared and ill-equipped to deal with the death of someone we love.
We are innocent… and ignorant.
I would guess that this 20 year old (like so many of us) is simply unconsciously responding to these deaths that are now part of his experience… doing what he`s been "programmed" to do ... and society looks for closure…
Of all the words this young man spoke in the interview… the reporter jumped on that word.
CLOSURE.
The editor had an opportunity to remove the words…as I’m almost certain he removed other words from the piece before it went to print… but the word CLOSURE made the cut.
CLOSURE …
After 8 days.
I don’t believe it’s possible.
For the surviving students, the professors, the families, the friends, the police, the faculty, the media…and all of us…
The transformational journey that is possible… rooted in the shootings at Virginia Tech has just begun…
If/when we make the decision to “consciously participate.”
Today would be a great day to plant seeds of peace,
Tom
Saturday, April 21, 2007 6:35 am
The magnitude of the shootings in Virginia seems too HUGE for me to completely comprehend.
I would imagine – that like all of us who are learning to live with the death of someone we love – the family and friends of all those who died don’t want their loved one to be forgotten.
I pulled this from Time magazine’s website:
Ross Abdallah Alameddine
Student, 20
Ross was a sophomore who had just declared English as his major. Friends created a memorial page on Facebook.com that described Ross as "an intelligent, funny, easygoing guy."
"You`re such an amazing kid, Ross," wrote Zach Allen, who along with Ross attended Austin Preparatory School in Reading, Mass. "You always made me smile, and you always knew the right thing to do or say to cheer anyone up."
-AP
Christopher James Bishop
Teacher, 35
Christopher taught German at Virginia Tech and helped oversee an exchange program with a German university. Christopher decided which German-language students at Virginia Tech could attend the Darmstadt University of Technology to improve their German. "He would teach them German in Blacksburg, and he would decide which students were able to study" abroad, Darmstadt spokesman Lars Rosumek said.
The school set up a book of condolences for students, staff and faculty to sign, along with information about the Virginia shootings. "Of course many persons knew him personally and are deeply, deeply shocked about his death," Rosumek said.
Christopher earned bachelor`s and master`s degrees in German and was a Fulbright scholar at Christian-Albrechts University in Kiel, Germany. According to his Web site, Christopher spent four years living in Germany, where he "spent most of his time learning the language, teaching English, drinking large quantities of wheat beer, and wooing a certain fraulein." The "fraulein" was his wife, Stephanie Hofer, who also teaches in Virginia Tech`s German program.
—AP
Brian Bluhm
Student, 25
Brian was formerly of Detroit, according to friend Michael Marshall. His death also was announced before the Detroit-Kansas City baseball game. According to the Detroit Free Press, Brian wrote an insightful blog and loved the Detroit Tigers and other Detroit teams. Brian`s parents, Dennis and Beverly, moved from Troy, Mich., to Louisville, Ky., when Brian was about 7, but his passion for Detroit sports had taken root, the Free Press reported. "If you only crossed paths with him once, it probably didn`t leave an impression," Bill Ferris, who has known Brian for three years, wrote in a posting Tuesday on another Tigers` fan site. "But if you spent any amount of time with him online, he became an instant favorite because Brian was ... intelligent, thoughtful, considerate, and polite in all of his postings."
—AP
Ryan Clark
Student, 22
Ryan, biology and English major, was called "Stack" by his friends, many of whom he met as a resident assistant at Ambler Johnson Hall, where the first shootings took place.
Ryan was from the Atlanta suburb of Martinez, Ga. He was a fifth-year student working toward degrees in biology and English, and a member of the Marching Virginians band. "He was just one of the greatest people you could possibly know," friend Gregory Walton, 25, said after learning from an ambulance driver that Ryan was among the dead. "He was always smiling, always laughing. I don`t think I ever saw him mad in the five years I knew him."
In an interview with TIME, Peter Hurley, 18, described his friend Ryan:
"He was a nice guy, really a nice guy. He was also a fairly fun-loving guy. I would always see him when I was coming back to the dorm, he`d be hanging out outside. When he laughs, it was really loud, so you could always see him and hear him both. Even though he was an RA, he didn`t have too many problems with too many people. He was big on the rules, but even after you got in trouble with him, he would talk to you.
"He was a 5th-year senior and he was really smart. I know he was working on multiple degrees. There is one thing else about him: He was always responsible for a bulletin board on the hall wall. And lots of people would always just slap something up there and let it stay the whole semester. But he would do something different every week, and would change it to try to make the hall more interesting. He would draw these 4-ft.-tall cartoons of the Looney Tunes, and it would be funny. You`d be walking out of the hall in the morning, already having a crappy day, and they would make you smile. He would draw that stuff freehand — and he was pretty good at it."
—AP
Austin Cloyd
Student, 19
Austin was an international studies major from Blacksburg, Va., according to Terry Harter, senior pastor at First United Methodist Church in Champaign, Ill., where Austin and her family lived before moving to Blacksburg. According to the New York Times, Austin grew up in Champaign, Ill., where her father, Bryan Cloyd, taught accounting at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign; she excelled in volleyball and basketball and was active in the First United Methodist Church in Champaign, sometimes going on missions to Appalachia to help renovate homes, said Terry Harter, senior pastor.
Austin`s mother served as an administrative assistant and director of youth ministries at First United, Harter said according to the Times, until the family moved to Blacksburg in 2005 when Austin`s father took a position as professor of accounting and information systems at Virginia Tech.
—AP
Jocelyne Couture-Nowak
Teacher
A French instructor originally from Canada, according to her husband, Jerzy Nowak, the head of the horticulture department at Virginia Tech. According to CTV, both Jocelyne and her husband taught at the Nova Scotia Agricultural College (NSAC), before moving to Virginia Tech where they took teaching posts. Three NSAC students, two from Nova Scotia and one from Prince Edward Island, are currently studying at Virginia Tech, a sister school to NSAC, said CTV.
"She was a very nice person," Fellow Virginia Tech professor, Craig Brians, told Canada AM. "My wife often described Jocelyn as someone, when she`d walk into a room, just would bring a smile to the room, that even in the darkest of situations, she had something encouraging to say. She would have something uplifting to say."
Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper expressed his condolences for the victims in Parliament on Tuesday. "We learned that a Canadian is among the victims in Virginia and I can say that the prayers thoughts and condolences of each and every one of us here in the House are with that family," Harper said in French. "It`s really almost impossible to comprehend why an individual would take his own life and that of so many others in this way, but I think we can all say that our thoughts are with all the victims, their families and the community," he said.
—AP
Kevin Granata
Professor
A professor of engineering science and mechanics, who served in the military and later conducted orthopedic research in hospitals before coming to Virginia Tech, where he and his students researched muscle and reflex response and robotics. The head of the school`s engineering science and mechanics department called Kevin one of the top five biomechanics researchers in the country working on movement dynamics in cerebral palsy.
Engineering professor Demetri P. Telionis said Kevin was successful and kind. "With so many research projects and graduate students, he still found time to spend with his family, and he coached his children in many sports and extracurricular activities," Telionis said. "He was a wonderful family man. We will all miss him dearly."
—AP
Matthew G. Gwaltney
Graduate Student, 24
Matthew was a graduate student in civil and environmental engineering, according to his father and stepmother, Greg and Linda Gwaltney. He was a second-year master`s student at Virginia Tech in the Charles E. Via Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering, according to a Virginia Tech biography. In 2005 he received his bachelor`s degree from Virginia Tech in Civil Engineering with a concentration in Environmental and Water Resources Engineering. As a graduate student he helped to teach the lab/workshop portion of several undergraduate courses. His research focused on stormwater management in Blacksburg, Virginia, using 100 years of generated rainfall.
—AP
Caitlin Hammaren
Student, 19
Caitlin was a sophomore majoring in international studies and French, according to officials at her former school district in Orange County, New York. "She was just one of the most outstanding young individuals that I`ve had the privilege of working with in my 31 years as an educator," said John P. Latini, principal of Minisink Valley High School, where she graduated in 2005. "Caitlin was a leader among our students." Minisink Valley students and teachers shared their grief Tuesday at a counseling center set up in the school, Latini said.
—AP
Jeremy Herbstritt
Student, 27
According to Penn State University, his alma mater and his father`s employer, Jeremy was an altar boy, an avid runner and ambitious student. "He was ambitious and had a lot of gumption," Jeremy`s grandfather Thomas Herbstritt said in a phone interview with The Associated Press. "He believed in helping people. He wouldn`t turn anybody down."
Jeremy had two undergraduate degrees from Penn State, one in biochemistry and molecular biology from 2003, and another in civil engineering from 2006, Penn State officials said. He was the oldest of four siblings. Jeremy’s parents were in Boston on Monday to watch a daughter run in the Boston Marathon. They had been planning to return home Tuesday, but instead were en route Tuesday night to the Virginia Tech campus in Blacksburg, Penn State spokesman Geoff Rushton said. While Jeremy grew up helping his father raise steer and sheep, his career ambition was to become a civil engineer. "He liked to work on machinery, take a lot of stuff apart and fixed it," Thomas Herbstritt said. "He was a studious kid." The proud grandfather also said Jeremy was involved in research on the West Nile virus. He had been an altar boy. He liked to kayak, and, like others in his family, was an avid runner.
Jeremy talked of getting into environmental work after school, said Pam Vaiana, a family friend and principal of the Catholic grammar school that Jeremy attended. She said he often went out of his way to be welcoming to others, and liked to talk to her husband, who works in the field, about classes and future career plans.
—AP
Rachael Hill
Student, 18
According to her father, Guy Hill, Rachael was a freshman studying biology at Virginia Tech after graduating from Grove Avenue Christian School in Henrico County. An only child, she was popular and funny, had a penchant for shoes and was competitive on the volleyball court.
"Rachael was a very bright, articulate, intelligent, beautiful, confident, poised young woman. She had a tremendous future in front of her," said Clay Fogler, administrator for the Grove Avenue School. "Obviously, the Lord had other plans for her."
Her father, Guy Hill, said the family was too distraught to talk about Hill on Tuesday, but relatives were planning to have memorial events later in the week. "We just need some time here," he said tearfully.
—AP
Emily Jane Hilscher
Student, 19
Emily was a freshman from Woodville, VA. The Richmond Times-Dispatch said she came to Virginia Tech from rural Rappahannock County, was majoring in animal and poultry sciences and lived next door to Ryan Clark on the fourth floor of West Ambler Johnston Hall — in rooms 4040 and 4042. Emily was known around her hometown as an animal lover. "She worked at a veterinarian`s office and cared about them her whole life," said Rappahannock County Administrator John W. McCarthy, a family friend.
A friend, Will Nachless, also 19, said Emily "was always very friendly. Before I even knew her, I thought she was very outgoing, friendly and helpful, and she was great in chemistry."
—AP
Jarrett L. Lane
Student, 22
Jarratt was a senior civil engineering student who was valedictorian of his high school class in tiny Narrows, Va., just 30 miles from Virginia Tech. His high school put up a memorial to Lane that included pictures, musical instruments and his athletic jerseys.
Jarratt played the trombone, ran track and played football and basketball at Narrows High School. "We`re just kind of binding together as a family," Principal Robert Stump said.
Jarratt`s brother-in-law Daniel Farrell called him fun-loving and "full of spirit."
"He had a caring heart and was a friend to everyone he met," Farrell said. "We are leaning on God`s grace in these trying hours.
—AP
Matthew J. La Porte
Student, 20
A freshman, Matthew was attending Virginia Tech on an Air Force ROTC scholarship and belonged to the school`s Corps of Cadets. He was considering majoring in political science, was a graduate of the Carson Long Military Institute in New Bloomfield, Pa. He credited the academy with turning his life around. "I know that Carson Long was my second chance," he said during a 2005 graduation speech that was printed in the school yearbook.
On Tuesday, the school posted a memorial photograph of La Porte in his school uniform on its Web site. "Matthew was an exemplary student at Carson Long whose love of music and fellow cadets were an inspiration to all on campus," the school said in a statement.
According to his profile on a music Web site, La Porte`s favorite artists were Meshuggah, Metallica, Soundgarden, Creed and Live.
—AP
Henry Lee
Student, 20
A freshman, Henry planned to major in computer engineering. He played Frisbee and racquetball, according to his Facebook.com page.
His family emigrated to the U.S. from China when Lee was in elementary school and couldn`t speak English, according to the New York Times. He became an American citizen in 1999, graduated with a 4.47 GPA from high school, was salutatorian of his class, and was honored by a local Burger King for his scholastic achievements, said the Times.
—AP
Liviu Librescu
Professor, 76
Liviu was an Israeli engineering and math lecturer known for his research, but his son said he will be remembered as a hero for protecting students as the gunman tried to enter his classroom.
Liviu taught at Virginia Tech for 20 years and had an international reputation for his work in aeronautical engineering. "His research has enabled better aircraft, superior composite materials, and more robust aerospace structures," said Ishwar K. Puri, the head of the engineering science and mechanics department.
Librescu`s son, Joe, said his father`s students sent e-mails detailing how the professor saved their lives by blocking the doorway of his classroom from the approaching gunman before he was fatally shot. "My father blocked the doorway with his body and asked the students to flee," Joe Librescu said Tuesday in a telephone interview from his home outside of Tel Aviv. "Students started opening windows and jumping out."
—AP
G.V. Loganathan
Lecturer, 51
Indian-born Loganathan was a lecturer at the Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering. His brother G.V. Palanivel told the NDTV news channel from the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu: "We all feel like we have had an electric shock, we do not know what to do." Palanivel added: "He has been a driving force for all of us, the guiding force."
Loganathan, who was born in the southern Indian city of Chennai, had been at Virginia Tech since 1982.
— AP
Partahi Lumbantoruan
Graduate Student, 34
Lumbantoruan was a civil engineering doctoral student, according to Kristiarto Legowo, a spokesman for the Indonesian foreign ministry. Lumbantoruan had been studying civil engineering at Virginia Tech for three years, said his father, Tohom Lumbantoruan, a 66-year-old retired army officer. "We tried everything to completely finance his studies in the United States," he said. "We only wanted him to succeed in his studies, but... he met a tragic fate."
His stepmother, Sugiyarti, said he had called almost daily to talk to the family. In their last conversation he had asked for the latest news on Indonesian politics. "Why can people bring guns to campus?" she asked, weeping." How is it possible that so many innocent people could be killed? How could it happen?" Like many Indonesians she goes by one name.
An aunt, 53-year-old Christina Panjaitan, said her nephew was hardworking, intelligent and never complained. "He told me he wanted to teach in America," she said. Family members hoped the body would be returned home soon for a public burial in the capital Jakarta.
—AP
Lauren McCain
Student, 20
Lauren was a international studies major, according to a statement from the family. McCain spent several years of her childhood in Oklahoma before her father`s Navy career took the family to Florida, Texas and then to Virginia. The 20-year-old was in her first year at Virginia Tech, majoring in international studies, when she was shot and killed Monday during her German class in Norris Hall.
"Lauren was an extremely intelligent young lady," her uncle Jeff Elliott said. "She was beautiful, loving and happy, and just a fun girl to be around. She`s special to everybody." Several of Lauren’s relatives flew to Virginia to be with her parents, Dave and Sherry McCain, after news of her death reached Oklahoma on Tuesday.
"She was the sweetest girl you ever saw," said Fern Martin, her 90-year-old great-grandmother. "She was so loving and so sweet. Everybody loved her." Martin said Lauren, her oldest great-granddaughter, taught Sunday school and "was a good girl." A cousin, Erin Elliott of Shawnee, described Lauren as an avid reader and said she worked in a department store for about a year to save money before enrolling in college.
