Archive for September, 2011

“Reach One Another”

Tuesday, September 27, 2011 @ 08:09 AM Author: Grieving Dads

Reach One Another

“No one feels another’s grief; no one understands another’s joy.  People imagine they can reach one another. In reality they only pass each other by.”  – Franz Schubert

I know I speak for myself when I say, “I use to pass others by”.  I never understood the pain of others and to be honest, I never went out of my way to care.  I mean really care, by reaching out with a hug, phone call or even as a good listener.  I want to be clear here, I cared if others were in pain, but I never did anything about it.  I would think to myself “that’ sucks” and move on with my day.  I used the excuses, “I didn’t know what to say” or “I’ll just give them some time on their own, I don’t want to bother them”.

I can honestly say that going through the loss of two children opened my eyes to what others go through in life.  I agree with the quote above, no one feels another’s grief.  However, I truly believe we can reach each one another if we stop and listen.  Allowing others to tell you about their pain, however deep it is, provides them an outlet.  They in return feel a sense of trust and compassion that someone really cares about them and what they are dealing with.

Although I never set out to be this type of person in my life, I have now experienced the power of not passing others by.  I see pain in others that I never used to see.  This blog and my work with grieving dads/parents is my way of reaching out and hopefully allowing others to feel like someone cares.

What do you think of this quote?  Can you relate with it in some way?

“Rub Some Dirt On It”

Monday, September 19, 2011 @ 06:09 PM Author: Grieving Dads

Rub Some Dirt On It

We have all been taught things early in our life that were wrong.  Not the 2 + 2 = 4 kind of stuff.  I mean life stuff, the kind of stuff that shapes your approach to things in life.  How you respond to certain life events.  These events can be good or bad.  However, depending on how you respond can have lasting impacts.

The one “lesson” that stands out the most for me is being taught that it is a sign of weakness if you cry or show emotions.  I was never directly told that, however, certain actions of others and comments directed towards me taught me this unfortunate message.  One of these actions that I witnessed (or didn’t) was the fact I never saw a grown man cry when I was a kid.  I also heard comments like “big boys don’t cry” or “toughen up” and they had lasting impacts on me that caused great psychological pain after the death of my two children.  If I would have been taught from a child that it’s okay to show emotion or even feel it for that matter, it would have helped me process my losses.  Instead, I spent my energy on fighting the pain and emotions which ultimately caused depression.

There is something unnatural about not showing your emotions when you are sad or depressed.  It’s okay to do it when you’re happy, why not when you’re hurting?  Great question that I don’t have an answer for, but it took me a while to reeducate and train my mind that it was okay to show emotion.  It is okay to let others know you are hurting and it’s certainly okay to ask for help.

What kinds of “lessons” were you taught that may have been misguided?

“Two Urns”

Sunday, September 11, 2011 @ 06:09 PM Author: Grieving Dads

Two Urns

Most people can’t fathom the thought of losing one child, let alone losing two.  I have two urns that sit on my dresser at our home.  The first one is for my sweet little girl Katie.  It is bronze with a little girl on the front and she is kneeling and praying facing towards the right.  The second one is for my beautiful son Noah.  His is the same bronze urn, but his has a little boy kneeling and praying facing towards the left.  They are side by side on my dresser and the little images on the front of the urns face each other.  They make me smile when I stop and touch them, a warm loving smile because I know how much they have touched my life.

Some people would think that it’s a little odd to have the two urns in my house.  I am guessing that they think by seeing them everyday they would make me sad.  They don’t make me sad, they use to early on, but no longer.  It would bring me greater stress if they were not with me.  I like having them near by and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I like the fact that I know they are with me, that I can talk to them when ever I want.  I know they are not there, but it brings me comfort to touch the urns and say hello to them from time to time.  I don’t talk to them everyday, but they are a reminder to me to look at life differently; to live it differently. 

