Vol. 28, Issue 2 TCF Broome County Chapter Newsletter Summer 2008

The Primrose A Grandparent’s Point of View Ruth Eaton – TCF Savannah, GA The death of a child is the most tragic thing that can happen to anyone. It affects so many lives – family, friends, and even strangers. I lost my grandchild through death, and only a grandparent can understand the love a grandparent has for a grandchild and the loss that is felt when the child dies. For a grandparent, it is a double loss. Not only is your grandchild gone, but you also watch your child die each day. The smile that was always on her face is no longer there. The hurt is so deep and the questions so many. You feel helpless as a parent. You can’t kiss the hurt away as you did when she was a child. You have no answers for her questions, for you don’t understand the many feelings that you are experiencing yourself. Each day you hope and pray for a little ray of sunshine to show on her face. You search for a little something to say or do that will comfort her. It seems that there is no end to the suffering. As time goes slowly by, the healing process begins. In time, a ray of hope will show on her face and a smile will make her eyes light up again. She will turn to you for what little comfort you can give her. There will always be a part of you that is gone, but in time you can learn to live with the part that is still here.

Dwelling On Our Loss By Phillip Barker TCF Sacramento, CA To an outsider, the idea of meeting with a group of people for the purpose of discussing death, our personal experience with the death of our children and the ‘grief process’ may seem grim, if not alto-gether morbid. All of us who are involved in TCF have run into someone who has asked, “Why do you do this?” or “Why don’t you just try to let it go?”, “Why keep dwelling on the loss?” The idea of ‘dwelling on the loss’ is always stated with negative connotations, yet dwelling on the death of our child is not something we can avoid (unless we had no business parenting to begin with, and felt no loss). Indeed ‘dwelling’ is part of the healing process; its how we come to grips with the questions “Why?”, “What if…?” and how we explore the ‘if only’ statements that uncontrollably pop up in our minds. It is how we learn to accept the unacceptable. There is a wealth of information in books, our faith contributes to healing, and therapy may be neces-sary. TCF encourages parents to utilize any or all of the above tools, but we also realize the value of learning to verbalize, openly, publicly, the grief and the loss we feel, among people who know full well how hard it is to say, “My child is dead.” Are we dwelling on our loss? Absolutely; but we are learning to dwell on it constructively, to dwell on it without guilt, and without the isolation that we all have felt. We learn how to bring our grief under control, and how to reach out (in time) to others with a compassion that brings healing to others as well as to ourselves.

The Compassionate Friends, Inc. National Office Information

Phone Number (toll free) (877) 969-0010 Fax Number (630) 990 –0246

Mailing address: P.O. Box 3696, Oak Brook, IL 60522-3696 E-mail: nationaloffice@compassionatefriends.org Web address: www.compassionatefriends.org Regional Coordinator Jacquie Edwards-Mitchell (718) 451-0814

The Compassionate Friends of Broome County 1250 Front Street, # 147 Binghamton, NY 13901

Web Address: http://tcfbc.homestead.com/Home.html

For information pertaining to the

The Compassionate Friends of Broome County, call: Pam Kroft (607) 239-4222

Monthly Meetings

First Monday of each month 7:00 - 9:00 PM Third or fourth Saturday 10 AM – 12 PM Nimmonsburg United Methodist Church

918 Upper Front Street Binghamton, NY 13901 (across from BCC)

Steering Committee

Chapter Leader & Delegate - Pam Kroft Outreach - Luann Ford Library - Sherry Bailey

Hospitality – Jean Scolaro Treasurer – Val Ambrose

Newsletter Editor – Val Ambrose Website Master - Marv Conover

Community Awareness Coordinator - Claudia Simonis Secretary - Angela Carro Programs/Events - OPEN

*** Please consider joining our steering committee as additional help is always

welcome.

Next steering committee meeting Thursday April 17th

Call Pam Kroft for information

The Primrose is published quarterly Deadline for newsletter materials:

February 1st: May 1st: August 1st: November 1st

Send Information to: Val Ambrose 730 River Rd. Binghamton, NY 13901

Or email JTL7899@yahoo.com

NOTICE: If you receive this newsletter, forwarded through the funeral home, please call Val Ambrose at (607 648-8598) with your correct address so new issues can be mailed directly to you.

