Awaken to Good Mourning

Crucial Conversations With Children - When the Addiction Wins!

Strange Holiday Mix

I know that the title of this essay might cause a little concern at first glance -- an well it should!  I struggled a bit about whether or not to post this one at the beginning of the Holiday Season and finally decided that there is no better time than the present.

As I sat around the Thanksgiving table this year with my children and three grandsons, my thoughts drifted back to that first Thanksgiving after the death of my first wife in 1989.  My daughter was seven, about to turn eight.  I recalled the cold emptiness that filled my soul as the reality of her absence settled at a deeper level on that day of giving thanks.  I have healed since that first Thanksgiving and subsequent Christmas without a loved one and for that I am grateful; however, I know full well that healing does not mean forgetting.  Healing allows for remembering with perspective and connecting with purpose.

While a large majority of us will sit down around celebratory tables this Holiday Season with family and loved ones, there are families who will find themselves staring at an empty chair around the table.  One once filled by a dearly loved family member now missing from the festivities!  The power, purpose and presence of that person will echo only in the canyons of memory -- either shared or contemplated in the still quiet of solitude.  Many families all across this land face similar circumstances -- the absence of a loved one due to the experience of a death loss.  Whether as a result of illness, violence, accident or war many, many have been touched by the shadow of death and will struggle with moving through the Season with any semblance of normalcy.

You might wonder what this has to do with "Crucial Conversations with Children" -- especially when the word "addiction" is thrown into the mix.

The Catalyst for this Conversation

A week prior to Thanksgiving, I attended the funeral of a young man -- a recent graduate from high school -- where perhaps one of the most crucial conversations ever with children took place.  Now, I have participated in countless funerals in my 55 years on this earth -- both as a mourner and an officiant -- but I do believe that this particular funeral affected me in ways none other has.  Because of his age, most of the mourners in attendance were either teens or young adults along with their parents. I was not surprised to see the two groups segregated by an invisible line -- parents on one side and the teens/young adults on the other.  Each group visibly struggled with thoughts and feelings discordant with the age and life stage at which they found themselves.  Death should not occur so early in life!

I am convinced that teens and young adults (those in their early twenties) are merely children in adult bodies and need more TLC than they routinely receive when facing difficulties in life.  In over 37 years of working with youth, I have seen this reality play out time and again!  Young people thrust into the arena of an adult world still struggling to shed the remnants of childhood -- generally clinging to one another for comfort and guidance when tragedy strikes.

The young man whose life AND death served as the catalyst for the solemn memorial cried out for a crucial conversation of an extremely unique nature -- and the officiant provided such a conversation.

The conversation to which I refer was more of a monologue -- one characterized by brutal honesty, compassionate consideration and otherworldly wisdom.  You see, the young man whose life was memorialized and mourned on that day was an addict.  He had been in treatment on more than one occasion and by all accounts was doing well.  The one delivering the message is the director of the treatment center most recently visited by the young man.

I have never been in a service as raw and honest as this.  Routinely, such services dance around the painful realities surrounding certain types of deaths.  This one did not.  With the permission and encouragement from the young man's parents, the director told a story that ripped through the facade of false sophistication that often insulates parents and teens alike from the harsh realities and possibilities of addition.  I took notes on the message shared that day so that what follows is the essence of one of the most powerful and needed conversations I have ever witnessed.

The Conversation

"This young man had an addiction to drugs.  He eased into in unaware that it would take hold of him so completely!"

"I was so proud of the progress he was making!  He was battling like a warrior and was gaining ground!"

"One never overcomes an addiction!  Once you are an addict, you are always an addict and walk a thin line between winning and losing!"

"His life and determination were an inspiration to all who knew him.  Although I knew him only through treatment, I was deeply impressed with his passion for life!"

"I do not believe that he intended to take his life!  He talked of a future filled with promise -- a future filled with the pursuit of dreams and goals!"

"I do not know what happened -- perhaps a moment of rage or a moment of fear or a moment of despair!  I do know that if he could have taken only ten seconds more to consider the finality of his choice, he might not have ended his life with that gun -- just ten seconds more than the two that took his life!"

