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LIVING WELLWITH GRIEF

LEUKAEMIA FOUNDATION OF QUEENSLAND APRIL 2014 | ISSUE ONE

with despair and pain, which is the beginning of reorganisation and renewal. But this journey is a rocky one and just when you think, ‘I’m getting there’, along comes a significant occasion (birthday or anniversary). The pain of your loss can come with an intensity that can shock you. This isn’t an indication of regression and it is normal to have “grief spikes” years or even decades later. It doesn’t mean you are not coping.

I hope this gives you a greater understanding of your grief, and reassures you that these emotions are normal and part of the grieving process. If you would like to talk further, you can contact Grief Support Services at the Leukaemia Foundation on 07 3055 8233. We are here to support you through your loss and help give you strategies to cope.

Welcome to our new readers of Living Well with Grief. I hope you gain insight into your grief and find the articles helpful. In the past I have had positive feedback from readers who have found solace in reading about others who are also walking this path and that they now don’t feel so alone.

Grief causes an array of emotions, from anger to acceptance, but pain is at the centre of them all. Most people who lose someone they love are only too aware of the gaping hole where once their loved one had been. Often the reality of the loss takes time to be accommodated. One moment they may behave as if no loss has occurred at all, then only moments later they are overcome with grief and anguish. In a sense, as Robert Neimeyer points out in his book ‘Lessons of Loss, A Guide to Coping’, if individuals were constantly facing the reality of the loss it would be like looking into the sun. It would be blinding if they did it for too long. So what occurs is intermittent looking, which allows the person to look at the reality and then look away, until it eventually becomes undeniably real.

As time goes by the full impact of the loss is felt and often the question is asked, “How can I go on living without the person I love?” This is the time when loneliness and sorrow can be very intense; a journey of hard lessons as the loved one is missed a thousand

times every day. Eventually the pain and anguish begins to blend into an acceptance of the reality of the death. Yearning and loneliness can persist for months or years beyond the death.

Grief doesn’t follow a particular path with each step being mapped out. It is more common to take ‘two steps forward and one step back’. The effort taken to re-organise one’s life is slow and punctuated by painful awareness of the loss.

‘For me the real grieving didn’t start until six months after the death. I was numb up until that point, and then I realised, “It’s Christmas and Eric is not here”.’Sally, age 37 (Neimeyer, 2000).

So can you cope with the loss of a loved one? Yes, with understanding and encouragement you can be helped through these times filled

Coping with grief, is this possible?

Shirley Cunningham - Grief Support Services Manager

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Just let me be sad: a responseto the stigma of grief

In the ‘west’, we live in a society so uncomfortable with emotional pain that when someone dies, society expects the outward mourning period to end once the funeral is over. When the bereaved do not cooperate with these prescribed time tables, they are often accused of ‘wallowing’ in their grief. They are indignantly told to ‘move on’ and ‘get over it’.

Do these statements mean that prolonged outward grief is a sign of weakness or self pity? Perhaps it means they think the bereaved secretly enjoy the pain, and the attention it brings? For those of us who have lost someone dear to us, we know that it could not be further from the truth. If we could, we would give ANYTHING to not feel this pain. The hidden meaning behind these statements is that our outward projection of sadness is an unwelcome reminder of all the negative emotions they’ve managed to stuff deep inside until the pain went away - ‘out of sight - out of mind’.

So which is healthier? To bury the pain, only to have it lie dormant until some tragedy unearths it again - but this time stronger and more painful? Or to acknowledge that there is no quick fix to alleviate the overwhelming pain of losing someone you have built your life - and in some cases your identity - around?

I would equate the first option to following the latest fad diet to lose weight quickly without exercising or changing your eating habits. Maybe you’ll pop some appetite suppressing pills and lose weight

in the short term, but the chances of you keeping the weight off are slim, and the reality is that the next time you try to lose weight, it will likely be harder than the time before. The second option would mean facing the harsh reality that transforming your body to a stable, healthy weight requires permanently changing your eating habits and amount of regular exercise. It probably even requires you to readjust your expectations of what your ideal body should look like (sadly, most of us will never look like supermodels or pro athletes). In other words, the second option is HARD WORK but it has the greatest likelihood of becoming a permanent reality.

But if I’m being honest here, I have to admit that given the opportunity, I would have gladly chosen to bury the overwhelming pain when my

daughter died. Suppressing pain and emotions is what I had done my whole life until that point. The fact is that the pain of losing someone I loved MORE than my own life was too much to bury. I reluctantly and resentfully took on more pain than I could bear. I did so because I had no other choice.