PARENTS RESOURCE CORNER Please feel free to call the following people if you wish to speak to someone whose child's death was caused in a manner similar to your child's. Accidental – Pam Kroft Ph: 239-4222 Illness - Shirley Mehal 785-5710 Adult child - Claudia Simonis 648-6715 Suicide - Cindy Hutchinson 757-9465

MARK YOUR CALENDAR

Meetings:

First Monday 7:00 PM - 9:00 PM Unless otherwise indicated

Third or fourth Saturday 10:00 A.M. (Check calendar!)

NIMMONSBURG UNITED METHODIST CHURCH

918 Front Street, Binghamton (Across from BCC, next to the Credit Union.

Parking in the rear, enter through rear door. )

June 2, 2008 (Monday) 7:00 “Join our Dads and Grandpas

June 21, 2008 (Saturday)

10:00 OPEN FORUM

July 7, 2008 (Monday) 7:00 “Share Your Dreams”

July 17, 2008 (Thursday)

6:00 Steering Committee Meeting

July 21, 2008 (Monday) 6:00 “Balloons to Heaven”

August 4, 2008 (Monday) 7:00 “Life Still Goes On”

September 8, 2008 (Monday)

7:00 “Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back”

There are no Saturdays meetings in July and August

Just Believe

I know your heart is heavy, such a heavy load you bear.

You think that Sarah’s gone now, but she’s with you everywhere....

just believe.

She’s still with you every morning as you wake up from your sleep, close beside you, never leaving, gently wiping tears you weep...

just believe.

Watching over you as you stumble heavy-hearted through your days,

she’s the kindness shown by strangers, she’s the hope that lights your way...

just believe.

As you venture forth without her, working hard to honour her,

making sure that she’s remembered, she’s the force that drives you there...

just believe.

She knows that some day, some time, you will come to understand

that in those moments when you need her, she is always close at hand,

there beside you, gently guiding, quietly showing you the way,

always with you, never leaving, in your heart, she’s there to stay...

just believe.

Sue Mother of Katie and Sarah TCF, ONTARIO, CANADA

Awkward Silence a poem by Richard Dew, M.D., TCF, Knoxville, TN

I wish that someone would say his name. I know my feelings they're trying to spare,

And so we go through the charade, the game, Of dancing around the ghost that is there,

Trying to avoid evoking a tear, Or stirring emotions too painful to bear.

That he be forgotten is what I fear, That no one will even his presence miss,

As if there were no trace that he was here. By referring to him, my purpose is

Not to stir pity or keep things the same, But my heart will simply break if his

Memory will die like a flickering flame. I just wish someone would say his name.

On Your Birthday Wanda Trawick – TCF, Acme, PA I wrote this date this morning, paused, And felt the room grow cold. It always does when I remember all of it – down to the last petal tossed by the winds above the upturned earth. This time the chill does not leave so easily. It would have been your birthday. Soon, I shall be as old as you will ever be.

IF ONLY, ONE MORE TIME… Vicki Richey TCF, Orange County Chapter, CA To hear your voice loud and clear, To see your image as if you’re here, To feel your warmth like you are near, If only, one more time… To hear you call, “Mom, I’m home” To keep me company when I’m alone, To watch you run and grab the phone, If only one more time… To watch you sit quietly and read, To buy you things you say you need, To see you do a thoughtful deed, If only, one more time… To find a note written by you, To walk upstairs and trip over your shoe, To comfort you when you’re feeling blue, If only, one more time… To feel your arms in a soft embrace, To see the smile upon your face, To understand when you needed “space” If only , one more time… If only, one more time…

A NOTE FROM OUR CHAPTER LEADER:

