Grieving Within - Acceptance

Acceptance

Editor: Sonya Marvel
Contributors: All Members of My Parents Are Survivors

It seems each of our days are filled with loneliness and despair. Yet there are some who say, "Do we ever achieve acceptance over the loss of a child?" We will never get over the loss of a child, but eventually we will see the acceptance come into our hearts.

It takes at least 2 full years or more of mourning your child in order for you to feel any relief. Please don't make any major decisions until you are ready. One morning you will wake up and be thinking about your child. You may cry your heart out. Then you may say to yourself, "I can't do this anymore. I am tired of being sad. My child would not want me to be this unhappy." Ways to turn your thinking around is to think only positive thoughts. We're not saying this will be the case daily, however, positive thoughts counteract negative feelings in the course of your day. Strive to keep your thoughts positive. If a negative thought creeps into your mind, try to turn it around to something positive. Eventually you will feel your child within your heart. It may be hard to believe now, but it will happen.

Four years have passed since Jason elected to leave this world, three years since I finished my 'survivor' journal. I have sat back during this time and became a listener and a watcher.

What was I listening for?

Well, to begin with I wanted to know WHY? which quickly became HOW COULD YOU? When my thoughts finally rolled around to WHAT DID I DO TO MAKE YOU DO THIS? I realized I was in trouble ~ so I listened.

I heard a symphony of well-intended whispers. I heard gentle murmurings. I heard I'm sorry for your loss and how are you surviving this and you are so strong.

I also heard about things Jason did that I knew nothing about, some good and some bad. But with all my listening, I never once heard the thing I wanted and needed most at that time. I never heard a single person say 'Do you want to discuss suicide?' 'Do you want to talk about how really mad you are at Jason?' 'Do you want to talk about how you are feeling?'

So that is when I began to listen to myself. After all, I was my own best audience ~ I knew exactly what I wanted to hear. This didn't work in the long run but in the interim it was quite beneficial.

I read and I studied and I secretly held conversations with Jason and myself. Not the best plan but it worked for me and in the long run saved a lot of other people a good deal of grief.

What was I watching for?

At first I was Mother Theresa, hovering over my brood of hurting children - Jason's brothers and his friends. I watched them for that telling sign, making sure their worlds were running a smooth course. Then I realized that, no matter how much I hovered, one of them could be next. Then what would I do? Would it compound my feelings as a failure? I had to let them go in order to save myself, and in effect, make Jason's life worthwhile.

I slowly and silently distanced myself from his friends. My first step was to move to another part of the city, therefore my house was no longer on 'the loop' of places to hang out remembering Jason. Was that cold? I'm not sure, but I don't think so.

I changed my visiting times to the cemetery, but I still often ran into his friends. That was OK though because now these meetings have turned into warm memory circles, enjoying our 'Jason memories'. The family, however, was quite different. I couldn't just leave them. But that is another story entirely.

What else did I watch for? I watched people shy away from me. I watched people avoid me when they talked about their children. I watched people look at me like I had done something wrong, something unclean. I also watched them treat me with reservation, as if I were fragile and had to be handled with kid gloves.

I watched other people go on with their lives and wondered why they should have happiness when I didn't. I watched other people have 'normal' lives when mine had suddenly become so 'abnormal'. What could I do to resolve this? Just what was I watching for anyway?

What I really needed

I was looking for an outlet for my grief and I couldn't find it. I'm not a big drinker, at the most maybe 4-5 drinks a year, thank God, nor do I depend on drugs. What I was looking for was something to dull the pain. Something to help me sleep just ONE night all the way through.

OK I may as well get this out right now, I'm not 'churchly' either. Not that I don't believe in a 'God' or a 'higher being', I just don't believe in organized religion. And the Bible? Again, this is someone's interpretation of what is believed to be God's word. And different versions have different interpretations. So, I'm still at a stand still.

I attended a Survivors of Suicide meeting that is held the first Thursday of every month in our area. A good outlet but there was only one other survivor there that night and her grief was 'fresher' so we (I) concentrated on her. Still not what I needed to save me.

Yes, I said save me. I was lost and I didn't see a way out. And despite all the things that I had been through in my life, suicide had just never seemed an option at any time.

