Caring Connections

Caring Connections A HOPE AND COMFORT IN GRIEF PROGRAM Volume 6, Issue 2

March/April 2003

Grief Line: (801) 585-9522

A Message from the Director Dear Reader, Did you have a chance to look at the Olympic Cauldron in February up at the University of Utah Rice-Eccles Stadium? I was surprised at the thoughts that it brought to mind. The firey cauldron represented great struggle and accomplishment to me. When you think of Olympic athletes and their sports, do you think about how hard they have worked to become tops in their sport. Even though most of us are not engaged in rigorous athletic endeavors, we are trying to make our lives have some significance. When a loved one dies, some of the purpose or significance in our lives seems to be taken away as well. So much of who we are is tied up in our relationships with others, that when a relationship is taken away, we feel like we don’t know ourselves any more. Struggling with grief is like the struggle athletes have to master the next level in their sport. A lot of effort is needed to move to the next place in our lives. You make progress one step at a time, with persistence and consistency. The struggle is the work of each day. Because grieving takes so much energy, the struggle can seem exhausting. Managing grief often takes a lot of work, so don’t be impatient with yourself if your grief work is hard, tiring, or distracting. Many people signed up for our grief groups this past Winter, and more have joined us for the next session of grief groups. We at Caring Connections value the people that we work with in our groups. We recognize the beauty and courage in our group members as they struggle to face the grief in their lives. I share some of the lessons that I have learned from these people with you through this newsletter. Maybe there won’t be thousands cheering you on to face the next day, as you master the grief your heart is bearing. But there are some who recognize the struggle, and value the effort. We at Caring Connections do hail your achievements. Good luck in mastering each day. Sincerely

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Grief Group Session Information Erratum

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Innovative Nursing Message from the Bereavement Coordinator, Jan Harvey The Legacy By Terry Stout

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Humor My Secret By Emily Coleman

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Tomorrow Could Be Too Late Author Unknown The Strength of Butterflies By Mary Wue Zercher

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And Still the Mothers Cry By Sharon Turnbull Nobody Knows That By Eva Sonn

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Natural Highs Author Unknown

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The Daffodil Principle Author Unknown

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Daisies in Huge Handfuls By Rich Elder

Beth Vaughan Cole, PhD, APRN Director, Caring Connections

Not All Heroes Are People Author Unknown

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Bittersweet Wonder By Father Thomas Johnson-Medland

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Ways To Talk To Children About Suicide By Linda Goldman Words To Use With Suicide By Linda Goldman

Upcoming Grief Groups WINTER: Eight Weekly Sessions

Advisory Board

March 12 - April 30, 2003 (Wednesday Evenings) 5:30 pm - 7:00 pm (All groups)

Salt Lake City

University of Utah College of Nursing 10 South 2000 East Salt Lake City, UT 84112 The University of Utah College of Nursing offers seven types

of grief groups, all in the evening: • Children (7-11) - Adjusting to the death of a loved one • Adolescents (12-17) - Adjusting to the death of a loved one • Adjusting to the death of a loved one (adult traditional) • Adjusting to the death of a loved one to suicide • Adjusting to the death of a loved one to murder • Adjusting to the death of a loved one to perinatal loss • Adjusting to the death of a loved one (Spanish-speaking) Sandy (South Salt Lake)

March 13 - May 1, 2003 (Thursday Evenings) 5:30 pm - 7:00 pm UUHC Greenwood Health Center 7495 South State Street Salt Lake City, UT 84047

Editor in Chief

Two adult grief groups for those adjusting to the death of a loved one (traditional), or adjusting to the death of a loved one to suicide.

Dr. Beth Cole Managing Editor Sherry Poulson

To register for any class or location, please call: (801) 585-9522 or

register online at www.nurs.utah.edu/caringconnections.

Design/Layout/Production

Registration for these groups will be on a first come, first served basis. Should there not be enough people registered for a particular group, the group may be postponed.

Debbie Boulter Interns

There is a fee of $40.