"She had a great sense of humor," Erin Elliott said. "We would pull pranks on the boys — simple stuff, like hanging their underwear from a tree." She said she`d exchange e-mails with Lauren and talk to her on the telephone regularly, and Lauren would visit for a week around Christmas and in the summer. They`d talk about dreams of one day taking a trip to Germany and joke about building a mansion and living together.
On a MySpace.com Web page, Lauren wrote: "The purpose and love of my life is Jesus Christ."
—AP
Daniel O`Neil
Graduate Student, 22
Daniel was a graduate student in engineering. He played guitar and wrote his own songs, which he posted on a website, www.residenthippy.com.
Friend Steve Craveiro described him as smart, responsible and a hard worker, someone who never got into trouble. "He would come home from school over the summer and talk about projects, about building bridges and stuff like that," Craveiro said. "He loved his family. He was pretty much destined to be extremely successful. He just didn`t deserve to have happen what happened."
O`Neil graduated in 2002 from Lincoln High School in Rhode Island and graduated from Lafayette College in Easton, Pa., before heading to Virginia Tech, where he also was a teaching assistant, Craveiro said.
—AP
Juan Ramon Ortiz
Graduate Student, 26
Juan was a graduate student in engineering from Bayamon, Puerto Rico, according to his wife, Liselle Vega Cortes. Juan had left Puerto Rico with his new bride only months earlier. "I heard about the shooting over the radio and I called but he didn`t answer. When I got home and my wife was crying I realized it was something serious," his father, also called Juan Ramon Ortiz, told The Associated Press in a telephone interview.
The younger Ortiz, 26, is the only Puerto Rican victim identified from Monday`s massacre. His father said he was teaching a class as part of his graduate program in civil engineering when the gunman took his life. "He was an extraordinary son, what any father would have wanted," he said.
The family`s neighbors remembered Juan as a quiet, dedicated son who decorated his parents` one-story concrete house each Christmas and played in a salsa band with his father on weekends.
—AP
Minal Panchal
Student, 26
A first-year building science student from Mumbai, India, according to foreign ministry spokesman Navtej Sarna. Panchal wanted to be an architect like her father, who died four years ago.
She was very keen to go to the U.S. for postgraduate studies and thrilled when she gained admission last year, said Chetna Parekh, a friend who lives in the bustling middle-class Mumbai neighborhood of Borivali, India, where Panchal lived before coming to Virginia Tech. "She was a brilliant student and very hardworking. She was focused on getting her degree and doing well."
Panchal was worried about her mother, Hansa, living alone and wanted her to come to the U.S., neighbor Jayshree Ajmane said. Hansa left earlier this month for New Jersey, where her sister and brother-in-law live.
Ajmane called Panchal a bright, polite girl who would help the neighborhood children with their schoolwork.
—AP
Daniel Perez Cueva
Student, 21
Cueva was killed while in a French class, said his mother, Betty Cueva, who was reached by telephone at the youth`s listed telephone number. Daniel was a student of international relations, according to the Virginia Tech Web site. His father, Flavio Perez, spoke of the death earlier to RPP radio in Peru. He lives in Peru and said he was trying to obtain a humanitarian visa from the U.S. consulate here. He is separated from Cueva, who said she had lived in the United States for six years. A spokesman at the U.S. Embassy in Lima said the student`s father "will receive all the attention possible when he applies" for the visa.
—AP
Erin Peterson
Student, 18
Erin, a Westfield High School classmate of the gunman, was 6-foot-1 and played center for the school`s girls basketball team, helping lead it to a district championship. "She could do a lay-up on anyone," said Anna Richter, a high school teammate. She recalled how Erin’s parents attended nearly every game and were among the most enthusiastic fans.
Erin, 18, and shooting victim Reema Samaha both graduated from Westfield last year, according to Barbara Burke, a spokeswoman for Fairfax County Public Schools.
"She was just a super child," William Lloyd, Erin`s godfather, told the Washington City Paper. "Her and her dad, man, you couldn`t separate them. He lost a child from cancer — a daughter, 8 years old. A week later, [Erin] was born."
Lloyd said that Erin and her father, Grafton Peterson, did part ways on one thing: pro-football allegiances. "She was a Redskin," he said. "He was a Cowboy."
—AP
Michael Pohle
Student, 23
According to officials at his high school, Hunterdon Central High, Michael was expected to graduate in a few weeks with a degree in biological sciences, said Craig Blanton, Hunterdon Central`s vice principal during the 2002 school year, when Michael graduated. "He had a bunch of job interviews and was all set to start his post-college life," Blanton told The Star-Ledger of Newark.
At the high school, Michael played on the football and lacrosse teams. One of his old lacrosse coaches, Bob Shroeder, described him as "a good kid who did everything that good kids do."
"He tried to please," Shroeder told the newspaper. "He was just a great kid."
—AP
Julia Pryde
Graduate Student
Julia was a graduate student from Middletown, N.J. according to Virginia Tech professor Saied Mostaghimi, chairman of the biological systems and engineering department. She was an "exceptional student academically and personally," said Mostaghimi.
Last summer, Julia had traveled to Ecuador to research water quality issues with a professor. She planned to return this summer for follow-up work, Mostaghimi said.
A 2001 graduate of Middletown North High School, Julia was on the school`s swim team and played softball in two town leagues. Her hometown has been touched by tragedy before, losing 37 current and former residents in the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.
"The town pulls together in these situations. Everything that we can do for this family, we`ll see what can be done," Middletown Mayor Gerard P. Scharfenberger said.
—AP
Mary Karen Read
Student, 19
According to her aunt, Karen Kuppinger, of Rochester, N.Y., Read was born in South Korea into an Air Force family and lived in Texas and California before settling in the northern Virginia suburb of Annandale. She considered a handful of colleges, including nearby George Mason University, before choosing Virginia Tech. It was a popular destination among her Annandale High School classmates, according to Kuppinger.
She had yet to declare a major. "I think she wanted to try to spread her wings," said Kuppinger, of Rochester, N.Y. Kuppinger said her niece had struggled adjusting to Tech`s sprawling 2,600-acre campus. But she had recently begun making friends and looking into a sorority. Kuppinger said the family started calling Mary as news reports surfaced. "After three or four hours passed and she hadn`t picked up her cell phone or answered her e-mail ... we did get concerned," Kuppinger said. "We honestly thought she would pop up."
—AP
Reema J. Samaha
Student, 18
Reema was a freshman from the Fairfax County suburbs of Washington, had a beaming smile and passion for show business. She was studying drama and planned to travel to France this summer for her summer-abroad program and strengthen her French, her father told CNN.
"Dance was her life. She loved choreography," her father, Joseph Samaha, told the network in an interview. She had diverse interests and "loved the world, loved to travel," her father added. He described her as a "terrific, dynamic person" who was "shy, until you got to know her; then she had tons of friends."
At Virginia Tech, Reema Samaha participated in the Contemporary Dance Ensemble, a student organization. Her brother, Omar, a 23-year-old Tech graduate, told NBC`s Today he had visited Blacksburg over the past weekend, when his sister participated in a dance recital and a cultural street fair.
Omar Samaha had to leave before his sister finished performing on Sunday; he had complimented his sister`s work and hugged her, he told Today, but "I never got to say goodbye."
The Samaha family lives in a well-off suburban neighborhood of single-family homes in Centreville. It is a mile or so away from the townhouse neighborhood where the Virginia Tech gunman lived.
—AP
Waleed Mohammed Shaalan
Doctoral student, 32
A doctoral student in civil engineering, Shaalan was from Zagazig, Egypt. He left behind his wife and 1-year-old to come to the U.S. to study civil engineering, following in his father`s footsteps, the New York Times reported.
Randy Dymond, a civil engineering professor at Virginia Tech, told the Times that Shaalan had saved the life of a fellow graduate student during the shooting; Cho noticed the student, who was playing dead beside a badly wounded Shaalan, but before Cho could shoot the student, Shaalan distracted him and was shot a second time.
—AP
Leslie G. Sherman
Student, 20
Leslie was a sophomore history major who loved running, foreign languages and making friends laugh, and wanted to be an historian one day, reports the New York Times. "She was just amazing," Deepika R. Chadive, 19, told the Times. Chadive, a fellow sophomore who played basketball with Leslie when the two were students at West Springfield High School, also said: "Not only was she very good, she was very spirited...Even if we were down 50 points, she would always give us a pat on the back." Leslie never seemed to have "anything bad to say about anyone," Chadive said. "She was always joking around and smiling. She was always trying to make people smile."
—AP
Maxine Turner
Student, 22
Maxine was a chemical engineering student, she was just one month away from graduation. According to the Los Angeles Times, Maxine had good friends, a variety of interests from Tae Kwan Do to German, and had already received job offers.
Although men outnumbered women on Virginia Tech`s campus, Maxine never seemed daunted by the gender imbalance, the Times said. She had formed a sorority for other women in her field — as she described it "females who had never had female friends... for anyone looking for a support group, since engineering is challenging."
"I don`t think she looked at being a woman in science as a handicap; she thought it was unique, uncommon and very special," Cady Hendershot, 21, told the Times. Hendershot was a biology junior who met Turner when they lived in the same residence hall. "She was willing to work her way up from the very bottom," Hendershot said. "She was honest, very candid. She was one of the most amazing people you could know."
—AP
Nicole White
Student, 20
Nicole, a junior majoring in international studies, was from Smithfield, Va. She spent her high school summers working as a lifeguard at her local YMCA.
A friend, Chance Hellmann, who graduated from Smithfeild High School with White, told the New York Times that Nicole considered studying veterinary medicine at Virginia Tech, but had decided on a double major, in international studies and German.
—AP
Friday, April 13, 2007 9:17 am
I received an email the other day about a book that looks interesting:
MOURNING HAS BROKEN-
A Collection of Creative Writing about Grief and Healing
Revised Second Edition
now available!
Foreword by Alan Wolfelt, PhD
Edited by Mara Koven and Liz Pearl
Anyone who frequently visits this website knows that I am a huge fan of Alan Wolfelt, PhD. If you haven’t visited his website ( www.centerforloss.com) or read one of his books, I strongly urge you to do so. I have read many, many books that deal with death, grief, mourning, bereavement… and in my opinion, Dr. Wolfelt “gets it” like no other. He offers hope, encouragement, information and practical information so that you can…
Continue to plant seeds of hope,
Tom
Thursday, April 12, 2007 9:39 am
One of the guests on Oprah yesterday said,
“Our perception gathers evidence to prove that our beliefs are right.”
Think about that.
I love that and have found it to be true. As people who have read my entries know, I pay close attention to the words that come out of my mouth (and yours) … because I believe that behind our words is a power that creates experience.
It’s been my experience that it has been my unexamined thoughts and beliefs about life… about my daughter’s death… about my wife’s death… about my son’s death… about God… about heaven… about life after death… that have caused me incredible pain.
And I got to a point where I simply didn’t want to live with so much pain in my life anymore.
One of the teachers that appeared – because I was ready – is Byron Katie (www.thework.com).
Katie (as she is known) will be facilitating a weekend workshop in the Chicago area on May 4th through May 6th at the Crowne Plaza Chicago O’Hare in Rosemont, Illinois.
I have attended her workshops before. If you are ready to “awaken to a joy-filled life” I encourage you to attend.
For more information and to register visit www.thework.com or call 1.800.985.2843.
If you do go, let me know what the experience was like for you.
The ground here is covered with snow, snow, snow… yet the green of new spring growth is still reaching upward.
Plant seeds of peace today,
Tom
Wednesday, April 11, 2007 11:46 am
Good morning,
I am quite sure I have referenced a quarterly magazine called Grief Digest on this website before. I am a subscriber and find the articles informative, thought-provoking and worth reading. If you haven’t checked it out, I encourage you to do see and think you would find a subscription well worth the money. According to their website (www.griefdigest.com):
"Grief Digest is a quarterly magazine supporting grieving people and caregivers. The Centering Corporation which is the largest and oldest grief resource center in the country has created this resource by gathering a remarkable group of writers to aid you in your journey. Order Now or call toll free 866-218-0101
The tender, fragile buds of Spring, the lush, dynamic leaves of Summer, the crisp colors of Autumn and the barren branches of a Winter grief all are expressed in the beautiful new logo of our dynamic, inspiring new Grief Digest. Your new, reader-friendly magazine will include the best writers and speakers in the field of bereavement. There will be interesting articles on coping and dealing with grief, help for the caregiver and most of all, the usual quality and support you expect from your Centering family. Add to that a tremendous editing job by former Bereavement Magazine publisher Andrea Gambill and you have a quarterly support group at your fingertips."
My friend Lynne sent me this note today:
The editor of Grief Digest, Andrea Gambill, is asking about Websites and if they are useful to people. She writes:
"... there are a number of Webs sites, blogsites, message boards, internet chat rooms that offer the bereaved an opportunity to share and discuss and reveal their deepest and most intimate experiences in the world of grief and mourning. They are usually anonymous and often unregulated." She goes on to ask for feedback: "I am wondering if any of our readers would be willing to offer their opinions and personal experiences with this, our newest form of communication. Are these sites responsible? Are they managed or regulated in any way so that the information and advice they share is reliable and true? Is this a healthy and productive form of mental and psychological exercise? Does it help people with the grief and mourning in positive and uplifting ways? Are any aspects of it harmful - or potentially harmful?"
She would like people to write to her at andrea.gambill@insightbb.com She would like to do an article if she gets enough information from people.
I am emailing Andrea today to invite her to visit this site. I think it would be wonderful if she would include “us” in an article about websites for people living with loss. I will post my email to Andrea here on the site, so you can read it.
If you are comfortable emailing Andrea and telling her about “us” - I hope you will do so. I am always looking for ways to touch more people… to accompany them on their journey… to invite them into our sacred circle. If you do email Andrea… and are comfortable posting your email to her in this Guestbook… I invite you to do that, too.
Plant seeds of peace today,
Tom
Tuesday, April 3, 2007 1:26 pm
If you can… read the article I`ve posted..
Hopefully, we are living in an age of emerging enlightenment when it comes to grief and learning to live with the death of someone we love.
Hopefully, people are beginning to talk about the last taboo – death.
According to the article: “The diagnostic manual used by psychiatrists says that anyone who suffers from at least five such symptoms for as little as two weeks may be clinically depressed. Only in the case of someone grieving over the death of a loved one is it normal for symptoms to last as long as two months, the manual says.”
They must be kidding. There must be a typo.
“It is normal for symptoms to last as long as two months???”
TWO MONTHS?
Why do we continue to live in such denial?
Why are we so afraid to feel?
Why do we resist, deny, and repress that which makes us humans in the first place? Our feelings!
Why are we ultimately afraid of ourselves?
"The most important part of prayer is what we feel, not what we say. We spend a great deal of time telling God what we think should be done, and not enough time waiting in the stillness for God to tell us what to do. " ~Peace Pilgrim Quote is taken from page 76 of: Peace Pilgrim: Her Life and Work in Her Own Words
Here’s the article -
Study: Up to 25% wrongly diagnosed as depressed
--------------------
By Shankar Vedantam
The Washington Post
April 3, 2007
WASHINGTON -- Up to 25 percent of people whom psychiatrists would diagnose as depressed may only be reacting normally to stressful events such as divorces or losing a job, according to a new analysis that re-examined how the standard diagnostic criteria are used.
The finding could have far-reaching consequences for the diagnosis of depression, the growing use of symptom checklists in identifying people who might be depressed, and the $12 billion a year U.S. market for antidepressant drugs.