What did I finally do?

What could I do? There was no one for me to turn to. Our family isn't all that close for one thing and for another "IT", the dreaded S-word, isn't something they wanted to discuss. Nor could I continue to inflict this stigma on my co-workers, who were also my only friends. I'm sure you've realized by now I am a 'loner' type, solitary. I live within my own universe. So I was the only one that could help me, and I desperately needed it.

The first thing I did was sit down with my best friend - ME - and had a long talk. I thought of everything that Jason had meant to me. This included what I meant to him and how his death affected my life. LIFE was the operative word now ~ LIFE. That was really what was bugging me all along. I was still alive, now how can I deal with it?

I learned to accept Jason's decision. Not something I wanted to do but I didn't have a choice if I wanted to get on with living. Through my readings, and from talking to others, I realized Jason was suffering from a disease - Bi-Polar Depression. Ah, at least I had a scapegoat! I learned it was OK to be angry with Jason, that I needed to be in order to survive. That anger soon dissolved into acceptance, then gradually into reality. The reality was Jason was dead. He chose to die, even though he was aided in that decision by his disease. No matter how much I cried or lamented or pleaded to the Heavens, he would remain dead. I had to make something positive from this in order to make his choice to leave have some meaning.

My campaign against guns got no where, little cog that I am. So I decided to utilize the few good skills I have, my mouth and my hands. The first thing I did was get a computer, learn basic HTML skills and take Jason's story to the information highway. Hopefully, at least one person will be saved by Jason, other than me, that is.

The second thing I did was talk. Talked until I couldn't talk anymore, to anyone that would listen. And then I laughed.

That first laugh hurt more than the tears.

But I got through that one, too. My next big project continues through to this day and will as long as I am able. Skills learned through my profession in the greens industry - ever popular landscaping. Suddenly, there are little "Jason Memorial Gardens" popping up all over.

Sure, the people don't know they are memorials, nor do they need to. They only need to enjoy them. They are always astounded, and often fearful, when I pull up to their house and begin my 'project'. No, they don't solicit my services, I do it for free. Sometimes they turn me away out of trepidation or fear. Doesn't matter, there are plenty of deserving yards out there. Twice a month I find a neglected patch of ground, plant a flowerbed, and move on. Kind of like the Lone Ranger of the landscape industry. But I've found my peace I was looking for so desperately.

During these 'healing times' I often talk to Jason and sometimes feel his approval. Before leaving each yard, I leave a penny, from his penny jar, buried in the soil.

So, I have come full circle and I love Jason again, no longer feeling angry or feeling neglected by his choice. I have become a survivor.

Dedicated to the loving memory of my angel, Jason William Buttes. Born Nov 7, 1977 and Died July 6, 1996. Reborn in my heart July 6, 2000.....forever my sweet son, rest peacefully.

Jason's Story
Sue Dawson

When my daughter died in the delivery room a few minutes after her birth I cried. I was not allowed ho see or hold her because in 1971 it just wasn't the thing to do. They moved me to the GYN floor, and the next day I went home, returning to the curiosity, accusations and care of my 4-year-old son. I went to my daughter's funeral and the next night was Halloween. I had no choice but to take him trick-or-treating with his friends. Life resumed its natural course and while I did go through the stages of mourning I never truly accepted or acknowledged her death with anger, tears or anything. I left them buried deep with-in. In 1996 I suffered a nervous breakdown, which came as the result of an accumulation of things, including mid life, empty nest syndrome when my younger child left home, and finally the truly rude awakening to the many unshed tears and pain I had never released for my darling daughter.

Slowly I finally came to terms with my grief, and instead of wallowing in it I decided to pay tribute to her and to all of the other little angels that went home too soon. I developed my memorial pages on my site and found peace and serenity replaced the pain and tears. Now, whenever I feel a little blue (like Oct 25th) I visit other parent's pages and give them words of encouragement.

Truly,
Dixie

It has been 3 years and 1 month since Andy died. On Aug. 26, 2000 Andy's friends Mike and Rae got married. The wedding day came. I was very apprehensive about going, as Mike is a brother to Jenny, who's wedding was Sept. 6, 1997. I knew there were going to be MANY reminders. The usher led Lisa and I to the front of the church, on the groom's side. Then another usher seated The Johnston's (Jenny's Husband and her in-laws) directly in front of us.