"We both celebrate his life and mourn his passing today!  If he were able to speak today, he would tell those of you in the congregation who are troubled with addiction or walking the path toward addition to stop, take stock of where you are and get some help!"

"He would want your life to continue on -- free from the shackles of addiction!  He would want you to live!"

The Outcome of the Conversation

I do not know how others were affected by that conversation, but I was blown away!  I observed young people and parents in the vast congregation and noticed grimaces, flinching and tears at the honesty shared on that day.

I can only hope that the parents, teens, young adults and concerned others present took seriously the gift that was offered in that memorial.  Following the service, the invisible line remained in tact -- young people comforting young people and adults comforting adults.  I am hopeful that at least a few parents and teens connected and comforted one another.  I am further hopeful that some of those conversations led to more serious discussions of problems.  Perhaps later on those adults and young people afflicted by addiction took his words to heart and began the process of coming to terms with the ugliness of addiction and and began moving toward sobriety -- Perhaps!

The lessons communicated that day were numerous and powerful!

• Addiction is not a respecter of persons.
• Addiction is serious -- it can debilitate or kill.
• Addiction cannot be addressed in solitude.
• Addiction is forever -- we learn to manage, not defeat it!
• Addiction takes on many forms -- not just drugs or alcohol.
• Addiction requires that the addict seek assistance.

As painful as it was to hear those words that day, the message was one that needs to be shared openly and honestly with children (and adults alike) in order to potentially circumvent tragedies such as the one that brought all together on that occasion.

The family touched most intimately by this tragedy spent Thanksgiving contemplating an empty chair at the table.  They will do so again during the next phase of the Holidays and will from this point forward.  The addiction won -- but only in the sense that it took the life of one young man.  I firmly believe that the stance taken by this family in the aftermath will ultimately awaken the collective awareness of many other young people and families to the dangers of addiction and in so doing, steer at least some from a similar path.

I ask of you two favors: First, please remember this family in your thoughts and prayers when you pause to celebrate with your family throughout the rest of the Holidays.  Second, if you or any member of your family is troubled by addiction or think there is that possibility, please determine to take definitive action to address the issues.  Please, do not allow addiction to win without a fight!

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2008 mark E. Hundley

Crucial Conversations With Children - "Why Did God . . . ?"

I have briefly addressed the following conversation in an earlier essay; however, my intent here is to examine the essence of this particular conversation in more detail. 

I believe that adults are required to address the oft times tough questions that children pose with as much sensitivity and honesty as possible -- keeping in mind that the ultimate purpose in answering the questions of children is to leave the door open for further exploration and discussion as time goes on.  Too many times adults throw ill-conceived, hurriedly formulated, platitudinous answers at children in an effort to take care of the crisis of the moment with little thought about the effect those platitudes might have on the life of the youngster.  Children deserve more than that from adults!

I understand completely how questions posed by a curious child can create anxiety in adults causing us to feel ill at ease in the process; however, that discomfort is no excuse for sloppily handling the sometimes potentially life-altering questions that come our way.  I would much rather say that I don't know an answer but would be glad to work with them to find one than to flippantly throw out "gems of wisdom" not truly thought out or tested.

With that said, here goes!

I remember Kacie (my daughter) coming to me about three or so months after her mother died asking me: "Dad!  Why did God take my mommy away from me?

How would I answer that question?  That is one with which I had struggled all my life as well -- How could a loving God so cruelly jerk a beloved parent from the life of a child and then essentially say, "Deal with it!"  Now, I say that because often one of the first things that we hear adults proclaim is that "It was God's Will and we may not understand it now, but it is for the best!"  Have you ever heard that kind of talk?  My guess is that you have.

I began to fumble and sweat to find an answer that would not minimize the serious nature of her inquiry while at the same time offer a framework in which we could talk further down the road as her needs dictated.  In order to buy a little time I asked  her a question in return.

"Kacie, who told you that God took your mommy away from you?"

