It is New Year's day morning and so many have wished me and my family well for 2013. I have wished many good health, peace and joy for 2013. But everytime someone wishes me and my family well for the New Year I mentally rewrite their good wishes -they mean well, really want me to be happy and are not suggesting that I can ever be as happy as I would have been with Casey here, but that to the extent that I am able, really do want me to be happy and do want the best for me given what has happened.
That is what I do today three and one-half years after Casey's death-mentally rewrite others' statements to supply a "missing ingedient" so I do not question their compassion and ability to empathize.
I remember closer to Casey's death being angry at those who would wish me well, for how could I be well, or how could I want to be well, without Casey here. Didn't they understand that? Did they even try to understand how every day was filled with such pain, anger,sadness and just feeling so different from almost everyone else? What was wrong with them! Contemplating being happy with my child dead was not conceivable.
So that was a while ago and things are a little easier now as I have learned to do the mental rewrite which supplies a "missing ingredient" in others' messages. But is that fair of me-to judge anothers' statement as missing something because it did not satisfy my needs? Sometimes I feel like I am entitled to some leeway because of what I have suffered, i.e. "cut me some slack." But that is not at all helpful when it comes to improving the dialogue of loss-how we think, feel, communicate, comfort, understand and try to empathize following terrible losses, for that is a two-way dialogue and requires me, as someone who has suffered a loss, to also be understanding of those who do not know what to do or say to comfort those who have suffered such losses. So in response to genuine New Year's good wishes I have responded with anger, by mentally rewriting and supplying missing ingredients, by not being sensitive enough to just how difficult it can be to comfort others, and by silently being critical of attempts to comfort that did not meet my standard.
Could it be my responsibilty now, afer several years of mourning, to help others understand how their statements may be less than helpful in an attempt to improve the dialogue of loss, but also to suggest what might be helpful from my perspective? If so...
I am thinking of you and Casey as this new year begins, knowing that I can not understand how difficult it is for you and your family. I am not sure of what to do or say to help so please tell me-I am willing to listen and learn. Allow me to help. It is my hope that when you think of Casey, those memories may bring a smile or even a laugh. Know that as a result being witness to your suffering and your family's suffering, I am trying to value family and friendships more and not take for granted the precious gifts of friendship, love, health, and life.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Friday, December 14, 2012
20 Elementary School Children In Connecticut....
If The Parents of The Children Killed in Connecticut Are Fortunate…
"Parents will go home today and hold and hug their children a little closer tonight-and tell them how much we love them," President Obama said during a press conference. I have heard several reporters and others interviewed express similar sentiments since the tragedy in Connecticut.
I was driving when I heard the news. At first I guess I just did not believe what I had heard and continued driving. Then I needed to pull over and just sat in my car and cried - for the children, their parents and families, and for those loving and caring teachers who tried to protect the children; and for their community and for the world which is a much darker place today. And of course I cried because I was flooded with three and one-half year old memories from those minutes , days and weeks after my daughter Casey died. I felt, sensed, imagined the collective grief of those who were now suffering and would suffer for the rest of their lives. The magnitude of my families’ grief somehow magnified twenty fold. It is utterly overwhelming and incomprehensible. So why will we hug our living children more and hold them closer tonight? Is it because we still have our children and other parents do not? Is it because for at least a part of today, and maybe for the next several days or weeks, we will allow ourselves as parents to imagine the unimaginable? Is it because we realize that the beliefs we have about the natural progression of life, children surviving parents, beliefs which allow us to function, now are threatened? Is it because we realize that with respect to what is most important to us, the health and life of those we love, we have so very little control? These thoughts and fears are primal and come from deep within, but ultimately are selfish and self-focused. What about these parents?