Patients currently are diagnosed on the basis of a constellation of symptoms that include sadness, fatigue, insomnia and suicidal thoughts.
The diagnostic manual used by psychiatrists says that anyone who suffers from at least five such symptoms for as little as two weeks may be clinically depressed. Only in the case of someone grieving over the death of a loved one is it normal for symptoms to last as long as two months, the manual says.
The new study, however, found that extended periods of depression-like symptoms are common in people who have been through events such as divorce and don`t necessarily constitute illness.
The study, published Tuesday in the Archives of General Psychiatry, also suggests that drug treatment often may be inappropriate for people who are going through painful -- but normal -- responses to life`s stresses. Supportive therapy on the other hand, might be useful -- and might keep a person who has been through a divorce or has lost a prized job from going on to develop clinical depression.
The researchers, including Dr. Michael First of Columbia University, the editor of the authoritative diagnostic manual, based their findings on a national survey of 8,098 people.
They found that people who had been through stressful events frequently had prolonged periods when they reported many symptoms of depression. Only a fraction, however, had severe symptoms that deserved to be classified as clinical depression, the researchers said.
About 1 in 6 Americans currently are estimated to suffer depression at some point in their lives.
"The cost of not looking at context is you think anyone who comes under this diagnosis has a biological disorder [and] so should more or less automatically get antidepressant medication, and everything else is superfluous," said lead author Jerome Wakefield, a New York University researcher.
"If someone has a normal grief reaction, you wouldn`t give that person an antidepressant; you would favor counseling," First said. "If someone has major depression you would be more likely to medicate. So this could influence how clinicians think about medications or psychotherapy."
First warned that people who are in pain after a divorce or other stressful event should seek the counsel of clinicians who take the time to explore what caused the symptoms and whether they need treatment.
Wakefield and Allan Horwitz, a researcher at Rutgers University, said their study, points out that sadness has increasingly come to be seen as pathological in America.
Pharmaceutical corporations, psychiatry and patient advocacy groups have contributed to the phenomenon, Horwitz said. Companies stand to make more money from the one-size-fits-all approach, researchers find the cookie-cutter model of disease makes it easier to do studies, and psychiatry has come to think of itself as "the arbiter of normality," he said. Copyright (c) 2007, Chicago Tribune
Clearly, it is more important than ever to talk about what it is like to live with the death of someone you love. In reality, by being authentic - be being honest - by being real ... we are making the next person`s journey that much easier. Because we are bursting the taboo that says...
"don`t speak of it."
Plant seeds of peace,
Tom
Monday, April 2, 2007 8:29 a.m.
|
Storms |
"When a storm comes, it stays for some time, and then it goes. An emotion is like that too-it comes and stays for a while, and then it goes. An emotion is only an emotion. We are much, much more than an emotion."
~Thich Nhat Hanh
Quote is taken from page 37 of: Be Free Where You Are |
|
Today`s Affirmation |
|
I am more than I thought I was. |
|
Today`s Meditation |
|
Dear God,
I know that storms are temporary conditions and will pass away.
Even when a storm is fierce, my anchor in You keeps me steadfast.
Many things have changed and more changes come,
still I stand in the truth of love and know that I shall not be moved.
Because You are always with me;
I am stronger than any storm.
I can withstand any condition or situation,
I am filled with Your perfect peace,
I am a dynamic and evolving expression of that which You are,
I am happy, joyful, calm, peaceful and serene.
So it is!
Amen |
I received the above in an email today... perfect!
Peace,
Tom
Friday, March 30, 2007 11:20 am
My birthday is Monday – April 2nd. I’m going to be 50. Hard to believe. So, I’m going to take a moment and toot my own horn.
A few weeks ago, I spoke in Park Ridge, IL. I titled my presentation
“Permission to Mourn: Opening to the Transformational Power of Loss.”
Over the course of time the title morphed into:
Opening to the Transformational Power of Love…
to...
Opening to the Transformational Power of Life.
Divine.
The other day, I received this letter from Maureen, the woman who invited me to speak.
Dear Tom:
On behalf of the Steering Committee of Theology of Park Ridge, I thank you for speaking to our group. You are a powerful witness to the statement that you are being held at every moment by a God who loves you. Seeing and hearing you we know that to be true. And so it must be true for each of us.
Some of your realizations that will stay with us are: feelings have a beginning, middle and end but they need to be expressed to have them end, that denial initially is not a bad reaction because it allows reality to trickle in, gives us time to regroup and assess our situation, that we use an incredible amount of energy to stuffing our grief as society demands and that we best can accompany a grieving person by allowing then to mourn in our presence without trying to fix them.
You might never know how much you helped by sharing your grief and your growth in faith and wisdom with us but you truly blessed us with your presence. Thank you again.
Gratefully:
Maureen
Also enclosed were these comments from participants:
Absolutely marvelous!
Thank you. I feel encouraged to be more open about my sorrows and heal – the journey continues.
Very excellent speaker. Should give more talks regarding grief, mourning and healing.
Well received and very informative and open.
Heartfelt and natural and affecting. Appreciated his ending points from experience, especially about the “divine spark in all of us.” Amen.
It was a wonderful talk and enjoyed your insight into loss and grief. Thanks.
So much to think about and truly appreciated help in knowing how to help others who are grieving. What a gift of love he shared!
Very moving presentation – believe we all could relate to his experiences. God continue to bless him.
Very moving – excellent!
Excellent!
Wonderful, moving presentation. So grateful for his courage and willingness to share.
To share his life story with honesty and compassion – giving us the chance to examine our own basic belief about life.
Outstanding! Genuine, sincere, knowledgeable.
Excellent presentation! Poignant, powerful.
He brought me into his life – I gained much knowledge from him bout his mourning. He was a very generous speaker – sharing his thoughts and feelings.
Touched our hearts
As I have said before – because we all connected – when you heal, I heal…and when I heal, you heal. Speaking in Park Ridge was a very healing experience for me.
Plant one seed of peace today,
Tom
P.S. I am facilitating a 5-part workshop beginning Tuesday, April 3rd called, "Planting Seeds of Rebirth." For more information... read my March 28th entry.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007 10:55 pm
My friend Lynne sent me this quote at the 2nd anniversary of my son Rory’s death. It reminds me of a prayer.
“The truest words of all: I will not forget you. You are in my waking thoughts, my sweetest memories, my dearest dreams. I will not forget you. You have touched my soul, opened my eyes, changed my very experience of the universe. I will not forget you. I see you in the flowers, the sunset, the sweep of the horizon, and all the things that stretch to infinity. I will not forget you. I have carved you on the poem of my hand. I carry you with me forever.”
Ellen Sue Stern, 1995
Living With Loss
Beautiful words!
A reminder that I am facilitating a 5-part workshop at Womanspace in Rockford beginning Tuesday, April 3rd. We will meet for 5 consecutive Tuesdays from 6:30-9:00 pm. The series is called:
Planting Seeds of Rebirth
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, 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. 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.
Cost for all five sessions is $75.00
If you – or someone you know – would like to participate, registration is through Womanspace at 815.877.0118.
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”
Plant seeds of peace today,
Tom
Tuesday, March 20, 2007 7:29 am
Spring…
Finally.
Those of us learning to live with the death of someone we love wonder if it will ever feel like spring again.
New.
Warm.
Fresh.
Hope-filled.
Unlimited possibility.
Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes.
It will.
Last year at this time, my friend Jean McVay wrote these words about the Spring Equinox. They bear repeating.
The day when the Spring Equinox occurs is the perfect and equal balance of light and dark.
This marks the beginning of emergence, growth and transformation. Tiny seeds have been resting inside the dark earth and now begin their upward journey. Through the great mystery of nature, they feel the call of the light; they strongly push their way through the soil. Sap begins to move in the roots of the trees and bushes.
As the light increases, the seeds resting inside of us, our dreams, intentions and possibilities begin to stir and seek to emerge. Now is the time to manifest what has been gestating within. What has been sleeping and gaining strength, waiting for this signal, is calling those parts of us to come forth! It is the time in the great cycle/circle of life to give creation to what has been planted in us.
What can you do today to consciously lean into your own transformation?
To allow the seeds of transformation that are deep within you to begin to take root?
How can you step into spring today?
If even for a moment?
Peace,
Tom
Sunday, March 18, 2007 12:18 pm
I received this in an email today. I like it!
|
What Does Healing Look Like? |
|
“Have you been waiting for a healing that doesn’t seem to come? The specific issue might be a disease or some physical ailment. Or maybe the condition was of an emotional or spiritual nature. Regardless of the cause, most of us have yearned for healing. Perhaps you are expecting the experience to look a certain way – according to your perception of the need? Healing comes in the form that best serves each individual souls growth.”
“As we release our preconceived ideas about how healing should appear, we experience the perfection that already exists for us in God. Are you ready to be whole?”
~Ric Beattie & Karen Boland |
|
Today`s Affirmation |
| I open my self to the healing power and presence of Love. |
|
Today`s Meditation |
|
Dear God,
Thank You for expanding my understanding about healing.
I move forward through each condition and circumstance trusting that all is in divine order.
I am complete and whole in every way.
Peace and joy fill my heart and mind.
Wherever this journey leads, I know that You are with me always.
In this moment, I am whole just as I am.
Thank You God!
Amen |
Thursday, March 15, 2007 12:49 pm
Dear Friends,
I spoke in Park Ridge yesterday morning and it was really an honor to do that. Before I even started, a woman came up to me and asked if I was the speaker.
“What is the format?” she asked. Will I have to say something? I don’t want to have to talk.”
I assured her that, “No, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to!”
I then asked, “Are you here because you are living with the death of someone you love?”
Her eyes started to swell with tears as she said, “Yes, my husband. My husband died in November.”
I gave her a big hug. I said I was sorry. What else needs to be done?
She was all alone.
I told her I thought she was incredibly brave to come by herself. I told her I thought she had real courage and hoped she found the presentation helpful.
At the end of my presentation, another woman came up and introduced herself to me. She told me she had grown up in Rockford. She was familiar with some of the details of my story. She graduated from the same school in town that my son Rory was attending when he got sick.
She told me she found my words helpful and thanked me.
Of course, I thanked her for coming and asked her what brought her to the program.
Again, tears welled up in her eyes.
My son died.
He committed suicide.
He hung himself.
He was 12-years-old.
I gave her a big hug. I said I was sorry. What else needs to be done?
Peace, peace, peace,
Tom
Wednesday, March 7, 2007 9:53 a.m.
“Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it
and whispers, ‘Grow, grow.’”
~The Talmud
"Permission to Mourn:
Opening to the Transformational Power of Loss"
9:15 am to 11:15 am
St. Luke`s Lutheran Church
205 N. Prospect
Park Ridge, Illinois
Cost of the program is $8.00
Reservations can be made by calling 773.774.4421.
I will be a guest on the radio show
"Conversations with Kelly & Ellen..." NewsTalk 1060 WRHL.
Tuesday, March 13 from about 1:15 to 1:45 p.m. CST
If you are in the area you can try to listen to it at 1060AM.
The program is also streaming online so you can listen to it from the comfort of your home or office using your computer at www.wrhl.net.
I’m also facilitating a 5-part workshop at Womanspace beginning Tuesday, April 3rd called:
“Planting Seeds of Rebirth”
Spring is a time of birth and rebirth. Take time to discover what wants to be born in you.
Tuesdays, April 3, 10, 17, 24 and May 1
6:30-9:00 pm
Cost for 5-part series is $75.00.
You can register by calling 815.877.0118
Workshops will be held at Womanspace, 3333 Marie Linden Drive in Rockford.
This series is open to both men and woman.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007 11:52 a.m.
I will be speaking on Wednesday, March 14th from 9:15 am to 11:15 am as part of this Spring`s "Theology of Park Ridge." The name of my presentation is "Permission to Mourn: Opening to the Transformational Power of Loss."
I have seen my presentation advertised in two different places and the title has actually been “morphing.” It has gone from:
“Opening to the Transformational Power of Loss” to
“Opening to the Transformational Power of Life” to
“Opening to the Transformational Power of Love.”
I like them all.
I will speak for about an hour…followed by time for discussion and then questions and answers.
If you are in the area, I hope you will consider attending – and if you know someone living in the area of Park Ridge who is living with loss, please extend my invitation to him or her.
This presentation is open to the public and will be held at St. Luke`s Lutheran Church, 205 N. Prospect in Park Ridge, Illinois. Cost of the program is $8.00 and reservations can be made by calling 773.774.4421.
Peace to you,
Tom
Friday, February 16, 2006 11:41 am
I’m wondering how many of you saw Oprah yesterday? Her guests were the medium John Edward and the woman who the television show “Medium” is based on. She helps law enforcement officials try to solve crimes through her psychic abilities.
I have seen many of these “experts” on television over the years and have read a handful of their books. They all seem to say the same things…
Our loved ones are safe.
They are at peace.
They are no longer suffering if, indeed, they did suffer here on earth.
They love us.
They forgive us and/or ask for our forgiveness if that is, indeed, necessary.
They are aware of us and can communicate with us.
They want us to be happy.
We will see each other and be with each other again.
Who would you be if you surrendered to that message? Can you take a moment and answer that question? Who would you be?
Who would you be if you knew without a doubt that your loved one who has died is perfectly safe?
Who would you be if you believed with your whole heart that he was at peace?
Who would you be if you knew that she was no longer suffering or in pain?
Who would you be if you knew that his love for you is stronger today – and more powerful – than it has ever been?
Who would you be if you felt forgiveness?
Who would you be if you truly believed that she was communicating with you. Those are not coincidences… that truly is a sign from her?
Would you be able to take steps towards a new happiness in your life if you believed that is what he wants for you?
Who would you be if you knew that you would be together again – in the blink of an eye?
Are your current beliefs bringing you peace – or are they causing pain?
You can choose peace.
You can surrender to what is.
Tom
Thursday, February 15, 2007 11:25 am
“No one can give you wisdom. You must discover it for yourself, on the journey through life, which no one can take for you.”
~Sun Bear
While channel surfing last night I “happened” to stop at CNN for a moment. The reporter was telling the story of a mother and father who were on a boat with their twenty-something daughter and either her new husband or fiancé (I can’t recall). Something happened to the boat and in a very short time the boat and all of its passengers were flailing in the water. Somehow, someway, the mother and father were able to hold on until they were rescued. Their daughter and her husband were not so lucky. Later that evening the distraught parents were told that the rescue efforts would be called off because of night fall. The next day, the two dead bodies were found.
The mother said that she experienced sharp, constant physical pain to her heart. Fearing a heart attack, the doctors scheduled all the necessary tests… later concluding that “no, she was not physically having a heart attack.”
The doctors did agree though, that this woman was suffering from a broken heart and experiencing many of the same symptoms someone with a heart attack would be experiencing. They concluded that her emotional state – living with the death of her daughter, her son-in-law… and coming very close to her own death in the water – triggered these very real, heart-attack-like symptoms.
As I have said before, I am amazed at how ill equipped and ill prepared we are to deal with the death of someone we love… and to support those in our lives who are living with the death of a loved one.
I was encouraged by this CNN story – recognizing the very real, physical symptoms of a broken heart. My hope is that by acknowledging the reality… we can begin to take the steps necessary to learn how to assist the “patients” – those that are learning to live – day-by-day, moment-by-moment – with the death of someone they love who has died.