Chelsea Ballif-Olsen Holly L. Ciervo Meghan Fetterman

If this fee is a hardship, please notify the Caring Connections office. Scholarships are available.

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Dr. Beth Cole, Director Sherry Poulson Mark Allison Leila Armknecht Brenda Bailey Mary Lynne Clark Joyce Harris Jan Harvey Julie Heywood Frances Hoopes Donna Jordon-Allen Ingrid Kaufman Carma Kent Sherrie Kilman Mary Lyn Matthews Linda Patterson Carrie Pike Angela Rayner Donna Reid Janice Slone Mandy Smith Sandra Taylor Julie Webster Judy Wilkins Marlene Zander

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Caring Connections: A Hope and Comfort in Grief Program failed to mention the following information after Ms. Jensen’s article "Searching for a Healing Place" in its September/October 2002 Vol. 5, Issue 5: © 2001 Education Development Center, Inc. First published in Innovations in End-of-Life Care, at www.edc.org/lastacts/ Vol. 3, No. 6, 2001 in a thematic issue entitled "Coping with Loss." Reprinted here with permission. Innovations in End-of-Life Care is a bimonthly, international, online journal committed to more humane, comprehensive, and coordinated care for dying persons and their families, available at www.edc.org/lastacts/ since January 1999. The journal is geared to health care professionals committed to institutionalizing improved practice in end-of-life care. Current and past issues are available online. Innovations is part of The Robert Wood Johnson Foundation’s Last Acts initiative. 2

Message from the Bereavement Coordinator

Innovative Nursing In the first part of January there was an elderly couple hospitalized who had been in an automobile accident. The husband was more critically injured and was on an ICU (intensive care unit). The wife was also hurt badly, but was not as critical so was on another unit of the hospital. The husband’s condition deteriorated and the medical team and family knew that he could not sustain life much longer. The feeling of helplessness is strong even for those who can be by their loved one’s side when the loved one is dying. But to be confined to a bed, two floors away leaves one with an even greater sense of helplessness.

The family was involved in both the husband’s and wife’s care and made arrangements with the nursing staff to enable the wife to see and visit with the husband before he died. Christian Davis, RN, and Carla Coats, HCA (Health Care Assistant), escorted the wife in her bed down to the ICU. The wife was able to be close enough to her husband to hold his hand and say the things she wanted to say to him. She said later, "I don’t know if he knew I was there or not, but I was glad to see and be with him before he died".

The simple visit of one patient to another takes a fair amount of planning and organization. Some of the things considered were: planning for someone to care for the nurse’s other assigned patients, communicating with the other unit when the best time to visit would be, moving the patient in the bed and the equipment, rearranging the ICU room to accommodate an additional bed, monitoring both patients etc. A special thanks goes out to the patient’s daughter who through her caring and concern for her mother, sought out the nursing staff to start the plan. Another special thanks to Christian and Carla for organizing their schedules to provide this special and most meaningful time for a patient who was not only grieving her own injuries, but also dealing with the worsening condition of her husband and eventually his death. And, a final special thanks for the ICU staff who made the accommodations for this wife to visit her husband while confined to her bed.

Janice Harvey, Bereavement Coordinator University of Utah Hospitals and Community Clinics (801) 581-2975

The Legacy -Terry Stout When I die, give what is left of me to the children. If you need to cry, cry for your brothers or sisters walking beside you. Put your arms around anyone and give them what you need to give to me. I want to leave you with something, something better than words or sounds. Look for me in the people I have known and loved, and if you feel you cannot live without me, then let me live in your eyes, your mind, and your acts of kindness. You can love me most by letting hands touch hands and letting go of children that need to be free. Love does not die, people do. So when all that is left of me is love… Give me away. 3

Humor According to a recent news report, a local high school was faced with a unique problem. A number of girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the bathroom. That was fine, but after they put on their lipstick they would press their lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints. Every night, the maintenance man would remove them; and the next day, the girls would put them back. Finally the principal decided that something had to be done. She called all the girls to the bathroom and met them there with the maintenance man. She explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night. To demonstrate how difficult it was to clean the mirrors, she asked the maintenance man to clean them. He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it into the toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it. Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror. There are teachers, and then there are educators. A tip for finding humor in life: At lunch time, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hairdryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.

