ATTITUDE Matters

Grief and attitude are two different things. It is important to distinguish between the two in order to begin taking steps toward a future after losing a child. Grief is the broken hearted place of loss, irreparable and empty. Attitude represents the way in which we take our loving memories and fill the cup of spiritual connection as we move along the altered path of our daily lives. -Grief Story(1)

Dr. Masaru Emoto has conducted thousands of experiments with water crystals showing that the mind's attitude affects how water crystallizes when frozen. In one example Dr. Emoto put water from the same source into two bottles. He wrote the words "You Fool" on a label and taped it to one of the bottles. He wrote the words 'Thank You' on a second label and taped that label to the second bottle.

Dr Emoto then froze the water from each bottle and photographed the crystals that were formed using a microscope and camera. The result was that the crystals formed from water taken from the bottle with "You Fool' on it were grotesque and misshapen. The crystals formed from water taken from the bottle with 'Thank You" written on it were beautiful and symmetrical, like snowflakes.

"We must assume it wasn't the printed words that influenced the water; it was the minds of the people who wrote and read the words. We know that because the symbols on the labels were just ink stains on a flat surface with no meaning except to people; the writer's and reader's minds created meaning from the ink marks." (2)

These experiments have now been performed many times using different sources of water and different treatments. In all circumstances, when a loving, compassionate, gentle attitude or melodious sound is focused on the water, beautiful crystals form when the water is frozen. When harsh, depressing, negative, hateful attitudes or cacophonous sounds are focused on the water, the frozen crystals are misshapen and grotesque.( see video of crystals and commentary)

Our minds influence our physical world. The journey we face after the loss of a precious child begins in a very dark place. This darkness can appear at various times throughout a day, a week, or an hour. Lighting a candle in our hearts to shed brightness into this cavern of darkness is a healing analogy synonymous with 'creating' our own beautiful crystal of thought; linking us to all that is good.

The energy of our soul communicates through vibration. Making time each day to foster positive loving thoughts will create beautiful crystals of connection and love. This is the definition of prayer/meditation.

Consider taking time to create a beautiful crystal of thought and send it to those you love both in heaven and on earth.
-Marsha

(1)Grief Story -excepts from personal journal
(2)Craig Hogan

Trying To Find My Holiday SMILE

Grief is a heavy emotion, one that brings energy to a very low position. It places a block around a survivor that makes it very hard for loved ones on the other side to penetrate.

When people are grieving they want more than anything to have some type of contact with a loved one who has passed. The problem is, they do not realize what they are doing is the exact opposite of what is needed. For a soul to be able to communicate with others, those people need to be at a higher level, which can be achieved with being positive. Once they are capable of searching for positive memories, positive thoughts, then a stronger connection can be made. (blogger's note: be cognisant of groups or situations in which the reoccurring theme is desperation, darkness,depression)

It is certainly natural to be heavy-hearted for ourselves when we are used to having a physical-to-physical relationship with someone, but once a person passes a new relationship begins - that of being physical-to-spirit. It is up to you how much you want to develop this relationship.

It is important to grieve, but the important thing is to search for happiness and positivity along the way. By doing so, you are lifting the heavy blanket of sadness away from you, allowing your loved ones on the other side (heaven) to connect with you in ways you never thought possible!
-by Patrick Mathews

Bereavement4Breakfast note: The Holiday season can be one of the most difficult for those who grieve the loss of a child. There is no sugarcoating or smiling that will make everything okay. Memories, the loss of a future, and heartache are constant companions. This piece, written by Patrick Mathews, is a perspective worthy of considering for those who feel their child's soul/spirit continues to live. The timeline in which grieving parents are ready to consider a point of view such is this is individual. Blessings to you this Holiday Season. -Marsha @ A New Journey

She's Gone. Is The Door Forever Locked?

The loss of a child catapults a parent into a dark sorrowful place. It is touted as the darkest loss of all. The journey through this darkeness occurs in small steps. Each parent, though unable to bring their child back, will be presented with choices along this road. As time progresses those choices will become more and more evident. -Marsha Abbott

I have been blessed with great joys. Through the birth of my two daughters I have had glimpses of heaven. I can attest to the life altering experience that birth bestows upon parent. The unalterable change in becoming, ‘less about you’ and more about something ‘much bigger’ than you. Some people call it growing up. Unlike most parents I also understand the raw and helpless despair of receiving a phone call that your daughter has been killed.

I am her mother. The tears I shed are for my aching loss and the loss for her father and sister. The loss of a future with her. As I kneel in church on Sunday my thoughts often spin. I am reminded that on a spiritual level my daughter still lives. Her soul and spirit will never die.