Hello Everyone, I must say until that horrible day in October almost 14 years ago I never had any concept as to what grief really was or how difficult the journey would be following Sean’s death. Each day was a challenge, time seemed to stop, there was very little concentration making even the smallest task nearly impossible. Our house was like a tomb, quiet except for the sobbing. My thoughts were con-stantly on the loss and the dynamics of the family had changed in a split second. Sound familiar? By changing the date and the name any one of us could have written this. I will never profess to know ex-actly how you feel but I have experienced as you the worst possible tragedy, the death of a child. That in itself makes us kindred spirits, vowing to always be there for others who have yet to start their jour-ney and for those we walk with each day. I was fortunate all those years ago to find TCF members to share my journey with, many whom still walk beside me today. With Mother’s Day behind us, I hope all of you moms and grandmas took a few moments from your day to spend quiet time remembering and reflecting. We don’t always allow ourselves that time but it is important to your well being and sanity (even though we feel a bit crazy). This past February one of our TCF moms, Peg Luciano passed away. The epitome of survival, Peg lost two children, Julie and Dan within a few short years of each other and last summer her husband, Guy. Our condo-lences to her surviving children and to all who knew her. Dads and grandpas your Hallmark day is upon us don’t hesitate to take the same time for yourselves as well, time well deserved and earned. Next month on Monday, July 21st please join us for “Balloons to Heaven”. We will host our annual get together at the park in Port Dickinson where the angel is located, it’s a Monday night. There will be a postcard sent reminding you of the event. It’s a night for all family members to join in the lifting of the balloons to our children gone too soon. A dish to pass and hopefully not your umbrella. The past few years the rain has gotten us wet but never dampening our reasons for being there. The Na-tional TCF conference will be held July 18-21st in Nashville Tennessee. If anyone is interested please touch base with me, there is info at our meetings as well. At some point along your journey a confer-ence might be one of those side roads, a time to reconnect or get unstuck. The ones I have been able to attend I have always brought something back with me that has been helpful along my journey. During July and August there will be no Saturday meetings, but never hesitate to call if you need to talk. The Angel of Hope will have the last of the bricks laid and dedicated sometime late August or early fall, as of this printing a date has yet to be decided. We will keep you updated. I hope everyone has had the opportunity to embrace the angels beauty, a memorial placed in memory of all our children. As I have traveled further on my journey without Sean I have found that each day is not always so challenging, I can concentrate more readily, the house has once again filled with noise other than the sobbing, time has gone on and my thoughts aren’t always on the loss. My life is different now, but I decided a long while ago that I won’t let Sean down by not living (though some days are hard) and I will not let this thing called grief destroy me (though it has tried). I hope that each of you will some-day get to this place or somewhere nearby. We all must take our journeys at our own pace, never for-getting that letting go of the pain does not mean letting go of our child. Each new day brings with it the hope, the love and the understanding that we all deserve and traveled to find. Have a safe summer............................. Hugs, Pam Kroft (Sean’s Mom)

Life is a cycle - part of a whole, and death is part of life. By Renee Little, TCF SLC

Nature can be very healing for our spirits and souls. Many of us have had experiences that draw us closer to nature for healing. It seems so much easier to feel closer to God in the great outdoors. In the days after my son's death, I found myself drawn to the outdoors by digging and cleaning the flowerbeds and feeling the moist fragrant earth beneath my fingers. It seemed to ease my intense pain and shock. Others viewed my be-havior as strange, but at this point I realized that my healing would come from Nature. I needed the assurance that life does renew itself even in the face of death. That summer I found myself hiking on the Colorado Monument every chance that I had. I would lie on the rocks and feel the heat come up through my body and warm me. That winter I would cross-country ski on the top of the grand Mesa. The quietness was almost deafening and the only sound was the singing of the birds as they perched on the bare branches of the trees. The snow glistened in the sun and felt crisp beneath our skis. The stillness and openness would work its magic on my tortured soul and a peace would fill me. When we moved from Colorado to North Carolina, my black lab and I took many enjoyable walks in the nu-merous rural parks. Having always lived in the West with its desert terrain and scarcity of trees and greenery, the abundance of trees and greenness was overwhelming and stifling until we became accustomed to it. While walking through a dense ceiling of branches, we came upon an area where the trees had been cleared. On one side was a fenced area and as we approached, I saw many graves. Some had headstones and many just had large rocks with writing on them. On closer inspection, I realized that this was a cemetery for the children of two families in the 1800's. The ages ranged from infants to 18 years of age and there were over a dozen. I re-member that it gave me such a feeling of sadness and grief, but also of being connected, as I felt such a bond with these parents who had also suffered the loss of children. This somehow lessoned my own loneliness and I realized that life was indeed a cycle and that we are all part of the whole. Life does keep renewing itself. Think of all the children who had been born since these had died. Life is constantly renewing itself. The tender new leaves on the barren trees, the crocus, tulips and daffodils poking up through the earth represent new life and Springtime. My son died in the Spring, but it is still my fa-vorite time of year and in the succeeding years I have learned that Life does indeed renew itself each Spring regardless of how dead and lifeless I may be feeling.

They float and dance Into the wind they go Special notes of love From hearts below

Eyes gazing up Trying not to lose sight Secret hearts wishing A successful flight

Disappearing into The clouds above, Our children catching Our notes of love!

