We received no love gifts in the past two months.

Love Gifts are used to pay for the cost of our Newsletter, purchase books for our Lending Library, buy brochures used in community outreach, and to pay for special programs and events held by our Chapter.

The Newsletter is a wonderful way to remember your child or a loved one on a special occasion by placing a dedication in the Newsletter. Please send your Love Gift along with a note/poem to be published in the Newsletter to: Nita Ashley, The Compassionate Friends, 2115 Willow Boulevard, Pearland, TX 77581. Your check should be payable to "The Compassionate Friends" and is tax deductible.

MISSION OF THE COMPASSIONATE FRIENDS

The Compassionate Friends is an international, nondenominational, non-profit, self-help organization offering friendship, understanding and hope for the future for families who experience the death of a child at any age from any cause. Our purpose is to aid in the positive resolution of grief and foster physical and emotional health of bereaved parents and their surviving children. There are no dues or membership fees.

To New Members: We're sorry for the reason you need to be with us, but we hope you feel you've found a safe place to share your grief and we hope you will return. It often takes a few meetings to feel at ease in a group setting, so please try to attend at least three meetings before deciding if TCF is for you. Each meeting is different and the next one might be the one that really helps.

For those of you who wish to talk with another bereaved parent or just want to share with someone who understands, please call one of the members listed below who will be happy to talk/listen to you.

Nancy Earles.....713-941-2583...Suicide/Murder - Chapter Leader

Charlene Gronewold...713-416-8565...Sudden Death

Rhonda Cardenas...281-485-7097...Long-Term Illness

Cip Cardenas...281-485-7097...Shoulder for Men to Lean On

Nita Ashley...713-412-8335...Newsletter Editor

Many of our members have lost children of school age. Even for those whose children died before they could go to school or after they finished with school, September often brings painful memories. Seeing children with brand new clothes and the latest craze in lunch boxes and book bags, lined up for the bus, brings back memories for all of us. For some, we remember putting our child on that bus, the last minute rush to replace outgrown clothes and buy school supplies. For some, the pain is from the dreams we had of seeing our child go to school, dreams that our child never lived long enough to bring to fruition.

Some of us have younger children who are now "passing" in age our dead child, who should have been the older brother or sister. In my case, I have one daughter left and I remember shopping for back-to-school clothes for two. I can't help but wonder what size Colleen would be wearing now. She'd be 12. Colleen rode in one of those little buses because she was handicapped, swaying back and forth saying, "Tick, Tock, here comes the bus." I often think of that when I notice one of those little buses. Even after 5 years, I still look for #77, her bus.

I guess what I'm trying to say is two things. First, we're all in this together. We all have the same pains, just different variations. Second, we all have to expect that moments of nostalgia and longing will be with us ALWAYS. The pain does dull, somewhat, with the years, but tears will always spring to your eyes at certain moments. The special days will always tug at our heartstrings in a way that non-bereaved parents will never fully understand.

At least we have each other; people who know what we're feeling and who understand our pain. I'm glad we can be here for each other.

-Kathy Hahn, TCF, Lower Bucks, PA

After the first year the pain changes from a crushing weight to a wickedly cutting edge. Time speeds up from a grinding plodding to a more normal routine. And sometimes you forget, for a moment, that your whole life was destroyed just last year.

After the first year you can start to remember the good times. You can tell a funny story about your child and save the crying for later. But sometimes it seems like you're the only one left who mourns. "What's the matter with you anyway? It's been a whole year."

After the first year your child seems a little closer and yet still so far away. Miracle of miracles, you haven't forgotten how he walked, his voice, the shape of his head, or the solid warmth of his fingers curving around yours. Those memories ambush you at many unlikely moments and tear you apart.

After the first year, your heart begins to thaw. You remember that you once loved your surviving children and you love them once again. You remember that life used to hold joy, and you rediscover some small enjoyment in living. You learn to piece your life back together in a different pattern.

After the first year you pick up your burdens and go on. Amazingly you have survived a blow more painful than anything you ever imagined. Even though you wish you had died too, it slowly dawns on you that you must still live because after the first year, comes the second year.

- Liz Ford, TCF, Madison, WI

Every time I am in a group of bereaved parents, I hear people say things like, "I wish my child hadn't died" or "I wish I had him back." Those wishes, unfortunately, can never come true. Another wish I hear is "I wish my friend (or church, or neighbors, or relatives) understood what I am going through and was more supportive." This is the wish that has some possibility of coming true if we are able to be honest and assertive with the people around us. What do we wish others understood about the loss of our child? Here is a partial list of such wishes.

1. I wish you would not be afraid to speak my child's name. My child lived and was important and I need to hear his name.

