What Never To Do When Someone You Love Loses A Child

This excerpt is from an article written by Dr. Cara Barker, author and bereaved parent. She offers 9 things to avoid when trying to comfort a grieving parent.

 "When a child dies, it is the most natural thing in the world to reach out, to struggle for words, and ways of comforting the family. Unfortunately, there are things that you can do which do not comfort, but only deepen the pain of the death.

Before my own son was killed nearly 18 years ago, I had studied the bereavement process, done grief work with Elisabeth Kubler Ross, and worked with a number of bereaved parents. That said, I knew nothing. Not until my own son was lost. In fact, a few hours after he died, I remember saying to my friend: "This is surreal. I feel like I've gotten trapped in the audience of that Oprah Winfrey show on bereaved parents. This can't be happening in my life!" I also remember telling my 8 year-old daughter that her brother was gone. I will never remember her tears, or words, when she said: "Mommy, it's raining in my heart."

So, if you know someone who has lost a child, and you feel inept, know that you are not alone. No words, no acts can take away the canyon in their heart. Trust me. The process takes a lifetime. Death of your child is something you do not ever 'get over.' You either give up on life when it happens, or you choose to grow through what has happened, and go on to deepen your contribution. Before Elisabeth's death, I shared with her that I've found a Sixth Step to her five step bereavement cycle. The sixth is all about creation. It does not happen overnight.

What Not to Do.

1. Never, ever say "He/she is in a better place." That may comfort you, if you are a believer, but it does not touch the fact that your friend is sitting in the middle of the worst experience a parent can have. Instead, if it is honest, simply say something like "There are no words for what you must be experiencing." Stay out of your head, and go into your heart.

2. Never, ever keep a stop-watch on someone's grieving. You do not know, anymore than they do, how long healing may take. Instead, focus on staying present with the bereaved. Here is the time to listen.

3. Never, ever trivialize what has happened with your own story. Instead, keep your focus on their loss.

4. Never, ever refer to who died in impersonal ways. Instead, use the name of the child. You may feel uncomfortable, but bereaved parents, especially over the long haul suffer a private pain because they fear the world will forget their baby.

5. Never, ever forget other children in the situation. Not only have they lost a sibling, but they lose their parents psychologically during grieving, regardless how aware the parents may be. Instead, spend time with the child. For young children, bring color crayons, and suggest a picture. This may be something they would like to tuck into the garments of the child who died, if there is to be burial, or cremation. Do not interpret the child's reaction to mean they are not grieving. Children grieve in different ways. Let them.

6. Never, ever forget that holidays and anniversaries carry a particular pain. (Nearly no one remembers the second anniversary of a child's death. It is a great time for a card that says you've not forgotten. Instead, remember when you are celebrating rites of passage with your own child, e.g. graduations, weddings, grandchildren, that this brings a sting to your friend, no matter how much they might love your crew. Don't be afraid to mention the name of the child who has died at these times. Let your friend know you appreciate this must 'bring up' a lot for them.

7. Never, ever forget that, as long as you are speaking from your heart, that your love is invaluable. You cannot err. Relax. Breathe. Your friendship means everything.

8. Never, ever assume that it is impossible to begin life anew. Instead, know that it may take a great deal of time and concentrated work, but, just as spring follows winter, life can be reborn with a focus, and support, and guidance from those who have been through the wringer.

9. Never, ever discount your own sense of things. If your friend is starting to isolate, or act in unusual ways, suggest additional support/professional help.

 **There are 2 A New Journeys on facebook. The  additional wall is titled: Anew Journey  (same name...different spelling). It contains information, links, quotes that are not on the main ANJ wall. Quotes and links are visible to members only.  Everyone is welcome to join by submitting a 'friend' request.

When The Angel Of Death Comes For Your Child

First Responders On The Scene.....


When the Angel of Death taps the shoulder of our child, the world stops turning. The phone call delivering incomprehensible news and a one-way ticket to the darkest depths of existence, hurls our senses into a state of shock and disbelief.