My Secret Emily Coleman, Payson Jr. High School In ninth grade I had a best friend named Ryan. We did everything together. We even had some classes together, and we were the terror of the teachers that had us. Ryan was the class clown, and I was his sidekick. He was a straight-A student, but I could barely scrape by with a C. So, when he told me he was depressed, I didn’t believe him. How could I? He was probably the happiest person I had ever met. Ryan and I had a study group that we went to on Wednesday nights with a group of friends. It was in one of these study sessions that he told me. Everyone was talking and laughing when he slipped me a note under the table. It read, "Sara, would you be sad if I died?" I was shocked. I wrote back, "Of course, why?" He didn’t write back, but put his head on his desk. I couldn’t sleep that night. I knew Ryan was serious, but if I were to tell someone I thought he was suicidal, he might hate me. But if I didn’t tell, he may not be around to be my friend. Then I wondered why he was acting like he was. His parents had just gone through a divorce, so that might have been part of it. My brain was still wandering when I fell asleep. The next day Ryan was unusually cheerful. Everything anyone said was a joke, and he seemed 4

to be fine. When we were in English, I went to put a CD I had borrowed in his backpack. I saw a Ziploc bag with a powdery white substance in it. I knew that it was cocaine immediately, and I knew that everything was not alright. A progress report also caught my eye. It was from Science, his best subject. The "F" stood out like a sore thumb. This was not the Ryan I knew. I took the cocaine and progress report out and put them in my pocket. I asked the teacher if I could use the hall pass. When I was in the empty hall, my emotions burst. I sat down and cried. I knew where I had to go, and what I had had to do. I was afraid to do it because of the thought of losing my friendship with Ryan. I sat in the hall for a few moments to get my composure, and then I got up and walked slowly down the hall. I felt nervous all the way, but when I entered the counselor’s office, I knew I was doing the right thing. Six months after I told, Ryan came back to school. He had gone to counseling, and had gotten his life back in order. When he first came back I was afraid to see him. I had not spoken to him since that day in English class. Would he be mad at me? All my questions were answered when he saw me, gave me a hug, and said, "Sara, thank you. You saved my life."

Tomorrow Could be Too Late -Author Unknown

This is a story that makes you see why you should live each day as if it were your last… There was a teenager with terminal cancer. He was 17 years old and could die at any moment. He was always at home under his mother’s care. One day he decided to go out, even if it was just once. He asked his mother for permission and she agreed. Walking down his block he saw many stores. Stopping at a music store he looked in and saw a very pretty girl of his own age. It was love at first sight and he went in. He walked up to the counter where the girl was. She smiled and said, "Can I help you with anything?" The guy could only think that it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen and stuttered, "Well, ummm, I’d like to buy a CD." He grabbed the first one he saw and gave her the money. "Do you want me to wrap it?" the smiling girl asked. The guy said yes and the girl went into the back room to wrap it. The guy took the wrapped CD and walked home. From that day on he visited the music store every day, and each day he bought a CD. And each day the girl wrapped them up and the guy

stored them unopened in his closet. He was a very shy boy, and although he tried, he couldn’t find the nerve to ask the girl out. His mother noticed this and encouraged him. The next day the guy didn’t visit the store, and the girl called him. His mother answered the phone, wondering who it could be. It was the girl from the music store! She asked to speak with her son and his mother started crying. The girl asked her what was the matter. "Don’t you know? He died yesterday." There was a long silence on the phone… Later that afternoon, the guy’s mother entered his room to remember her son. She decided to start with his closet, and to her surprise, she saw a big pile of unopened CD’s wrapped in festive paper. As she tore open the package, she noticed a slip of paper that said: "Hi, you’re cute; I would love to meet you. Let’s go out sometime. Sophie." The mother started crying as she opened another, and another and another. Every single CD contained a slip of paper that said the same. Moral: That’s the way life is. Don’t wait to show those special people the way you feel, tomorrow could be too late.

