The Compassionate Friends
Brisbane Newsletter
December 2006 - January 2007
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The Compassionate Friends
Brisbane Newsletter
December 2006 - January 2007
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Christmas
Thoughts
Beyond the Christmas trees, the angels and stars and beloved
carols …
Beyond the presents, the shopping, the baking and cooking …
Beyond all these sights and sounds of Christmas …
Beyond all of these … there is hope.
Hope …
For the bereaved parent, even at Christmas,
One of the most, if not THE most, painful times of the year,
There is an essence of hope.
Hope …
It is the hope that someday the pain of the death of our children
will be eased.
The hope is that once again we will laugh and love and cry
Completely without fear and hollowness.
It is the hope that someday we can remember our children
with a tenderness tinged with sorrow
And not overwhelmed with it.
So it is that for each of you I would hope …
Peace, compassion, love, understanding,
Sympathy, sharing and listening.
In the sharing of our grief with one another
And in the emotional support we give to one another,
We receive and understand all these gifts.
TCF, Terre Haute, Indiana, USA
Repreinted from TCF Qld newsletter, 1989
A Survival Guide
By Susan Arlen, M.D., Somerville, New Jersey Bereavement Magazine
Nov/Dec 1993 (adapted)
As if each ordinary day isn’t difficult and painful enough
for the bereaved to survive, along comes the Christmas/New Year
holiday season with it’s warmth and good cheer and its
traditions and customs of family togetherness. The holidays can
bring a stinging reminder of what once was but never will be
again.
Often our childhood memories of the holidays somehow seem more
festive, warmer, more complete, more ideal—indeed, more
everything—than those of today?
Have the holidays actually changed, or has society in it’s
push toward progress and future altered our perceptions? Two
generations ago, most Australians spent their entire lives not
far from their birthplace. Then, it was taken for granted that
family and friends would always be there to share in
all-important occasions, both happy and sad.
Our “progress” has caused us to become a fractured
nation with families divided and split—members in different
states of Australia or even in different countries. Now, when we
want or need to “reach out and touch someone”, we must
either use the phone lines or board a plane.
A beautiful gift sent across the miles is a delight to
receive—a message that someone cares. But given the choice,
most people would forego the gift and opt instead for the
presence of their child.
The bereaved parent/grandparent/sibling, however, does not have
this choice. They cannot even anticipate a phone call. The
holidays have become something for them to dread. “The
gaiety seen in public places has become an affront and a source
of increased distress for them. Their sense of despair and of
being out of step with the rest of the world is
intensified.”
One of the issues expressed time and again is the dissonance that
they perceive between their sorrow, loss and yearning and the
incongruity that the rest of the world appears to continue along
without missing a beat. The very sight of happy people rushing
around looking for the perfect decoration or gift or party dress
exacerbates the bleakness so often felt.
Holidays are family times, times of togetherness, closeness,
tradition and ritual. How can bereaved families hope to survive
the holiday season when their child, the one who gave meaning to
the celebration, will not be there?
Can one celebrate Christmas with the anticipation of joy, good
cheer and children’s excited faces? Can one welcome the New
Year with it’s promise of fresh starts and clean slates when
all one really wishes to do is recapture precious times past? Can
times of wholeness, when our child was present, ever be
recovered? All memories seem to be centred on sharing the joys
and the prayers of those days when “looking forward”
meant the happy anticipation of looking forward to being
together.
How cruel and painful the Christmas/New Year season can become!
Each sight, each smell conjures up thoughts of what once was.
Those times of the year that recalled simple every-day-ness were
painful enough. Then, suddenly as if out of nowhere, the holidays
rapidly bear down, bringing into clear focus the differences
between bereaved families and the rest of the world.
One day or even one moment at a time has been difficult enough.
Energies for even simple tasks that occurred during times of
small expectations have been depleted. Now, traditions that were
once savoured and anticipated are feared, ritual is often
dreaded, gaiety becomes an affront.
A
Guide to survive the Christmas/New Year holidays:
Recognise the possible sources of discomfort, try to anticipate
even the smallest part that might elicit pain, and then decide
what can or cannot be faced, altered or eliminated.
Acknowledge that this year will be different. Eliminate whatever
you need to. There is nothing you must do. Grief depletes energy.