In that surreal state we are often surrounded by 'earth angels' who arrive to comfort and care for us. Whether they are friends or family, their ability to minister to our pain , help us put one foot in front of the other and make sense out of this nightmare is nothing short of miraculous. They shower their kindness upon us in so many ways and can appear in multitudes, bearing loving words and gestures. Some take on heavy lifting tasks such as helping with funeral arrangements, travel, & planning. Some don't appear until months or years later. Some know us well, some knew our child, some barely know us yet they feel 'called' to reach out.

The existence of these 'earth angels' was described beautifully to me while reading a passage written by a woman whose heart ached for a friend who lost her child. She grieved for her friend and described the role she wished to play in providing loving support. This 'earth angel' wrote the following:

"I've had a recurring 'vision' (if you want to call it that --it's just an image in my mind's eye) of the heart of a bereaved parent looking something like a bomb site—a place that was once thriving and responsible for the health and lives of many people, now suddenly and violently interrupted by a gaping, smoldering hole. The debris of life before the bomb is mixed in with a strong, deep root system--the parent/child bond. I think of myself, then, as a responder--someone who first comes to help supply immediate care and assistance--applying comfort and kindness and even material needs wherever I can, then to help sort through the debris (as needed and where possible), then to begin planting life and love and hope around the bomb site, then to cultivate what I plant and encourage its growth, so that over time it will interact with and enhance that deep root system of parental love that will always remain. Yet even in that "green" space, there needs to be some good, prime space set aside for a memorial--a place that is always quiet, sacred, and separated from the life that goes on and grows up around it. I think that's what we're supposed to do for our friends and family who grieve not only over the child that has passed, but also for the place in their hearts that was once part of a thriving system and is now a site of reflection and mourning." -Ann Bosworth

A responder. What an insightful and heartfelt description. I am thankful for the responders in my life. Some arrived on the scene when our tragic loss occurred. Some have arrived in the months following. I have faith they'll appear at intermittent times in the future because I believe in the power of light, goodness and love. Even in the endless darkness of tragedy…... we are offered light.
 -Marsha Flynn Abbott



* Originally posted at Bereavement 4 Breakfast; July 21, 2010
* Visit Facebook: A New Journey, for quotes, links, and articles of hope regarding the loss of a child.
*Pictured: The Angel of Hope

Who Understands This Pain?

Soon or later we all experience loss. Yet, it is a solitary experience. It is nearly physical in it's depth of pain. Do we all experience the same thing? When someone says, "Nobody understands the pain I feel or the suffering I've been through", it is hard to disagree. We don't know.

Yet that person could never know the pain associated with our loss. We are unique, yet similar. The person we were before the loss of our child and how we have responded to this loss makes each person's story individual. Perhaps that is why suffering such a loss feels like such a lonely experience. Nobody can go through it for us.

In the midst of tragedy, shock often renders us senseless. Like tumbleweeds in the desert, the wind blows us this way and that; accepting invitations, turning down invitations, putting up a good front one day and collapsing privately another, trying to express thanks for the out pour of love yet finding it difficult to find the energy or train of thought to carry through. We roll aimlessly along this new path until a quietness settles in; the quietness of a new reality. With that emerges a new definition of the future and the time to consider the choices that lie ahead.

How we choose to go through loss makes us unique. We are forced into the darkness alone, but there are forks long the path of darkness. We can choose brokenness and despair or we can choose community.

The path of isolation offers the promise of continued darkness and loneliness. The path through community is more brightly lit yet choices present themselves. We may encounter others along this path who share a brokenness that feeds on the darkness and despair. Others search for hope.

Community also includes old friends, new friends, family and places of comfort. Those who are committed to more than a sympathy card; who have not lost a child but deep down inside a 'voice' speaks to them. Privately they give thanks that this sort of loss has passed them by, and that 'voice' encourages them to reach out.

No, nobody will ever understand another person's unique pain resulting from the death of their child. Perhaps that is not necessary. As a parent, perhaps it is the choices we make as we travel this journey which will define the most valuable understanding.
-Marsha Abbott

Visit Facebook: A New Journey, for quotes, links, and articles of hope regarding the loss of a child.

The Elephant Lingers

Written for bereaved parents who ache when friends and family avoid bringing up the name or memory of their child.