On the inside of the pamphlet, it read "Altar Flowers in Memory of grandparents and Our dear friend, Andy Lindquist"

On the back page at the end of the list of the Wedding Party was "Groomsman in our Hearts Andy Lindquist"

Then Nancy, Mikey's Mom, was seated.

As the Ushers walked down the aisle towards the front of the church, Lisa and I began to cry. We watched the bridesmaids as they passed by. I couldn't bear to watch the Bride.

Three other friends did the readings. When Brett asked that everyone remember Andy, it took my breath away, and we totally lost it. Pam Johnston turned around to give me a hug, and many of the people in the church were crying.

When we entered the reception hall, many, many people came up to us crying and hugging. We waited for a very long time for the bridal party. When they finally arrived, their eyes were all red. As Rick began to give the toast to the new bride and groom, he apologized for the delay of the bridal party. He said that they had all gone to the cemetery to have a beer with Andy. They had left their boutonnieres and corsages on top of his headstone and 2 cans of beer. They were there for a very long time, talking, drinking and crying. Even the driver was crying. By then, many in the hall were crying, also. When my husband and I left the reception, we stopped by the cemetery. As we were getting into our car to leave, you could hear sirens coming in the distance. Just like that awful day almost 3 years ago. Several of Andy's friends have gotten married and every one of them have had the Flowers in memory of Him. Three of those friends have had children that they named after Andy.

I always knew that Andy had the best friends in the world, and now I know that he still has them. It warmed my heart to think that they had made Andy such a special part of their special day. It brought me comfort and a calmness has come over me. I am so very proud of my Sonshine. What those kids did that day, was a reminder as to how much Andy also meant to them. It brought me peace.

Sincerely,
Andy's Mom Mitz
Andy's Site

The death of my daughter I have accepted, but the murder of my son I have not. I get more angry every year that faithful day comes around. I know there are people that know ( my 2 nephews), but they will not talk to me. They avoid me. The police say they have no clue. Those 3 boys were like the 3 musketeers, and two days later they went after some one and got shot themselves. One is crippled for the rest of his life the other was just lucky. So how can you go after someone when you don't know anything. Give me a break. I might be from Germany, but I'm not from the moon. They know. They just will not tell.

Thanks for listening
(((((HUGS)))))))))))
Gisela
(Mom of 2 Angels)

My name is Shae Kemp and my son J'Ameon Amaru Shameer Nunley would have been three years old October 24th. The angels of heaven took him home January 14, 1998. I miss him so much and I am trying to decide what to do with my daughter, E'Asha, who is 9 when his birthday comes. She still wants to have a party and she is still grieving his death. She often dreams about him and shares her dreams with me. I was somewhat confused as to why she has dreams about him and I have only had two dreams about him since his death. My minister told me that God is comforting her grieving heart by allowing her to see him in her dreams.

I find comfort in remembering the last time I saw his glowing face and dimpled smile. I kissed him goodbye the morning of January 14th as his daddy took him to the nursery. He gave me the biggest smile - a smile I have never seen before. I kissed him again and he gave me that same smile. I then told his father - something is wrong with this boy because he has never smiled at me like this before. I had no idea that he was telling me good-bye. He died at the nursery - ruling was SIDS. I disagree, but that's neither here nor there - nothing will ever bring him back to me.

On February 12, 1999 I lost my 17-year-old nephew. He died in his sleep due to an enlarged heart. I find myself still grieving his death as well as my son. I feel that God called my nephew home to watch over his little cousin.

As I sit here and type this email - I am crying. Will the pain ever leave? My answer is no. Will a broken heart ever heal? My answer is yes. Does your life go on? Yes, however the empty pit is also inside of you and nothing will ever fulfill that emptiness. Does a person ever accept death? You learn to try to live; however, there is no preparation in losing a child and no book to learn how to accept it.

Thank you for taking the time to read my email and allowing me to share my feelings with you.