Her answer initially stunned me; however, I was not offended -- only curious.

"You told me, Daddy!"

I was quiet for a moment and then realized that in the months since Christy's death, we had been in the presence of many, many people.  At least once and likely more than that, she had heard the proclamation that her mom's death was somehow God's Will.  I, being the only adult constant in her life, became the natural culprit -- the focal point simply because we interacted all the time.

I looked at her and said, "Sweetie, I really don't believe that God took your mommy away from you.  You probably heard someone else say that.  Why don't we sit down together and let's see if we can find a good answer for you.

As we sat, a story from one of my beloved college professors, Dr. Clint Dunagan, replayed in my mind.  He shared one day in class that shortly after his 13th birthday, his father died when the plane on which he was a passenger crashed into the side of a mountain during a rain storm.  He told us that he remembered hearing multiple adults in his home, at church and around town essentially say, "It was God's Will!"

I recalled the emotion that flooded his features when he said, "Whenever I heard that statement, all I could envision was a very large hand reaching down through the clouds, grabbing the tail of my father's plane and SLAMMING it into the side of that mountain with absolutely NO THOUGHT of how a 13 year old boy would be affected!"  He went on to lead a rather lively discussion, but that picture made a lasting impression on me.

Kacie looked up at me waiting for a response.  I thought a moment then happened to notice her favorite doll lying on her bed -- one of the American Girls Collection we had given her for Christmas just prior to Christy's death.  I reached for the doll and asked,

"This is your favorite doll right?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"And this is your doll because we gave it to you, right"

"Yes, Daddy!"

Then I said, "Kacie, what if I told you that this really was not your doll after all -- that we had given it to you simply for you to play with and that it was actually my doll because I still have the receipt that tells me so?"

She looked at me quizzically and I continued. 

"Further, what if I told you that since it is really my doll I can take it back anytime I want to and that today is the day I want it back?"

Her confusion increased.

"Kacie, what if I took the doll away from you then right in front of you, pulled its arms and legs off; tore its head out of its body; ripped its clothes to shreds; threw it in the trash can; and then held out my hand with a smile and asked you to go get some ice cream with me -- what would you do?"

She twisted her face into an agitated snarl and said,

"I would be very angry and I would kick you!"

I said, "I'm sure you would, Honey!  I'm sure you would!  It's for that reason that I cannot say that God took your mommy away from you.  You see, He feels the same way you do about what happened to your mommy.  Every time you cry, He cries.  Every time you hurt, He hurts.  Every time you are lonely, He is there with you."

She sat quietly for a few minutes and gently stroked her doll's hair, smoothed its clothing and then hugged it tightly. 

I waited, wondered and worried just a little.  Had the answer accomplished its purpose?  Had it provided a framework for future discussions?  Had it preserved the doorway for her own personal spiritual development?

Finally, she reached out, took my hand in hers and asked, "Can all THREE of us go get some ice cream now Daddy?"

"You bet we can, Honey!  You bet we can!"

Needless to say, that one conversation opened the door for many more similar discussions over the years.  In fact, I believe that it opened a door that remains open to this day and provided the groundwork for her to establish a deeply personal faith and belief system that works for her.

What are some things that children need when they ask questions that demand more than one-liners and platitudes?  Perhaps the following will help guide us:

• They need honesty -- we don't need to pretend that we know everything!
• They need time -- we must MAKE the time if necessary in order to address their questions and concerns!
• They need a voice -- we must ask questions of clarification sometimes in order to understand the nature or source of their question.
• They need a acceptance -- we must work to create an atmosphere in which they will feel completely comfortable to ask anything they need to ask.
• They need affirmation -- we must work to ensure that they know we appreciate their desire to understand.
• They need "touch points" -- we must work to provide pictures, examples, tangibles or stories to which we can return when the next questions arise.
• Most of all, they need love -- we must work to extend and express unconditional love in order to ensure continued conversations with them.

