Compassionate Friends

I attended a Compassionate Friends meeting tonight. About a dozen parents who had lost children. Some could speak freely of their child and their grief while others could not. Anger, pain, loneliness, depression, fatigue and also some humor. If that room is a barometer time does heal wounds. Those 8, 10 or even 16 years into the process had regained some joy in their lives and allowed for the possibility of a hopeful and promising future. That realization came first to me intellectually--that things would get better and I would not feel so down and lonely all the time. I also now know it on an emotional level. "Fake it until you make it?" Borrowing from another support group's sayings. Let's also not forget "one day at a time."It was so hard to hear all the individual stories of loss but after it was all said and done I felt better for going and it allowed me to continue to see a happier future.

College savings accounts and expectations

When Casey was about 6 months old I opened a college account for her. After she died I had to transfer what was left out of that account. It was incredibly hard to do so. That was about a year ago. Yesterday I was asked for more information from the accountant for a tax filing. I opened up the folder and started to look at the statements and the list of contributions made almost every year from when she was a baby until she entered college. I fell apart and could not do it. It was as sad and empty and grief-stricken as I have felt in a while. The process focused me on her entire life span- a baby, toddler, entering elementary school, middle school, teen years and what I had expected would happen with college graduation and starting a career and family and all of that now will never take place. What I expected , Casey expected and what will never be . The cruelness and unfairness of it was magnified somehow and really hit me.

What can you do for me?

I attended a dinner honoring one of my partners and saw for the first time since Casey's death many attorneys I had known and practiced with for many years. Several came up to me and apologized for not doing anything more than sending a card . There was such a sense of helplessness- the inability to do something for me that troubled them greatly. I am convinced that those in my profession, so used to giving advice and solving problems, are at such a loss because they cannot see how they can "fix" my "problem." It is true they can not solve my problem and if that is their preconceived notion of what support and comfort is all about they will be awkward and uncertain and will "fail."It also struck me that many attorneys are not very good listeners--of course some are, but to a large extent they are not. Sometimes I will come right out and say what I need or what I expect from a person who is well-intended and other times it is too much of a burden to do so.

Sharing stories of your living children with me

I was asked today if it was unkind for other parents to share their living children's accomplishments and successes with me? Did it make me think about what their child had-a life and a future and what the parent had -the promise of a future with their child consistent with all expectations? And what Casey did not have and what I no longer have? When I hear about some one's living child, especially if the child is a contemporary of Casey, I occasionally do drift into "what if" and "what would Casey be doing now?" Yes, it does sometimes cause me to well up . But what is the alternative? To have that person who is a parent purposefully not talk of their child for fear of upsetting me? To treat me differently because of my loss and pain? That would be worse by far because it is not real and it adds to my perception of being isolated and different as a result of losing my daughter.

Each day I try to look for gifts I have received from others. My gift today was that a caring person thought to ask me how I wanted to be treated instead of making an assumption about how I wanted to be treated. To be asked is empowering and comforting.

I can't imagine ...

"I can't imagine what it is like ... without Casey." Someone I have known for quite a while who only recently learned of Casey's death said that to me. That was after they sent me an e-mail expressing their condolences, saying they just heard and they "dreaded" sending the e-mail but knew that they had to do so. What they did not say and which I infer is that they were afraid that sending me an e-mail about Casey's death would result in me becoming emotional or ruining a day when maybe I was functioning well and not thinking of my loss. I do have days that are ok-I do laugh and smile-and I can do so even with Casey on my mind virtually all the time. I used to say when I was emotional that I was having a bad day. I quickly learned that there is a difference between a bad day and an emotional day. So I stand firm that I, and all the other parents I have spoken with who have lost children, welcome becoming emotional if that is as a result of others' communications that refer to our children and that does not at all equate with "having a bad day." Some days I can imagine what it is like without Casey as I live that every day.... but I still can't imagine not having her around for the rest of my life, Di's life, Brett's life and what should have been her life.

Finding meaning in the lives of those we have lost

I received an e-mail from one of Casey's middle school teachers who just found out about Casey's death. The e-mail was very supportive. It was good to receive it and one of my gifts for today.The teacher was so kind to tell me her memory of Casey and also, at my request, to elaborate on the circumstances of the specific occasion. It did cause me to have a very emotional reaction--speaking of Casey's love for animals and people and the hope that the teacher and her young children would become more like Casey in terms of compassion for others and service. It has been a while since I thought about the unfairness of losing Casey-someone who had so much life and promise as any young person, but someone who was also kind, generous and compassionate. Yes I did in the past and today thought why couldn't it have been someone "less deserving to live," someone who was selfish, self-centered, etc. It was the loss to me, to my family, to Casey and the world that I was feeling when I broke down. I have not reacted this way in some time. Some of the articles and books I have read on grief speak of finding meaning in the death as necessary for moving through grief. I find no meaning in Casey's death and do not look for any. I cherish all everyone can tell me about my little girl, my wonderful young lady and I continue to find meaning in the way she lived and the example she continues to set for so many.

Anniversary of death

The first anniversary of Casey's death was July 17 th. We were surrounded by friends and family. Some had ventured to approach me before the anniversary of her death trying to find out what that would be like for me, assuming it would be horrible. After the anniversary many told me that they"did not want to intrude" on that date or around that time so they did not reach out. We spent the anniversary of Casey's death doing service at a no-kill animal shelter in her memory. It was a beautiful day that I, and I am sure, many of those who participated will never forget. For some of the students it was their first experience with performing service and they were inspired to do more.

Many friends and colleagues still ask me "what can I do for you?" I used to not request anything. That has changed. I now ask others to consider reaching out to someone who suffered a loss on the anniversary of the death, or the birthday or any other date that is significant. All that is needed is just to let someone know that you have not forgotten them, their loved one and their loss. That is what others can do.

Related Links:

A Day of Service and Remembrance on Casey Feldman’s First ‘Angelversary’ -July 17, 2010 (Casey Feldman Memorial Foundation news article)

Photos from the day