2. If I cry or get emotional if we talk about my child, I wish you knew that it isn't because you have hurt me; the fact that my child died has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry and thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.

3. I wish you wouldn't "kill" my child again by removing from your home his pictures, artwork, or other remembrances.

4. I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn't think that if I have a good day my grief is all over, or that if I have a bad day, I need psychiatric coulseling.

5. I wish you knew that the death of a child is different from other losses and must be viewed separately. It is the ultimate tragedy and I wish you wouldn't compare it to your loss of a parent, a spouse, or a pet.

6. Being a bereaved parent is not contagious, so I wish you couldn't shy away from me.

7. I wish you knew all of the "crazy" grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and the questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following the death of a child.

8. I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in six months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for us. As with alcoholics, I will never be "cured" or a "former bereaved parent", but will forevermore be a "recovering bereaved parent."

9. I wish you understood the physical reactions to grief, I may gain weight or lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses and be accident-prone, all of which may be related to my grief.

10. Our child's birthday, the anniversary of his death, and holidays are terrible times for us. I wish you would tell us that you are thinking about our child on these days, and if we get quiet and withdrawn, just know that we are thinking about our child and don't try to coerce us into being cheerful.

11. It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values, and beliefs after losing a child. We will questions things we have been taught all our lives and hopefully come to some new understanding with our God. I wish you would let me tangle with my religion without making me feel guilty.

12. I wish you wouldn't offer me drinks or drugs. These are just temporary crutches, and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal.

13. I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my child died and I never will be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to "get back to my old self", you will stay frustrated. I am a new creature with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values and beliefs. Plese try to get to know the new me - maybe you'll still like me.

Instead of sitting around and waiting for our wishes to come true, we have an obligation to teach peiople some of the things we have learned about our grief. We can teach these lessons with great kindness, believing that people have good intentions and want to do what is right, but just don't know what to do with us, or we can sit and wait. I believe our children would want us to help the world understand.

- Elaine Grier, TCF, Atlanta, GA

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I remember Ken's first Halloween. He was a little over a year old and we took him out for trick or treat. He was dressed as Daniel Boone, and, of course, with the coonskin cap. At the last house we stopped a little old lady opened the door and asked him his name. By this time Ken was so bleary-eyed from trick or treating that, even if he could talk properly, he probably wouldn't have been able to answer. His eyes were on the treat, but before she offered it, she again asked him what his name was. At this point I had to tell the lady that he didn't talk yet. She laughed and threw a candy bar into his bag.

I also remember one Passover when Ken was a young adult. There was a late spring snow that year, and he was on the road on a job, about thirty or forty miles from home. We waited for him before we started the seder, but since he was so late, we started without him. When he did finally arrive an hour or so later, I was relieved that he had come home safely.

Even though these are only small memories, they are significant to me. We know all special holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries can be painful without the child who is no longer with us. But then, too, perhaps we can look back at the good times - Christmas or Channukkah, Easter or Passover, when we spent happy hours with them. These memories are precious and, and though they be mixed with sadness, can bring us some pleasure to reflect on these past events.

There are no longer many small children on our street who come around for trick or treat on Halloween. But when they do knock on the door, I cannot help but think of a toddler who went out on his first Halloween for trick or treat and could not tell his own name.

- David Ziv, Southampton Chapter, TCF

"Are you still involved with that group? Aren't you over it yet? Why do you keep going? It sounds morbid to me. I think you should quit going - it probably just makes you sad."

These are questions and comments I often hear now that it has been more than seven years since Mark died. I suspect you hear them, too. There are easy answers. But not everyone understands, unless you have been there. Here are some reasons I can think of:

1. Because we never want the world to forget our child, so what we do we do in his or her name.

2. Because when we reach out to help someone else, we also help ourselves.

3. Because someone was there for us when we needed it most, now the best way to say "thank you" is to pass it on by being there for others.

4. Because it is the one thing we do that can bring something positive out of tragedy.

5. Because we have found in TCF better friends and closer bonds than we ever thought possible. Here we can cry and hug people even if we don't know their last name or what they do for a living. And it doesn't matter.

6. Because few people are qualified to walk up to a newly bereaved family and say, "I know how you feel." And because we can, we must.

7. Because sometimes we need to talk, too, and to remember and share. We are further along than many around us. But we never forget.

8. Because many of us believe that one day we will meet our child or brother or sister again, and he or she will ask, "So what did you do with your life after I left?" And we will have an answer.

9. Because our presence might help newly bereaved families understand that they will survive and even laugh again.

- Richard Edler - TCF Board of Directors, President '98-99