Sincerely,
Shae Kemp

My daughter has been gone for 13 years, and my son has been gone for 7 years. Acceptance??? Is there really such a thing as acceptance?? Not for me as long as I live I will never accept or understand why. I have learned to live the their deaths, but I have watched my daughter's two girls suffer immensely, from not having a mother. This is very hard for me to call acceptance. I call it knowing I can do nothing to change it, or nothing to bring them back, so I have learned how to live with the deaths of my adult children.

Thanx
Lola

As I paced the floor, praying to God for Him to spare my granddaughter Melissa, my heart was breaking. She had been taken in the ambulance and they had met with the paramedics who were working tirelessly trying to help her through her latest asthma attack. As I paced, clutching her B.U.M. sweatshirt that she had worn that day...I asked God to take me in her place. For I knew that this was a VERY serious attack. I pleaded with Him to spare her...she was only 16 years old, and the JOY of my life. She was her Mama's best friend, and her Daddy's precious first born. She was the 'big sister' and idol of her sister Michelle...who at 10 years old was terrified too. I managed to get her to sleep on the sofa, and continued my pacing and praying. I turned on the scanner, hoping desperately to hear that they had arrived at the hospital and she was stabilized. THEN.... I heard those words that have come to haunt me. "Patient in respiratory failure". Those words tore at my heart...but I immediately changed my prayer to "Thy Will Be Done". As much as I loved and adored this child...I could NOT be selfish and wish her to live in any other way than she had been....a vital, beautiful, lovely young lady. I could not ask God to let her live in a vegetative state, or on life support. At that moment, I gave her to HIM. This was my first moment of acceptance. When the phone rang, and I took the call that changed my entire life...I did not cry out. I wanted to run out the door and run until I collapsed. But I had a larger task before me. I knew that the way I handled telling her little sister could mark her for life. I said a quick prayer, asking for strength, gathered her into my arms and said, "Sissie just went to Heaven". This was the second hardest moment of my life. Hearing that she had....was the first! I was not able to cry at the viewing...but I have shed millions of tears since then. In my heart, I knew I had to be the strong one...to be there for my son, my daughter in law and my granddaughter. And for all my family...we were all SO close. Not a day goes by that I don't cry for Melissa... for what might have been...but I have accepted that God knows best. We must trust in HIM. Acceptance MUST begin and end with HIM.

Luv'n prayers,
Melissa's Gram
Angel Hugs ^i^
http://home.ptd.net/~cuppy7/angelstouch.htm

Acceptance is a hard thing to say. Do I accept my son's death? I honestly don't know the answer to that question, and Anthony will be gone four years next January. I still live with the pain of losing him everyday. To me it seems like yesterday. I accept each passing year. I try to look for the brighter side of life. For I know I must go on, until I can be joined with my family. When my time comes.

Michele DeGennaro
Mom to Anthony
12-2-79 - 1-28-97

How do you accept the fact that you have lost a child? Well believe me it's not easy. Time?? Well no one can tell you that. You never get over it. If you have to deal with the court systems and legal bull****. It is very hard. The justice systems does nothing for the victim. They hand you a booklet with victim's rights, which means nothing. They treat you like you are the criminal. Anything to get it over and done and out of their hair. Now I deal with the fact that the person that took my son's life has my only grandchild. I have to go and get him and be reminded every day his girlfriend took his life because she got mad and stabbed him. If I sound bitter it's because our great systems made me that way. Drug dealers get more time in jail than murderers. Yes, I know drugs kill also, but people have a choice to take them or leave them alone. We know right from wrong. My son had no choice that she lost her cool and stuck a knife in his stomach. God help us all for the way our justice systems is now no one cares. They have showed me you can kill someone for free in this country and get by with it. I don't think I can ever except that. Yes, my son is gone to a much better place if this is the way our country looks at life. So I try to focus on his son as much as possible and know that I have part of him still with me. That I thank God for.