Peace to all who are living with a broken heart,
Tom
Wednesday, January 31, 2007 10:39 am
On Martin Luther King Day, I made my almost daily trek to our neighborhood grocery store. As I was moving through the checkout line I noticed a new magazine called, “Rockford Life.” I was vaguely familiar with it…having seen a billboard or two around town promoting it and reading about its recent debut in our local newspaper. I decided to spend the $3.99 and bought the January issue.
I liked it. After skimming through it’s glossy, color pages I remember thinking, “This might be a great vehicle for me to connect with more people in the area. I wonder how I could get them to do a story on me and the work I am doing with people who are navigating grief and learning how to mourn?”
The very next day, I received an email with the subject “Interview for Rockford Life” from the magazine’s editor-in-chief Mary George:
"I would like to interview you for our ‘People Profile’ in the March issue. You have an amazing story to tell and I would like to share a glimpse of it with our readers. Interested?"
Of course I was interested! I emailed Mary the next day and we scheduled an interview for Thursday, January 18th. We spent about an hour-and-a-half together. Mary asked if she could tape record our conversation to ensure the accuracy of her piece. She was thinking she would write it in a question and answer style.
Our conversation meandered all over the place touching on Erin’s death in 1990, Trici’s death nine years later and, of course, Rory’s death almost two years ago. We also talked about my life between the deaths... and since. Mary was also very interested in “how do you go on?” “How do you keep living?” “How do you rebuild the dream you have of your life… and of life itself?”
It had been quite some time since I had talked in such depth about the past 16 years of my life. So, in that sense, I would say the interview was therapeutic for me…taking me back to moments in my life that I had not recently visited.
I tried to explain to Mary that the incredible pain I experienced – for many years - after the sudden death of my daughter Erin was something I hoped never to have to live through again. It was simply too much to bear and there were certainly times I thought I would not be able to escape the deep, dark hole that I found myself in. I tried to explain that when Trici died in 1999 – I continued to pursue the spiritual path I found myself on… with the goal of trying to figure out how to end my suffering.
I found myself coming back to this quote from Epictetus, a Greek philosopher:
We are disturbed not by what happens to us,
but by our thoughts about what happens.
And I began to ask myself… is this true?
Is it true that it is my thoughts about Erin’s death and Trici’s death and now Rory’s death that are causing me the most pain?
And if so… can I identify those painful thoughts?
And once identified… do I have the power to change those thoughts. To replace them with thoughts that are less painful – or better yet, don’t cause me any pain at all?
Those questions have given me so much to think about... and, for me, have made all the difference.
Peace to all who are navigating this journey through grief and who are learning how to mourn,
Tom
Saturday, December 30, 2006 1:06 pm
As some of you know, my wife Trici died very suddenly on January 1st 1999. My two sons, Rory and Sean were only 7 and 3 at the time. My style of parenting has always been very child-centered and both Rory and Sean were involved in deciding when they would go back to school following their mother`s death. I thought - intuitively - that they would know what was best for themselves
Within days, Sean was back at pre-school. His choice. A good one for him.
Rory, on the other hand, had no desire to hurry back to school. I think he was old enough and wise enough to realize that life – for him – had changed forever. Without a mother, he knew he was different from most of the other kids at school and the last thing this 7-year-old wanted was to be different. So he stayed home from first grade. Until he was ready to go back.
After 2-3 weeks passed, I remember asking him if he at least wanted to see his friends.
“Yes, Daddy. I want to see my friends. But I don’t want any of them to see me.”
So, we snuck into school in the middle of the day and he got to peer into the classroom window to take a peak at his classmates. Still not ready to go back, tho.
After about 6 weeks, he decided he’d try to go back to school – but only for a few hours. Those few hours a day gradually increased and when he was ready – on his own timetable - he was back to school full-time.
On one of his first days back, his teacher handed him a bag stuffed with tissue paper and I wasn’t sure what else. He tried to grab the bag with his 7-year-old fingers but it dropped to the floor. Crash. I could tell instantly that whatever it was that was in the bag had broke.
I gently unwrapped the tissue to find a clay, hand-made snowman shattered into eight pieces.
We wrapped the broken snowman in the tissue, put it back in the bag and walked home.
I had every intention of gluing the eight pieces back together again that year. But instead, Rory’s broken snowman got packed away with all the other Christmas ornaments.
To be discovered again the next Christmas… and the next…and the next…
Always the same. Eight pieces of Rory’s clay snowman staring at me each Christmas season from the Christmas tin that they now called home.
Six Christmas’ came and went and each year I thought about gluing the pieces back together again.
A part of me wanted too.
A part of me thought I should.
But I never did.
Perhaps I couldn’t.
Perhaps it was simply too soon.
But this Christmas season was different.
This Christmas season I bought the white wooden 9” x 11” shadow box. I even paid full price for it. I decided on a gold matt with an oval cutout. And a few days before Christmas, using a hot glue gun, I very carefully pieced Rory`s hand-made, clay snowman together. Cracked edge up against cracked edge.
And it looks beautiful.
And I love it.
And it makes me mostly happy…and a little sad…and eternally grateful that the little 7-year-old hands that crafted the clay touched my life so deeply.
I was ready to glue the pieces back together. Cracked edge up against cracked edge.
Beautiful no less.
Peace,
Tom
Wednesday, December 20, 2006 9:26 pm
An invitation has been extended from some of the people who regularly post in the Guestbook to join together Thursday evening, December 21st in a sacred circle to light a candle and remember and honor those that we have love that have died. Paul has suggested that at 7 p.m. Pacific, 9pm Central, 10 p.m. Eastern, etc., if you can, light a candle, and for about 6 minutes imagine we are standing in a circle together, receiving our loved one’s love, and then giving our loved one(s) love, praying for our loved one if you like to pray.
I like that idea.
The Winter Solstice is tomorrow, Thursday, December 21st at 7:22 pm EST. There was an article written by Beth Botts in this past Sunday’s Chicago Tribune titled, “Out of Darkness, Rebirth.”
It’s amazing to me how these words can speak directly to those of us that are living this holiday season with the death of someone we love.
I will think of you all tomorrow as I light my candle.
Out of Darkness, Rebirth
The darkest day is the birthday of hope: For many thousands of years, that is what the winter solstice has meant to people all over the world.
Friday is the shortest day of the year, when night has its greatest dominion. But it also is the day that light begins to grow.
And from ancient times -- in imperial Persia and prehistoric Ireland, in Peru and China, in Scandinavia and Rome -- it has provided powerful metaphors of survival and rebirth to help us face the apparent death of the natural world and look on to the season of new growth to come.
Many of the customs we associate with Christmas have their roots in pagan winter solstice celebrations from northern Europe, where the longest darkness and deepest cold brought the greatest fear.
Thousands of years ago in pre-Christian Scandinavia, a giant oak log was burned to symbolize strength and endurance, as the household gathered around the fire in the face of darkness. That image of the fire on the hearth still is central to our idea of Christmas. Traditionally the log that celebrated Yule -- a name probably derived from an old word for wheel, as the wheel of the year turned -- was big enough to light 12 days of feasting. A fragment would be saved to light next year`s log, symbolizing continuity and rebirth.
In Celtic myth, the winter solstice was the time that the Oak King -- who had grown weaker through the fall, just as his sacred trees lost their leaves -- revived to do battle with his evergreen twin, the Holly King. Holly long has been associated with European midwinter celebrations, because it remains green and holds it berries at a time when so much of the forest is gray or brown and seems dead. Later, as a new metaphor arose for light and rebirth, the holly`s berries, like those of mistletoe, came to be associated with the blood of Christ.
Evergreens, with their apparent ability to defy winter`s death, long have been sacred in Northern European traditions. At the solstice, evergreens were decorated with offerings to beckon the return of the growing year. After the Middle Ages, the custom began to move indoors, and it entered American tradition after the German-born Prince Albert introduced the Christmas tree to England in 1841.
All these customs speak to what the old pagans saw -- the forest dying, the world darkening and closing in and threatening their lives with its deadly cold -- and what they deeply hoped: That underneath it all, the world was still alive.
Of course it is. The yews in the front yard may still have red berries, if the birds haven`t gotten them. Cones at the top of pines are ready to fall and drop seeds. Many plants -- such as lilacs -- already have formed the buds of next year`s flowers, bundled up and waiting to bloom.
The dead-looking trees that dropped their leaves were merely conserving energy and moisture as they hunkered down to nap. The compost pile may not be cooking, but the busy little microbes are still there, waiting for warmer days. The ground may be frozen at the surface, but a few inches down, roots still are alive and bulbs already hold next year`s tulips and lilies.
Many animals are hibernating. But others will be awake all winter, scurrying under the snow or visiting the bird feeder.
Unlike ancient pagans, we have science to tell us that the solstice -- Friday in Chicago and the rest of the Northern Hemisphere -- is simply the day when the Earth`s axis tips us farthest from the sun, so the sun appears lowest and weakest in the sky and has the shortest arc. As the Earth tips back, the days will inevitably grow longer.
Knowing is one thing. Real comfort comes when we deck our houses with evergreens, light fires and candles, feast with our families to banish cold and dark, sing songs, worship together and tell sacred stories of hope and rebirth.
But we can also seize a couple of those fleeting hours of midwinter sunlight to take a walk. Catch the glisten of a berry or the flicker of a bird. Look for the subtle swelling of a bud. Spot the tracks of a field mouse. Remember where we planted the crocuses. Scatter, perhaps, a few seeds of some sturdy native wildflower on the snow, which may float them down to the ground as it melts and keep them moist to germinate in the spring.
There is no finer promise of better days to come.
Let us find peace in the ancient promise of better days to come,
Tom
Thursday, December 7, 2006 11:37 am
Dear Friends,
Christmas is getting closer and I know for some of you it’s like a ticking time bomb. You can feel the pressure building. It’s as if you’re being squeezed from the inside. Try as you may to pretend… to force a smile… to “get into the spirit”… the truth is if you hear one more Christmas carol you might just explode…or implode.
The thought of baking cookies, buying presents (to say nothing of the thought of actually having to wrap them), putting up a Christmas tree – all without the physical presence of the person you love that has died – feels like more than you can bear.
Perhaps it is.
This year.
Darcie Simms, Ph.D. in an article called, “Low Fat Holidays” offers this suggestion:
“REDEFINE EXPECTATIONS of self and others. Be honest in what you expect to be able to do. We live in a world of oughts and shoulds and suffer from guilt because we can’t meet our own expectations.”
As I’ve said before, I think most of us are ill-prepared and ill-equipped when it comes to living with the death of someone we love. So often I hear people say… “I should be moving on. But I can’t. I miss him so much.”
The words “moving on” seem too harsh to me. They suggest leaving our loved ones behind. I like the phrase “moving with” as in “I’m learning to move with the death of the person I love.”
Three months, six months, nine months, 18 months after the death of someone you love – it is surprising to realize that you are simply are not able to “do” Christmas like you’ve always done it?
Not to me. With the death of someone you love, everything has changed. Everything.
So, I agree with Darcie Simms when she suggests that we need to REDEFINE EXPECTATIONS.”
OF YOURSELF AND OF OTHERS AROUND YOU.
But to do that, you need to be honest about what your expectations are… of yourself and of others.
And that demands some time alone. By yourself. To assess where you are right now.
And that can be particularly frightening. Facing the reality of your new life.
It is, however, what is required if you choose to re-engage and re-connect with life – again, or perhaps for the first time.
Step-by-step. Moment-by-moment.
Simply be with yourself and your new life.
Be gentle.
Peace,
Tom
Saturday, December 2, 2006 11:40 am
My friend Lynne posted this simple, yet meaningful Candlelight Memorial Service in the Guestbook some weeks back. I used it Wednesday evening at my workshop, “Honoring the Life of Someone You Know that has Died.” I like it and encourage you to consider incorporating it into your personal and/or public celebrations this holiday season.
Candlelight Memorial
During the holidays, it is often difficult to find ways to include your loved one in 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 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.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006 2:23 pm
“We must be willing to get rid of the life we`ve planned, so as to have the life that is awaiting us.... The old skin has to be shed before the new one is to come.”
~Joseph Campbell
I’m noticing that a few articles with tips for “Coping with the Holidays” are appearing in newspapers and magazines. Perhaps you’ve noticed too.
My hunch is that these articles are a staple for this time of year… but like so many things, until you need it, you don’t even notice it. Or if you’ve noticed these articles in the past, there’s a good chance you’ve skimmed right through them. Why wouldn’t you?
Death is a long way off.
Until it hits us. Then it demands our attention. It can consume us.
Especially at the beginning. And the length of “the beginning” varies for everyone… and is usually a lot longer and more intense and more crippling then any of us imagined possible.
One of these articles by Darcie Sims, Ph.D. included this tip:
"UNDERSTAND THAT HEARTACHES WILL BE UNPACKED as you sift through the decorations,
but so too are the warm, loving memories of each piece.
Don’t deny yourself the gift of healing tears."
There’s a really good chance that the first part of this tip will be true for most of us – heartache will be unpacked as we sift through the decorations. It has certainly been true for me. Last Christmas was my first without my son, Rory. What made getting ready for Christmas 2005 additionally tough was that as I packed away Christmas 2004, I was pretty certain that it was to be my last with my 13-year-old son. Of course, we clung to hope… but I knew his prognosis…and he died about two months later.
So in preparing for Christmas last year, I balanced my son Sean’s excitement and exuberance for all things Christmas (remember Dad we put the nutcrackers here, the nativity here, the snow globes there and on and on) with the memories…
Of the sound of Trici’s voice telling me about the ornaments her mother made for her each Christmas as she was growing up. Ornaments that now hung on our tree that she hoped to pass on to Rory and Sean for their own trees.
Of the “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments we received that Christmas of 1988 when we were waiting for Erin. Ornaments we continue to hang each year.
Of Rory waiting patiently to hang the “Littlest Angel” ornament that my sister-in-law Linda gave us that first Christmas without Erin.
Of the hand made ornaments Mariah gave us that last Christmas Trici was alive… round ornaments with “Tom,” “Trici,” “Rory” and “Sean” written in glitter.
And of the Christmas stockings that Trici’s oldest sister Mary Nora hand made for us when life was very, very different. Five beautiful needlepoint stockings – one for each of us.
Try to prepare yourself… because I am sure that as you unpack your own decorations you will be met by your own memories and your own heartache.
Don’t deny yourself the healing gift of tears. Crying is normal. It’s healthy. Why wouldn’t you cry?
So be prepared. Have tissues on hand. Take your time. Don’t overdue it. Perhaps you’ll decide to spread the decorating over a week – rather than cram it all into a day or a weekend.
You might find comfort decorating all by yourself… so you can really BE with your memories. Or you may find comfort in inviting a special friend or family members to be with you and share the experience.
Or you may not know exactly what you want to do. That’s okay. Grief is like that.
My hope is that you will also unpack the warm, loving memories of each piece. But if that is too much to ask for this year – so be it.
I liked Susie’s idea of buying a brand new ornament this year in memory of her daughter Heather. A homemade angel bear. A new tradition. Not to replace, but to add to. I like that.
To me, that’s a very tangible way to lean into this new life… rather than resisting it.
Let us know what you decide to do and how it goes.
Peace,
Tom
Monday, November 27, 2006 5:46 pm
If you are reading this post then somehow, someway you survived Thanksgiving. I know for many who visit this site – the thought of experiencing the Thanksgiving holiday without the person they love physically by their side - seemed, at times, to be more than they could bear. But you survived. One day turned into the next, which turned into the next, which turned into the next. It’s how it works. Still. Even though someone you love has died. Time unfolds.