For the first time in my life, I learned how to slowly take small steps with that unbearable load on my back. I learned that by sharing my story and my pain with others - whether it was support groups, counselling or with other bereaved individuals - the load was reduced, even if it was

only a very slight amount each time.By reducing the load over months and then years, it became easier to carry. I have since come to understand that the load will never fully go away, but I have learned how to balance it with the rest of my life. And as time goes on, the balance will become easier still. That is not to say that occasionally the load won’t suddenly feel nearly as heavy as it did when my grief

was new. And when it does, I’ll remember how to go back to taking small, careful steps until it feels lighter again.

To all those who cringe in discomfort when they see me experiencing

outward emotional pain, I say this: just let me be sad. My intention is not to make you feel uncomfortable. I don’t expect or want you to follow in my footsteps. But I do expect you to respect the path I have been forced to take on my journey through life. I truly hope you never have to carry this load yourself.

Article from www.opentohope.com

‘I would have gladly chosen to bury the overwhelming pain

when my daughter died.’

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This is a special weekend organised especially for parents who have lost a child, of any age, through leukaemia, lymphoma or other blood cancers/disorders.

This weekend aims to give parents an opportunity to come together and share their memories of their beloved children with others who know and understand the pain they are feeling. It is also an opportunity for hope and healing while enjoying activities including great food, massage, music therapy, sharing stories and making new friends.

‘Needless to say, I’m glad I went. The setting was perfect - a tranquil natural hideaway - relaxing from the start. Our group was a mixture of parents but we seemed to meld well, each bringing to the weekend our own heartache, compassion and friendship to share.’ - Annette Campbell

For more information contact Shirley Cunningham at the Leukaemia Foundation of Queensland on 1800 620 420.

Bereaved Parents’ Weekend

31 October to 2 November

When someone we love is grieving the death of a friend or family member, it’s a challenge to know what to do. We want to say the right thing, show support and ultimately help in the healing process.

Yet all too often, we end up awkwardly offering advice, sputtering a spiritual rationalisation or avoiding the situation altogether.

All of us try to be effective comforters but may find ourselves coming up short. Still, there are specific ways we can respond when those we love lose someone close to them.

Acknowledging the lossIn an instant, the death of a loved one turns life upside-down. Emotions are piqued and responsibilities are overwhelming, making it tough to know when to

reach out and when to give space. ‘I believe it is more helpful to acknowledge the loss,’ says Ann Kihara, a licensed marriage and family counsellor. ‘You can even simply say, “I’m so sorry for your loss”.’

Although the initial contact may feel nerve wracking, take a first step by promptly making a call, writing a letter or paying a visit.

‘It’s unhelpful, even callous, to say things like; ‘This is God’s will’, ‘They would not want you to cry,’ or ‘They are in a better place’.Instead, here’s what you can do:

Be there to listen ‘It’s always tempting to give advice, but don’t,’ Kihara says. True empathy, encouragement and compassion will help those going through a difficult time.

Encourage professional help if necessaryIf you feel your loved one is unable to cope alone, gently recommend that he or she seek professional

help. Providing a list of area grief counsellors may speed up the process.

State specifically how you’re able to helpOffer to prepare a meal, provide a ride, or help clean and sort through old items. Be sensitive to your friend’s feelings and proactive when it comes to meeting needs.

Remind your loved one to take time out to rest, and to hold off on any major life decisionsIt is undoubtedly draining to adjust to a loss and this impairs the ability to think clearly and make decisions. Reach out when your friend misses a loved one

‘Holidays and anniversaries will often trigger the grief response—even many years later,’ says Kihara. ‘Those are good times to be extra supportive and loving.’

There are few things more powerful than knowing we are loved and supported through the valleys of life.’

Helping loved ones grieveby Patricia Johnson taken from www.focusonthefamily.com

Watching someone you care about experience loss is inevitable. Knowing how to respond when it happens can make a memorable difference.

The most recent Bereaved Parents’ Weekend

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The length of a child’s life does not determine the size of the loss. Parents are intimately involved in the daily lives of young children, and their child’s death changes every aspect of family life, often leaving an enormous emptiness. Parents may be less involved in the everyday lives of older children and adolescents, but death at this age occurs just when children are beginning to reach their potential and become independent individuals.

