The Compassionate Friends Brisbane Chapter Newsletter JunJul06

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Disclaimer : Opinions expressed in articles within this newsletter are those of the writers and not necessarily those of either TCF or the Editor. The Editor reserves the right to edit any contribution, Any articles, poems, quotes that are stated as ‘author unknown’ within this newsletter are reproduced in good faith and do not intentionally contravene copyright laws.
The Compassionate Friends
Brisbane Newsletter

June / July 2006

This Web Page is Dedicated to the beautiful memory
of my precious daughter Kelly Maree Pollitt for her 30th Birthday.

Please browse amongst our pages or use the links below to select various articles just in case your in a hurry or want to read a specific item.

We acknowledge with gratitude all contributions to this newsletter.

Please report any comments or problems
with this web site to SmithJ@uq.net.auNOSPAM

Why do I hate the world?
Why am I so angry?
Why doesn’t the sun shine anymore?
Why did it have to happen to you?
Why do I blame myself?
Why don’t the nightmares go away?
Why aren’t three kids enough?
Why do I keep missing you?
Why don’t I just get on with my life?
Because you belong amongst the living and not the dead.
Because you had the heart of a lion.
Because your smile lit up the world.
Because you were special.
Because there will never be another you.

DEATH DURING OR FOLLOWING CONFLICT
By Don Hackett, TCF Higham MA USA,
author of “Saying Olin to say Goodbye”, Reflections Vol 19-2 June 2000

A little discussed problem for many bereaved parents is the state of their relationship with their child in the days or hours preceding the child’s death. This problem is not unique to those of us who have had either our only child or all our children die. Most frequently the issue revolves around argument, anger or harsh words between parent and children as the last contact before death. It is small wonder that this should weigh heavily. None of us would willingly choose such an unpleasant permanent parting. Yet, it is not entirely uncommon, as my own situation may illustrate.
Olin, our seventeen year old son and only child was working in the dining room and kitchen of a summer camp a few miles down the road from home. On the day of this death, July 6 1982, I suddenly realized it was 8.00am and rushed to his room to get him up. Unfortunately he had been out somewhat late the night before and had assured me that this would be no problem for working the next day. That seemed farfetched and I was verbally forceful in requiring him to get up and leave for work. Our dialogue was heated and senseless, my own portion being a good example of a parent’s unreasonable demands (so I discovered later from Olin’s employer). I was troubled throughout the morning and resolved to apologise that evening and straighten out the needless tension of the morning. But such was not to be, for at noon he was dead, never again would we meet in life.
It took many months of soul-searching, with much time spent in the abyss of depression and despair, before I could come to terms with the conflict which seemed to cloud the loving nature of our relationship. I finally came to understand that the years of our contact as father and son, the genuine love we shared, was the true measure of our care and concern for one another. It was not the first time one of us had been unreasonable or argued. Had he lived, we likely would have had other similar struggles, for such is normally a part of human association. Indeed, it is only in loving we dare the closeness that enables the intensity of parent-child disagreements.
Olin was a teenage boy seeking a growing measure of independence, albeit with the security of a strong and loving home base. And I was a parent trying to learn how to let go and still keep him safe. Such is a usual time of passage between parents and kids. This is not to make light of such a time, for in the best of circumstances it is difficult to deal with in a constructive manner. When children die in the midst of turmoil like this, it is only reasonable to expect a deepening of torment and guilt. For all of us, it is wise to accept that the love between parent and child, before, during and after the teenage years, keeps both vulnerable to disagreement or conflict. I finally came to understand that, had the situation been reversed and I had died, Olin would feel a greater intensity of that same type of remorse and guilt. Like me, Olin would finally be forced to examine our years together, to remember other conflicts and recall the constancy of the love and care with which all were ultimately resolved. I believe he would come to realise that I did not doubt his love, that a petty argument had no power to devastate what love had built between us. So at last did I still the guilt of our final parting, realising that the bond of love was the bulwark of our relationship, thus rendering it impervious to smallness and pettiness. We love our children and try to do what is right for them. But we are human, without qualities of infinite foresight or insight. In spite of our intentions, we make mistakes. We feel the same emotions our children feel, and even though we strive to be more mature, we do not always succeed. In our loving, we make errors in parenting, just as our youngsters, in their loving, make errors too.
Olin knew I loved him. He knew before, during and beyond death. This I firmly believe, after walking the deep valleys of my guilt and anguish. If you are one of those parents who like me, confronted the end of your child’s life before conflict was resolved, I urge you to examine your relationship with your son or daughter in all its expression during all the time you had together. I know you will feel again and see again the love. Know that your child saw and felt the love too. Remember, whatever your final words, you parted in love. In that same love you remain, and many of us firmly believe that it is in that love, ultimately, that you will meet again.