Because of this lessened energy, the simplest of tasks may loom
large and insurmountable. How can you face dinners and parties
when smiling and laughter feel like the twist of a knife in the
raw wound of your loss? How can you attend religious services
with all of their reminders and implied promises? Only you can
decide this, there is no right or wrong.
Take care of your own health; guard your own strength and energy.
It is OK to say, “no” to invitations. It is difficult
to predict your feelings and energy levels, so it’s also OK
to change your mind at the last minute about attending dinners,
parties and religious services or to leave a function early. You
must be your own guide.
Almost every shopping centre will display decorations and
Christmas carols will be heard in every shop. People will seem to
rush around with purpose. All of this can increase your own
feeling of purposelessness, isolation and alienation from what
the rest of the world is doing and feeling. Anticipation can
soften the shock of the unexpected.
Give yourself permission to change whatever traditions or rituals
that you need to change. Nothing is written in stone! Just
because something has been done a certain way for twenty years
doesn’t mean that it is the only way to do it. Change things
if you want to. The option to return to the old traditions will
be there next year and the year after.
Change the time, location and/or menu of traditional meals. Or
eliminate them altogether this year. Attend religious services at
a different time than usual or at another church—or
don’t go at all this year. Decorate differently, have
someone else decorate, decorate exactly the same as always or
don’t decorate at all. Open gifts at a different time than
you did before. YOU are the only guide as to what is correct.
Break large tasks into small pieces. Don’t be afraid to
delegate tasks to others. Tell friends and relatives what would
be helpful to you. They would probably like to help you but
don’t know what to do. Tell them as specifically as you can.
Memorialise your child in some way that is both important to you
and would have meaning for him or her. It needn’t be a large
gesture, but it is helpful if it has a unique and personal value.
If you wish to go away for the holidays, do so. This year, you
must do what is right for you. Remember though that you will take
your thoughts and your grief with you.
Find something, some small thing, that is special to you. Do
something you have never done before. Give your own life a degree
of meaning and value no matter how bereft you are feeling.
All of these suggestions offer the same basic message: There is
no right or wrong way for you to do things. There is only your
way and that is the correct way for you.
People have often expressed a wish to hibernate during the
holidays completely. We can mentally ignore the holidays by
pretending that they don’t exist, but it takes tremendous
effort and energy to deny all of the input we see around us.
Remember that implicit in Christmas is the miracle of hope for
the future. Create your own hope for your own future. Give
yourself the gift of this miracle. May you find peace this
Christmas/New Year season.
Back to Index
FAMILY PHOTOS
In our last newsletter, our editor invited TCF members to share
their stories on what they did when having a family photo taken
after the death of one of their children.
One of our TCF Qld members has very generously submitted her
story.
“I would like to tell you what happened in our family re new
family photos after our daughter, Julie & son-in-law, John
were murdered. Our eldest grandson, Adam who is brilliant on
computers of his own volition scanned the photos onto the
computer and picked two particularly nice photos of Julie out of
the photos we had of her, one of these photos she was bending
over looking over someone’s shoulder but looking towards the
camera; the other one is simply a very nice photo of her. The one
where she is bending over slightly Adam superimposes on new
family photos as though she is looking over our shoulders and the
other photo is likely to bob up anywhere in photos but he mists
it—when the photos are reprinted it looks like Julie was
always in the pictures.
He always looked on Julie as his second Mum as he was an only
child and was always at her place playing with the other
children. He just didn’t like her missing from photos. So
she still regularly appears in different photos when the mood
takes him to put her there. Quite often he also changes the
background.”
Back to Index
IN MEMORY STEVEN VICTOR GRAY 8/1/61 to 19/10/98
Steve Remembered and Loved Always
8 years with this empty heartache
I know this will always be
The saddest memories and anguish
As we placed your ashes in the sea
The photographs and momentos
around our home they grace
Don’t give your voice, your laugh
your loving ways, expressions on your face
Wonderful Memories of the times we spent
as you grew into a man
The loss the grief the sadness
I deal with when I can.
Always in my Heart. Till we meet again...Mum.
Lovingly submitted by Steven’s Mother, Helen Gray, TCF Qld.
Back to Index
KEEGAN RHYS HARDY 28/11/02 to 9/3/03
Every night in my dreams I see you, feel you and hear you.