Rose Long

I found my 23-year-old daughter dead on March 10, 2000. Last October my father died and in June of 1997 my adorable husband of 29 years died. I have been able to come to some acceptance of the last two losses. I cannot believe that I will ever be able to accept the death of my daughter. It is unacceptable! I look for ways to incorporate this loss into the reality I now live. I am raising her three-year-old grandson. I always thought if one of my children died I would jump off a bridge. My faith in God's faithfulness, my other two children and my grandson have kept me from doing that but it is hard to believe that acceptance could ever be possible. It is like people who say that there is a resolve to grief. I don't know if it is ever resolved. We change. We have new awareness. We grow and use our experiences to care for others. We develop a compassion that we couldn't have had or wouldn't have desired but it is a jewel we have found. I am a different person. I wouldn't want to go back. But I just can't believe that accepting my daughter's death is possible. Boy, I can't believe I just wrote all that. It does help putting feelings down on "paper".

Donna Oiland

It has not been two years yet since my daughter was murdered. There was so much going on the first couple of months after her death that I know I was only functioning and doing what had to be done. My daughter was murdered on July the 7th, 1999. She lived 100 miles from me and I had to tell 911 how to get to her home. She had been on the telephone with my sister-in-law when her husband broke down her door. My sister-in-law could only here screaming and called 911 but did not know her address. This is strange she had called 911 nearly every week for the three months that she had been separated from her husband. When 911 called me I told them where she lived and to get there for I knew it was bad. When the sheriff finally got on the phone with me, he told me that her husband had shot her in the head and then shot himself in the head. She died instantly but it took him longer to go. The two children were in day care and I had to tell him where to go and get them. I was there in a couple of hours to get them and bury my daughter. The oldest grandchild was only 9 years old and I had to transfer her to school within a month. I had to find doctors for the children, dentists, retrieve medical records, see lawyers, and prepare to sell their homes and business. Now I am still in court trying to get full custody of my grandchildren. I go back to court this month for the final hearing. The other grandmother is giving me a few problems but I know the children belong with me and she really is not able to raise them. The youngest is three years old now. The hardest thing for me to accept is that I loved and trusted my son-in-law. He was like a son to me, and I would have never dreamed he could have done this terrible thing. The children have helped me and give me a reason to go on living, for without them I don't think I could have gotten through those first few months. All the time after this happened I kept telling myself I will never get over this but I will learn to live with it. My daughter was my only child. I never went through hating anyone, I know in my heart that God gave me an angel for 29 years and took her home. He didn't leave me empty handed He gave me two more angels to love and raise. Keep praying for us.

JoAnn Burton

Oct 13th will be my 7th year without my son, Steve. Your question about "acceptance!" I agree that it will take well into 2 years before you can really try to "accept" that it is real. For me, I was in shock for over 6 months, I did function, but it was more like a person in someone else's body. I did not smile, work or care about anybody, except my own pain. I started attending grief and support groups immediately and still attend now. I searched for other parents that knew what I was feeling.

I did not care if I lived or died, and would have rather died, that live through that pain another day. But I did live through it, all the holidays, all the birthdays and the anniversaries (and so will you). Many times the thinking about the upcoming day was much worse than the day itself. I always wanted to go from Oct. to Jan. with my eyes and ears closed. But with the help of the support groups (before I found this on the Internet) I learned of different things to do for my family my son and me. (Like balloons at the cemetery, changing the whole way to do Xmas, etc.) and I would take the ideas I liked and do them.

You must do what makes you feel OK...and not worry about pleasing any one else. I found the cemetery light, that has been burning for my son for the past 7 years. I love the idea of taking their T-shirts and making a quilt, and one girl took her son's high school ring and made a slide bracelet.

To me, when you are able to start doing some of those things, in their honor, you are helping yourself with the "acceptance". You have always known (from day one) that they are gone, but for some time I pretended that he was away at school, or a job, or anywhere, and would wait for him to come H O M E !!!! , even though I went to the cemetery everyday......I wanted him home.

I guess it was into the late part of the 2nd year before I could say that I accepted my son was not coming home...and then it was my time to do things to keep his memory alive, with other people.

I have done a brick in his memory at his high school, and work with support groups, and talk about him everyday. The time comes when you can talk about them with a smile on your face, and even laugh at things they had done, you remember them without that piercing pain. The hurt will never go away, but it does lesson, and you do function again, but in TIME.... I found that I do not walk alone in this terrible group we were put into, and we have to learn to function in our way and our time. So sorry that any of us belong to it, but we are here to help each other.