I feel her spirit, her presence and her love each day. There are no more daily phone calls from her, asking for recipe ideas, telling me about funny things that happened in the bakery where she was working, telling me stories about her new puppy, telling me she missed me, and asking about her dad and sister. Now I make the phone calls to her through meditation and prayer.

I am greatly challenged between the spiritual side of me, who recognizes that my daughter will always surround me and the ‘mama’ side,….who lost her sweet daughter and cannot fix it. Can grief be paralyzing? Yes. Sometimes it burns in my chest and screams to me “Your child has been ripped from your womb”. Such a unfixable gut wrenching vacancy. Memories of that little toddler with curly blonde hair, big blue eyes, a sippy cup and band aids on her knees flood my thoughts and flow through my tear ducts.

Often, I can feel her reaching out to me. I’ve become sensitive to signs that she is in my midst. I think about what she would want if she saw us grieving and horribly lost without her. I know she would want to comfort those who miss her so dearly. She would want her sister to know that she is okay and that her parents will be okay. She would want all of us to speak of her, share memories, be comforted, and seek happiness. I believe that when a child dies, a part of you dies too. We must redefine our lives and accept that our child has gone ahead of us in the wrong order. We were suppose to go first.

I believe that God represents the light and love of the world. He loves us enough to send our spirit into this world through the physical body to learn and to give others an opportunity to grow through our relationships with one another. We are here for a purpose. She was here for a purpose. Sometimes our purpose can be to assist others on their journey. When we return to the spiritual realm, we leave the physical body behind and continue to grow in love. We will meet again in the spiritual realm of the positive energy we call Heaven. This is what consoles my heart, and it is the reason I can give thanks and celebrate my earthly blessings; namely my family.

There is much more to our existence than this 3-dimensional earthly world. Many are believers and ‘some’ of us, through an unthinkable tragedy, are forced to accept that our worst fear has come true. Along with this ‘realization’ is the opportunity to further investigate the spiritual doors which may have been locked up until now. A large ring of keys has been given to those who have lost a child. The task lies ahead.


Marsha lost her 19 year old daughter in a gun accident, Sept '09. She maintains a Facebook wall titled A New Journey, for grieving parents. She also writes a blog titled, Bereavement For Breakfast. http://bereavement4breakfast.blogspot.com/

Choosing to Heal

The Choice to Heal: The Five Insights

By Alvin C. Johnson, Jr.

Several years ago it became apparent to me that I was stuck in "recovering" from my son's death. Nicholas contracted leukemia in 1986 and battled the disease for nearly three years before his death in 1989.
    Seven years later, in 1996, it seemed there was no place for me to go with the continued feelings of grief—feelings which included sadness, frustration, and guilt. This was not my daily experience, but it came on periodically and occasionally crippled my ability to engage in life and work. While this was taking place I was also studying about family emotional systems process with Rabbi Ed Friedman and so I presented him with this problem. His immediate response was to suggest that I enter more deeply into my family, and somewhere in my family I would find the direction to move so I would no longer be stuck in my grief.
    Armed with this conviction, my wife and I headed to Florida in March of 1996 for several days of golf and fun with my parents. In the seven years since Nicholas had died, no one in our circle of family and friends took his death as hard as my parents. They continuously called Zachary, our second son, "Nicholas" and struggled to move forward, themselves, with this tragic loss.
    My decision was made; I'd talk to my Dad. So on the golf course one day, enjoying the beautiful sunshine and warm temperatures, I shared my struggle with him and asked how he dealt with Nick's death. His answer surprised me, but also became the cornerstone on which I continue to deal with Nick's death today. "Son," he said, "I get up each morning, sit down at my desk, and open the drawer where I have a picture of Nick. I say, 'you bugger.' I think of how much I miss him, how grateful I am for him, and then I give him into God's hands…every day." His comment afforded me one of those moments in grief recovery where insight leads to deeper healing.

    The first insight was this: I was stuck because I held to the belief that grieving has a finish line while we are alive. In reality, the only end to the pain we feel over the death of our children is our own death. The intensity subsides over time, as do other characteristics of grieving, but there is no day on which we can say we are done grieving the death of our children. While we hold to the joyful memories of our children who died, we also hold to the pain of the loss that comes from the fact that they died. Efforts to live outside that pain prove futile and frustrating. Even when you and I have worked our way through the pain to the "other side," the path we traveled leaves a clear road mark and an indelible imprint on our psychological, intellectual, emotional and spiritual memory.
    There is no going back—but there is no finish line either. The experience, with all its emotional components, remains with us all our lives. So, instead of looking for a finish line, I adopted my dad's strategy and looked at recovery from Nick's death as a 24-hour experience. There was no knowing what I'd be like three days, three months or three years from then. In fact, the future looked overwhelming. Instead, I started putting Nick in God's keeping for another day—and only one day. As I gave Nick to God, so I gave my grief to God, thereby inviting healing. Whether God is or is not in the equation for you, the key for me was realizing recovery was a 24-hour experience and when broken into daily bites became manageable.
   