GARETH HEATLEY
16.4.85 to 10.10.00
Lovingly submitted by Melanie Heatley-Smith,
TCF Qld in memory of her son, Gareth.

It was the 10th day of October
In the new Millennium
When God came down and spoke to you
And said “Your time has come”.
You didn’t have a choice
And didn’t get your say.
That’s why it’s so hard to understand
Why it had to end that way.
A memory is forever ….
Gareth, you’re always in our hearts
Even though it was your life
With which we had to part.
We say goodbye so many times
But the pain won’t go away
At least we have the memories
In our hearts they’re here to stay.
Some day we’ll be together again
How happy we’ll all be
But until that day, we’re heartbroken
Gareth, we love and miss you heaps.
When I am sad and lonely
And everything goes wrong
I seem to hear you whisper
“Come on now, carry on”.
Each time I see your picture
You seem to smile and say
“Don’t cry, I’m only sleeping -
We’ll meet again some day”.

Adapted from the original, author unknown

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Life Moves On
Dedicated to Julie & John Karami murdered 20/7/2000
Loving submitted by Pat Hammond (TCF, Qld) and the Hammond Family

Some things happen to us in life, from which we never recover and they disrupt the normalcy of our lives, that’s how life is. Sometimes loved ones are taken from us prematurely and suddenly we are changed forever. Human nature has a tendency to try to reconstruct old ways and pick up where we left off. If we are wise, we won’t continue to go back to the way things were, (we can’t anyway) We must forget the old normal and accept ‘a new normal’.
Make a list of all the loved ones you still have and all the things you can still do. Instead of thinking of what used to be, try and discover what you have now. It is so easy to focus heavily on the loved ones we have lost that we forget about the loved ones we still have. Don’t waste the future over things of the past we cannot change as we don’t get to stay long on this earth anyway.
When we come to the realization that we cannot change the past and that life is precious we have started the healing process.
Life moves on with or without us, please participate for your loved ones.

HAPPY
By Rebecca Ward (TCF Qld)
and dedicated to Cruz Cassidy Ward Hatfield (28/3/05—31/03/05)

Just over 12 months ago I lost my son. He was only 4 days and born with major brain damage. We made the heartbreaking decision to withdraw his treatment and let him go. The past year has been very difficult to say the least. There were moments when I found myself on the floor howling like some wild animal, there were days when I couldn’t get out of bed, there were days when I felt I couldn’t go on for one more second, and there were many days when I felt lonely, depressed and angry.
4 days ago it was my son’s first birth and tomorrow will be the anniversary of his death. Every book I read and many people I speak to say that this will be a very hard and trying time for us, but why then do I feel overwhelmed with happiness? I can’t shake this warm glowing feeling I have in the depths of my soul. I should be devastated that I can’t throw my son a birthday party, I should be devastated that I can’t see his first steps which he would be taking any time now, I should be devastated that he isn’t here for me to tuck into bed each night…. But I am happy.
I am happy that he was here even for such a short time. I am happy that I have met many beautiful people who are now life long friends, and who I would never have met if I hadn’t lost my son. I am happy that the first year of gut wrenching grief is finally over. I am happy that I can now see my future instead of being suffocated in my past. I am happy that for the first time in 12 months I feel normal again. I am happy that my son will never know the pain of losing a child of his own. I am happy that my son will never get bullied at school. I am happy that my son is in a place far more beautiful than I can imagine, and that he is getting looked after by many of our friends and family who have passed before us. I am happy that I know my son and I will laugh together one day. I am happy that I have an angel looking after my daughter, my partner and I for the rest of our lives. I am happy that my family has survived this tragedy and are now stronger and more concrete than ever. I am happy that he was here and touched my soul like no other human being could ever do. I am happy because I know that even though I can’t see, hear or touch my son, I know that he can see, hear and touch me. I know that he is never far away, and that our relationship has not ended…. We have only grown closer.