Most people I hear from say – in retrospect – that it’s the anticipation of the upcoming holiday, or birthday, or anniversary that is most painful. To their surprise, the actual day that they have dreaded for weeks and weeks turns out to be “not so bad” after all. For many, that comes as a complete – yet pleasant surprise.
You might want to consider this past holiday weekend a dry run for Christmas and New Years. Especially if you are dreading them. What have you learned?
Was the anticipation of Thanksgiving really worse then the actual day? If so, is it possible that Christmas doesn’t have to be as horrible as you may be imagining it will be?
Did you remember to take good care of yourself…even if it meant disappointing someone else?
If you adhered to all of your customary holiday traditions – did that feel good and was it comforting to you?
Or did you try something new this Thanksgiving? If so, was that comforting? Did that feel good?
Did you do something special to make sure that your loved one who has died was still part of your Thanksgiving celebration?
Did you light a candle?
Display a favorite photograph?
Share special memories?
Visit the cemetery?
Say a special prayer?
Go for a walk?
Make time to look at photographs or videotape?
Or was there another way you remembered?
If so… will you do something similar on Christmas? On New Year’s Eve?
You get to choose to consciously participate in this new life of yours. If you can, try and figure out a way to be really kind to yourself this holiday season. The person who knows best - what you need and want to heal your broken heart and spirit - is you!
Wishing you peaceful moments,
Tom
Thanksgiving Day 2006
I received a December newsletter from a local hospice the other day. Inside was a quote that resonated with me:
“One day – an idea that will horrify you now – this intolerable misfortune will become a blessed memory of a being who will never again leave you. But you are in a stage of unhappiness where it is impossible for you to have faith in these reassurances.”
Marcel Proust, for a letter to a recently bereaved friend
…a blessed memory of a being who will never again leave you. I like that.
If this is your first Thanksgiving without the person you love physically with you due to death … or if this is an especially hard Thansgiving season for you… hold on, hold on, hold on.
Wishing you moments of peace and connection to the being who will never leave you again,
Tom
Thursday, November 9, 2006 10:40 am
Last night was the first night of my 5-part workshop series called, “Honoring the Life of Someone You Love That Has Died.” I purposely scheduled the series to coincide with the holiday season – realizing this time of year can be especially hard for those of us that are living with the death of someone we love… regardless of how long ago the death occurred.
The closer we get to Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the beginning of a new year – the larger the disconnect may seem. The messages we hear over and over again are of “a blessed Thanksgiving,” “Peace on Earth,” and “Happy New Year.” Each of these messages may be at odds with what we are thinking and feeling. The urge may be to run and hide until mid-January.
One of the women attending the workshop said she was completely caught off guard by the effect her husband’s death has had on her life. She has been surprised because she said she lived through her father’s death with her own mom… trying to be understanding and be supportive. But until she, herself experienced the death of her beloved spouse… she said she didn’t have clue. She admitted that she didn’t really have clue what her mother went through trying to navigate life after her husband’s death. She has been surprised by the depth of sadness, and the anger, and the confusion, and the loneliness… and keeps wondering when things will change. I have said before that I think we are ill-prepared and ill-equipped to deal with the death of a loved one when it is our turn - as surely it will be.
I asked her what she’s looking for and after thinking about it for a moment or two…she said “peace.”
“I want to be at peace.”
Last year my niece Mariah suggested that we honor my son Rory in a special way. Brookfield Zoo has always been a special place for my family – especially around Christmas. Our tradition, birthed many years ago by Trici was that we would visit Santa Claus at the Zoo during their Holiday Magic festival. Mariah suggested that we sponsor a tree in Rory’s name and then gather together at the Zoo to decorate it with special ornaments. Last year’s tree trimming was a success so we will be doing it again at 10:00 am on Saturday morning, November 18th.
I appreciate the effort to bring Rory front and center during the holidays. As many of us have said… not hearing our loved one’s name spoken in the course of every day conversation can be painful… and the approaching holidays seems to intensify that pain. We don`t want our lives together to be forgotten.
It might be helpful to be proactive this holiday season. What can you do to honor the life of the person you love that has died? How can be sure that you hear his or her name spoken?
Peace to you,
Tom
Tuesday, October 24, 2006, 12:40 pm
Dear Friends,
I know that just the thought of the upcoming holidays can add a layer of unwanted stress to those of us living with loss. For that reason, I have scheduled two events in advance of the holidays that I hope will provide a safe space for us to gather together and be with our grief…with the intention of opening to transformation.
First, I am facilitating a 5-part series called,
“Honoring the Life of Someone You Love
That Has Died”
Beginning Wednesday, November 8th, this series of five workshops will be held on consecutive Wednesdays, skipping Thanksgiving week (November 8, 15, 29, December 6 and 13), from 6:30-9:00 pm at Womanspace, 3333 Marie Linden Drive in Rockford. Cost for the series is $75.00.
If you are living with the death of someone you love, please consider attending. Whether the death occurred 30 years ago, or six months ago, we often innocently rush to “close” the relationship we have with people we love that have died. The truth is, our relationship with those we love lives on long after that person has died. The question is - is that relationship a healthy one? Or is it a harmful relationship? During this holiday season, I am extending an invitation to people to create a sacred circle where we can gently, safely and lovingly reexamine the relationship(s) we have created with those people we love that have died using simple expressive arts activities… with the intention of finding peace and hope through connection.
I am also facilitating a Weekend Retreat at Womanspace called,
“Lean Into the Transformational Power of Loss”
on Friday evening, November 10th from 6:30-9:00 pm and Saturday, November 11th from 9:00 am to 4:00 pm. Cost is $60.00 and includes lunch.
I believe that with each breath we take, our losses are transforming us. During this creative, hands-on, interactive weekend retreat, attendees will consciously decide what role they choose to play in their own transformation. Using expressive arts in sacred space, attendees can discover a deeper understanding of grief and mourning as well as discover the gifts of denial. As each person better understands the after-effects of loss, he/she can begin to create his/her own plan to live fully with life’s losses. This workshop has been helpful to people living with a wide variety of losses including death, divorce, depression, substance abuse and relocation.
Please consider forwarding this information to family members and friends who you think might benefit from attending either of these of events.
Peace,
Tom
Tuesday, October 17, 2006, 12:26 pm
In the Guestbook, Carrie posed the following question:
"I would be interested to know if anyone thinks that very ill people negotiate some kind of passing during their sleep."
As some of you know, my 13-year-old son, Rory had a seizure in the middle of the night two days after he started 7th grade. The MRI showed a "hot spot" on his left temporal lobe and teams of doctors in both Rockford and Chicago misdiagnosed him for a little over 2 months.
During those 2 months, the biggest part of me believed he would have a full recovery. How could he not? His older sister had died in 1990 and his mom died in 1999. Surely the “plan” was not that he was going to die, leaving his younger brother Sean and I alone!
When Rory and I talked - trying to make sense of what was happening to him during those first 2 months - I would tell him that I felt very strongly that this experience was his own Rite of Passage. He was 13 years old... traditionally the age a boy becomes a man. Although he was baptized Catholic, he would not be making his Confirmation - a Rite of Passage for many Christians. If we were Jewish, he might be preparing for his bar mitzvah. Something inside felt very strongly that this was his Rite of Passage. I felt it was preparing him (all of us?) for “bigger and better things.”
When I heard the words, “your son has brain cancer…and we couldn’t remove it all” I was changed forever…in ways I can’t describe and am probably not fully aware of.
The doctors told me there was no cure. They outlined a treatment of chemotherapy and radiation that would simply buy him a little time. Months perhaps.
When I asked the question, they said without treatment he would live 6 months. With treatment - perhaps 12 months. That was in November. I remember counting 6 months forward to May. Rory’s mom’s birthday was in May. He couldn’t die in May.
I decided against traditional treatment.
He didn’t live the “promised” 6 months. He died a little over 3 months later.
And in those final weeks, it appeared to me that he went on an inward journey. He seemed to have less and less use for the “outside world” and he seemed to be “negotiating the passage” as Carrie suggested. His own "Rite of Passage."
He was scheduled to have a procedure that we hoped would reduce the swelling of his brain and allow him to “perk up” a bit. That Monday night his classmates, his teachers, his friends and family held a Candle Light Vigil outside his bedroom window. I asked him to squeeze my hand if he could hear his friends.
He squeezed.
“I love you Rory.” “Get better Rory.” “We’re with you Rory.”
Yes, he could hear his friends.
And the next morning, he died.
Yes, I think as he lay there he was negotiating his passage. His own Rite of Passage.
What do you think?
Blessings,
Tom
Friday, September 29, 2006, 10:13 am
In the days and weeks after our daughter Erin died in 1990, my wife Trici and I were desperate for any kind of help that might be available to us. We had no idea how we could possibly survive the unspeakable… yet knew we were not the first couple whose child had died. Someone told us about a support group for parents whose children had died. With a touch of trepidation, we decided to try it.
I remember hearing someone say that first night that we all had to be careful, “60% of couples that lose a child end up divorcing.” How sad, I thought. Not only did we lose our child… but now we’re in danger of losing our spouse.
The next meeting we attended, someone warned us… “70% of couples who lose a child end up divorcing. You have to be careful”
How odd, I thought. The statistic went from 60% to 70% in a month.
And I kid you not; by the time we attended our 3rd monthly meeting, someone whispered, “Did you know that 90% of couples that lose a child end up divorcing?”
I have heard a variation of these statistics repeated over and over again these past 16 years by many different people... including therapists. The belief that parents who lose a child are at a high risk for divorce has become a kind of urban legend.
I would guess, that like me, many of you tuned in to hear Elizabeth Edwards and her husband John talk about their son Wade’s death on Oprah the other day. I thought it was a good show, and appreciated Elizabeth’s honesty and look forward to reading her book.
I was disappointed though, that more energy was given to fueling the belief that parents who lose a child are at a higher risk of divorcing.
Quite some time ago, I remember reading about a survey conducted by The Compassionate Friends that suggested that that belief was simply not true. Yesterday, I emailed the group and this what they shared with me:
Grief and Divorce
Newly bereaved parents frequently read or hear disturbing statistics about a high divorce rate (often claimed to be 80-90%) among couples following the death of a child; however, TCF has never found reliable statistics concerning divorce rates following the death of a child.
To confirm or refute these claims, the survey included a series of questions regarding marital status. Based on the results, it is clear that the divorce rates quoted so often are erroneous. Overall, 72% of parents who were married at the time of their child’s death are still married to the same person. The remaining 28% of marriages include 16% in which one spouse had died, and only 12% of marriages that ended in divorce.
While this percent may be slightly understated due to sample composition, the undoubted conclusion is that the divorce rate among bereaved parents is significantly below the often-cited numbers, and may in fact be lower than the level in the population in general. Furthermore, even among the 12% of parents whose marriages ended in divorce, only one out of four of them felt that the impact of the death of their child contributed to their divorce.
“Coincidently” the woman who responded to my email is named Trish.
If you’d like to take a look at the complete survey you can go to:
Another myth about living with the death of some we love that has to be dispelled.
Blessings,
Tom
Wednesday, September 27, 2006 11:36 am
In Sunday’s Chicago Tribune there was an article called, “How To: Help A Friend Through the Death of a Loved One.” The article quoted the director of behavioral health at Lutheran General Hospital’s Advocate Medical Group in Park Ridge, IL:
“Just being there, even if you are at a loss for words, is better than your absence.
Don’t impose your religious beliefs on your friend. If you believe ‘it’s God’s will,’ keep it to yourself.
Don’t dismiss the death of an infant as a miscarriage.
Don’t tell parents they ‘can always have another child.’
Do remember that parents of a deceased child are still parents.”
I thought all of that was good advice… but I was really surprised by what followed… especially considering the position of the person that was being quoted… although I will concede (hope) that the reporter misquoted the person. This is what followed:
“If she doesn’t successfully advance through the stages of grief – disbelief, denial, anger, guilt, acceptance – you may want to suggest she see a professional counselor.”
Over and over I have read that Elisabeth Kubler-Ross identified the stages of grief that she observed people who are dying moving through. Never did she intend these stages to be used to measure the “progress” someone who is living with the death of someone they love is making. Wouldn’t it be nice if grief were as simple as “successfully advancing through 5 stages? Grief is a lot more complex than that. I’d be concerned if I was working with a therapist who was trying to make my journey through grief predictable, orderly and tidy… tracking my journey through the “5 stages.”
I was also surprised at the following quote:
“If your friend is unable to function or can’t return to work after a week or so, then she may need some help.”
Function after a week? We talked about this at length when I was in Las Vegas meeting with the families who children had DPG. After my wife died, and I was left with a 3-year-old and a 7-year-old staring at me with the look of “What do we do know, daddy?” I insisted that my mom stay with me. And she did. For several weeks. I could barely drag myself out of bed each morning. And when I did… I spent most of the day sitting at the dining room table or laying on the sofa. I remember telling people that asked that the best I could do was “concentrate on raising my eye lids up and down.” That was about all the energy I had for the day. There was no way that I was able to “function after a week or so.” Most people I have talked to have had a similar experience.
I think the thought that we’ll be functioning in a week is naïve, and ill-informed and may be damaging to someone who – like me – was barely able to function after the devastating loss. Barely functioning after the death of someone you love is a normal response.
So…in my opinion… there is a lot of bad advice still floating around out there for those of us who are finding our way through grief. Be careful. Don’t believe everything you read… or hear.
Trust your own intuition and be gentle with yourself. At the end of the day – remarkably – you are the one who knows what you need to heal. Trust yourself.
Blessings,
Tom
Wednesday, September 20, 2006 12:09 pm
As some of you know, I climbed Mt. Shasta in Northern California this summer.
I first saw this magnificent mountain about 5 years ago. I was driving north from my home in Walnut Creek. Once past Sacramento, the drive was flat and the terrain pretty unchanging… until the slope of the land started to move upwards. Slowly at first, you could hardly notice it. But then the vegetation changed and the land became hilly. And then the mountain ranges. To the left and to the right and sometimes – even straight-ahead – I could see the mountains. The farther north I drove – the more snow capped mountains I saw – even in the middle of summer. I remember thinking… these are beautiful. I wonder which one is Mt. Shasta?
And then – like the ending of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, when the “enormous mother space ship” finally comes into view – I saw Shasta in the distance. All 14,162 feet of her. There was no mistaking which mountain was Shasta. This was the mother of all mountains.
About 4 years ago, my friend Missy told me she was thinking of climbing the mountain. I told her I might be interested… would she send me some information? One look at the photos of the mountain and I knew it wasn’t for me. I took a pass on the climb and Missy decided the timing wasn’t right for her either.
Fast forward 4 years and several more trips to the town of Shasta – located at the base of the mountain – and I started to open to the possibility that perhaps I could climb the mountain.
Last January, David, Missy and I committed to the climb. I had already been walking (my idea of training) since August and thought committing to the climb would at least help me physically get in better shape. Rory’s sickness and death had physically taken its toll on my body and it was time to engage.
So, I walked... and walked... and walked.
Last spring I was talking to a friend of mine who had already climbed Shasta… several years before. She told me that it had been the most physically challenging thing she had ever done – in her entire life.
I was fascinated by her claim. For me, living with the death of my daughter – and then my wife – and now my son – was the most physically challenging thing I had ever experienced. I wondered how “walking through grief” compared with climbing Mt. Shasta?
The climb for me involved many firsts.