When life deals us "mean times" and children have questions -- and both of these are realities -- I believe that we can effectively address both if we will work to understand and implement the guidelines listed above.  As the late Dr. Byron Medler -- dear friend and mentor -- used to say, "Difficult, but not impossible!

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2008 Mark E. Hundley

 

Crucial Conversations With Children -- Seeing Through Their Eyes

The day after Christy died came very early.  I was able to capture only three hours of fitful sleep; the rest of the time falling victim to continuous replays of the events of the previous day and continuously checking on my daughter to make sure she was OK.  When I DID sleep, the replays invaded my dreams as if I were stuck in a torturous video loop.  After multiple futile attempts to keep my eyes closed, I got out of bed, took a shower and went outside in the still, quiet darkness of the pre-dawn hours and just sat.

Later that day, I had an appointment at the funeral home.  Arrangements had already been finalized the day before; however, I had to deliver clothing, make up and a photograph so that Christy's body could be prepared for viewing and the funeral the next day.  I didn't look forward to the tasks ahead. 

About mid-morning, I took Kacie aside to discuss what I was about to do.  I had asked her the previous evening to think about what clothing she would like for me to take to the funeral home.  I also asked her to think about the funeral service -- about any special songs or poems or Scripture that she would like to have included.  When I inquired about her desires, she had ready answers and delivered them in very short order, I might add!  She told me exactly what clothing she had selected as well as a song she definitely wanted included in the service.  So quickly -- so easily she shared those suggestions.  Then, she asked if she could go play.

As she ran out of the room, I sat in awe of her composure.  I knew that at some level, the facts were still being held at bay by the shock and numbness that so often accompany a death loss.  I knew that reality would eventually break through and she would find herself struggling to grasp the enormity of what had happened.  For the moment, she had taken one small step toward embracing the pain of her loss and I was grateful.

A constant and steady stream of well-wishers moved through the funeral home the evening of the viewing.  Honestly, it was -- and STILL IS -- a blur.  The only thing I remember clearly is Kacie's reluctance to enter the room in which her mother's casket rested.  I asked her several times if she wanted to go in with me to see her mom.  Each time, she ducked her head and quietly said, "No, Daddy!"

The next day -- the day of the funeral -- was yet another set of blurry events.  However, one exchange between Kacie and me finds itself forever burned into my consciousness.

The funeral was over.  The family had greeted all guests and well-wishers in attendance.  Preparations to transport the family and Christy's body to the cemetery were in process.  I held Kacie in my arms as we walked next to the casket.  Kacie had yet to view her mother and I knew how very important it was for her to have that experience.

I stopped and asked the funeral director to wait a moment and I had the following conversation with Kacie.

"Kacie, I know you haven't had a chance to see your mom yet and I know how very important it is for you to do so."  She became quiet, ducked her head and said, "Uh huh!"

"I know that you were a little scared last night to look into the casket, weren't you?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"Would you like to see her before we go to the cemetery?"

As if she sought to disappear from sight, her shoulders curved inward and she quietly said, "No!"

I didn't want to pressure her; however, I understood the gravity of the situation so I said, "Kacie, I know you are scared but I really think it is important for you to see her.  How about just the two of us -- you and I -- go into this room and have the funeral director open the casket so we can have a private moment together?  Would that be OK with you?  I won't ask you again or pressure you if you say you don't want to.  I just wanted to give you one more chance."

She leaned her head on my shoulder and finally whispered,"OK, Daddy!"

The funeral director wheeled the casket into a small chapel, opened the top and retreated so Kacie and I could have our private viewing.

I walked to the casket with her in my arms and stood next to the metal box.  Kacie just stared in at her mother's body.  I stroked her hair and patted her back.  After a few moments she said, "It's not as bad as I thought it would be, Daddy!"

I looked at her and asked, "What did you think it would be, Honey?"

"Well, I thought she would be all bloody and gross and I didn't want to see her that way.  But she looks pretty.  She looks like my mommy!"

Kacie was holding a small bear that someone had given her and she leaned over and placed it in the casket with her mother's body.  She then touched her fingers to her lips, kissed them, then reached down and placed her fingers on her mother's cheek.

