“Laying Low”

I know it’s been awhile since I have posted something on my blog, but for some reason have been struggling with things to say.  To be honest, I am getting to the point where I feel like I have said everything I had to say.  I apologize to those that depend on me for insight into what they are feeling, especially the newly bereaved or those who have recently found this blog.  I can assure you that there are previously posted topics that I did write about that connections can be made with.  Not to mention the men that has continued to post on subjects and offer support to the new comers.  I appreciated their help with reaching out to the others that need it.  As I have said before, there is healing in helping others.  This isn’t a post to say I am done blogging on the topic of men’s grief, not even close.  I will continue to post on topics that strike a chord with me; you just never know when those will occur.

I have transitioned my focus to conducting training workshops to help caregivers on the front lines understand the pain bereaved parents feel and how to help these individuals, especially the men.  If you are aware of any organizations (hospitals, not-for-profits, hospice, chaplain organizations, funeral organizations or military loss groups) that would benefit from the training I offer, please let them know about my full day and ½ day workshops.  Who better to train these individuals on parental bereavement than someone who understands the impact all too well?

I have also been focusing my time on the Farley-Kluger Initiative (www.FarleyKluger.com) to changing the Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA) to include the death of a child as a reason to qualify for the benefits allowed under this existing law.  I still find it hard to believe that you can take 12 weeks of unpaid time off when a child is born, but when that child dies, you only get 3-5 bereavement leave that your company may or may not provide.  We were in Washington DC last week to meet with over 40 legislatures in the House and Senate.  I am happy to announce that a Bill was introduced in the House by Congressman Steve Israel (NY) and Senator Jon Tester (MT) while we were in DC.  Very exciting indeed, but we still have a lot of work to do.  When need help from others that are willing to help us fight for this Bill to make sure it gets passed to help others.  We hear it only has a 10% chance of ever becoming a law.  Which would be the case if we were the only two people working on it, we need help.  If you are interested joining us on this, please contact me.  We have a strategy to get other elected officials on board to support these Bills, but need help implementing it.

I just wanted to give an update for those who thought I have disappeared from this blog and was just laying low hanging out on my couch watching TV.  There has been lots of exciting things going on and I appreciate all of the encouragement I have received.  Those that have read my book know that one of my messages is “find a purpose to honor your children” and I believe everything I do with and for bereaved parents are a direct result of losing Katie and Noah.  I am honored to have been able to help others and to sit with/speak with them when they are the lowest point in their life.

The following was sent to me by a fellow grieving dad and thought it would be a good thing to share here.  Sound familiar?

“Be Positive”

I have been told that in the face of adversity you must be positive.
Since the death of my son Christian I am positive about many things.
I am positive that losing my son is the hardest thing I have ever endured.
I am positive that I loved him more than words can say.
I am positive that every day without him is hell.
I am positive that I will never be whole again.
I am positive that I will mourn his death the rest of my life.
I am positive that I will do every thing I can to keep his memory alive.
I am positive that I have to fight every day just to be ok.
I am positive that the only way I would feel great is to have him back.
I am positive that I would give my life if could have his back.
Christian, I am positive that I will love and miss you the rest of my life.

Dad

Reflection

It’s that time of year where many of us do some personal reflection.  Many people like to spend time looking over the last year, in this case it’s 2012.  Looking back over how your life has changed or has not changed and trying to find ways to improve upon it.  I no longer look at just the last twelve months; I now look at by life as before and after the death of my children.  The losses have become moments of my life that I measure myself against.  My wife and I will have conversations about things that happened in the past and we find ourselves asking “did that happen before or after Katie and Noah.”  I have found that there is a very clear difference between the two.

Before my losses (2004)

I was a self-absorbed asshole who really only worried about one person, himself.  I really didn’t care about other people’s opinion of me or their problems; they were not mine, so why bother myself with them.  I use to think that people used their problems as excuses for where they were in life.  I was driven by all of the wrong things such as money, status, material and image.  Back then I told myself that it was ok to be that way because I had a “plan” and no one or nothing was going to get in my way of achieving it.  For those that follow this blog, you know that “my plan” didn’t go so well.  However, it took me a while to realize this.  I tried to pick up the pieces and get back on my plan shortly after the loss of my daughter, I didn’t know better.  I went back to what I knew; I tried to fast forward as quickly as I could.  Bad idea.  I went to depths I never thought was possible for someone as “strong” as me.  The pain eventually got the best of me and literally brought me to my knees.  I so desperate wanted to come up for air, but I didn’t know which way was up so I continued to sink.

After my second loss (2006)

I had to be hit with a sledgehammer twice before I realized how wrong I was in the way I was living my life.  I look back and just shake my head at how young, cocky and naive I was.

  • I now live simple because I now realize money, status, image or material things do not come in and help you out of bed when you don’t think you can go on another day; days where you don’t care if you live or die.
  • I have gained compassion because strangers taught me what it was by example.
  • I became humble because it’s part of survival.
  • I became transparent because I realized it’s harder to hold it in than to let it out.
  • I became ok with sitting with someone in pain and speaking with them without dancing around the subject.  I know what kind of gift this is because I have been on the receiving end of many of these gifts.
  • My new “plan” is to enjoy life and not take things so seriously.  Conquering the world is no longer my objective.  Being able to smile and laugh is.
  • I now use my “drive” to help others through the profound loss of a child.
  • I no longer judge others.  You never know what the person next to you has gone or going through.

I wish I could say all of these changes occurred overnight, but they didn’t.  There were a lot of growing pains with the new found me.  These growing pains and changes would not have occurred if I hadn’t lowered my guard and allowed myself to grieve and grow as a person.

We all know that it’s not possible to go back to the person we were before the loss of our children.  However, I must say I like a lot of things about the new me.  I also dislike some things about the new me that I will save for another time, but most of them revolve around the impact child loss has on one’s psychological/mental health state.

Have you done some personal reflection as we head into 2013?  Tell me about the person before and the person after.

Newtown

I have been watching the news coverage of the shootings in Newtown, CT on and off for the last two days.  The innocent lives taken from this community within minutes has been heartbreaking to watch, but yet I can’t help myself.  The trauma, pain and shock that these people have had to endure is staggering.  Many of the people that follow me on this blog know the pain of losing a child.  Although our circumstance are all different, we all know what it’s like to hear the words “your child has died.”  These are words that never leave you.

Watching Robby Parker, father of little Emilie, try to talk about his little girl was heartbreaking as he tried to hold it together.  He is a proud father telling the world how special this little girl is and sharing her with millions of people while also trying to help the others that have also been inflicted by this horrific event.  As a fellow grieving dad, I wanted to put my hands on his shoulder, sit with him and cry with him as he tells her story.

To be honest, it would be an honor to sit with all of these newly bereaved dads (and moms) during the darkest days of their lives.  We all know the road they have before them as they try to support their families while also trying to deal with their own emotions and pain.

I can’t help but also think about the father of the shooter who also lost a child.  He too is grieving the loss of his son while dealing with the weight of knowing his son was responsible for inflicting all of this pain.

We all know that the lives of these people will never be the same, that their lives have been changed forever.  All innocence has been lost.  The road to survival will be long and dark.

I ask that you join me in sending prayers to the people of Newtown and to the families of the children lost.

Wishing you all peace.

Kelly Farley