D. Barta

OUR CHILDREN REMEMBERED

In each issue, we reach out with our arms and hearts to the parents who will be facing difficult days during the next three months. Please remember them on the anniversary of the death of their child. The children's names listed are those of parents who have made a love gift and are subscribing to the Primrose.

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OUR CHILDREN REMEMBERED continued

From "Come Walk Among the Stars," by Winston Abbott

"For years I never knew whether the twilight was the ending of the day

or the beginning of the night and then, suddenly one day,

I understood that this did not matter at all, for time is but a circle,

and so there can be no beginning and no ending, and this is how I came to know that birth and death are one,

and it is neither the coming or the going that is of consequence. What is of consequence is the beauty that one gathers in this interlude called life."

We're Only Human by Cathy Seehuetter, ST. Paul, MN TCF

'Guilt Days': There is neither rhyme nor reason to when they will occur, even eight and a half years after my daughter Nina's death. I had one just the other day. I suppose it didn't help that it was a dreary stereotypical Minnesota day in February with depressingly gray skies and temperatures out-side registering teeth-chattering, sub-zero cold with just enough snow fall to make venturing out problematic. These surroundings made it quite easy, even without any apparent good reason, to plummet into a "blue funk". My state of mind then heads in a negative direction ultimately sliding into a bottomless pit of senseless guilt. In my experience with my friends who are bereaved parents, most admit that they experience this same phenomenon. I don't think there is anyone among us who can say after the death of their child that they don't regret something that they did or didn't do, said or didn't say to that child while they were living. It doesn't matter that the reasons for our feelings of guilt may be unfounded or even seem foolish, the fact remains that we have them. For example, on birthdays or holidays where I would customarily give a gift, if inexplicably I recall the "toy cash register incident,' I am guaranteed an instant "guilt day". In explanation, year after year Nina requested a toy cash register for a present; even to an age that I thought was unreasonable to want such a thing. For some reason, unbeknownst to even me, in my eyes it was a silly gift; some-thing that she couldn't possibly really want or even use once she got it. Needless to say, I never bought it for her. I can tell you, though, that even to this day when I walk through the toy department and I see a toy cash register I feel a deep sadness and tears come to my eyes because I didn't buy her the so-called "silly" present that she obviously really wanted. Just innocently strolling through a toy department and seeing a toy cash register can begin a domino effect of guilt feelings, a chain reaction of remembering even the tiniest self-perceived slight or any incident that I wish I could take back where Nina is concerned. Such as the time she wanted me to give her a ride to Girl Scouts, which was only four blocks away from our house. I had a migraine headache and could barely lift my head off the pillow and therefore couldn't give her one. So she hopped on her bike and about a block from our house hit a bump in the road and was thrown over the handlebars breaking her collarbone! Even though I know realistically that I couldn't have done anything different considering the circumstances, when I am in the throes of a 'guilt day", the thought of that particular occurrence can send me in a downward spiral of culpability. In actuality, chances are pretty good that if my daughter were alive today and I brought up these two happenings from the past she would probably tell me that I was correct in thinking she would have tired quickly of the toy cash register, and that she knows I couldn't physically have driven her to Girl Scouts with a migraine; that she never blamed me for the collarbone fracture in the first place. But because our child who died cannot give us confirmation that they understood our reasoning and that our actions were 'okay' with them, we are left to wonder what they were thinking and feeling regard-ing the particular situation that makes us feel guilty. Therefore, when we are having a 'guilt day" our tendency is to blow it out of proportion and thereby imagine the worst. Expressing those feelings of guilt to a trusted friend or family member can be helpful. Talking about your feelings may also help you to let some of it go. That person may even remind you of something you had forgotten about on those days when you are sucked into a vortex of guilt and rendered inca-pable of remembering any of the positives. For example, a dear friend reminded me--one time when I was bushwhacked by a "guilt day"- -of something she thought was extra special I had done for my

A sunny day in June

A young man, so sad, so blue. He just couldn’t take the pain he went through.

He tried so hard, to live in his life, it’s so sad to think, we couldn’t help his cry.

The cry that said please help me, I’m tired of being sad

The one that said somebody help me I don’t want to be mad. His mother tried to help.