The Strength of Butterflies -Mary Sue Zercher, Marietta, GA They didn’t want to change. Their lives were full. The caterpillars crawled happily through the green leaves, played and rested in the sun, and ate their fill. Yet, through the darkness and quiet mystery, they did change. Their luminous beauty now lights the skies, their colors are vibrant, their airy flight is delightful. They didn’t want to change. Their lives were full. They laughed and worked and sang and played; our children loved their lives. Yet, through the darkness and quiet mystery, they did change. Beyond our own imaginings they now live in indescribable harmony and perfect joy. Their new lives are a color invisible to us, but it is the color of eternity. We didn’t want to change. Our lives were full. We cared and nurtured and disciplined and laughed and mothered and fathered; we loved their lives and them. Yet, through the darkness and quiet mystery, we have changed. Though fragile in our forever-longing for them, we are gifted with a growing strength of spirit called HOPE. We are resilient and enduring new color as well, held close to our children by unbreakable threads of love that keep us tethered for a while yet between heaven and earth. 5

And Still the Mothers Cry -Sharon Turnbull, author of Who Lives Happily Ever After? I love Sunday mornings. My bedroom door stays closed until I’m ready to come out. My husband fixes breakfast for the kids and brings me my coffee. Relaxed and refreshed I sit, surrounded by fluffed pillows, putting my coming week into order. My planning was interrupted by the phone. I really dislike weekend calls. They feel so intrusive. I know it’s for me. Something is wrong. My son, Bill, is crying. My oldest son, Rob, has been injured in an accident and is in serious condition in a hospital in another state. Rob and three of his friends had been "out on the town" drinking. On their way back, Bubba, the driver, tried to pass another vehicle and hit another car head on. Bubba died instantly. The other driver had a broken hip. Rob’s friends are in critical condition, Rob in serious condition. I have a headache, feel sick to my stomach, and can’t focus. Two weeks ago, I wrote Rob a letter. For the first time, I told him I felt he was on a crash course to destruction. I loved him and couldn’t understand why he’d settle for being a slave to drugs and alcohol. I wanted to support his better choices. Now I’m grieving over the choices he made and those that must be buried with the dead. I’m angry. This could have been avoided. I can almost see the ripples in the tide of sorrows as word spreads; to parents, siblings, and grandparents . . . the list goes on, all innocent bystanders, true victims of a potent drug. It seemed we’d had alcoholism in our family forever, as had Bubba’s father. Ten years ago Bubba was driving drunk, had an accident, and his wife, 8-months pregnant, died. So did the baby. Bubba’s mom cried. No one could comfort her. Her husband and Bubba were too drunk. Bubba’s sister died of cancer. Her mom cried. No one else could comfort her. They were too drunk. Two years ago Bubba’s dad died of a heart attack. He’d been out hunting… and drinking. His widow cried. No one could comfort her, Bubba was too drunk. A year ago she had a stroke. She cried. No one could comfort her, Bubba was too drunk. Now Bubba is dead, and still, his mother cries. I asked Rob if charges would be filed against the other drunks in the car. I wanted to hear, "we were all responsible," but instead he said, "Naw. Bubba was driving. He’s dead." No remorse, no sorrow, no connection. I’m ashamed. I’m crying. I, too, lost my son. Rob has been romancing drugs and the bottle for 10 years. The sweet little boy who brought me flowers is gone. I don’t know this man who took his place. I cry. 6

"Nobody Knows That" by Eva Sonn, September 2000 (Perinatal Loss) You were a boy You were a girl… but nobody knows that. Your name was Ethan or Matthew or Samuel, or Susan or Elizabeth or Rebecca… but nobody knows that. You had auburn, curly hair like Grandpa Sonn; You had straight, blonde hair like Auntie Laurie… but nobody knows that. Your eyes would have been brown, or green or blue… but nobody knows that. You would have loved to sleep on my shoulder and suck you thumb… but nobody knows that. You would have loved teddy bears and soft blankets and the beautiful oak cradle from Papa… but nobody knows that. You would have loved your little brother Mike, or you big brother Mike and would know how smart and funny he is… but nobody knows that. You would have insisted that Green Eggs and Ham be read over and over again… but nobody knows that. You would have succeeded at school or struggled with math… but nobody knows that. You would have been successful at business, a CEO, the president maybe, an independent free spirited soul but nobody knows that… except me, because I knew you… And loved you… And won’t forget you.