If the parents of the children killed in Connecticut are fortunate they will find comfort from friends and family and will have at least someone who will listen for as long as it is necessary- listen as they sob, moan, cry, scream, blame, deny, question, regret, plead, shut-down; listen as they tell the story of their loss, and tell it over and over again, as they must; listen as they anguish over whether their child suffered in those last few moments ; listen as they question whether they loved their child enough, or were good enough parents; listen as they question whether their child was happy and felt loved; listen as they question whether they did anything to bring this misfortune upon themselves and their child; listen as they question their faith and how a supreme being could have allowed this to happen; listen as they wish they were the ones killed instead of their child; listen as they question how they can go on living now that their child is dead; listen as they blame themselves for not being able to protect their child and not being there to hold and comfort their child in his or her last moments. And this is just the beginning for these parents .
"Parents will go home today and hold and hug their children a little closer tonight-and tell them how much we love them," President Obama said during a press conference. I have heard several reporters and others interviewed express similar sentiments since the tragedy in Connecticut.
I was driving when I heard the news. At first I guess I just did not believe what I had heard and continued driving. Then I needed to pull over and just sat in my car and cried - for the children, their parents and families, and for those loving and caring teachers who tried to protect the children; and for their community and for the world which is a much darker place today. And of course I cried because I was flooded with three and one-half year old memories from those minutes , days and weeks after my daughter Casey died. I felt, sensed, imagined the collective grief of those who were now suffering and would suffer for the rest of their lives. The magnitude of my families’ grief somehow magnified twenty fold. It is utterly overwhelming and incomprehensible. So why will we hug our living children more and hold them closer tonight? Is it because we still have our children and other parents do not? Is it because for at least a part of today, and maybe for the next several days or weeks, we will allow ourselves as parents to imagine the unimaginable? Is it because we realize that the beliefs we have about the natural progression of life, children surviving parents, beliefs which allow us to function, now are threatened? Is it because we realize that with respect to what is most important to us, the health and life of those we love, we have so very little control? These thoughts and fears are primal and come from deep within, but ultimately are selfish and self-focused. What about these parents?
If the parents of the children killed in Connecticut are fortunate they will find comfort from friends and family and will have at least someone who will listen for as long as it is necessary- listen as they sob, moan, cry, scream, blame, deny, question, regret, plead, shut-down; listen as they tell the story of their loss, and tell it over and over again, as they must; listen as they anguish over whether their child suffered in those last few moments ; listen as they question whether they loved their child enough, or were good enough parents; listen as they question whether their child was happy and felt loved; listen as they question whether they did anything to bring this misfortune upon themselves and their child; listen as they question their faith and how a supreme being could have allowed this to happen; listen as they wish they were the ones killed instead of their child; listen as they question how they can go on living now that their child is dead; listen as they blame themselves for not being able to protect their child and not being there to hold and comfort their child in his or her last moments. And this is just the beginning for these parents .
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
"Have a Happy Thanksgiving"
"Have a Happy Thanksgiving"
I have been told/wished/advised/urged/ to have a "Happy Thanksgiving." Let me start by stating that everyone who has done so has truly wanted me to be happy--I fervently believe that. But making that wish, or extending that pleasantry to me, does not come without risk. Can I ,or should I, be happy when my daughter Casey is not here to be with us on this special occasion?
Consistent with my experience over the last three years since Casey has died I feel disconnected from others who have not suffered such a painful and inexplicable loss when they "treat" me as if I am the same as them. I am different and will always be different-that is clear now. This will be the 4th Thanksgiving without Casey-without Casey rushing in by train , me waiting to get the first glimpse of her as she appeared walking under the columns at 30th street station, knowing that she had seen me when that smile-that "Casey" look came across her face and I truly believed at that moment, that that look, that "face" was just for me and no one else but her dad could ever receive that special gift.Casey juggling all of her busy work and leisure time, appearing so beautiful, so poised, so absolutely wonderful to her adoring father who, often could not believe that he had played a part in the development of this incredible human being. Casey seeing her pets and loving them all as only Casey could , singing from room to room throughout the house,staying out late to connect with local friends, waking up and appearing in a long and ill-fitting extra large T- shirt, with her hair haphazardly bunched up on top of her head, no make up, teeth unbrushed and looking so young, innocent and beautiful. Casey with mom and her little brother and making all feel so specially blessed to be loved by her.