I had never hiked with a backpack before… and the beginning of this climb involved me carrying a 45-pound pack. I had never worn a headlamp. Never spent 2 nights sleeping in a tent pitched on snow…in the middle of summer. I had never climbed with ski poles or an ice ax. Never worn heavy-duty, super-duper hiking boots and crampons (bear-trap like mechanisms that attach to the bottom of hiking boots to make climbing in the snow easier.) Never worried about falling down the side of a mountain the “right” way. I had never climbed for 9 hours… in the middle of the night… into 45 mile per hour winds. I had never climbed into the middle of a Lenticular cloud. I had never had the pleasure of glicading down the side of a mountain.
As I said, the climb involved many firsts for me.
I didn’t make it to the top. High winds and minimal visibility – even after an hour-long wait with hopes of everything clearing up – forced us to turn back after reaching a height of about 13,000 feet.
Was it the most physically challenging thing I had ever done? Hour after hour after hour of one foot in front of the other in an almost completely vertical climb... in the dark. Thankful to find someone else’s footprints in the frozen snow… someone who had gone before me … whose struggle made my trek a bit easier. Remembering to breathe deeply (with each breath) to try and avoid altitude sickness. Seeking shelter from the cold and wind underneath a huge bolder. Clinging with all fours to the loose, slippery red rock.
Was it the most physically challenging thing I had ever done?
No.
Living with the death of someone I love has been the most physically challenging thing I have ever done. Unless you’ve traveled that path – that revelation may surprise you.
In addition to the emotional and spiritual challenges of grief… there are physical challenges as well. And, I think, they mostly catch us off-guard and ill-prepared.
In my talk in Buffalo Friday evening, I shared some of the physical “expressions of grief.”
Numbness
Dazed
Stunned
Heart Palpitations
Stomach pains
Dizziness
Confusion
Queasiness
Nauseous
Crying
Fainting
Uncontrolled laughter
Angry outbursts
Memory loss
Loss of balance
Restlessness
Agitation
Impatient
Disconnected
Hearing, Seeing, Feeling Things
Lack of sleep
Too much sleep
No appetite
Overeating
All physical expressions of grief.
I am glad I climbed the mountain. Had the weather cooperated, I am certain I could have reached the top. Physically, I am as strong as I thought I was.
For me, climbing Mt Shasta was a piece of cake compared to living with the death of someone I love.
Strength to you when you need it most,
Tom
Monday, September 18, 2006 9:57 am
I had the great pleasure of traveling to Buffalo, NY Friday to speak with a group of parents who are all living with the death of one (or more) of their children. My deepest thanks to Bev, Lesley and Mark for making this happen… and to Jim and Sue for hosting a wonderful breakfast Saturday morning… where the conversation continued. It was an incredible weekend. Very healing for me.
My presentation Friday evening was held at the Amherst Community Church. At one point in my presentation I very quickly tried to estimate the number of people in the room. I think there were between 70-80 people give or take a few. I spoke for about an hour and 40 minutes – followed by about an hour of questions and answers… always the richest, most authentic part of the evening.
These are some of the questions asked:
“My son died 5 months ago. I visit my son’s grave every week because I find it comforting. Friends and family members are telling me it’s time to move on and I should stop visiting the cemetery so often. Do you think that’s true?”
“How can I stop blaming myself for the death of our daughter?”
“I didn’t hear you say much about ‘guilt‘ - about the death being our fault.”
“Please address suicide.”
“Was your belief in God shaken?”
“Do you still feel your children’s presence?”
All great questions… questions I will tackle over the next few days.
There was an opportunity for me to meet people one-on-one after the formal presentation – and inevitably folks tell me about “signs” they have received from the people they love that have died. I can tell they are looking for a reaction in my face… do I believe them or do I think they’re nuts? YES, I believe them. I do believe that the people we love who have died can somehow communicate with us from the other side.
Three examples…
Before my presentation Friday evening, a small group met for dinner. As Lesley pulled into the parking lot, I couldn’t help but notice a store called, “Tricia’s Shoes” right next to the restaurant where we were gathering. My wife’s name was Trici (pronounced Trish)… so I made that fleeting mental note. Hmmmmmmm… Trici is here. It was Mark though, who made it public. “Did you notice that the store next to us is called Tricia’s Shoes? I immediately thought of your wife. What are the chances of that?” Someone else asked if Trici liked shoes by any chance. I had to laugh. Like shoes? Trici LOVED shoes. The higher the heel the better.
Coincidence?
Saturday morning, Jim drove me to Niagara Falls. I am so glad I took him up on his offer to drive me to this magnificent “world wonder.” As we pulled into the parking lot, Jim noticed that the license plate on the car in front of us had one word on it…”HEALING.” The license plate said, “HEALING.” What are the chances? We both smiled in amazement and gratitude.
Coincidence?
When we returned to Jim and Sue’s for breakfast, I couldn’t help but notice that Mark was wearing a T-shirt with the date July 18th front and center. My daughter Erin died on July 18th.
Coincidence?
Do I think that people we love can communicate with us from the other side… assuring us that they are “doing fine” and never far away?
Yes I do.
Do you?
Are there experiences you have had that you can share in the Guestbook to offer others hope?
Peace to you,
Tom
Wednesday, September 13, 2006, 1:37 pm
I am happy to let you know that beginning Wednesday evening, September 20th I will be facilitating a 5-part workshop at Womanspace in Rockford.
“A Safe Place to Feel Feelings”
Wednesdays, September 20, 27 and October 4, 11 and 18
6:30-9:30 pm
Cost for the 5 evenings is $75.00.
Giving yourself permission and space to feel all of your feelings is a first step to engaging with your authentic self, again - or for the first time.
If you are living with loss of any kind, 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. 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.
People who have attended my workshops have had this to say:
“Loved every minute of it. I want to repeat this experience.”
“The experience absolutely exceeded my expectations. It was so freeing and comfortable.”
“A gentle atmosphere that brings feelings to the surface to look at, explore and share.”
“Loved the art, the music, the candles, the circle.”
Peace,
Tom
Thursday, September 7, 2006, 9:05 am
One of the things I hate about grief is when that feeling of being stuck rises to the surface. Feeling absolutely stuck in a place that feels dark and oftentimes isolating, confusing and hopeless. Wanting to move through that place… but not exactly sure how to do that. Knowing that I’ve felt this way before - remembering that the feelings did have a beginning, middle and end - but nonetheless, feeling stuck in the “now” of it.
I think it might be about shifting energy. Doing something different. Adding something to the mix. Shaking things up a bit. Engaging - again.
I’ve starting re-reading one of my favorite books about grief by one of my favorite authors. The book is called, “Understanding Your Grief - Ten Essential Touchstones for Finding Hope and Healing Your Heart.” It’s by Alan D. Wolfelt, Ph. D. If you haven’t read it - I highly recommend it. It’s got a companion workbook that I think I will order.
In the first chapter, Alan talks about setting your intention to heal. He says,
“It takes a true commitment to heal your grief. Yes, you are wounded, but with commitment and intention you can and will become whole again. Commitment goes hand in hand with the concept of ‘setting your intention.’ Intention is defined as being conscious of what you want to experience. A close cousin to ‘affirmation’ it is using the power of positive thought to produce desired results…
When you set your intention to heal, you make a true commitment to positively influence the course of your journey. You choose between being what I call a ’passive witness’ or an ’active participant’ in your grief…
The concept of intention-setting presupposes that your outer reality is a direct reflection of your inner thoughts and beliefs. If you can change or mold some of your thoughts and beliefs, then you influence your reality. And in journaling and speaking (and praying!) your intentions, you help ‘set’ them.”
This morning, I received this daily thought today via email:
"As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives."
~Henry David Thoreau
The thought I am thinking over and over today is…
“I am healing. I am healing. I am healing.”
Join me,
Tom
Wednesday, September 6, 2006 12.06 pm
I like this quote. I think it`s accurate. It`s from a book called, "What to Do When Your Therapist Isn`t There." I haven`t read the book, so I`m not endorsing it... simply saw this quote in a review...
"...suddenly a big gigantic wave comes roaring onto the beach, and, with a crash, it takes you out to sea. You feel as if you are going to drown. It feels unbearable, and you know you cannot possibly survive. Then, miraculously, you are spit back onto the sand again."
When you find yourself at that place where you think you can`t possibly survive. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.
Patiently wait for the miracle. We will wait with you.
Peace,
Tom
Wednesday, August 23, 11:15 pm CST
My son Sean started practicing for Fall baseball tonight. The baseball diamond was very close to one of my favorite walking trails - so while he practiced baseball - I got to walk. During my walk, I was very conscious of the fact that tomorrow is the first day of school here in Rockford. Sean is going into 6th grade. Rory would be starting high school, a freshman and my daughter Erin, had she lived, would be a senior in high school.
As I was walking - lost in my thoughts - not far up the trail I saw a deer…standing as still as could be. It was beautiful. I wondered what my “Medicine Cards” book would say about deer…
“Gentleness - If deer has gently nudged its way into your life today, you are being asked to find the gentleness of spirit that heals all wounds. Stop pushing so hard to get others to change, and love them as they are. Apply gentleness to your present situation and become like the summer breeze: warm and caring. This is your tool for solving the present dilemma you are facing.”
Further down the trail, I came upon a snake.
“Transmutation - The snake teaches you on a personal level that you are a universal being. Through accepting all aspects of your life, you can bring about the transmutation of the fire medicine. This fire energy, when functioning on the material plane, creates passion, desire, procreation and physical vitality. On the emotional plane, it becomes ambition, creation, resolution, and dreams. On the mental plane it become intellect, power, charisma and leadership. When the snake energy reaches the spiritual plane, it becomes wisdom, understanding, wholeness, and connection to the Great Spirit.”
So, tonight, I’m thinking - with gentleness - of all the moms and dads, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas, cousins, friends, and classmates … who will be missing someone who has died - as another school year begins.
Wishing you gentle peace,
Tom
Wednesday, August 16, 11:21 pm CST
As I was leaving Tuesday morning, Ben’s dad Dean handed me a photo of his son. “We want you to have this.”
I was touched - glanced at the photo, kissed it, and put it in my carrying bag. I’ll look at it again when I’m sitting in the airport.
I did.
It’s a beautiful picture of Ben. He’s wearing a black pirate’s hat with a skull and bones in the center. In one hand he’s holding a dangerous looking pirate sword and the other is obviously a pirate’s hook - where his hand used to be, I imagine he imagined. And in the center of the photo are the biggest, bluest eyes… and a slightly crooked smile. An angel in pirate’s clothing. On the back is a photo of Ben laying in the grass. It looks like it might be a slightly older Ben. And the words,
“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”
Inside are the dates August 11, 1999 - March 29, 2006
Survived by:
Melinda, mother
Dean, father
Madeline, sister
Ben died from a Diffuse Pontine Glioma. Like all the children whose parents and grandparents attended the 1st (of what they plan to make an annual event) DPG Family Gathering in Las Vegas.
When I arrived at breakfast Monday morning, one of the first people I met was Lisa, Savannah’s mom. Almost immediately, Lisa gave me a button and a pin - both with a beautiful picture of mother and daughter on it - Lisa and Samantha. And the words, “Savannah. Forever Seven.” Savannah was born on March 9, 1997. She died on April 30, 2004.
So, I began my Las Vegas trip receiving a gift from a mother who is learning to live with the death of her daughter. And to me the gift - a button and a pin - was a way of saying… Savannah was here. And she is loved. And her life mattered. And we miss her and we don’t want her to be forgotten.
And as I was leaving Las Vegas, I received another gift - this time from a father who is learning to live with the death of his son. To me, the photos of Ben said… Ben was here. And he is loved. And his life mattered. And we miss him and we don’t want to him to be forgotten.
I think, perhaps , that’s what we are all saying. The people we loved - that died - mattered. We love them - still. We miss them. We don’t want them to be forgotten.
Another gift I received while in Las Vegas was that I got to talk about Rory… and Trici… and Erin. I got to say their names. I got to show their pictures. I even brought some videotape. I got to let some new people know … that these three members of my family were here. And they are loved - still. And that they mattered. And I miss them. And I don’t want them to be forgotten.
It was a great trip!
Peace,
Tom
Sunday, August 13, 2006 10:03 am CST
Sean and I returned from Door County Friday evening. It’s about a 4 ½ hour drive if you only stop for gas. For us, the drive is a little longer because we stop at The Flying Pig - a shop right outside of Algoma that we discovered a few years ago. Actually, our “old” Oak Park neighbor Tami (who is also a lover of all things Door County) told us about it. “You have to stop at The Flying Pig,” she said. It was Tami that introduced us to The Flying Pig.
That first summer we stopped, the shop had just opened - barely. It was filled with all kinds of interesting artwork… more like a funky museum than a shop. But it was the outside that really caught our eye. They were building a large pond and a winding creek. There were all kinds of interesting walkways showcasing one-of-a-kind outdoor garden art. And there were plants… perennials, roses, shrubs of all kinds. Their plants seemed to be bigger and more colorful than ours. The three of us loved it. The Flying Pig is a place Rory, Sean and I enjoyed visiting together for a few years.
And then last summer, Sean and I visited The Flying Pig without Rory. And we did it again this summer.
Door County is complicated for me. As I’ve written before, it’s a place I had heard about almost my whole life. When we were little and growing up on Paradise Blvd. (how’s that for a street name?) our neighbors - the Hacketts - always traveled to Door County for their summer vacation. They came back with wonderful stories and it seemed like a magical place. A place I hoped to visit some day.
When Erin died in 1990 - before Trici and I went back to work - we traveled up to Door County for the first time - trying to escape, I suppose. We stayed a few days at the White Lace Inn in Sturgeon Bay and then drove up into the “real” Door County and rented a “motel” room at the Fish Creek Motel.
And almost every year since, I’ve gone back. With Trici and Rory. With Trici, Rory and Sean. With Rory and Sean. And now with Sean. Sometimes I wonder why I keep going back. I’m sure there’s a good argument for both sides…
Why step back into the pain?…
Perhaps I`ll reconnect with some joy and hopefully make new memories.
While this trip was by no means an easy trip… I’m glad we went. For me, walking into the pain - hoping to move through it … searching for glimpses of a joyful past and holding hope that new memories will be created makes the trip worth while. In fact, we made reservations for next summer. And Sean talks about bringing his own family to Door County when he gets married.
On the first day, I took Sean to Glidden Lodge. It’s on the Lake Michigan side near Whitefish Bay. It’s the place Trici and I stayed at when we returned in 1992 with an almost 1 year-old-baby-boy - Rory. I wish my memory was better… and I wish Trici were here to fill in the details. I can’t exactly remember if we were up in Door County for Rory’s first birthday - July 24th… but I do have a clear memory of stopping at the store once inside Door County and buying a birthday cake. So, I know we at least celebrated his birthday there.
My memories of Rory and Sean blur. I know that’s a natural occurrence that happens to most parents… but it’s frustrating to me… and to Sean. Most times, Sean (like any kid) wants to know his story… his history… he doesn’t want to be confused with Rory.
I have photos and lots of video taken over the years in Door County… and in my dreams, I’m patiently looking through the photos creating an “Our Visits to Door County” photo album… so Sean and I could slowly page through it and remember…
Not sure when that dream is going to become a reality.
Each year we’re in Door County - we do a lot of nothing. Same thing this year.
The first night we usually drive up to Ephraim for dinner and ice cream at Wilson’s. We sit on the patio overlooking the Bay and then buy our ice cream at the soda bar. I have a very clear memory of sitting at one of those round, red, wrought iron tables with Trici. It became a tradition to take a photo of the kids poking their heads through the red and white petunias overflowing the flower boxes on the porch of Wilson’s. Rory and Sean - the read and white flowers - the red and white awning. I think there are two of those photos in the slide show I created for Rory’s Memorial Service.