"I'm ready now, Daddy!  Thank you!  I love you!"

"I love you too, Honey!"

We exited the chapel and made our way to the cemetery for interment.

As I have reflected through the years on that crucial conversation, I have become convinced of several things related to children and funerals.

1. Children need to be included in funeral decisions when possible and where appropriate.  Inviting them to participate in decision making helps them to feel as if they are a part of the process and not having just another set of circumstances forced on them.
2. Children need to be invited to view loved ones but never forced to do so.  The best way to accomplish this is through giving information, guidance and explanations in terms that they understand.  When children feel safe and secure, they are likely to make decisions that they want to make -- like viewing their loved one's body -- but may be afraid to make.
3. Children need caring support each step of the way -- especially in the beginnings of this process.  The manner in which we deal with children early on often establishes a set of expectations for them.  The more open and honest we can be, the more likely they will feel comfortable asking questions and expressing fears all the way through the process.
4. Children can deal better with what they DO KNOW rather than with what they DON'T KNOW!  When we provide them with information in honest forthright terms, they don't have to make things up in order to make sense of a tragedy.  Often, a child's imagination creates scenes that are far worse than reality.  Be honest.  Be open. Be compassionate.  Tremendous relational dividends will come from this approach.

Almost 20 years have come and gone since that afternoon in January.  So many things have changed over time.  The one thing that has not changed, however, is the indelible impression that conversation has made on both Kacie and me.  As a result, we have been able to converse honestly, openly and frankly about multiple issues as they have presented themselves through the years.

Take a little time and work to put yourself in the place of children in your life.  Work to see life through their eyes!

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2008 Mark E. Hundley

Crucial Conversations With Children -- Cinderella

Explanation

This is another in a series of posts dealing with the kinds of conversations one might have with children in the aftermath of the death of a loved one or friend.  Most of the conversations are ones that I had with my daughter in the aftermath of the death of her mother and my first wife on January 24, 1989 -- almost 20 years ago -- when she was seven years old.

Cinderella

The Sunday following Christy's death, Kacie and I were headed for church when she asked, "Dad, are you going to get married again?"

I was a taken by surprise by the straightforward nature of her approach as well as the curious nature of her question.  I responded, "Honey, I have no way of knowing that right now.  That certainly is the furthest thing from my mind at the moment.  I am more concerned with making sure you are OK and that we find out how to go on from here.  Why do you ask?"

She was quiet for a moment and then said, "Well, you see we are kinda like Cinderella now.  Her mom died and it was just her and her dad; then he married that evil step-mother with those two evil step-sisters!"

The purpose was becoming a bit more clear.  "I see!  Well, Kacie, not all step-parents are mean or evil."  I them proceeded to give her examples of adults she knew who were in that role and she seemed to understand.

She was quiet for quite a while and then said, "I guess they just put that in the story to make it interesting, huh?"

I laughed and said, "You may be right, sweetheart.  You may just be right!"

What's Next?

Now the truth is that later on, she did eventually have a real life "step-parent/step-sibling" experience about which I will write later; however, her question reflected a need that children have in the aftermath of the death of a loved one or friend -- "How will this event and other events that might happen as a result, affect me?"

Kacie had been thinking about what a future without her mommy might look like!  She was searching for a context in which to build her life without her mother.  You see, children are thrust into an arena for which they are totally unprepared when an untimely death occurs.  Children search for a context to evaluate the alien situation in which they find themselves.  For Kacie, she wanted to know if I planned to get married again -- she was trying to project how other changes might affect her as well.  The only context she had for evaluation of her situation was a Fairy Tale -- and one that portrayed a not so pleasant future, I might add.

As her parent, my responsibility centered on expanding her frame of reference to include other possibilities while at the same time reassuring her that my focus was on that present moment and doing what was necessary for us to begin rebuilding our lives.