When an adult child dies, parents not only lose a child, but often a close friend, a link to grandchildren and an irreplaceable source of emotional and practical support. Parents who lose an only child also lose their identity as parents and perhaps the possibility of grandchildren.

When any child dies, parents grieve the loss of possibilities and all of the hopes and dreams they had for their child. They grieve the potential that will never be realised and the experiences they will never share. When a child dies, a part of the future dies along with them.

Common grief reactions

Grief reactions following the death of a child are similar to those following other losses, but are often more intense and last longer.

Parents commonly experience the following grief reactions:

» Intense shock, confusion, disbelief, and denial - even if the child’s death was expected

» Overwhelming sadness and despair, making daily tasks or even getting out of bed seem impossible

Grieving the loss of a child

The parent-child bond is one of the most meaningful relationships a person will experience. Parents who have lost a child can often feel that a part of them has died. The despair and pain that follow a child’s death is thought by many to exceed all other experiences. Parents are simply not supposed to outlive their children and no parent is prepared for a child’s death.

» Extreme guilt - some parents will feel they have failed in their role as their child’s protector and will dwell on what they could have done differently

» Intense anger and feelings of bitterness and unfairness at a life left unfulfilled

» Fear or dread of being alone and overprotecting their surviving children

» Feelings of resentment toward parents with healthy children

» Feeling that life has no meaning and wishing to be released from the pain or to join the deceased child

» Questioning or loss of faith or spiritual beliefs - assumptions about the world and how things should be do not fit with the reality of a child’s death

» Dreaming about the child or feeling the child’s presence nearby

» Feeling intense loneliness and isolation, even when with other people - parents often feel that the magnitude of their loss separates them from others and that no one can truly understand how they feel.

Grief is different for everyone

Some people expect that grief should be resolved over a specific time, such as a year, but this is not true. The initial severe reactions are not experienced continuously with such intensity; rather periods of intense grief come and go over a period of 18 months or more. Over time, waves of grief gradually become less intense and less frequent, but feelings of sadness and loss will likely always remain.Developmental milestones in the

lives of other children can trigger emotions of grief even years after a child’s death. Significant days such as graduations, weddings, or the first day of a new school year are common grief triggers. Parents frequently find themselves thinking about how old their child would be or what he or she would look like or be doing if he or she were still alive.

Gender differences in grieving

Mothers and fathers may grieve in different ways. One parent may find talking helps, while the other may need quiet time to grieve alone. Cultural expectations and role differences also affect how men and women grieve. Men are often expected to control their emotions, to be strong, and to take charge of the family. Women may be expected to cry openly and to want to talk about their grief. A working father may become more involved in his job to escape the sadness and daily reminders at home. A stay-at-home mother may be surrounded by constant reminders and may feel she lacks a purpose now that her job as caregiver has abruptly ended. This is especially true for a parent who spent months or even years caring for a child with cancer.

Differences in grieving can cause relationship difficulties at a time when parents need each other’s support the most. One parent may

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believe that the other is not grieving properly or that a lack of open grief means he or she loved the child less. It is important for parents to talk openly about their grief and for each parent to understand and accept the other’s coping style.

Helping siblings who are grieving

Parents are the focus of attention when a child dies and the grief of siblings is sometimes overlooked. The death of a sibling is a tremendous loss for a child - they lose a family member, a confidant, and a life-long friend. Parents are often preoccupied with the needs of a sick child and then become overwhelmed with their own grief when the child dies. The surviving siblings may misinterpret the parents’ grief as a message that they are not as valued as much as the child who died. Parents can help siblings during this time of grief by:

» Making grief a shared family experience and including children in discussions about memorial plans.

» Spending as much time as possible with the surviving children, such as talking about the deceased child, just playing together, or doing something enjoyable.

» Making sure siblings understand that they are not responsible for

Article from www.cancer.net

the child’s death and help them let go of regrets and guilt.

» Never compare siblings to the deceased child and make sure children know that you don’t expect them to “fill in” for the deceased child.

» Set reasonable limits on their behavior, but try not to be either overprotective or overly permissive. It is normal to feel protective of surviving children.

» Ask a close family member or friend to spend extra time with siblings if your own grief prevents you from giving them the attention they need.

Helping yourself grieve

As much as it hurts, it is natural and normal to grieve. Some parents find the following suggestions helpful while grieving:

» Talk about your child often and use his or her name.

» Ask family and friends for help with housework, errands, and taking care of other children. This will give you important time to think, remember, and grieve.