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DREAMS
In response to an article in our last newsletter, Rebecca Ward ,
TCF Qld has submitted her story of one of her dreams
and dedicates it to her son, Cruz Cassidy Ward Hatfield 28/3/05-31/3/05.

Three months after my son was born and died, I really hit rock bottom, I was really depressed and felt a huge failure as a mother because I felt that I had failed to protect him. I went to bed one night crying my eyes out and begging him to just let me know that he was okay. That very night I had the following dream. I dreamt that my partner, Mark, and I were sitting on a green grassy hill. I could feel the warm sun on my skin and felt really at ease and peaceful. I turned around and saw my son wrapped up in a blanket lying behind me. I then panicked as I thought that he was dying and our time was running out. My son then started breathing so clearly, his breath was so clean and pure like I was sitting in front of an air-conditioner. At that point I knew that he wasn’t dying. My son then started smiling and giggling. I then realized that he no longer had any brain damage either. I went to pick him up and he started crying and got really distressed. I then woke up confused. I felt comforted that I knew he was alive somewhere else and that he didn’t have any brain damage, but I was also upset that he wouldn’t let me hold him. I thought about this over and over for months.
It was nine months later that I got my answer. I had a friend of mine come over one night, who I hadn't seen in at least 2 years, I had never talked of Cruz much to him and didn’t dare tell him about my dream as he is a classic non-believer in the afterlife. He quietly whispered to me “I had a dream about your son the last two nights in a row”...I replied “Oh really, what did he say?”…. My friend replied “He said “Please don’t pick me up mummy as it causes me to disincarnate” (Meaning that my energy would cause his image to disappear from my dream and it’s difficult to make another one). I finally had my answer and it really makes me smile when I think about it. My friend is also now an avid believer.

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All You Were
By Honora (Honni) Shaw, TCF Qld
Submitted in loving memory of Alisia Elizabeth SHAW 22/3/87 to 25/7/05

You Loved, because you Bled;
And knew the value of both.
You Heard, because you Felt;
And listened with your heart.
You Saw, because you Lived;
And understood too much.
You laughed, because you Cared;
And sought only good for those you met.
You forgave, because you Erred;
And knew imperfection was perfect.
You Cried, because you Must;
And raged against injustice.
You won, because you Dared;
and modestly shared your victories.
And you Thought, because you Were;
And all that you Were, you were to me.

Brent Edward Young
14/5/79 to 7/5/05
Much loved son of Allan & Karen
Brother to Nerissa

Surfing was your passion.
Surfing took your life.
Surf on in heaven son,
With Angels by your side.
We will love you and miss you forever.

A mother’s journey through grief (the first seven months)
By Merle Briggs (a mother), TCF Qld

The colour purple envelops me carrying me away to this desolate place where the winds blow stinging sand and debris,
cutting my flesh, clouding my mind, sapping my strength until I falter and fall lower and lower from reality.
Sanity fades until my purple turns to black.
The smell rallies me. My nostrils quiver and flare.
Where is it coming from, this fetid rank odour of death?
I am running, my lungs near to bursting.
I stumble, grazing my knees on the rough concrete of the platform.
A hand appears. I reach out. Our fingertips touch. I strain forward. It fades away, beyond my reach.
I hear a clap of thunder, the shrill whistle of a train.
A flash of lightning illuminating the sky as it spears towards a solitary tree.
A phone rings, that fatal shaft hits. Those words “he’s gone” explode my brain.
My tears fall with the flying bark, together heart and tree trunk bust open.
Its sap and my life’s blood seep out staining my world forever.
As the days pass the withered leaves fall with my tears and mix together forming a pattern of butterflies in my mind.
My tree stands solitary, stark, lost, hollow, a monument to my lost spirit that flutters skyward in a myriad of colours signifying eternal life.
Could my grief be a challenge? A challenge to do what? Recover, survive, carry on—regardless, laugh again, live again?
Maybe it’s just wait.
Having no choice my boy left early. Having no choice I wait until he holds out his hand again and I take it.