After one goes through the extreme grief (this takes years), trauma and depression that accompany the death of a child, they start to see things a little differently.  You learn to live a life that is genuine.  You want to start living in a way you hadn’t before.  You usually do not tolerate things in your life you use to tolerate.  You smile more (this takes a while, after the anger has run its course) and are quicker to reach out to others that need help.  You become transparent and drop any ego you may have had prior to the loss.  Your approach to your career can be greatly impacted especially if you didn’t really like your job before hand.  The thought of all of the ass kissing it takes to climb the corporate ladder makes you nauseous.  You surround yourselves with real friends and start to distance yourself from the “good time” friends (the ones that disappear after the death of your child and the aftermath that follows).  You will find new friends that are not afraid to sit with you while you are crying and will take your phones calls no matter what’s going on in their life at the time.  You start to see all of the injustice in this world and may even become an advocate as a way to honor your lost child.  I have learned that’s it not all about me and I realize there is healing in helping others.  You become less judgmental towards others.  The list goes on and on.

This is why I keep their urns with me, as a reminder to continue to live my life in a positive manner versus heading in a direction that would be easy to go at times.  It’s unfortunate that we have to go through a profound life experience to understand the true beauty of life and all it has to offer.  Why do we tolerate all of the “stuff” prior to these events, fear?   

I read a story this weekend about a guy that survived the 9/11 World Trade Center events.  He described that when he was a child, he always wanted to work in the financial district in New York.  He lived across the river and dreamed of getting out of the bad environment in which he was raised.  He pursued his goals and achieved them.  However, on 9/11 he walked out of the building where he worked for a financial institution and kept walking.  He walked away from the corporate job and decided at that time he was going to live his life to the fullest.  He started to learn how to dance the Tango and it has become his passion.  He has traveled to South America to learn the art of this dance.  Studying it to the point where he has become a Master Tango instructor.  He now owns his own Tango studio in New York and teaches it to others.  His income level has dropped, but his need for material items has also diminished since he found his passion.  He has learned to simplify his life after a profound life event.  Great story.

How about you, do you talk to your child where they are located; cemetery, urns in your home or ashes in the wind?  Are you living your life with passion?  Have you made changes to your life after a profound life experience?  Share your stories with me and the others that visit.

“Death No Longer is the Master”

Tuesday, September 6, 2011 @ 05:09 PM Author: Grieving Dads

Death No Longer is the Master

There is great comfort in losing my fear of death.  That is one of the blessings that many parents experience after the rawness of their grief ebbs.  It is an empowering and freeing experience: it is a gift from your child.  When my wife was diagnosed with a gall bladder that had to be removed, she told me that she did not care if she died during the surgery.  Losing this fear does not mean that grieving parents have a death wish or are suicidal.  It just means that death has become a part of life and there is no need to try to deny its existence or ignore its reality.  Death no longer is the master.

This is one of my favorite truisms written by fellow grieving dad and friend Charlie Schmidtke; in fact it is one that I too experienced.  I have spoken to a lot of grieving dads that feel the same way.  It’s not that we want to die (there may be times early on that you want to because the pain is so intense); it’s that the fear of dying is gone.  Actually, for me, the fears of a lot of things are gone.

I use to be afraid of flying and would have to medicate to stay calm when I did decide to fly.  Now I fly all of the time without fear.  I told my wife recently “what’s the worst thing that could happen”.  Again, not that I want to die, it’s just like Charlie said, “death has become a part of life and there is no need to try to deny its existence or ignore its reality.”  Not that I am trying to test the theory of “what’s the worst thing that happen”, I am flying next week and really don’t want to jinx myself, it’s just I don’t have the fear I use to have.

Another fear I use to have is public speaking, now I don’t even get nervous.  I actually have gotten much better at public speaking for work, conducting my workshops and key note speaking.  What’s the worst thing that can happen?  I mix up a few words, forget a line or two?  I have lost two children; these things do not even come close to comparing.  When I speak to other grieving dads, I worry more about connecting with them and helping them, not so much about my performance as a speaker.  I just want them to walk out of the room with a sense of peace and/or connection with another grieving dad.

I would be lying if I said I don’t still have some fears, because I do.  One of the fears is being thrown back into that pit of despair and depression again at any given time.  That scares the hell out of me.  Also, I have fears of my wife dying before me.  I don’t want to be the only one left by myself; however, I also don’t want her to have to deal with the loss of me by herself.  I know one of these scenarios will happen, that’s just life. 

How about you, have you lost or gained any fears since the death of your child?  If so, what are they?  Has your fear of dying changed?