Natural Highs -Author Unknown Falling in love. Laughing so hard your face hurts. A hot shower. No lines at the Super Wal-Mart. A special glance. Getting mail. Taking a drive on a pretty road. Hearing your favorite song on the radio. Lying in bed listening to the rain outside. Hot towels out of the dryer. Finding the sweater you want is on sale for half price. Chocolate milkshake. (or vanilla!) A long distance phone call. A bubble bath. Giggling. A good conversation. The beach. Finding a $20 bill in your coat from last winter. Laughing at yourself. Midnight phone calls that last for hours. Running through sprinklers. Laughing for absolutely no reason at all. Having someone tell you that you’re beautiful. Laughing at an inside joke. Friends. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you. Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep. Making new friends or spending time with old ones. Having someone play with your hair. Sweet dreams. Hot chocolate. Road trips with friends. Swinging on swings. Wrapping presents under the Christmas tree while eating cookies and drinking eggnog. Making eye contact with a cute stranger. Winning a really competitive game. Making chocolate chip cookies. Having your friends send you homemade cookies. Spending time with close friends. Seeing smiles and hearing laughter from your friends. Holding hands with someone you care about. Running into an old friend and realizing that some things (good or bad) never change. Watching the expression on someone’s face as they open a much-desired present from you. Watching the sunrise. Getting out of bed in the morning and thanking God for another beautiful day. 7

The Daffodil Principle --Author unknown

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, "Mother, you must come see the daffodils before they are over." I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. "I will come next Tuesday," I promised a little reluctantly on her third call. Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren, I said, "Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!" My daughter smiled kindly and said, "We drive in this all the time, Mother." "Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears, and then I’m headed for home!" I assured her. "I was hoping you would take me over to the garage to pick up my car." "How far will we have to drive?" "Just a few blocks," Carolyn said. "I’ll drive, I’m used to this." After several minutes, I had to ask, "Where are we going? This isn’t the way to the garage." "We’re going to my garage the long way," Carolyn smiled, "by way of the daffodils." "Carolyn," I said sternly, "please turn around." "It’s all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience." After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church I saw a hand-lettered sign that said, "Daffodil Garden". We got out of the car and each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path. Then, we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight. It looked as if someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and slopes. The flowers were painted in majestic, swirling pattens great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow. Each different colored variety was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowered like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres 8

of flowers. "But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn. "It’s just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That’s her home." Carolyn pointed to a well kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all of that glory. We walked up to the house. On the patio we saw a poster. "Answers and Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read. The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and very little brain." The third was, "Began in 1958." There it was, the Daffodil Principle. For me, that moment was a life changing one. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun one bulb at a time to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world. This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of indescribable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration. That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time often just one baby step and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world. "It makes me sad in a way," I admitted to Carolyn. "What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked on it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!" My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way, "Start tomorrow," she said. "It’s so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is only to ask, "How can I put this to use today?"