» Take time deciding what to do with your child’s belongings - don’t rush to pack up your child’s room or to give away toys and clothes.

» Prepare ahead of time for how to respond to difficult questions

like ‘How many children do you have?’ or comments like ‘At least you have other children.’ Remember that people aren’t trying to hurt you; they just don’t know what to say.

» Prepare for how you want to spend significant days, such as your child’s birthday or the anniversary of your child’s death. You may want to spend the day looking at photos and sharing memories or start a family tradition such as planting flowers.

» Because of the intensity and isolation of parental grief, parents may especially benefit from a support group where they can share their experiences with other parents who understand their grief and can offer hope.

Finding meaning in life

Parents report that they never really ‘get over’ the death of a child, but rather learn to live with the loss. Every child changes the lives of his or her parents. Children show us new ways to love, new things to find joy in, and new ways to look at the world. A part of each child’s legacy is that the changes he or she brings to a family continue after the child’s death. The memories of joyful moments you spent with your child and the love you shared will live on.

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I remember it like it was yesterday, Mitch came home and seemed distracted, he seemed distant, these were emotions I was not used to seeing him have. Mitch was always present in the moment, never really worried much about anything, always happy. Our baby girl was sitting in her high chair eating cereal and making a huge mess, she was six months old.

Mitch looked across the table from me and told me the results from his physical exam were back and the doctor was concerned about his liver. They wanted to run more tests and make sure everything was okay. My heart absolutely SUNK and I remember never feeling so scared in my entire life. I remember looking at him and saying, ‘you had better be okay, we have a daughter, you’re a Daddy.’

Little did I know that a little over two years later he would be gone…not from a fatty liver, but taken from me (us) doing what he loved most…flying. Given how I took the news about his liver it is an absolute miracle that I (we) have survived almost 11 months without him. My worst fear in life (other than losing a child) was realised and the man I wanted to spend every last waking breath with was dead and I was faced with starting over at 36 years old.

So how is it that I have managed to make it through this phase of my life? How is it that overnight I seemed to grow a strength to survive and do my best to flourish? I think a large part of my strength

comes from my kids. I want my kids to be happy, I want them to have everything life has to offer, I want them to live in the moment. I think another part of my survival has come from Mitch. He always told me that one of the things that he loved about me was my strength, ‘you can do anything you want, you are so amazing’ was something he would tell me almost daily…I always felt the same way about him. He may be gone but his love for me (us) remains and I believe with every fibre of my being that he remains as well in spirit.

I gain strength from so many different things, my parents, my siblings, my friends, but I have to admit that probably the single biggest thing to pull me through this

nightmare has been my exercise and even more specifically it has been my running. To lose Mitch and then turn around a few weeks later and say, ‘I’m going to run a marathon’ was probably the single most important decision I have made this entire first year as a widow.

To have that goal, to say it out loud so I would never back down (Mitch knew that about me) and to have that outlet for my grief was at the very minimum my personal lifesaver. It gave me something to strive for, something to train for, something (besides our kids) to live for. The

training while difficult was cathartic and cleansing. I would often cry on my long runs and sometimes scream…angry that life had handed me this crappy deck of cards. Why Mitch… why me? I hear it daily…people unsatisfied with their lives, with their spouse…we were happy, always… so why us?At one point a dear widow friend

made a comment to me that really stuck, she said, ‘You can’t run from your grief forever, eventually it will find you.’ I shrugged it off thinking I was too strong, I would survive and this

WOULD NOT get me down!

However, I learned the hard way that she was right…6 June came and we all ran for Mitch, we ran for ourselves, and we ran to raise money for charity. We all crossed the finish line, we all cried, cheered, and I sobbed the entire last three miles, finally realising the magnitude of what was lost. June 7 came and it was like someone took the wind out of my sails, the letdown was huge, the lack of focus alarming, the pain…extreme!

I have not blogged since the marathon because I have not

Running from grief

Often I like to look back at my various stages of grief and what I was writing at the time, it helps with my life perspective. I also hope it helps those who are in a similar stage. Tonight I’m sharing a blog post I wrote one month after I ran the San Diego Marathon in 2010. I was less then a year out from my loss.

My one thing has been exercise, the endorphins save me on a daily basis. The time to myself is

magical. The anger I manage to take out on the weights, therapeutic to say the least.

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completely felt like myself. I could not possibly put into words the enormity of the day or the reason for the day. I would sit down to write (something that normally brings me satisfaction) and it would feel like work, it would feel pressed, the words would not come.