I no longer take the photo. Too painful without Rory.
This year we didn’t go to Wilson’s the first night - at least not for dinner. It was getting late, and I was afraid Wilson’s might be packed so we stopped at Digger’s… right outside of Fish Creek. It’s a place Rory, Sean and I discovered… Trici doesn’t play into any of the memories connected with Digger’s. Digger’s claim to fame is that they serve the “best burgers in Door County.” I think the three of us visited for the first time that last summer Rory was in Door County - in August of 2004. But we may have gone there the summer before. As I said… I wish my memory was better. Rory’s was photographic… he’d be able to tell me exactly when we visited first… he’d probably remember what we ate and what we talked about.
After Digger’s we traveled up 42 and got our ice cream at Wilson’s. Mine in a waffle cone, Sean’s in a dish. Rory always ordered vanilla.
We spent a day at the Egg Harbor beach - actually at the private Alpine Inn beach, but nobody checks to see if you are actually staying at the Inn. We had frozen custard. We went to the beach on the Lake Michigan side… right by the wildlife sanctuary called “The Ridges.” We love that beach because you can walk out forever and it never gets deep. I always think of the summer Rory made a friend named Casey at that beach. Rory must have been 3 or maybe 4. Casey was a little older and seemed to be spending the summer there… because both days, as soon as we pulled up to the beach, he appeared. We visited the shops in Fish Creek one evening… made almost daily visits to the Market in Egg Harbor… and stopped at our favorite T-shirt shop to buy a souvenir Door Count shirt. We spent time at the outdoor pool… and in the hot tub. This year we brought all four “Harry Potter” movies and watched one each night… and of course, sean kept up with the White Sox.
So…as I said, Door County is complicated. Actually, learning to live with the death of someone you love that has died is complicated. Much more complicated than it appears. And I don’t think it ever ends. Changes - yes. Get’s easier - I think so. Ends… no.
This evening I leave for Las Vegas. Tomorrow I will speaking to a number of families who have all lost children to Diffuse Pontine Glioma … a type of brain tumor. Please keep us all in your thoughts and prayers. Many of the parents who will be attending have lived through the death of their children this past year. I think they are especially brave to travel to Las Vegas as they mourn the deaths of their children and begin to “lean into” their transformation.
Peace to you,
Tom
Friday, August 4, 2006 11:14 pm CST
July has been an almost unbearable month for me. Yes, I marked the 16th anniversary of Erin’s death. Yes, I marked what would have been Rory’s 15th birthday. But it feels even bigger than that. There’s more to it…
Allan L. Botkin, Psy.D. in his book, “Induced After Death Communication” says,
“It is my belief that at the core of grief is profound sadness. The core sadness is so painful that the patient unconsciously but effectively shrouds it in guilt and regret and gets stuck on “What if?” questions. What if I could have prevented her death? What if I had been more of a loving friend? Both the guilt and the sadness are often avoided by anger or rage – at God, the doctor, the commanding officer, or anyone else available as a target. The doctors should have been more attentive. Our lieutenant had no business putting us in that dangerous position. However powerful they seem when acted out, the layers of guilt and anger are only defenses the patient’s mind uses to keep from feeling the sadness at the core.”
Much of that resonates with me. Does it with you?
I don’t think I have issues with guilt regarding Rory’s death. I find comfort knowing I did everything humanly possible. My “what if” questions all have to do with the medical treatment Rory received. “What if” the doctors had done a biopsy as early as September and discovered the cancer? Would it have been treatable? Would the outcome have been different? I can get to anger. And I can get to rage.
But I agree with Dr. Botkin that at the very, very core of my grief is profound sadness. And through the month of July, I have been feeling profound sadness.
Tomorrow, Sean and I leave for a week in Door County, Wisconsin. It’s been an annual summer trip – for almost every summer – since that summer that Erin died.
Just a few weeks after our daughter Erin died - my wife, Trici and I headed north to Door County. It was a place I had heard about most of my life… but until that summer of 1990, had never visited. It was in Door County that summer that Trici bought a book of Irish baby names. Even though our daughter had been dead just a short time, and even though Trici swore we would never have another child… I was filled with hope when she bought the book. I remember sitting at a picnic table after touring one of the lighthouses and paging through the book… “What do you think of the name Rory? Do you like Rory? It means “red king.”
We both liked the name Rory.
Rory was born the next summer, the summer of 1991. And in 1992 we returned to Door County – with our beautiful little boy named Rory. And summer vacations in Door County became a tradition for our growing family. Sean was born in April of 1995… and that summer, when he was only 3 months old we introduced him to Door County.
For probably 10 years, we’ve stayed at the same place… The Landmark in Egg Harbor. It’s become our tradition. Every year, we do the same things… ice cream at Wilsons with a jelly bean at the bottom of the cone, frozen custard at the place with the gnomes, visiting the shops in Fish Creek, the beach on the Lake Michigan side, the Egg Harbor beach, watching the sun set over Green Bay.
When Trici died, I wasn’t sure if we’d go back… but Rory and Sean insisted.
And when Rory died - again, I questioned a return trip. But last summer, Sean insisted, “Of course we’re going to Door County, Dad!”
And tomorrow, we head north again. I have mixed emotions. When I think of Door County, I remember tremendous joy… and I feel profound sadness.
And my son Sean is more excited than he has ever been about making the trip. “When I grow up, Dad… I want to bring my wife and kids to Door County. I want it to be our annual vacation spot too.”
Life is different for us – again. I’m trying to open to possibilities.
Peace to each one of you,
Thanks for accompanying me on this mysterious journey,
Tom
P.S. If you`ve worked with me in a small circle setting before and would like to participate in one of four Open Stuios I am offering before summer`s end please click "You`re Invited."
Thursday, August 3, 2006 11:46 pm CST
I met Carol about 5 years ago when I was visiting Ashland, Oregon to hear Gary Zukav speak. Carol and I had several mutual friends and we ended up sitting next to each other at dinner one night. We connected immediately. It was as if we had been friends forever - perhaps in another life???
When the weekend ended… I returned to Northern California and Carol and I stayed in touch primarily through updates from our friend Missy. I moved back to my hometown and the years unfolded.
When Rory died in 2005… Carol reached out and offered her home… high atop a high hill in Northern California as a peaceful place I might use to simply get away. So… I took her up on her offer and spent a few days in Ukiah, CA last summer. Carol’s dad had died in December of 2004 and she was worried about her mother. I remember we spent a good amount of time talking about life… and death… and the mystery of it all.
I got to see Carol again at the end of last summer when I spent a long weekend in Mt. Shasta, CA reconnecting with friends from our “Seat of the Soul” days.
And Carol and I reconnected again just a few weeks ago when I spent 10 days in Mt. Shasta. At the end of our visit, Carol received a phone call letting her know that her older sister was in a Chicago hospital and would be having bypass surgery. Of course she was concerned. We all were. But people survive bypass surgery every day.
I wasn’t surprised when I received the following email from Carol two days after my return:
Dear Dear Friends,
Thank you so much for being there for me. My sister’s surgery was today and she made it through, and we are all relieved. It really is a bizarre thing to think they stop your heart, take your life in their hands, make the repairs, and give you back your heart and your life. What is to follow will be an interesting journey.
But I was stunned when I opened the following email on Monday:
Dear Ones,
I want to let you know that my sister passed on to the next realm this morning. I am leaving for Chicago on Wednesday and will probably be there until Sunday. The funeral is on Thursday.
With love,
Carol
And today, we buried the body of Carol’s older sister Roslyn at Shalom Memorial Park in Arlington Heights.
Carol’s mother was there. Roslyn’s husband was there with their two sons, their wives, their children. Carol’s brother was there. And they were surrounded by family and friends.
When I saw Carol at the cemetery… we hugged… and we cried and cried. Sobbed, actually – and held each other tight. Life is mysterious.
Life changes so quickly. It can change in a heartbeat. It often does.
It felt good to cry. To sob. To release.
I was reminded what grief looks like – again.
And I noticed that people instinctively touched each other. The held each other’s hands. They kissed, they hugged, they wrapped their arms around each other. They didn’t want to let go. They so freely offered comfort and kindness.
Overwhelmed by sorrow, somehow it was easier for them to demonstrate the love they had for each other.
Uncensored love. In the midst of all that sadness and pain… it was quite beautiful.
Wishing you uncensored love today,
Tom
Tuesday, August 1, 2006 10:41 a.m. CST
Dear Friends,
It seems to me that we’ve unconsciously created a language about death… and living with the death of someone we love. Part of that unexamined language are the two words… “moving on.” Are you moving on?
Don’t you think it’s about time you were moving on?
I thought I’d have moved on by now!
I’m trying to move on. I know I need too.
You’d feel a lot better if you moved on.
And the question – for those of us learning to live with the death of someone we love – regardless of whether the death occurred yesterday, 10 years ago, or 30 years ago… is how do we move on? Really… how do we move on?
A number of weeks ago my brother and sister-in-law very proudly and very sweetly wanted to show me proofs from my niece’s high school senior portrait sitting. The photos were stunning… absolutely beautiful… especially the ones in black and white. It was hard to believe that Megan is going to be a senior in high school. I know it’s a cliché but it really does seem like yesterday that she was a baby, beautifully dressed in her green velvet “first Christmas” outfit.
And of course there is discussion of college. Where will she go? What will she major in? A visit to the University of Illinois… another to the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Discussing the pros and cons… comparing and contrasting. Such a big decision.
And I am reminded, that had my daughter Erin lived longer than 18 months… I too would be looking at proofs from her senior portrait sitting… and I too, would be thinking about colleges, and majors, and visiting campuses. Because, like Megan, Erin would be 17 – about to begin her senior year of high school.
But Erin died what seems to me like a long, long, long time ago. And I am doing none of that. But I am remembering. I am thinking. I am trying to allow myself to feel the feelings… even though the feelings are painful.
Does that mean I haven’t “moved on?” I wonder if it would surprise others (people who haven’t yet experienced living with the death of someone they love, perhaps) that the simple act of looking at proofs from a photo sitting or hearing exciting plans about visiting colleges would stir such emotion in me?
Does it mean I haven’t moved on?
I’m trying to “move with.” I’m trying to “move with” the truth that my daughter Erin died 16 years ago… and yes, there are still points in the journey that cause me pain. And I’m not always exactly sure what to do with that pain. Writing about it here helps. And talking about it helps… but more and more I am finding fewer and fewer people willing (or able) to listen to me talk about the pain I am feeling… even 16 years down the road.
From the people I am encountering in my workshops and retreats I know this is universal. Everyone is longing for someone to simply accompany them on their journey through grief. To accompany. Not to fix. Not to bandage. Not to cure. Simply to accompany. To travel through grief alone can feel unbearable at times. To be accompanied by an open, loving, gentle person can make the unbearable bearable.
School starts in less then a month. My son Sean enters 6th grade. Middle school. A new experience. The school he will attend is right next to our house. It’s not the same middle school his brother Rory went to. So for us… this new school year is a real good-bye to elementary school and a hello to a brand new middle school.
And it’s a further separation from Rory’s middle school experience – which he loved so much. His friends will be starting high school… 9th graders. Hard to imagine.
Had Rory lived… he, too, would be starting high school in a few weeks. I know he’d be counting the days. Excited about meeting his teachers. Wondering how long it would take them to realize what an extraordinary person he was. And I know he’d be counting the days till his 16th birthday. His birthday is in July…so he was always one of the oldest in his class. He’d be 15 going into 9th grade… and I had promised him that when he turned 16… I’d give him the Honda Accord that I drive. Selfishly, I thought life would be easier if there were two drivers in this house instead of just one… but he only looked at the keys to “his” car as a rite of passage and freedom.
Rory would be entering 9th grade – had he lived.
Two of Rory’s cousins are entering 8th grade in a few weeks. I look at them and wonder… what would Rory have been like in 8th grade? He died the February he was in 7th grade… so he never got to experience 8th grade. I look at Connor and Billy and a part of me wants to say, “I had a little boy who never got the chance to begin 8th grade. Do you know how lucky you are?”
So the feelings arise as I take one step at a time – and encounter life. Some times it seems easier to repress… to deny… to pretend. And other times I try and allow myself to feel. Even the painful feelings. It`s not easy.
My goal is not to “move on.” To move on feels like I am abandoning the people I love that have died... leaving them behind. That feels painful. My goal is to “move with.” To move with the truth that three people I love dearly have died… and my life is not the same.
I wish you peace today,
Tom
Friday, July 7, 2006 5:16 a.m. CST
Dear Friends,
If you live in or around the Rockford area...I`d love to have you join us at my next Summer Workshop called "Healthy Sadness." This three-part series begins Wednesday, July 19th. You may choose the 9:30-11:30 a.m. sessions or the 6:30-8:30 pm sessions. For more information please click "You`re Invited."
I am leaving this morning for Northern California... looking for rest, renewal, rejuvination, rebirth... and maybe even a reawakening. I will return home on July 17th. The next day, July 18th will be the 16th anniversary of my daughter Erin`s death... 16 years. Hard to fathom!
I will be checking in from time-to-time but will probably not be posting as frequently as I have been.
I invite you to listen to a short audio (less than 2 minutes and 30 seconds) taken from our recent Summer Solstice Teleconference of me responding to the question "Why Post in the Guestbook?" Click the icon.
Why do you encourage people to post in the Guestbook?
I`d also like to give you the opportunity to listen to the first 30 minutes of that Teleconference. Please click the icon:
Summer Solstice Teleconference
Peace to you,
Tom
If you are a first-time visitor to this site … welcome!. I’m glad you are here. Please take the time to visit all the nooks and... click for more
Sunday, July 2, 2006 3:05 pm CST
Dear Friends,
I know some people just check this homepage … and others go straight to the Guestbook. This is the message I posted in the Guestbook yesterday…
“I imagine that for many of you this loooooooong holiday weekend may be especially difficult. Lots of celebrating. Families getting together. Food. Drinking. Laughing. Fireworks. Fun. Fun. Fun.
And for you...there may be many memories. You may be longing to hear even one person mention your loved one by name. The pain you are feeling may increase. The loneliness may be almost unbearable.
Perhaps this is the weekend when you are finally going to try posting in the Guestbook. This is the weekend you are going to "go public."
You are welcome here... we`re not afraid of whatever it is you may be feeling. Chances are... we`ve felt something very similar.
Some of us will be checking in throughout the weekend... so know that you are not alone."
If you don’t usually visit the Guestbook … if this is your first visit … if you are feeling especially lonely this holiday weekend… please consider “going public” and checking in with us in the Guestbook … you don`t have to be alone.
Peace,
Tom
Thursday, June 29, 2006 10:37 pm CST
Dear Friends,
I want you to know that I will be speaking at what organizers hope will be the first of many conferences for families who have lost children to Diffuse Pontine Glioma. The Shared DPG Conference will be held at Bally’s in Las Vegas from Sunday, August 13, 2006 to Tuesday, August 15, 2006. I will be speaking on Monday, August 14th from 10:00 a.m. – 12:00 noon followed by a Question and Answer session from 1:00 p.m. to 2:00 p.m.. If you or someone you know would like to attend please email Carla Brooks or visit http://www.jthf.org/events/event_15.asp.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006 10:23 pm CST
Dear Friends,
I’m excited to offer you this 6 minute audio file explaining the “Light A Candle” feature we’d like to add to this website. This recording is a small part of the Summer Solstice teleconference, which you will be able to listen to in a few days. Please set aside 6 minutes and click the audio icon:
"Light A Candle" Audio
After you listen to the recording, I’d love to hear your comments in the Guestbook. What do you think about this new “Light A Candle” feature? Do you think you will use it? How would it feel to have a space on this site to introduce us to the person you love that has died? Do you think this feature will help you feel more connected to other people who post in the Gustbook? Do you have any additional suggestions or comments?