Daisies in Huge Handfuls - Rich Elder, TCF, South Bay, LA, CA "Pick more daisies" was a popular expression in our family. I picked it up from a magazine article about a 93-year-old lady in Kentucky who, when asked what she would do differently if she had her life to live over, responded, "I would take more chances; I would eat more ice cream and less beans; I would have more real troubles but fewer imaginary ones; I would climb more mountains; I would swim more rivers, and I would pick more daisies." Our son, Mark, seized the daisy expression as the theme both for his life and his entrance exam essay at UCLA. This helped him live his brief 18 years and his essay helped him get an academic scholarship. Daisies became our family flower. They marked our attitude about living. And they marked our son’s memorial service. After it was over, his friends and fraternity brothers each threw a daisy into the ocean. Daisies still mark his grave every week. It has taken me almost two years to return to really thinking about daisies and what that quote by a 93-year-old lady really means. During that time I made a pretty big mess of things. I did the best I

could, but I was often going through the motions outside, but empty inside. To me, what this quote means is we really do have to pull ourselves together again and go on. Dr. Charles Houser, a former pastor at our church, notes, "going through the steps of grief is like walking through the valley and shadow of death. Keep walking, but don’t camp there." Our children would not want us to "camp there," but to go pick more daisies-- to somehow live an even more meaningful life in their name. As I go on I am truly a different person. I don’t suffer fools or superficiality very well anymore. As one of my best friends said, "I get tired of beige people." Yet I will drop everything to help another bereaved parent. I certainly have more "real troubles and fewer imaginary ones." But it’s OK I like myself better that way. And I am returning to embrace life each day again. But this time I am following my heart instead of my "expected career." I’m taking more chances, climbing more unfamiliar mountains, and picking daisies in huge handfuls. Mark would want it so.

Not All Heroes Are People Author Unknown James Crane worked on the 101st floor of Tower 1 of the World Trade Center. He is blind so he has a golden retriever named Daisy. After the plane hit 20 stories below, James knew that he was doomed so he set Daisy free out of an act of love. She darted away into the darkened hallway. Choking on the fumes of jet fuel and smoke, James was just waiting to die. About 30 minutes later, Daisy came back along with James’ boss, who Daisy just happened to pick up on floor 112. On her first run of the building she led James, James’ boss, and 300 more people out of the doomed building. But she wasn’t through yet. She knew there were others who were trapped. So, highly against James’ wishes, she ran back into the building. On her second run she saved 392 lives. Again she went back in. During this run the building collapsed. James heard all of this and fell to his knees in tears. Against all known odds, Daisy made it out alive, but this time she was carried by a firefighter. "She led us right to the people before she got injured," he explained. Her final run saved another 273 lives. She suffered acute smoke inhalation, severe burns on all four paws, and a broken leg. She saved 967 lives. The next week Mayor Giuliani rewarded Daisy with the Canine Medal of Honor of New York. Daisy is the first civilian canine to receive such an honor. 9

Bittersweet Wonder By Father Thomas Johnson-Medland, Cherry Hill, New Jersey There is an odd thing that happens in our grieving, and there is an odd thing that happens in our mending amid grief. The memories and emotions that emerge in our grieving--those memories and emotions that lead us into sorrow-lead us full-circle through the pain into a tender place. It is an odd gift that loss has left us. We find that the very memory of walking hand in hand with our loved one makes us cry in the absence of them and those moments. But that very remembrance of them and those moments opens our hearts to a deep awe and gratitude as well. We miss them, but oh how sweet it was to have had them all. We have come across this bitter-sweetness throughout our lives. It is the sense we have when we realize that our own gifts are often our own curse; or the very wounds that we carry through our lives are the very place where we are able to touch others and bring deep healing. Pleasure and pain; at once a bittersweet wonder. I remember holding Mary’s hand as she went on and on about the gardens she and her husband had planted. Through her sobbing she told me of the gathering of plants and rocks from all of their many trips with their children. "This one is from Pennsylvania, and that one from China. It hurts so much to see them, but they remind me of all that we shared. When I think of the memories, it actually gives me the strength I felt when we were there, together, doing those things." You have sensed the oddness of having your tears actually be your nourishment. Ask me how it works; I do not know--but that it aids the mending, I do know that. If there is no bittersweet wonder in our grief, then we are stuck. But if there is bittersweetness