Tonight I feel the words starting to come back to me, telling me that I need to share my experience with others who might be grieving or who might grieve in the future because let’s face it…we all go through extreme loss at some point in our lives. There is no escape from it. So my advice…find that one thing within yourself that makes you stronger and do it with all your soul. Don’t hold back, don’t worry about those who tell you that it can’t be done, just do it.

My one thing has been exercise, the endorphins save me on a daily basis. The time to myself is magical. The anger I manage to take out on

The hardest part of being a widowby Widow in the Middle

Last night I attended a band concert for my oldest child and this morning woke up at 4am with a migraine. I dragged myself up out of bed and went downstairs for medicine. It took a bit of time for the migraine to subside but by the time I got up for the day at 6am it was thankfully gone. This got me thinking about what I personally find to be the hardest part of living on my own.

1. Attending concerts, school and sporting events by myself.

2. Being ill or under the weather (or even just tired or drained) and not having a partner to lend a hand (run downstairs for the pill bottle and glass of water). Once, soon after I was widowed, I had such a severe migraine that I had to call up my job and have a co-worker run to the pharmacy and pick up some medicine!

3. Going to those endless school events on my own is a very visual reminder to me of the fact that I’m on my own. In my town very few people my age are unmarried, so the seats are just filled with couples. I always feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. I can’t say I have ever really gotten used to it. I attend so many events because the boys are very active in sports and school functions. Once, last year, I found myself crying as I watched a football game thinking of my late husband and how he would have loved seeing his sons play.

Of course, having kids means that I have to get out and see their events. I’ve never had the luxury of being able to hide from the world and this has been a good thing because I think I may have hidden if I could have. Sometimes I wish people in general knew how difficult it is for people in my position - that there is pain and grief even while watching your child play a solo at the band concert five years after the death of your husband!

the weights, therapeutic to say the least. I have never in my life been so fit and while this does not take away my emotional scars, it does help me keep a positive attitude, smile more frequently, and generally love myself more, which everyone of us needs to learn.

I don’t feel guilty about the time away from the kids, because at the end of the day I realise that this time makes me a much better mummy. Since I have to be both mummy and daddy at this point…this is a very positive side effect. If only I could bottle the feeling I get when I sweat, so I could share it with each person and have them experience the euphoria. Perhaps that will be on my list of goals for 2011…

In 11 months I have learned more than I thought possible about human nature, the kindness of strangers, the love of good friends, and the brevity of life. I have a perspective that is at times magical;

I appreciate each second, I love very deeply, I understand more than I ever thought possible. In a very strange way I feel like being a widow makes me blessed, I have this perspective, it was earned the hardest of ways…. but is now part of who I am.

I am forever changed and while I would not wish my pain on my worst enemy, I would wish my perspective on the world!

Continued from page 6

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Article from www.onefitwidow.com

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In many families, the relationships between grandparents and grandchildren are every bit as profound as those between parents and their children. The death of a grandchild also ranks high on the scale of human grief - but it is rarely acknowledged. There are few books or support groups addressing the grief of grandparents, and bereavement counsellors who specialise in this kind of grief are rare. Grandparents are usually left to cope as best they can.

When a grandchild dies, the anguish of grandparents is two-fold. Their grief for a son or daughter suffering this tragic loss only compounds their pain at the loss of a beloved grandchild. Grandparents who outlast a grandchild struggle with a death that seems out of order; they may cope with survival guilt, perhaps wondering why they couldn’t have died instead. Moreover, a grandchild’s death chips away at a grandparent’s assumed legacy. Most of us hope to make a mark in the world, and the achievements of our children and grandchildren are a part of that dream. When one dies prematurely, that loss resonates through the generations.

Many families are fractured by divorce, violence or mere inattention, and struggling single parents are hard pressed to provide the consistent and unconditional love that children need. Grandparents fill the role of the enduring presence, the ones who are available and who can

be depended upon for affection and support. The deep, nurturing love shared by many children and their grandparents is a bond that is extraordinarily painful when broken by death.

If you are a grandparent who has lost a grandchild, you have every reason to grieve deeply. For now, your task is to mourn the death of this child and to take care of yourself as best as you can. If you want help, look for a book that addresses parental grief and substitute ‘grandparent’ as you read. There may be other grieving grandparents among your friends and neighbours, and you can share your common grief and mutual comfort.

Above all, be patient with yourself, and:

» Don’t try to suppress your grief.

» Select the relatives or friends who give you comfort and tell them how you feel.