As explained in the audio… we see “Light A Candle” as a way to connect people with others who have had similar losses … be it the loss of someone you love, a marriage, a job, a pet, etc.
You would be able to designate your loss from the following list, which is part of the Consciously Participate Form:
Spouse/Partner, Marriage, Child, Parent, Sibling, Grandparents, Relative, Friend, Colleague, Job, Pet, Other.
We are also thinking of going a step further and giving you the chance to designate cause of death, if your loss is due to death. Options for cause of death could include:
Cancer, suicide, drug overdose, accident, etc.
How important is it to know cause of death immediately? If it’s important, what other causes of death do you think we should add?
Thanks much for your interest… your feedback… your comments and suggestions, your support.
Peace,
Tom
If you are a first-time visitor to this site … welcome!. I’m glad you are here. Please take the time to visit all the nooks and... click for more
My next Summer Workshop called "Healthy Sadness" begins Wednesday, July 19th. For more information please click "You`re Invited."
Friday, June 23, 2006 1:03 pm CST
Dear Friends,
Thanks to all who participated in Wednesday’s Teleconference. I hope you found the time well spent. Over the next few days I will post the questions that were asked during the call. I will also post my response to each question … and then you will have the opportunity to respond. I would love to know what you think … and how you feel … about my responses.
Here are some of the questions:
Do you think there’s a difference between grief and mourning? If so - what is it?
Why do you keep encouraging people to post in the Guestbook?
I seem to be crying all the time. Is that normal? Do you think it’s okay? Will I ever stop?
Do you think people we love that have died are still able to communicate with us?
What’s worse - the death of a spouse or the death of a child?
Is it true the second year is always worse than the first?
Should I just stay busy all the time so I don’t have to think about the death?
For those of you unable to participate in the call … within the next few days, we will hang the audio file enabling you to listen to it at your convenience. Check back.
Namaste,
Tom
Wednesday, 11:50 am CST
June 21st.
The summer solstice.
The longest day of the year.
Many different meanings for many different people.
I have a friend whose 29-year-old daughter died suddenly a few days ago. The longest day…
Someone who visits this site – or someone connected to someone who visits this site – will learn today that a person they love has died. The longest day…
Someone else – today – for the first time in a long time will notice the sunlight … on this longest day … after months and months of darkness.
Someone else will be caught off guard by the sound of their own laughter – after months and months of silence… on this longest day.
And today a baby will be born … on this longest day … and the circle of life will continue to unfold.
Today, June 21st, I hope you will join us at 8:00 pm CST for our one-hour Free Teleconference.
If you are brand new to the site … brought here by the email we sent Monday to everyone that posted in Rory’s Caringbridge site, I extend a special invitation to you to join in the call.
The call will last about one hour. To participate… dial 212.990.8000 at about 7:55 pm CST. An automated voice will ask you to enter a PIN number followed by the "#` sign. The PIN is 6621. It’s that simple.
David and I will do the talking on the call. You get to listen. If you are afraid that you might be asked to speak … and that is keeping you from participating … you may remain anonymous during the entire call.
I will be using the messages of the Winter Solstice, the Spring Equinox and the Summer Solstice (which is June 21st) as a framework for my remarks. We will talk about the “dark of winter” … the opportunity that Spring brings to plant seeds … and the task of tending those seeds that Summer brings… all guided by intuition.
If the intention I have set for this site “to create sacred space where people can excavate grief, mourn safely, honor the gifts of denial and consciously participate in their own transformation” resonates with you… and if my Journal Entries and Guestbook posts resonate with you … I hope you will find value in the call.
If you have a question you would like me to address during the call… please email in advance of the call at tom@tomzuba.com.
Peace,
Tom
Friday, June 16, 2006 7:11 am CST
As we approach Father’s Day 2006, I wonder about the men…
The men who are living with the death of their young children...their unborn babies.
The men who are living with the death of their beloved spouse, their partner, their best friend.
The men who are living with the death of their adult children.
The men who are living with the death of a parent – or both parents.
Whether the death was as recent as a few days ago…or many, many years ago, we all experience grief. The internal, unlearned, automatic response to loss.
But we don’t all mourn. Many of us have forgotten how too. Or we’ve never learned. We don’t all “go public” with our grief … in the presence of others. So we can remain stuck … and healing remains beyond our grasp.
It’s been my experience that we consciously – or unconsciously – give women and girls permission to mourn. But I don’t think we’ve been as generous to men and boys. I hope that is changing. I hope this site is changing the way we feel about men mourning.
I have no way of knowing how many of the 6,800+ visitors to this site are men. I have no way of knowing how many men come back to this site … to visit … to read … to learn … to BE … to feel … perhaps even to cry.
I’m not certain how to make it “okay” for more men to post in the Guestbook...to feel safe here. I’m trusting that as each person is ready … they will take that next step and “go public” by posting…by telling us who they are and by sharing some of what is happening in their life.
As we approach Father’s Day 2006 … I want to encourage each father to feel all the feelings that may be swirling around inside you … as foreign as that may be. I want to honor those feelings. And I’d be happy to accompany you on your journey. I have found that it is much easier when we travel together.
You are welcome here.
Peace to you today,
Tom
On the Summer Solstice, Wednesday, June 21st at 8:00 pm CST we will offer our second Free Teleconference. The call will last about an hour and you can participate by calling 212.990.8000. Access code is 6621. I hope you will join us.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006 5:32 pm CST
Such thought-provoking, open-hearted posts in the Guestbook. Thanks to all who take the leap and “go public.”
That second year… following the death of someone we love…
My wife Trici has been dead over 7 years. It is rare that people mention her name anymore. It is even more rare that I get to talk about the “good old days” … you know, when I was first married, when we bought our house, when our daughter was born, when we launched our business, when we drove the coast of California…our 10th anniversary.
It’s as if that period of my life never existed. But it did.
And I have some wonderful friends that help me remember. Joan was my boss at Easter Seals. When Erin died… and I innocently dragged myself back to work… way too early – but I didn’t know any better… my boss, Joan came into my office every day. Every day. And for the most part … we sat there … face-to-face … and we talked, and we talked and we talked some more. Not for a few days, not for a few weeks, but for more than a few months. Before I had the language… my friend Joan helped me mourn. She created a safe, sacred space … where I could “go public” with my grief… a road to healing.
This is what Joan wrote on Trici’s birthday this year…
“Hi Tom, I`m thinking about you today and remembering Trici for the amazing woman she was. I always think about her at my wedding, she was about 5 months pregnant with Sean and absolutely exuberant and radiant! She was always at the "top of her game" when she was pregnant...give or take a mood swing here or there :)
I just spent a few moments going through the photo gallery on your site and realized what a beautiful tribute it is to her as well. Be good to yourself today my friend. Love to you guys, Joanie”
Trici and Jaunita had (have, no doubt) a special bond. They met while working together at United Charities in Chicago. I am sure they were sisters in another life. They both had a special love for the Blessed Mother.
I remember Trici coming home from work one day – so excited because Jaunita told her she had “seen” our unborn baby in a dream the night before. A girl. Big eyes. Blonde hair.
Our baby was born a few weeks’ later … A girl. Big eyes. Blonde hair.
This is how Jaunita remembered Trici on her birthday…
Just wanted to let you know that I said a prayer to Tricia this morning and I let her know I have not forgotten that today is her birthday.
Yesterday was my son`s 18th birthday and I clearly remember Tricia teasing me when he was born, "Why couldn`t you wait one more day so that he could share my birthday?" "After 3 days of labor, I just wanted him to be born as soon as possible period!!!!" was my response to her! :o)
I miss her Tom.
Hugs to you and Sean, Juanita
For me… the pain of the second year was the distance that seemed to be between me and Erin … and 9 years later, me and Trici.
What can we do to shorten that distance?
One thing I’ve done is that I still use the wallet that Trici gave me oh-so-many years ago. I pull that torn, tattered, badly-in-need-of-a-replacement wallet out several times a day… and I always think of Trici. The distance doesn’t seem quite as great.
What do you do?
Wishing you peace,
Tom
Monday, June 12, 2006 12:37 pm CST
Dear Friends,
Our first Free Teleconference was purposefully held on Monday, March 20th marking the Spring Equinox. My friend Jean McVay from Northern California provided these words:
“The day when the Spring Equinox occurs is the perfect and equal balance of light and dark.
This marks the beginning of emergence, growth and transformation. Tiny seeds have been resting inside the dark earth and now begin their upward journey. Through the great mystery of nature, they feel the call of the light; they strongly push their way through the soil. Sap begins to move in the roots of the trees and bushes.
As the light increases, the seeds resting inside of us, our dreams, intentions and possibilities begin to stir and seek to emerge. Now is the time to manifest what has been gestating within. What has been sleeping and gaining strength, waiting for this signal, is calling those parts of us to come forth! It is the time in the great cycle/circle of life to give creation to what has been planted in us.”
For me, and for many of you, these past three months have been a period of growth. Seeds have been planted. They feel the call of the light… dreams, intentions and possibilities have begun to stir.
If you have not yet listened to that March 20th call… I invite you to do so by clicking March 20th Call.
On Wednesday, June 21st at 8:00 pm CST we will offer our second Free Teleconference marking the Summer Solstice. Jean’s thoughts about the Solstice:
“We enter into the brilliant light of Summer on June 21st, the Solstice, the longest day of the year.
The tender seeds of our intentions, dreams and desires, that we planted in the Spring, have produced signs of our nurturing. The blossoms and growth are now visible.
Have you taken the time and space to care for these often fragile new beginnings? They need to be watered and fed. These precious "plants" become stronger and grow as they are exposed to the long periods of warmth and light. They are your beautiful, delicious and treasured garden, a promise of a bountiful harvest.”
I hope you will join us for this call. I intend to talk about ways to “nurture the seeds we have planted.” How do we live in a world that gives us 3-days or perhaps 2-months to “get over it?” What’s the difference between “moving on” and “moving with?” Is there more than simply a relationship of memory?
There will be time for Question and Answers during the 2nd half of the call. If you’d like to submit a question in advance, please email me at tom@tomzuba.com. I’ll post the phone number and access code in the next few days.
Again, thanks for accompanying me on this journey,
Tom
Friday, June 9, 2006 9:19 am CST
Two recent posts in the Guestbook have really stayed with me...
"I guess I thought it would lessen in time...but it`s getting more pronounced."
"As times goes on I also thought it would lesson in time…but it’s getting more pronounced.”
These two quotes are from mothers who are courageously living with the very recent deaths of their beloved adult children. Very recent. Both their children died a handful of months ago.
Having walked this path three times in the past 16 years… it is my observation – and I’ve written about it before - that we, as a society, are ill equipped and unprepared for living with the death of someone we love. Most of us haven’t got a clue…
There is a wonderful book (what that means is that the author Miriam Greenspan has put into words much of what I have to come to believe) called, “Healing Through the Dark Emotions – The wisdom of grief, fear and despair.” Miriam writes,
“According to the fourth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychiatric Disorders (the bible of the mental health profession, known as DSM-IV for short) bereavement is a condition in which sadness, insomnia, poor appetite, and weight loss are expected “normal” grief reactions. Other “symptoms” such as moving slowly and with less animation (psychomotor retardation), functioning at a lower level (marked functional impairment), even visions or voices of the dead (hallucinatory experiences) are considered “normal” in a state of bereavement. But not for long – for two months, to be precise. Should these symptoms persist beyond the two-month cut-off point, the diagnosis of major depressive disorder is warranted. So, if two months after your mother dies, you’re not up to par and fully functioning, if you still have “symptoms” of sadness, sleeplessness, or suppressed appetite, or if you’re still hearing or seeing her spirit, head straight to the shrink’s office and stock up on anti-depressants (perhaps with a little antipsychotic medication thrown in for good measure).
…This way of thinking about grief wants to knock out the “symptoms” quickly, so that you won’t have to undergo the often prolonged process of transformation through grief.”
In essence … the message seems to be that you have two months to “get on with life.” Two months. Granted, two months is certainly better than the average three-day leave most places of business give their employees following the death of a close relative… but two months???
I’d love to hear what people who have been living with the death of someone they love for what they consider a “long" time think and feel about the DSM-IV’s definition of bereavement. Please consider posting your thoughts and feelings and experiences in our Guestbook.
Peace,
Tom
Tuesday, June 6, 2006 12:21 pm CST
I often hear people speak of "moving on."
Have you moved on...yet?
Do you feel like you`re moving on?
When will I be moving on?
It really doesn`t seem to me that he has moved on...poor thing!
What if we changed moving on ... to moving with?
What does that feel like?
I`m moving with the death of a person that I dearly loved.
What does that feel like?
Honoring the movement ... some time reluctantly,
Tom
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
It’s been a full couple of weeks for me. Every so often, I kind of stop in my tracks because it feels like I am getting blind-sighted by life… I try and take my own words to heart.
Slow down.
Stop.
Feel the feelings.
Allow them to have a beginning, middle and end.
Try not to resist what is. And when I do … I try to have compassion for myself. To be gentle.
Monday, May 22nd would have been my wife Trici’s 51st birthday. The next day, May 23rd was my niece Megan’s 17th birthday. Had my daughter Erin lived…she’d be 17, too. There are times when I look at Megan and try and picture Erin. What would she look like? What would her interests be? As she prepared for her senior year in high school… what colleges would we be looking at? What would life be like had she lived?
And my son Rory would have graduated from 8th grade last night … with all of his friends.
And spring is ending … and summer is beginning. And I can feel the time without Rory lengthening … as Sean and I step into another season without him physically present. Sometimes reluctantly.
And it’s not easy.
I had the honor last night of presenting the Rory Zuba Spirit Award to an 8 th grader attending West Middle School in Rockford, the school my son Rory attended. Jeff Kolkey, the education reporter for the Rockford Register Star wrote a wonderful article that appeared in today’s paper. To read the article click Rockford Register Star. I will write more about the award presentation tomorrow.
What I want to share with you today are the words of Jacob Miller, West Middle School’s student council president who was given the honor of addressing his fellow classmates and their families during the ceremony.
I was deeply touched and surprised by his remarks:
“Then there was 7th grade. This is when we truly became teenagers. That year was the hardest, but most memorable in Middle School. We gained knowledge that our friend, Rory Zuba, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Everyone wanted to help out in some way to prevent the worst from happening. We had a candlelight vigil, a pancake breakfast, sold Livestrong bracelets all for his well-being. The death of Rory hit us like a brick wall. Once we heard the terrible news no one wanted to believe it. The silence of that day was unforgettable. We all had our hopes set so high only to be crushed into a million little pieces. Rory taught us all a lesson to not care what other people think. The death of Rory had a huge impact on each and every one of us, which brought us all closer to each other. We all know he’s watching over us right now and laughing.”
I’ve noticed that children and teen-agers have an innate ability to mourn. They are not afraid to feel their feelings… and “go public.” They are not yet bound by the unspoken rules of adulthood that many adhere to ... “whatever you do – don’t mention the dead people.”
It was wonderful for me, to be reminded - by Jacob’s remarks - how deeply connected Rory was to his classmates. It was incredible for me to hear Rory’s name mentioned so often last night. It feels good to know how much his friends, their families and his teachers love him…still.
Thank you Jacob Miller.
More tomorrow.
Peace,
Tom
To read past Journal Entries click:
This site launched on February 22, 2006.
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