Candy
candymcmahan@hotmail.com

Acceptance? Is that a word a parent uses in their vocabulary when their child has passed on before them? Acceptance of what? Acceptance that the life we knew and the dreams we had for our child's future and their children's future will never be? Acceptance that our whole purpose for being is suddenly taken away from us and we are left behind to try to pick up the pieces and function each day as though our heart hasn't been ripped out of our chest? Acceptance? How can we ever accept this pain, although it becomes dull at times, it is always there? How can we ever accept not being able to hug our child or talk to them or see them walk through the front door again? How? Acceptance? It does not exist, does it?

I honestly do not feel a parent will ever "accept" the passing of their child, but you can learn to live by your faith that your child is still with you and they will never leave you. You can learn to do positive things to keep your child's memory alive by helping other parents cope with the passing of their child. You can be a mentor for other kids and offer financial or emotional support whenever possible to those less fortunate and do so in the loving memory of your child. You can smile again and laugh again because that is what your child would want you to do. You can do many things to continue the dreams of your child, but instead of doing things with your child, you are doing them in memory of your child. By keeping their memory alive, you learn not to "accept" their passing, but you learn you cannot change what has happened, you can only do the best you can with what you have left because that is what your child would want you to do.

On December 29, 1997, Eric, my precious 21 year old son, was involved in a fatal car accident. I still cannot accept his passing and when the doctor gave me the news that Eric did not survive, I could not, would not accept that Eric did not need Mom to take care of him and nurse him back to health. Eric would no longer call me for advice or to share his news with me. Eric would not finish college, get married or make me a Mamaw. My Eric, my reason for breathing, was not coming home with me. He went Home to a safer place, a place where he would never hurt again. A place where I can only visualize him in, but a place where I know he is at peace. My Eric is now a guardian spirit for his family and friends who were left behind and to Little Eric, his namesake. Little Eric was conceived in August 1999, around the time of Big Eric's birthday, to some very special friends of my son. So I am now an honorary "Mamaw", whcih I feel this was a special gift from my son. He gives me "messages" when I need them the most and he never lets me forget the love that death could not end. His family and friends have their own experiences of feeling Eric's presence and guidance and when they share those with me, it helps me to cope and it gladdens my heart to know Eric is still doing what he loved to do best - being a good friend and helping other people in their time of confusion or pain.

Acceptance? Not a word in my vocabulary, but realization is. Realizing I cannot change the past, but I can change the way I deal with the present and the future is something I do for Eric. Realizing I can still talk about him, laugh about him, and cry about him. Realizing that I can continue the scholarship fund in his memory at the high school. Realizing I can go to the school to talk about making the right choices (wear your seatbelt, slow down, pay attention to the road, don't ever drink and drive, don't take crazy chances). Realizing I can anonymously adopt kids at Christmas time so they might have a better Christmas. Realizing I don't do these things for me, I do them for Eric because this is what he would have done if he had the chance. Realizing I am Eric's messenger and it is my purpose to carry on where he left off.

No - acceptance is not an option for me, but being strong and continuing in a life that would make Eric proud of me is.

Anita Elam

I have given this much thought and would like to reply, however I have no idea what it is I should say. My son, Josh; age 11, was hit by a car and killed May 1999. He was a vibrant, caring athletic young man and I miss him more than words can express. It has been nearly 17 months since his death. I have days that are good, I have days when I squeak through and I have days when all I do is cry and wonder how I will ever go on. I have had complete strangers walk up to me and ask why I look so sad and lost - It's hard to know what to tell them, usually I tell them the truth. I suspect that my grieving will last the rest of my life.

Les

It has only been 17 months since I lost Juliet and sometimes I still get swept with such grief. I am learning to accept just as I learned to accept the loss of 3 infants in the 1970's. The void left by the loss of a child is never filled, but you do learn to accept that the void is there and always will be. You go on with you life because you know your child would be hurt to know you quit living. I still can't celebrate my birthday. Juliet was killed on my 47th birthday. I may never celebrate it again, but with time I know I will heal. This story helped me express my journey to acceptance. I just wanted to share with you.