That is how I know that you are doing OK
Every butterfly I see, every rain shower we get
Every time your brothers and sister smile
I know you are there and showing us just that.
Wherever you are, whatever you are doing
I know in my heart that you are with us each day
Wherever we are and whatever we are doing
You will always remain.
Love has touched us in such a special way
It will last a lifetime
And will never let go ‘til we’re gone too
Love is how we loved you
So deeply and so true.
Daddy & Mummy
Submitted by Fiona Hardy, TCF, Qld in loving memory of her son,
Keegan
Back to Index
Cameron
Bierge 15/10/69 to 3/3/05
Submitted with love by Kathleen Bierge
in loving memory of her son, Cameron
DO NOT STAND at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints in snow,
I am the sunlight and ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there,
I did not die.
Anonymous
Back to Index
WHAT DO YOU GET
FROM ATTENDING A TCF SUPPORT MEETING
I remember walking into my very first TCF support meeting with
great sadness in my heart, wondering if I was doing the right
thing, dragging my feet as if I had a huge weight on my shoulders
and very scared and anxious about what happened at these
meetings.
When I entered the room I could hear people laughing and I was so
angry and I thought “Why are they laughing, don’t they
know my son has just died”. I was just about to turn around
and walk out I was so upset when a very kind, gentle, caring lady
approached me and said “Hello my name is Julia, you must be
Joy, come on in and join us”.
I have never looked back from that night and attended support
meetings for many years, planning other arrangements around my
TCF support meeting just so I could attend. Why?, you may ask,
well after that first meeting I left feeling better off than some
of the people that I had met that evening. As we sat in a circle
to share our stories (and I was told I did not have to if I did
not want to) I was overwhelmed when the lady next to me shared
her story and she had lost two of her children, then the next
lady to share her story had lost her only child, others had lost
their child under circumstances that required ongoing distress
such as court cases etc.
I found myself thinking thank goodness I have not lost my only
child or two of my children or having to deal with the ongoing
circumstances surrounding the death of my child. As we sat in
that circle and shared our stories and a mother reached out and
held the hand of another who was sobbing uncontrollably, and
later another put her arm around the shoulder of another, then
another would take a box of tissues to someone else crying, I
began to realize that I was in the right place, a place where I
could talk about my child over and over, a place where they
understood that stabbing ache in my heart, why I couldn’t
get out of bed in the morning and why I thought about nothing but
my dead child.
I began to make beautiful friendships and build a strong support
network through the amazing people that I met at each meeting.
Slowly I became stronger in knowing that I did not have to suffer
this long road ahead alone and eventually I was able to help a
newly bereaved parent who was attending a meeting for the first
time and was probably feeling the same feelings that I did at
that time.
I realize now that we do laugh again, the heaviness in our hearts
lightens and the memories of our child/children grow stronger as
time goes by and they are never forgotten.
Caring thoughts Joy Van Raalte Co-ordinator
Back to Index
4
today
Lovingly submitted by Shan Delany, TCF, Qld
Mother of Ryan Delany 2/12/02 to 19/12/03
Today’s a day that we will, put on a smile for you,
For though you’re gone, you still live on, in everything we
do,
4 today you would have been, a delight to all you knew,
With your blonde hair, cheeky grin and eyes so beautiful blue.
You’d surely be up early, playing with Kaila and Jack,
They might try to boss you, but you’d take none of that.
You’d then all run to wake up, mum and dad from sleeping
Promising, that at your gifts, you hadn’t been peeping!
What you’d get would be more than your wildest dreams.
A little bat? A motorbike? Or a racing car that gleams?
You’d light up our day, with your joy at your new toys,
You'd want to play straight away with the other girls and boys.
You’d have a little party with all of your friends there,
Your mum would bake an amazing cake for everyone to share,
We’d light up the candles bright and we’d all sing to
you,
Happy Birthday little Rhino, you’re in everything we do.
We know you can’t be here, to celebrate your birthday
We will show you that we care, in every possible way
We’ll still have the party wishing you were here
And even though you’re not, we’ll feel you’re very
near.
Have fun catching our balloons, Ryan.
We can only imagine at your likes and dislikes, talents and
dreams.
We love you very much. Be happy little man. We love you so much.
Dad, Mum, Kaila and Jack.