His family in the dark, there was nothing we could do but

drive past the park. The park where he took his life,

that sunny day in June. I still can’t believe it, He left us too soon!

daughter; something that she thought went above and beyond the call of duty as a mother. Nina had called me from school to sweetly beg me to pick up a Valentine's gift for her boyfriend. One of the gifts was glow-in-the-dark stars like she had on her bedroom ceiling. She told me where to get them (a specialty store at a mall about 30 minutes away). I could tell by her voice how important it was to her, so I dropped everything and off I went to the mall. Little did I know that it would take three trips to three separate malls in different parts of town before I found a store that had any left in stock! Luckily, I made it home just minutes before she and her boyfriend arrived. I recall her exquisite smile and hugs of genuine thanks for my efforts. I remembered how gloriously radiant and pleased she looked when she came upstairs to show me the red shirt with the Tweety-Bird (her favorite) insignia on the turtleneck collar that her boyfriend had given her. Thankfully my friend steered me in the di-rection of these happy memories and positive reflections of Nina's last Valentine's Day and thereby broke the cycle of more negative thinking. I believe that no one is harder on themselves than bereaved parents. Even as irrational as it is, we feel that we failed as our children's guardians, that we should have been super-human and able to protect them from cancer, drunk drivers, criminals, drugs, depression, congenital illnesses, and a host of other unspeakable evils with the potential to take away their precious lives. The bottom line is that we are not invincible or perfect; we are only human. We did the best that we could with what we had to deal with at the time. Our children know this; they love and forgive us for our own humanness and associated imperfections, and I believe would want us to forgive ourselves as well.

We're Only Human (continued)

Sometimes Kirsten Hansen – Bereaved Sibling

TCF, Kenifield, CA

Sometimes, something clicks, and with a tear, remembrance of the pain and the loneliness floods the heart.

Sometimes, something clicks, and

with a smile, remembrance of the love and the laughter floods the senses.

And there are times when nothing

clicks at all and a voice echoes through the emptiness and numbness never finding the person who used to

fill that space.

And sometimes the most special times of all a feeling ripples through your

body, heart and soul that tells you that person never left you and he’s right

there with you through it all

Love Gifts Our chapter is a self-help group with no required dues. We rely solely on contributions. Your donations help us pay for the cost of this newsletter, the postage, all the books in our library, meeting and event supplies which are a great help to bereaved parents.

Your contributions are tax deductible and very sincerely appreciated. The following dona-tions were received since the last Primrose deadline:

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**** NOTICE **** The Primrose Newsletter, published quarterly, is available for a year with a suggested subscription of $7.00 - $8.00. You may pay as little or as much as you like towards our newsletter printing and mailing fund. Your expiration date is shown in the lower right hand corner of your mailing label. Please let me know by this date if you wish to continue receiving the Primrose. This is my way of knowing if you want the newsletter. Send your Tax deductible donations to: Mrs. Valerie Ambrose 730 River Rd. Binghamton, NY 13901 Make checks payable to: Bereaved Parents. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Name __________________________________________________________________ o Please check if new Address Address ________________________________________________________________ City ___________________________________ State _________ Zip _____________ Phone (______) ______________ Child’s Name ____________________________ DoD ___\___\____ Newsletter $________ Library $____________ Other (specify) $ ___________ Generic $ ____________ Please specify if there is a specific fund you want the money used for (newsletter, books, supplies, ect...) ALL donations will be mentioned in the Love gift section of the newsletter.

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Anniversaries of the Heart "The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves silent and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

With these words, the poet describes the universal human experience for the deeply-moving events that occur in our lives; for me, and I suspect for you, the words apply most often to the times of loss or sorrow or grief. Those days should be, and indeed shall be, secret and honored anniversaries of the heart - not to be abandoned nor dismissed as though they were just another day, which they can never be. But there are other days as well which are holy holidays - days which only we celebrate because they too are secret from or unrevealed to most. They are the days of firsts, the days of achievement, the days of graduation, the days of recognition, the days of laughter and joy, the days of hugs, and maybe even the days of happy tears. Thankfully, they can be just as special as the others. None replaces another as no day in our lives replaces any other, but each takes its proper place in the whole cloth which is ours. For some, the fabric is tightly woven like canvas with the threads of myriad events crammed close together; while for others who live to be quite old...the threads are looser like burlap. But for each, our days are woven together - the weak with the strong, the bright and the dull, the beautiful and the painful - to make the tapestry of our existence. Just as every thread is important to the strength and usefulness and beauty of the cloth, so is every day, every secret anniversary of our hearts, important to the calendar of our lives. ~James Clark, TCF, Nashville, TN

Bereaved Parents Group Broome County Chapter 1250 Front St., PMB 147

Binghamton, NY 13901-1043 (Address Service requested)