I will share Thanksgiving with friends and family and those that I care about most and who care for me. It will be a special time because I know that one should not squander or take for granted opportunities to be with those who matter to us. But I am not seeking to have a "Happy Thanksgiving." Perhaps I am seeking to have a positively reflective Thanksgiving, where I take the time to take in all those who are with me and I love, all those who are no longer with me physically that I love and miss so much. To take the time to remember how blessed I am, to remember Casey, and to remember that from pain and tragedy come tears and one day smiles, and tears and more smiles and an appreciation for all that there is , an appreciation for the opportunities seemingly born from pain and despair, the opportunities afforded by life, and the realization that special days, holidays, do not need to include "happiness" to be special.
I have been told/wished/advised/urged/ to have a "Happy Thanksgiving." Let me start by stating that everyone who has done so has truly wanted me to be happy--I fervently believe that. But making that wish, or extending that pleasantry to me, does not come without risk. Can I ,or should I, be happy when my daughter Casey is not here to be with us on this special occasion?
Consistent with my experience over the last three years since Casey has died I feel disconnected from others who have not suffered such a painful and inexplicable loss when they "treat" me as if I am the same as them. I am different and will always be different-that is clear now. This will be the 4th Thanksgiving without Casey-without Casey rushing in by train , me waiting to get the first glimpse of her as she appeared walking under the columns at 30th street station, knowing that she had seen me when that smile-that "Casey" look came across her face and I truly believed at that moment, that that look, that "face" was just for me and no one else but her dad could ever receive that special gift.Casey juggling all of her busy work and leisure time, appearing so beautiful, so poised, so absolutely wonderful to her adoring father who, often could not believe that he had played a part in the development of this incredible human being. Casey seeing her pets and loving them all as only Casey could , singing from room to room throughout the house,staying out late to connect with local friends, waking up and appearing in a long and ill-fitting extra large T- shirt, with her hair haphazardly bunched up on top of her head, no make up, teeth unbrushed and looking so young, innocent and beautiful. Casey with mom and her little brother and making all feel so specially blessed to be loved by her.
I will share Thanksgiving with friends and family and those that I care about most and who care for me. It will be a special time because I know that one should not squander or take for granted opportunities to be with those who matter to us. But I am not seeking to have a "Happy Thanksgiving." Perhaps I am seeking to have a positively reflective Thanksgiving, where I take the time to take in all those who are with me and I love, all those who are no longer with me physically that I love and miss so much. To take the time to remember how blessed I am, to remember Casey, and to remember that from pain and tragedy come tears and one day smiles, and tears and more smiles and an appreciation for all that there is , an appreciation for the opportunities seemingly born from pain and despair, the opportunities afforded by life, and the realization that special days, holidays, do not need to include "happiness" to be special.
Friday, October 5, 2012
How are we doing today?
I have spoken with almost a dozen parents who have lost children recently. We talk about how much pain our children did or did not suffer before they died. We talk about what those last moments must have been like, knowing we will never really know, and feeling as parents we somehow deserted our children because we were not there for those last moments -to protect and to comfort. We talk about needing to know everything about how they died while dreading the answers. We talk about whether our children were happy and had led fulfilling lives for their short time on earth. We talk about whether their short lives will be remembered, or whether they will be forgotten.We talk about our loss, and our children's loss and ....we talk about our need, our hunger, "to do" in their memory . We talk about emptiness, and loneliness and pain and being different from other parents as a result of our loss. "How are they doing?" ..."How am I doing?" "How are we doing?"
It is not often anymore that anyone asks me how I am doing and really wants to know how I am doing today. I wonder if all my activities in Casey's memory suggest to others that I am doing well? I think I am doing well and then .... Is doing well getting on with life-as I seem to be doing; or rearranging my priorities and trying to help others in Casey's memory-as I seem to be doing; or believing that there is so much opportunity for good in this world-as I fervently do? Is doing well having that acute searing, agonizing, terrible jagged hole in my gut, the emptiness of Casey's death and loss, become less, almost like the jaggedness is gone, like a rusty sword, dulled and smoothed over as a result of 3 years of suffering?