» Don’t accept a comparison of your grief to that of others; grief is unique to each person.

» Take time off from your grief occasionally; go visit a friend or take a short vacation at a place that you love.

» The loss of a beloved grandchild is a severe blow, but avoid thinking that life has no more to offer. It is important that you find ways to fill the void in your life. The worlds of literature, music and art can be sources of great comfort

in a time of grief. If you have always wanted to paint, take some classes and dedicate your efforts to the memory of your grandchild. Sign up as a volunteer for a local hospital or food bank. Helping others can strengthen the nurturing identity that has been injured by this death.

When a great loss hits us, we are numbed and life seems meaningless for a while. But with the passage of time, we again begin to see that life is still worth living, not just for others but for ourselves, as well. Just as you loved a grandchild, there are others - friends, neighbours, and even strangers - who await your love. For all its cruel twists, this life is still the only one we are given. You have every right to be a survivor and to make the most of each day and each year. I suggest you get started today.

The Grief of Grandparents article was originally published on the American Hospice Foundation website. ©2004. American Hospice Foundation. All Rights Reserved.

The grief of Grandparents

There is no bond greater than the bond between parent and child. When a child dies, the pain of a parent’s loss is near the top of the scale of human grief, and there is an immediate outpouring of sympathy and concern for the bereaved parents. But other grieving family members, including siblings, are often seen as secondary players who must provide support to the distraught parents. Among these forgotten grievers are the grandparents.

By Helen Fitzgerald

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I am 70 years young.

I was happily married to my husband Kevin for 47 years. He was a leukaemia patient for the past 17 years. That was until the 24 March 2012, I lost the love of my life.

Kevin and I had sold up our little house that we built together near Allora, Queensland, to move north to a warmer climate and closer to our family. Kevin had to have another chemotherapy session in Brisbane first and then we would be off on the road with our new boat behind the motor home.

We were having a great time at Coolmunda Dam when Kevin got an infection in his foot. He had spiked his toe on the tiniest stick.We headed back to Brisbane hospital for intravenous antibiotics which were fixing the infection, but he died suddenly from a massive brain haemorrhage. He never left the hospital.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. Stay living in the motor home or sell it and buy a small house or unit? I didn’t know if I would be afraid to travel and camp by myself. After much thought I decided to do a small trip which went very well.

A few weeks later, I visited a friend and there I backed into a trellis putting a very large dent in the roof (not a mark on the trellis). I was beside myself and thought maybe I was being silly to think I could do this alone. Then I remembered Kevin had broken the tail lights when he backed into a thin tree that was in a blind spot like the

trellis, and he was an experienced driver of big trucks and machinery. So off I went and even towed the boat all the way from Brisbane to Townsville.

While in Townsville I went to a motor home club event. The first day was so terrible, as was the start of day two. I didn’t know anyone and was about to hit the key and drive back to my daughter’s home when along came two solo ladies who had seen me alone. After a little chat I was told to get my cup, grab my chair and come with them.

That was the start of meeting many new friends who travel around the country alone or in groups and are always looking out for one another.I am now a very independent ‘solo motor homer’, who has travelled thousands of kilometres alone. I have coped with many problems along the way such as the day the tornado went through Mulwalla a year ago, smashing my vehicle along with many others. I’ve had

several breakdowns and had to organised a few mechanical repairs. I have even been underneath the vehicle repairing a faulty drain hose.

I am so lucky to have an amazing family and many friends who have, and still do support me along my journey.

Yes, there are still those times of utter loneliness when you just want

to share something special with someone, but you have to remember the good times and look to the future. Not always easy.

The purpose of this story is to encourage anyone who has a motor home and enjoyed travelling with their loved one. Don’t sell it or let it sit there to rust away - come along and join us. You can do it! Most of us have lost a loved one. I want to stress that it is NOT a singles club. We are all much stronger than we realise. I know my Kevin wouldn’t want me to be sitting somewhere just looking at four walls. I’m sure he would be very proud of me.

Yes, there are still those times of utter loneliness when you just want to share

something special with someone, but you have to remember the good times and look to

the future. Not always easy.