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to our healing, then we are mending. If our grief is dry and arid, we probably just need to listen a bit more--listen to our minds and our hearts tell the thousand memories they hold of our loved ones. We need to look at pictures and cry. This bittersweetness is present in our perceptions of those who offer to help us mend. What people say often alarms us and we feel it’s not the right thing. And then we have the feeling that we are glad they cared enough to try. Back and forth, up and down, around and around is the process of mending amid grief. Sometimes we laugh when we think of Uncle Harry’s crazy hat collection, and then we sob because we don’t get to watch him make those crazy faces anymore. We cry when we think about our mother having cared for us as children when we were sick with chicken pox, and we breathe a sigh of relief when we realize she no longer is suffering with her confusion and horrible labored breathing. These memories and these emotions are both our bridge to the people we have lost and our bridge to our own healing. They enable us to arrive at a place where we may mend and do it slowly, tenderly and with grace. All of these things that we have done together, all of the love and conflict and growth, meld into one and give us pain in their absence, and strength to go on ahead. Try to figure out how the trees and roses can make you cry and laugh at the same time. I cannot. See if you can imagine how blue skies and white clouds can remind you of a loved ones’ death. I cannot; but they do. And somehow the colors of the rainbow, and peoples’ faces, and friends shaking hands, and babies crying all give us sadness and hope at the same time. (Thank you, Louis Armstrong, What a Wonderful World.)

Ways To Talk To Children About Suicide -Linda Goldman, Bart Speaks Out on Suicide: An Interactive storybook for Young Children on Suicide






Define Suicide as when "someone chooses to make his or her body stop working." Give age appropriate facts and explanations. Retell good memories. Model feelings and thoughts for children. Emphasize that suicide is always a mistake because "there is always another way out."

Words To Use With Suicide -Linda Goldman, Bart Speaks Out on Suicide: An Interactive storybook for Young Children on Suicide
Death: Death is when a person’s body stops working.
Depression: Extreme feelings of sadness and hopelessness that last a long time.
Guilt: A feeling that makes us think we are the cause of something and that we may have done something wrong.
Grief: The feelings we feel after someone close to us has died. We can feel sad, angry, frightened, or guilty.
Suicide: The act of killing yourself so that your body won’t work anymore. People may do this when they feel there is no other way to escape their pain, or they may feel that at the moment life is not worth living. People can get help. There is always another way.

Remember Your Loved Ones–Caring Connections Memory Garden and Memory Wall Order Form Memory Garden (located south of Caring Connections) Name on a Granite Plaque: $100.00 (plaque will not include birth and death dates) Male:

First Name __________________ Middle Initial __________ Last Name __________________________________

Female: First Name __________________ M. I. or Maiden Name __________ Last Name

______________________

Memory Wall (located in entry hallway to Caring Connections) 4” by 4” Tiles: $35.00 Male:

First Name __________________ Middle Initial ___________ Last Name _________________________________ Birth Year ____________ Death Year ____________

Female: First Name __________________ M. I. or Maiden Name ___________ Last Name __________________________ Birth Year ____________ Death Year _____________

Send checks and information to: Caring Connections: A Hope and Comfort in Grief Program University of Utah College of Nursing 10 South 2000 East Salt Lake City, UT 84112-5880 11

Announcing the

Second Annual

“Good Grief” Memorial Golf Tournament In loving memory of Duane R. Smith

Saturday, August 16, 2003 Wingpointe Golf Course Cost: $100 per player All proceeds benefit and assist those who have lost a loved one to suicide. Reserve your tee time today by calling Randy at 801-558-7172

If you would like to share any stories or experiences concerning grief or the grief groups, please mail it to Caring Connections: A Hope and Comfort in Grief Program, University of Utah College of Nursing, 10 South 2000 East, Salt Lake City, UT 84112 or email it to [email protected].

Caring Connections: A Hope and Comfort in Grief Program University of Utah College of Nursing 10 South 2000 East Salt Lake City, UT 84112-5880

Non-Profit Org. U.S. POSTAGE PAID Salt Lake City, Utah Permit 1529

Grief Line: (801) 585-9522 Address Services Requested

If you would like to be deleted from our mailing list, please call (801) 585-9522.

This program is sponsored in part by the Ben B. and Iris M. Margolis Foundation.