The Elephant Lingers

Smiling conversations,
current events and weather predictions.

The elephant lumbers through the room.

A loss not consequential enough for weather discussions.

Spirituality and compassion carefully

hidden in a closet like delicate lace.

‘Silence is golden’ approach applied to

wounds needing hugs and communication.

The elephant roars.

Humanity tested

in every deflected opportunity.

Unwilling to share memories, joys, a connection.

Parents bleeding, suffering the silence

of the world.

Trapped by walls of avoidance

the elephant remains

locked in the room of chit-chat
surrounded by the weather commentators. 

  - Marsha Abbott

Visit A New Journey on Facebook. A place for grieving parents, siblings and caring friends searching for hope after the death of a child.

I can be reached by email at: Marsha@nwdesignservices.com
Feel free to leave comments here, on facebook or via email.a
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The Tenderhearted Friend

There a untold earth angels roaming this world, in the form of old, new and renewed friends. Like a bell, tragedy signals action, and they lovingly respond.

Seasons of darkness descended upon my life
when my child died.
Cards arrived...
Services attended...
Flowers with lingering scents...
Alone to privately experience hell....
With outward smiles and 'buck-up' appearances...

I'm thankful for the friends...

Who look me up from a long ago past.
Who call for coffee dates and hugs.
Who can't imagine being in my shoes
....lending me their slippers of love.
Who don't find reasons to stay busy
....with their own lives, safe and secure.
Who remember my child.
....and take the time to share a memory.
Who have the courage to look at real loss.
Who show me the meaning of faith
....and demonstate in outreach.
Who don't feel the need to say something 'quotable'.
Who can imagine color turning to black and white.
Who know that laughter is a pathway to hope.
Who don't use my broken bleeding heart
....to pin/post their blessings list.
Who know that we are all here for a reason
....our lives as friends were connected for a purpose.
Who don't put a time stamp on friendship
....and connect anyway.
Who share a recipe, joke, or tidbit of news
....just for the fun of it.
Whose tenderheart gives thanks that losing a child
....was NOT something that happened to them, yet
have a deep place in their soul that understands.
Who have patience and trust I will
....find a way to thank them.

Blessings to my tenderhearted friends and the friends of my child
....They possess a special gift.  -Marsha Abbott


Visit A New Journey on Facebook. A resource and place of hope for grieving parents.  http://www.facebook.com/pages/A-New-Journey/139541632740837

Watching My Parents

 The loss of a child is seen through more eyes than just the parents. This is Michelle's account:

Denise Schipani expressed it perfectly: "You go on, but you take a wildly different path."(1)

"If we are the sum total of our experiences – and losing a child is surely one of the most traumatic experiences I've ever witnessed – then what actually happens to parents in these circumstances is not only unknowable, it's unimaginable." (2)

"I watched my parents deal with the accidental death of my younger brother (he drowned at the age of 19), through the months when they were literally sick with grief, and the eight years since. They (as am I) are forever changed by his death but not necessarily in a negative or even regrettable way. And that's because (and I'm not sure how to say this right) it's not only in death that we were changed: that change actually began with his life – the fact that he died is only one aspect of who he was, just as the fact that my mother is not just a person who lost a son, she is a person who HAD a son for 19 years.

And after working (and it really WAS work) through their grief, my parents choose to go on living full and even healthier lives partly as a celebration of his life. They see it as his inheritance, as something he's given back to them, a way to make sense of his death – it gives even more meaning to their lives, to their identities as parents (because you don't stop being a parent when your child dies).

I am incredibly proud of my parents for this: it is not only one of the bravest decisions they have ever taken, but it means that I have not lost them along with the future I would have had with my brother." (3)
-quotes by Denise Shipani and Michelle P.


(1) Denise Shipani
(2) Denise Shipani
(3) Comments from Michelle P. (last name was not given), at The Happiest Mom.
Visit A New Journey on Facebook. A resource and place of hope for grieving parents.  http://www.facebook.com/pages/A-New-Journey/139541632740837
* Originally posted at Bereavement 4 Breakfast; June 30, 2010