What is doing well? Does it even matter how I am doing as long as I am doing and busy and distracted and open to accept the gifts that are offered to me by others ?
It is not often anymore that anyone asks me how I am doing and really wants to know how I am doing today. I wonder if all my activities in Casey's memory suggest to others that I am doing well? I think I am doing well and then .... Is doing well getting on with life-as I seem to be doing; or rearranging my priorities and trying to help others in Casey's memory-as I seem to be doing; or believing that there is so much opportunity for good in this world-as I fervently do? Is doing well having that acute searing, agonizing, terrible jagged hole in my gut, the emptiness of Casey's death and loss, become less, almost like the jaggedness is gone, like a rusty sword, dulled and smoothed over as a result of 3 years of suffering?
What is doing well? Does it even matter how I am doing as long as I am doing and busy and distracted and open to accept the gifts that are offered to me by others ?
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Long car rides
Today I had a 2 hour drive to Scranton, PA. I start thinking, thinking of Casey and there are no distractions as I sit in the car and drive. I am captive to my own emotions and there is no escaping them. Still after 3 years it is hard to drive long distances alone.We had driven that route so many times as a family -going to see my parents, Casey's grandparents. Seeing if she could hold her breath as we went through the tunnel on the Turnpike, wanting to stop at the rest stops, acting silly and goofy and wanting to get fireworks in Matamoras, or stopping at the flea market at the Monticello Racetrack for bargains with her mother. All those memories come and I am flooded with emotions and alone in the car and no one to talk to. Sometimes I hate long car rides.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Casey's love for animals is making a difference...but
We spent the 3rd anniversary of Casey's death performing service at Magee Rehabilitation Hospital in Philadelphia and announced the new facility therapy dog we had funded. Ford, is an 8 year old Golden Retriever and is such a kind, gentle and loving presence. His unconditional love for the patients, many of whom have suffered devastating and life-altering injuries, is palpable as are the patients' reactions to him. The patients are better motivated and willing to work harder for Ford. Here is a link to a video:
I was in Chicago speaking with lawyers who will participate in the distracted driving presentations in high schools across the country during the 2012-13 academic year. It is gratifying to do all of this in Casey's memory. But... I am realizing that while all of this is good, and I will continue to do these things, they are distractions so that I don't dwell on the enormity of my loss. I still can't look at more than a few pictures of Casey at a time without getting very emotional. Or listen to her voice on one of the videos we have . Or sit in her room and look at her posters, clothes, trinkets and all the items that she collected that represent her energy, compassion, love for people and animals and family and friends. The tragedy of Casey's death would be compounded if we could not do all these positive things in her memory. But that does not make it any less cruel or unfair.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
3rd Anniversary
Tuesday will be the 3rd anniversary of Casey's death. Sometimes it seems like yesterday and other times , and this scares me, I seem to have gotten used to it in a way. I was reading some of the e-mails and cards and letters that came in from kind folks after Casey's death and while it is very emotional to do so , they are comforting-the common thread was that for those who knew Casey the shock of losing someone with so much energy, compassion and vitality made them want to change the direction of their lives and to become better people. For those who did not know Casey they were touched by learning about her and also wanted to become kinder and gentler people. Looking into a future without Casey is painful, as painful as it has ever been-for what she has lost and what we have lost by not having her here. So I don't really look into the future and miss her and know that half of our family's future was destroyed three years ago. The loss to her and all who knew her and those who would have been touched by her is so profound and I cannot grasp it. I know that for what we have been through nothing really scares me and that I do appreciate life much more. I understand how life and health are gifts, and how important people-relationships - are and that I am impelled to do things, create and touch people in Casey's memory and will always feel that is my mission. I am at times more fulfilled than I have ever been as I mourn Casey's absence, missing here, remembering her and making certain that her life and memory make a difference in this world.
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