Grieving
                                                             
On the afternoon of April 15, 2006, our 18-year-old daughter Helena phoned us from her dorm room at the University of West Georgia. It was the Saturday of Easter weekend. She said she was tired and was going to have a nap. She never woke up again.

Words cannot express the anguish of receiving the news that your child, just like that, has passed away. You think you are going to go mad. There is no pain in all the world greater than that of losing a child. Of that I am absolutely confident.

Doctors later told us they believed Helena had died of Sudden Adult Death syndrome (SAD) - a heart arrhythmia. 

The next days and weeks were a blur. We could not have gotten through them without the support of family, friends and clergy. As Rabbi Harold Kushner states in his book When Bad Things Happen to Good People: “Letting people into your home, into your grief, is exactly what you need now. You need to share with them, to let them comfort you. You need to be reminded that you are still alive, and part of a world of life.”  Thank God for all those that comforted us through those dark, dark days.

My wife and I were both off work for many weeks and when we returned, we were a shadow of our former selves. After a few months, we both took further leaves of absence. My son Daniel somehow finished his term at college, but he was suppressing his deep anguish and it surfaced very strongly a year later.

Some of the people around us told us we needed to get on with our lives. Others avoided speaking about Helena at all, thinking it was too painful for us. Neither of these approaches were helpful to us. Although everyone reacts differently to grief, I desperately wanted to talk about Helena. I still do. Maybe that is why I wrote Helena’s Voyage.

My wife and I went to a bereavement group eight months after Helena passed away. While it is true that only other families who have lost a child can really know what you going through, sometimes the sheer amount of grief in the room was overwhelming.

We have found counseling helpful – both family and individual. I think someone who specializes in grief counseling is best.  And keep an eye out for other family members or friends who might also be going through a hard time and need special support. Siblings and best friends can be hit particularly hard.

Losing a child changes you forever.  Priorities change. With a changed view of life, some friendships end, but new unexpected ones spring up. Nicholas Wolterstorff, in Lament for a Son, stated that he believed that going through his tragedy made him a better person – more spiritual, more compassionate to the suffering of others - but that he would give up his newfound wisdom in an instant if it would bring back his son. I totally agree.

Last year I had coffee with a medical doctor appointed to a Vatican council, and a few days later, with a First Nations artist with deep spiritual beliefs. One had lost a wife, the other a child. In the course of our discussions, they both told me the same thing: that they reached a point where they realized that the grief would always be with them, but that it was a very personal grief and that they would have to find a personal place inside them to keep it. In this way, the grief and the loved one would always be near, but they would be able to continue on with their life. This is excellent advice.

The voyage of my life continues – sometimes calm and sunny, sometimes stormy and even dangerous.  I am not sure where life is taking me now – my destination seems to have been altered in mid-course – but I will try to enjoy and learn from my voyage and from the fellow voyagers I meet on the way.  And one day, God willing, I will sail into a peaceful port and see my beloved Helena waving to me from a golden shore.

 

Jim

On May 2, 2008, a couple of weeks after writing the above, I lost my youngest brother Jim during open-heart surgery.  I wrote this poem last week and dedicate it to him. God bless you, Jim!

An Unbreakable Bond of Love
(Song for Jim)

Oh child of earth, before you lies a path of pain and tears.
Shadows fill your tender heart, and haunt your mind and soul.
Separation, depression, grief… infirmities and fears.
Cut off, you drift abandoned into the blackest of all holes.

But look!  A light yet reaches out across the desperate gloom.
Your family stands around you. They've been here from the start.
They may not understand it all or be here in this room,
But rest assured they hold you fast forever in their hearts.

Heaven’s child know this, and take it to your heart:
Like beads we are connected by a thread from far above.
A silver thread runs through us that will never split apart.
We’re forever bound together by an unbreakable bond of Love.

Now look beyond your loved ones. See the others circled round?
Your friends and all you've touched form the next band.
The love with which you're held converts this room to holy ground.
They bless you, all around you, hand-in-hand.

And there, outside your window, sparrows sing sincerest greetings,
The trees reach to embrace you, the breezes sigh their praise.
For you, through you, in you, all Creation now is meeting.
The moon sends beams of blessings, the sun its warmest rays.

Heaven’s child know this, and take it to your heart:
Like beads we are connected by a thread from far above.
A silver thread runs through us that will never split apart.
We’re forever tied together by an unbreakable bond of Love.

Do you hear celestial whispers, the rustle of sacred wings?
The angels are here with you though unseen by human eye.
They take prayers to the Father and guard you with their Being.
Their chorus fills this room, this house, the entire earth and sky.

Beyond the sky, the planets spin on paths set before time,
And round is stitched a tapestry of galaxies and stars.
At Creation, have no doubt that God had you – yes you! - in mind,
The Universe His grand design to form you as you are.

Heaven’s child know this, and take it to your heart:
Like beads we are connected by a thread from far above.
A silver thread runs through us that will never split apart.
We’re forever tied together by an unbreakable bond of Love.

And now hear distant greetings from persons gone before.
The saints themselves all hold you forever in their arms.
The light they shine upon you comes direct from Heaven's door.
They pray that God will spare you from the pain of earthly harms.

And over all. . . connecting all. . . BEING all that is,
God holds you now and ever in His gentle, mighty hands.
For you are never you alone - all of us are His.
My child, you are the very key to God’s eternal plans.
 
Heaven’s child know this, and take it to your heart:
Like beads we are connected by a thread from far above.
A silver thread runs through us that will never split apart.
We’re forever tied together by an unbreakable bond of Love.

 

Mom

My mother Marjorie Harbridge (nee Cunningham) passed away September 4, 2009 after a long battle with Alzheimer's. This poem is dedicated to her.

(Note: The spelling "Godde" in the poem is because (I believe) our Creator is neither a man nor a woman but surely has both male and female qualities. Thinking of the female side reminds me to think of God as gentle and nurturing.)

 

My Gentle God

My God is a gentle Godde
Who wakes me with the light
Of a new day on my window sill
And chases away the night.

My God is a gentle Godde.
I feel Her loving gaze
Unconditionally caress me
And bless me all my days.

My God is a gentle Godde
Who warms my daily bread,
And listens to the ambitions
And the worries in my head.

My God is a gentle Godde
Who walks me to the door,
Who prays that I remember
What today was created for.

My God is a gentle Godde
Who blesses all my friends -
A promise sent into the day
Of love that never ends.

My God is a gentle Godde
And whatever this day brings,
I feel Her ever hover near -
A dove on whitest wings.

My God is a gentle Godde
Of jam and morning dew,
And breezes, kites and dragonflies
And especially... Me and You.

 

Books on grieving (for children):