     The second insight was this: I was stuck because of holding to the belief that acceptance meant that the experience of Nicholas would make rational since. It didn't then and it doesn't now. Nearly 11 years later, the death of a child still does not make sense to me. But the reality of children dying isn't for me to understand: it is for me to accept. Acceptance does not mean there is a rational explanation for why a child dies nor that I must like the reality. It simply means that the death of a child is a part of life and a part of my life. Acceptance means that the events of this fine boy's life actually did take place and I was a participant and witness to them. Acceptance means that life has moved on and will continue to move on with or without me. Acceptance means that no, time does not stop when our world comes shattering down from the death of a child. O that it would, but it does not. Acceptance is looking back and embracing what happened in order to look forward and move on.

    The third insight was this: the fact the picture was in a place that my dad visited every day inspired me to keep pictures of Nicholas in a place where I would remember him every day…and enjoy remembering him. We can keep our departed children close through the wonder of photography and other items that remind us of them. My dad struck a unique balance between those who set aside large spaces for remembrance and those who set aside no space for remembrance at all. If needed, he knew where to go in his house to be close to Nick and, therefore, to a package of complete memories. Nick had and still has a place in his emotional and spiritual home. This is highlighted daily by being able to look at his picture. Not only does Nick have a physical space, but also a space in memory. We become unstuck when we structure the means to keep the memory of our departed children close. This varies from person to person, but keeping physical reminders nearby encourages us to keep emotional, spiritual, and mental image memories nearby and accessible as well.

    The fourth insight was this: gratitude for the life of Nicholas helped muster movement against the forces of being stuck in grief. John Claypool tells a story in his book Mending the Heart about the time in his life six weeks after the death of his daughter from leukemia. He could not sleep, got up and went to read the story in Genesis 22 about Abraham and Isaac. As he read the commentary he was amazed to learn that this story of Abraham and Isaac was a story of God reminding Abraham of the gift he had received and from whom the gift came. Claypool says that from that night forward he came to see his daughter's life, though shorter than he wished, as a gift which he did not deserve and for which he desired to give gratitude. Gratitude is difficult in the midst of feeling cheated and deprived by death. However, gratitude overcomes tremendous pain and can move even the most stuck bereaved parent to new places of recovery and joy.

    The final insight was this: healing and recovery call for us to make a decision, to answer the question, "Do I want to get better or not?" One can argue that grief recovery is more complicated than answering this question. But grief recovery concerns the direction we point ourselves day in and day out. If we wish to get better we need to encourage ourselves and point ourselves that way every day; we need to surround ourselves with bereaved parents who have healed and found meaning in life again; we need to realize that no one can point us towards the healing we desire except ourselves. Ironically, the times in our lives when we least feel like making decisions are the times when we need to make them: Seek healing? Stay stuck? Recover? Die ourselves? Sometimes it does come to such simple decisions as these.
    When I studied churches that had experienced trauma, those that recovered had one principle characteristic in common: someone stood up and, from a position of leadership said, "We are going to heal and grow from this experience and embrace a new future." Most often the leader said this before knowing what direction recovery would go nor whom would help. They sought, as best they could, to point the ship in a direction that gave them the best chance of re-engaging life; choosing to get better.
    Of all the insights given to me by my dad that day, this last one continues to be the most effective. Grief stays with us for a lifetime…as long as we have our minds we cannot escape from the experience of what took place. However, each day we can point ourselves towards the vision we hold of recovery and have the faith that one day we will get there.

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Fr. Alvin Johnson, at the time he wrote this story, had served as an Episcopal Priest for over 20 years. In 1989 he and his wife Vickie became bereaved parents when their first child, Nicholas, died after a long battle with leukemia. Nicholas is survived by a sister Hannah and a brother Zachary. Fr. Johnson currently serves as Rector of St. Michael's Episcopal Church in Barrington, Illinois. He recently received his Doctor of Ministry degree in Congregational Studies focusing on the comparisons between how congregations and families recover from trauma. Fr. Johnson has spoken often at Compassionate Friends meetings and was a keynote speaker at the 23rd national TCF conference held in Chicago. He also served on TCF's National Board of Directors.