Back to Index
A
Letter to Kelly
Sent in by Jan Smith, TCF Qld, Mother of Kelly
In Sweet and Loving Memory of the 18 Wonderful Years You Gave Me
27/7/1976 to 17/12/1994
My Dearest Kelly,
I’ve tried desperately over the past few months to find just
the right thing to put into the newsletter to mark the 10th
anniversary of your passing. There is nothing that I can find
that describes how I feel and therefore I send this message to
you, to tell you how much I still miss you, how much I still love
you and how much I still need you in my life.
My life is somewhat of a contradictation these days that I
don’t fully understand, nor do I worry anymore about trying
to comprehend the contradictions of my life.
My feelings have never really changed over the past 10 years, how
I felt in the beginning is reflected in how I feel now. I have
adjusted somewhat and thankfully I don’t suffer with the
same intensity of pain, hurt, despair and anguish that once I
did.
I’ve got used to your not being around although I miss you;
I miss you at family events and yet I know somehow you are there;
I feel your presence in my heart although I miss reaching out and
touching you;
I miss talking with you, although I do;
I miss hearing your voice, although in my mind and heart you
answer;
I’ve got used to living without your love although I feel it
all around me;
I MISS YOU and yet you are always with me.
How can all these contradictions make any sense. They simply
don’t but they help me cope with living, because without you
in my life somehow—I would die too. I suppose that’s
why sometimes I feel half dead. Here in body, part of my soul
with you, where you abide. I wear my mask daily, but its times
like this that my mask comes unstuck and I am thrown back into
the desperate pain of your leaving too soon. My heart is broken
all over again, my throat aches, my chest hurts and tears flow as
I pat my face trying to get my mask back on.
You know Kelly that all of us bereaved parents feel pretty much
the same, encourage all the beautiful spirits around you to send
their love often to their family and friends.
Enfold us with your angel wings,
Whisper to us through the wind,
Kiss us with the warmth of the sun ...
and just occasionally send tears of rain from heaven
to let us know that you miss us too;
Send after the rain a rainbow
to let us know you’re in a place of peace & beauty
and you are happy.
I know your sisters miss you as well, guide them to peace and
send your love often.
Well that’s all I can put down on paper for now, the rest is
in my heart where you are.
All my love to you, I miss you so.... MUM xxxooo
Back to Index
Feelings
I feel like I've just existed
And now it's been 4 years
I don't know how I've lived and breathed
Without you being here.
I know you lived your lifetime
As short as that seems to me,
But the pain in my heart is still so great,
Yet I know your spirit is free.
At times I think I hear you
The thoughts come to my mind.
I struggle for the sound of your voice,
But your voice I cannot find.
Yet you come to me in many ways
So I know you did not die,
You want to tell me that you're close,
And to please stop asking Why.
Our lives on earth seem all too brief,
or brief as it seems to me.
But where you are is forever,
God calls that Eternity!
In Memory of Rebecca Ann Cotterill 14.02.77 to 25.12.02
who passed away on Christmas Day in Amsterdam
Lovingly submitted by Patricia Cotterill, TCF Qld mother of
Rebecca
Back to Index
Joey
Organ
Born 2/12/02 Passed away 7/11/04
I would sit in my office and do work on the computer and a little
head would pop up and Joey would say “HARO” and I would
laugh and he would go around the side of the office put his hand
on the power point and look at me and smile and turn all my
computers off with one touch and he would laugh his head off and
run for his life, I would lose hours of work.
One day he was riding his tricycle and I said to him it’s
your birthday soon so me and you will go and buy a bike together,
his face lit up like a Christmas tree.
The ice cream man came down the road and I took Livi (Joey’s
older sister) and Joey out to buy an ice cream. I said to Joey
“ Livi can pick her birthday ice cream cake and next time
you can pick yours out.”
I was at work on the Monday when I got the phone call that Joey
died, my Joey was gone. He was buried on the Thursday.
I still have the old bike; we never got around to shoping for the
new one.
The ice cream man came around and he had a big smile on his face
and I had to tell him that Joey wasn’t there to pick out his
ice cream cake.
I would give anything to have Joey just once pop up his head and
Say “Haro” or turn my computer off.
I love you Baby.
Gang Gang. Your Grandfather,
Lovingly submitted by Peter McDowell in memory of his beloved
grandson, Joey.
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