Merle’s Cookie, Tania’s Muzz. Debbie’s brother. She never realised how much she loved him until it was too late.
Murray Senior. When he left my boy took two lives with him— his own and his father’s.

Murray Peter Spencer Briggs. 30/4/66 to 6/7/2005 at 10.59am on a Wednesday
At Auchenflower Railway Station, Brisbane.
My tree still stands and so do I. I will survive and recover. Fight the good fight.

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A SPECIAL BIRTHDAY
Loving submitted by Elaine & Richard Roebuck in loving memory of their daughter Katie for her 35th birthday.

Please God, make them remember that
Today is a special birthday.
Make them understand that
The memories don't go away.
Bless them with ears to hear
And hearts that care.
Enable them to listen while I share.
Shelter them that they may never know my pain.
Help them to help me know
That my child's life was not in vain.
Help them to remember Lord,
That I wish my child was here,
So we could celebrate.
Help them to understand that I still feel
The nearness of my child
Help them to see beyond my smile and the words, "I'm okay."
Please God, just let one remember today is a special Birthday!
Author Unknown

Katie Roebuck 12.6.71-6.10.96
Happy Birthday Sweetheart.
We all love you and miss you dearly.
Wish you were here to celebrate your birthday with us.
Love forever. Mum, Dad, Lauretta, Billy, Nan & Pop,
and special hugs & kisses from your darling son James. xxx

STEPPARENTS

Stepfathers are a rare breed
They are called upon to do the tough deeds
Saying “no” to the children when Mom wants to stay clean
Leaving you as the bad guy and also called mean.

No one stops to think of the love you have for the child
It’s been going unnoticed for a long while
It’s time we speak up and let others know
The children are also ours and we love them so.

In tough times Moms reply “This is my child”
We don’t retaliate because that’s not our style
Yes, Mom, you gave them life, it’s true
But we stepfathers gave our lives to them and to you.

Please remember biological does not mean love
It’s the gift of yourself spreading your wings like a dove
Protecting and nourishing the ones you love dear
While comforting their hearts and eliminating their fears.

Just remember we are grieving too
Maybe as much as you, yes it’s true
Your tears may seem to come more frequently
But ours come mostly in secrecy.

This is because we are grieving for two
Our child and yes a life anew
We have lost our wives and the life we once knew
It’s unbelievable but unfortunately very true.

Just remember we love like you do
Deep in our hearts and souls through and through
There is no “step” in a father’s love
We are the guys God sent from above.

The Staten Island Stepfathers
By Wayne Bell,
In memory of their daughter, Karen Reilly
From TCF “We Need Not Walk Alone”, Autumn 2005

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FROM THE DEAD: RECIPE FOR LIFE

Hear us, you who are living,
You whom we love;
Hear us through your tears.
What now seems unbearable,
Impossible to endure,
Will first become familiar,
Then bearable in truth.
There is much pain in your world
And many that need loving.
Care for those who grieve like you
And do it in our honour.

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PERMISSION TO SMILE

Your first joy after your child’s death
Does not mock or make light
Of your deep sorrow.
Instead, it soothes your sombre mood
And allows a glimpse of life
Through your black grief.

The message reads: Smiling Allowed.
“Midnight’s Dawn, Poems of Tears & Love”, Eva Jager

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The Compassionate Friends supports and cares for thousands of people worldwide each year following the death of a child. Ultimately we wish we could prevent death from occurring... then we would still have our beloved children with us, but sadly we can't. Please help to support our organisation so we may continue to care and support the many families who face the most devastating loss of all...... the loss of a child.

Thank you very much for all donations made to TCF.
They are very greatly appreciated!!!

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Why	Death During or Following Conflict	Poem for Gareth
Life Moves On	Happy	Dreams
All you were	In memory of Brent	WA Mother's Journey
A Special Birthday	Stepparents	From the Dead: Recipe for Life
	Permission to Smile