Thanks,
Bobbie

What a hard thing to do. After almost 7 years of dealing with the lose of my 19 year old son, Andy, I can't say when it finally came. I know it wasn't all at once, just gradual. But the concept of "acceptance" suddenly dawned on me one day a while back. I had come to realize how I was able to cope with other things in my life, found I was telling myself that "this is life, take it as it comes, things will work out". I suddenly realized that this is acceptance. No amount of crying or being depressed will bring Andy back. The human 'missing' will always be there. But accepting his death and coming to realize a couple of things that I believe was God's purpose for putting him on earth, has made me see that the only way to keep my sanity is.......Acceptance. This applies to all of life. We must learn to cope and deal with everything that happens, learn from each experience and use it to better our lives.

Yes, we know our lives would be happier if we had not lost our child. But it happened, and there is not one single, solitary thing we can do to change that. This is not saying we will ever get over it, nor will the hole in hearts ever completely heal, but we have to take from the experience that we had by having a wonderful child for one minute or several years, look at it, and see what we can learn from it. I found out after Andy's death, what a wonderful friend he was to his peers, how he talked several out of fooling with drugs and drinking, cheered up their day when they were down, and always was there to listen. Now, after all these years, these young people still get in touch with us, tell us how much they still think of and miss him. So he is still doing the work that God put him on earth for. I am honored that I was his mother.

Somehow the child that you lost, whether miscarriage, SIDS, or grown-up, you have had some kind of learning experience from it. Find out what it is, examine it, and be comforted by it. That will help in accepting what has happened to you. It did me.

--"Blessed are those who Mourn, for they SHALL be comforted." Matt. 5:4

Rosemarie, Mom of 2 Angels
In Loving memory of Andy & Jamie

Below is a poem I wrote just this past April. It is Titled "Trials of Acceptance". I wrote this after reading Elisabeth Kubler-Ross "On Death and Dying". (Book listed below) The steps you go through before you get to Acceptance. Denial, Bargaining and finally Acceptance. When I read what the topic was for the newsletter this poem I had wrote came to mind. It is nothing really spectacular, just how I was feeling one day as I wrote my thoughts and feelings . This poem is also on my Joshua's website.

Thanks Michelle Young Myoung2u@aol.com

Trials of Acceptance

I long for the days when you were still here
How can it be your gone?
The tears just never seem to stop
I won’t believe
I need to see your smiling face, to hear your sweet voice
I promise Lord if only you will….
I see you in my dreams at night
I am realizing……
Now, that you never really left, you have been with me all along.

©Michelle M. Young 4/2000

On December 31, 1994, my six year old son died. He was in a minibike accident which was a result of my sister in law's negligence. Charges were never filed. It was hard enough involving family. I know she didn't mean for anything to happen, it was just 'stupidity', negligence. Since then, I've been through a heck of a lot!! Anger, pain, frustration, loneliness, emptiness, longing, etc., filled my days. Angry and frustrated, I didn't and still don't understand why other family members can't understand MY hurt and anger. They can't understand why I can't just 'let it go'. My sister in law, has never showed any remorse, or given a sincere apology. That, itself, hurts. Since then, I've tried over and over again, to see a copy of the accident report. But, have been unsuccessful. Why can't a mother see a report to 'why' her child is dead? So, only recently, after six years, do I feel that sense of 'acceptance'. A little bit of 'peace'. Not that intense anger. I know it will always hurt. Not having him physically here with us and watching his brothers and sister go on without him. What hits me deep, is when I see my youngest son, missing his older brother. He was only one year old. He only knows what he sees in home videos and pictures I took. Majority was his brother, Mason, playing with him. Six years....still a deep, heavy sadness. Besides, accepting his death, I'm also learning to accept that I may never see a report. Fair...whoever said Life is Fair?

Thank you...for allowing me to vent.
Deanna Calvo

My daughter Rebecca has been gone for three years and I wish I could learn to accept. Each day is a struggle when it comes to thinking she will never be home again..I feel I am turning inward an not reaching out for help, because who understands? Everyone you talk to says time. How much, three years and the pain is even worse at times? I function because I know I must. But it is really hard at times to express yuirself when you are dying inside. Any suggestions? I am open for them. Any letters that I may read, maybe they would help. Write if you have any answers. Love to hear from you.

Ann
AnnLeng46@aol.com