For more information, the following websites might be useful: www.solosnetwork.org.auwww.cmca.net.au

Kevin and Jean Mawson

We are much stronger than we realise

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As the one-year anniversary of Matthew’s death approaches, I have been shocked by some subtle and not-so-subtle comments indicating that perhaps I should be ready to ‘move on’. The soft, compassionate cocoon that has enveloped us for the last 11 1/2 months had lulled me into believing others would be patient with us on our grief journey. And while I’m sure many will read this and quickly say, ‘Take all the time you need’, I’m increasingly aware that the cocoon may be in the process of collapsing. It’s understandable when you take a step back. I mean, life goes on. The thousands who supported us in the aftermath of Matthew’s death wept and mourned with us, prayed passionately for us, and sent an unbelievable volume of cards, letters, emails, texts, phone calls and gifts. The support was utterly amazing. But for most, life never stopped - their world didn’t grind to a horrific, catastrophic halt on 5 April 2013. In fact, their lives have kept moving steadily forward with tasks, routines, work, kids, leisure, plans, dreams and goals. LIFE GOES ON. And some of them are ready for us to go on too.

They want the old Rick and Kay back. They secretly wonder when things will get back to normal for us - when we’ll be ourselves and when the tragedy of 5 April 2013 will cease to be the grid that we pass everything across. And I have to tell you – the old Rick and Kay are

Don’t tell grievers to move on!

gone. They’re never coming back. We will never be the same again. There is a new ‘normal’. 5 April 2013 has permanently marked us. It will remain the grid we pass everything across for an indeterminate amount of time, maybe forever.

Because these comments from well-meaning folks wounded me so deeply, I doubted myself and thought perhaps I really am not grieving ‘well’ (whatever that means). I wondered if I was being overly sensitive - so I checked with

parents who have lost children to see if my experience was unique. Far from it, I discovered. ‘At least you can have another child’, one mother was told shortly after her child’s death. ‘You’re doing better, right?’, I was asked recently. ‘When are you coming back to the stage at Saddleback? We need you’, someone cluelessly said to me recently.

‘People can be so rude and insensitive; they make the most thoughtless comments,’ one grieving father said. You know, it wasn’t all that long ago that it was standard in our culture for people to officially be in mourning for a full year. They wore black. They didn’t go to parties. They didn’t smile a whole lot. And everybody accepted

Approaching the one-year anniversary of the death of her son, Matthew, Kay Warren (wife of well-known American pastor, Rick Warren) recently shared her strong feelings about well-meaning, but often insensitive comments she’s received during the grieving process. In just the few days since its original posting, Kay Warren’s Facebook post piece has been re-posted nearly 17,000 times.

their period of mourning; no one ridiculed a mother in black or asked her stupid questions about why she was STILL so sad. Obviously this is no longer accepted practice. Mourners are encouraged to quickly move on, turn the corner, get back to work, think of the positive, be grateful for what is left, have another baby, and other unkind, unfeeling, obtuse and downright

cruel comments.

What does this say about us - other than we’re terribly uncomfortable with death, with grief, with mourning, with loss – or we’re so self-absorbed that we easily forget

the profound suffering the loss of a child creates in the shattered parents and remaining children.

Unless you’ve stood by the grave of your child or cradled the urn that holds their ashes, you’re better off keeping your words to some very simple phrases: ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’, or ‘I’m praying for you and your family’. Do your best to avoid the meaningless, catch-all phrase ‘How are you doing?’. This question is almost impossible to answer. If you’re a stranger, it’s none of your business. If you’re a casual acquaintance, it’s excruciating to try to answer honestly, and you leave the sufferer unsure whether to lie to you (I’m ok), to end the conversation, or try to haltingly tell you that their right arm was cut off

Kay Warren

Please don’t ever tell someone to be grateful for what they have left until they’ve

had a chance to mourn what they’ve lost. It will take longer than you think is reasonable, rational or even right. But

that’s ok.

Continued over page

11

and they don’t know how to go on without it. If you’re a close friend, just tell them ‘You don’t have to say anything at all; I’m with you in this’.

I’m sad to realise that even now – in the middle of my own shattering loss – I can be callous with the grief of another and rush through the conversation without really listening, blithely spouting the platitudes I hate when offered to me. We’re not good grievers, and when I judge you, I judge myself as well.

Here’s my plea: please don’t ever

» Lie in the sun streaming in through your windows. Bathe, breathe in the sun.

» Designate an afternoon or evening and take the phone off the hook.

» When you are worried or obsessing, set up a specific time of the day to “worry” for 20 minutes. Set a timer. When the time is up, do something rewarding for yourself.

» Do something you’re good at. It is important to ground yourself in your skills and abilities, even if the outcome isn’t up to par (trouble concentrating and decreased zest are common in grief).