Work at Building Awareness

When we as adults have an opportunity to field questions similar to the one referenced in this essay, my encouragement is that we work to build personal awareness for the purpose of the child's question prior to giving an answer.  It can be easy at times to become defensive or even put out by a child's question; however, if we are able to pause before answering and simply ask the reason for their question, they will more often than not provide a hint as to what is going on in their minds and what they need from us at that time.

When we approach children in this manner, it easily opens the door for future discussions about their questions and concerns!

We must learn to listen with our eyes, heart and head as well as our ears.  When we are able to accomplish that, we really do help make the child's story "more interesting!"

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2008 by Mark E. Hundley

 

Crucial Conversations With Children - The Glove

I have not posted on this blog site in quite some time - not that I have nothing to say; life has simply become rather hectic lately!

Today's post is the first of a series that will outline ways to discuss death and grief issues with children based on my experience with my daughter and other children with whom I have had the privilege of working over the years.

I have shared with you that my first wife died almost 20 years ago now -- January 24, 1989.  I have also shared with you my belief in the power of asking questions that begin with words such as what, how, when and not necessarily "why."  Allow me to share a brief story with you.

On Wednesday of the week that my first wife died - the day before the funeral - my daughter and I were in the guest bedroom together.  The bed was overflowing with coats, hats, purses and gloves since the weather had turned rather cold.  Kacie, my daughter, needed a little "Daddy" time and asked me to go with her to the "other room."  As we sat on the bed, Kacie looked up at me with obvious consternation and asked, "Daddy, how can mommy be here and in heaven at the same time?" Obviously she was referring to the fact that her mother's "body" lay in a casket at the funeral home and her "spirit" resided in heaven with God.

Once again, I felt the almost impossible burden of providing an answer that would at least help create a framework for her future explorations of all things nebulous.  I quickly looked around for something that I could use to illustrate an answer and spied the object - a simple glove.

I looked at Kacie and said, "Sweetie, let's look at it this way.  See this glove here?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"Can this glove get up and tickle you in the ribs?"

"No, Daddy!  It's a glove!  It can't move by itself!"

"Right, Kacie!  Now, what if I put my hand in the glove -- could it tickle you in the ribs then?" As I asked her the question, I slipped my hand inside the glove, reached over to her and tickled her ribs.  She laughed and then looked at me with wide-eyed anticipation.

I then told her, "You see, Kacie, without my hand inside the glove it cannot move by itself.  It's just a glove; however, if I put my hand inside, it can move and do all kinds of things."  Then I asked her,"How does this help answer your question?"

She was quiet for a few seconds and then picked up the glove, fingering it lovingly.  "I guess mommy's body is like the glove and her spirit is like your hand.  When your hand isn't in the glove it can't move."

Wow!  Such insight from a seven-year-old!  "You are right, Sweetie!  Mommy's body is just a shell that allowed who Mommy is to be able to walk and talk and live and love.  Her body is here, but her spirit - the part that made her your Mommy - is in heaven with God!"

Now, I don't know how effective that analogy was, but it seemed to calm her fears a little and provide a framework on which she could hang some of her questions.  It was analogy that we used many times after that to explore similar questions.

What do I want to pass along to you with this story?  Just the following ideas:

1. Children have the capacity to understand more than we may think they can.
2. Children have questions that demand serious attention from adults.
3. Children deserve time, patience and attention as they seek to make sense of the senseless.
4. We as adults can use object lessons to help them make tangible connections to ideas and concepts that are sometimes difficult to comprehend with words alone.
5. The use of concrete objects creates a point of reference to which we can return as future questions arise.  We can always begin with something like, "Remember when we talked about the glove?"

I know that visiting with children about death, loss and grief can be a difficult task at best; however, I believe that if we as adults take the time to listen, pay attention and remain aware of our surroundings, we can effectively assist children in their work of mourning as they strive to make sense of their experiences.  Do not hesitate to contact a minister, priest, rabbi, counselor, teacher or physician if you find yourself struggling to answer questions put to you by a child!  You owe it to yourself and that child to provide the best answer possible. 

Until next time -- Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2008 Mark E. Hundley