» Comfort yourself by taking a warm bath using your favorite scents, and burn aromatherapy candles. It’s invigorating and relaxing at the same time.

» Buy yourself or your loved one a gift—and have the clerk gift wrap it. Choose the prettiest paper and bow. Celebrate fond memories.

Self care while grieving: comfort quickies

» Wrap up in a warm blanket. Put on relaxation tapes and sip your favorite tea or hot chocolate.

» Dressed in comfortable clothing, find a rocking chair and rock your troubles away.

» Play music that matches your mood. Feel understood by the songs and singers that share your experiences.

» Especially when you are feeling stressed and overwhelmed, forget about making to-do lists. Instead, at the close of each day, make a list of what’s been done.

» Burn Russian amber or sandalwood incense.

» Find something alive to care for, such as a plant or a pet.

» Eat at least one nourishing meal each day, even if the food doesn’t hit your taste buds like you’re used to.

» Make a fire in the fireplace and do some stretching and focus on yourself. You can add your

During grieving, it is common to need breaks from our emotions. This in no way dishonors the seriousness of our concerns and the memories of our loved one. These ideas may give you some additional nourishment to respond to the stress that comes with grieving.

favorite soft music to this, if you wish.

» Breathe—really breathe! Take deep breaths in through the nose and slowly out through the mouth.

» Say ‘no’ to something… and ‘yes’ to yourself.

» Try gentle exercise like yoga, tai chi, or walking.

» Spend some time in nature.

» Make a memory box, collage, or journal to store your thoughts and memories.

tell someone to be grateful for what they have left until they’ve had a chance to mourn what they’ve lost. It will take longer than you think is reasonable, rational or even right. But that’s ok. True friends love at all times, and brothers and sisters are born to help in time of need. The truest friends and ‘helpers’ are those who wait for the griever to emerge from the darkness that swallowed them alive without growing afraid, anxious or impatient. They don’t pressure their friend to be the old familiar person they’re used to. They’re willing to

accept that things are different, embrace the now-scarred one they love, and are confident that their compassionate, non-demanding presence is the surest expression of God’s mercy to their suffering friend.

They’re ok with messy and slow and few answers… and they never say “move on.”

Continued from page 10

Disclaimer: No person should rely on the contents of this publication without first obtaining advice from their treating specialist. If you do not wish to receive future editions of this publication please contact the Leukaemia Foundation Support Services Division on 07 3055 8233.

Leukaemia Foundation of Queensland ©

CONTACT US

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LOCATION

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Leukaemia Foundation of QueenslandESA Village Conference Room41 Peter Doherty Street, Dutton Park QLD 4102

RSVP IS ESSENTIAL

Please phone Marian on 07 3055 8233 or email ssreception@leukaemia.org.au.

2014 GRIEF PROGRAM

Light the Night15 October 2014

We would love you to join us at the Leukaemia Foundation’s Light the Night to remember loved ones we have lost and show support for the work of the Leukaemia Foundation.

“I would encourage all those who have lost a loved one to come along to Light the Night. I felt that being part of something so special has been another important stepping stone in my grief journey.” - Lisa

Details of local events will become available at www.lightthenight.org.au in coming months or phone 1800 620 420.

FEBRUARY

SAT 1 Grief brunch

Facilitators:

Date & time:

Shirley Cunningham, Linda MaleSaturday 1 February 9am

MAY

SAT 3 Grief brunch

Facilitators:

Date & time:

Shirley Cunningham, Linda MaleSaturday 3 May 9.30am

SEPTEMBER

SAT 20 Grief brunch

Facilitators:

Date & time:

Shirley Cunningham, Linda MaleSaturday 20 September 9am

OCTOBER/NOVEMBER

FRI 31 Bereaved parents’ weekend

Facilitators:

Date & time:

Shirley Cunningham, Linda Male31 October - 2 November

DECEMBER

SAT 6 Grief brunch

Facilitators:

Date & time:

Shirley Cunningham, Linda Male Saturday 6 December 9am

Director of Support Services » Barbara Hartigan

Support Services Coordinators » Sheila Deuchars » Scott Martin » Maryanne Skarparis » Nicole Douglas

Grief Support Services Manager » Shirley Cunningham

Support Services Administration Officer » Marian Marshall

QUEENSLAND SUPPORT SERVICES TEAM

To donate to the Leukaemia Foundation of Queensland and support families in their time of grief please phone 1800 620 420 or visit www.leukaemiaqld.org.au