Awaken to Good Mourning

A Good Grief

A Guest Author

I have been "Tweeting" on Twitter now for about a year.  Frankly, I am a bit addicted to the entire process.  I tend to "tweet" morning, noon and night!  Now on the surface, one might question the sanity of tweeting with "strangers" on a thing called Twitter, but I assure you, the experience can be one of the most dynamic and powerful in this age of technology and social networking!

One of the primary reasons I am of this opinion lies in the fact that there are some extremely wonderful people who routinely interact on Twitter ~ many of whom have become friends of mine!  One such friend is Jamie Inman whose Twitter moniker is ibeatcancrtwice.  She is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist living in California.  She is one of the most genuine and real folks I know.  She possesses a passion for life and living second to none!  Not only are her "tweets" packed with life-affirming wisdom, her website is loaded with information and resources guaranteed to support dynamic personal growth.

After Jamie posted an essay on her blog one day, we visited by phone and eventually I asked her permission to re-publish her words on this particular blog of mine.  She agreed and I am extremely pleased and excited to share her with you!  Once you have finished reading this essay of hers, I invite you to visit her website @http://stayinthepink.com  You'll be glad you did!

Without further delay, here's Jamie!

A Good Grief

I opened Twitter this morning to a Blip.fm of Sarah McLachlan's "I will remember you" and choked up. As the song played a well of sadness opened up in me, and I realized how heavy my heart has been all week without me even noticing. What I had noticed was how stressed and overwhelming my life seemed, and that I was tired beyond reason. This poignant song from a stranger on Twitter opened the floodgates, not just of tears (which it did) but of memories I had been holding at bay—last month my hairdresser died at 32, last week my dentist succumbed to a life-long battle with depression, and the 30 year old son of friends died in his sleep.

I did not cry until this morning, and it feels good.

I know better than to bottle up pain. I am a therapist, for crying out loud—grief counseling is one of my specialties! How in the world did I let this happen? In the first place, a degree in psychotherapy does not confer immunity from the storms of life. At best, the hours spent helping people through their Katrinas can teach us what really matters, so we don’t waste energy on the teapot variety. Knowing that, I still allowed this reasonable grief to dam up inside until I found myself on the outside of my life looking in with leaden longing.

Then a dollop of grace fell on my weary mind, and tears gave me strength to feel, and to understand. There is a verse in the Bible that always seemed silly to me: “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Be glad when we lose loved ones, for we will be comforted??? That hardly seems worth saying. Then I lost loved ones, and learned that mourning is a funeral every day for months. A card in the mail, a song on the radio, and suddenly we drop into a pool of sorrow. And there are unwanted thoughts of anger and guilt that demand expression. Tears of grief weigh more than mercury, and must flow out—they do not go away, and if denied will crush us from within as surely as a tumor crowds the life out of a liver. This is all part of mourning, the kind that brings comfort. We call it grief work. I am comforted today because I finally felt the pain I did not want to feel.

So I say, Blessed are they who do their grief work, for they will find comfort.

PS that stranger on Twitter is now a friend.

Posted by Jamie Inman, LMFT

Visit her site @http://stayinthepink.com

Crucial Conversations with Children: The Lord of the Flies Syndrome

Dad, Have You Ever Stopped and Looked Yourself in the Mirror . . . ?

Perhaps eight or so months following the death of my first wife Christy, my daughter Kacie stopped me in the kitchen and asked a question that simply blew me away!  The conversations in which we had engaged up to that point had primarily focused on issues related to practical or spiritual curiosities.  The question that so arrested my attention was one that forced my realization that children of all ages find themselves on a quest for meaning -- a quest that often only comes to light in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Kacie asked, "Dad, have you ever stopped and looked at yourself in the mirror and asked, 'What is life about?'  'Why am I here?'  'What am I supposed to do with my life?'  Have you ever asked yourself those questions?"

Well, I immediately grabbed the nearest chair, sat down and invited her to sit with me.  I looked into her seriously curious eyes and knew that I was on the verge of something big -- very big!

I said, "Sure I have, Honey, but not when I was seven years old!"

We both chuckled a bit and then earnestly dove in to her question.

"Those are some pretty heavy questions there, Little One," I said.  "What on earth caused you to think about such a deep topic?"

"Well, I've just been trying to make sense of all this stuff -- you know, Mom dying and all!  She was only 32!  It's just not fair!  I mean, look at all she could have done with her life!  Her students miss her and other kids will never have the chance to have her in class!  I won't have her here to be my mommy!  You have to take care of me alone!  It's just . . . well . . .  I don't get it!  Was her purpose finished here?  Is that why she died?  I just want to know . . . to know what I'm supposed to do now!"

I was nearly speechless!  I struggled to find a point of beginning.  So many issues were wrapped up in her questions.  I finally took her hand in mine and said, "Sweetie, I'm asking the same questions right now.  I'm not sure I have any clear answers for myself, much less you."  Her countenance withered noticeably.  I hurriedly followed up with, "How about you and I work together to find answers to those questions?  Maybe we can help one another make some sense of all this.  I would like that if you don't mind."

Kacie looked at me for a long time without saying a word.  I wondered what was going on in her head.  Finally she spoke.  "OK, Daddy.  I guess so!"  After a brief pause she continued.  "You mean YOU have some of the same questions that I do . . . really?"

"Yes, Honey," I replied.  "Some of the exact same questions.  You see, Daddies and Mommies don't always have the answers to all questions.  Sometimes we have to look for them.  I believe that you and I can find some answers for ourselves if we just give ourselves some time and do some looking.  You OK with that?"

My heart swelled as she sat up straight in the chair, smiled back at me and said, "Sure, Daddy!  Sure!  We'll go on an answer hunt!"

The Lord of the Flies Syndrome

That day initiated an "answer hunt" that continues on to the present and perhaps through the rest of our lives.  Finding one's purpose or creating a personal destiny is a process and not an event.  When children deal with the death of a loved one, they often find themselves thrust into an arena for which they are not prepared.  In addition, the adults surrounding them may or may not possess adequate mental or emotional health to provide the immediate and long-term support necessary for healthy reconciliation and integration of the loss experience for the child.

In an attempt to conceptualize the situation into which children find themselves in the aftermath of a death loss, I decided that the best descriptor is The Lord of the Flies Syndrome.  You remember The Lord of the Fliesdon't you?  It's a story about a plane full of children ranging in age from around five to twelve who crash on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean.  All adults accompanying them die leaving them without guidance or supervision.  The story chronicles their efforts to make sense of an unforeseen tragedy that stretches their emotional, social, physical and spiritual boundaries beyond their existing life experience.  Without guidance and supervision, they do what comes naturally -- and do so with mixed results.

In much the same way, children who experience the death of a loved one -- especially one to whom they are very close -- find themselves in uncharted territory.  Their emotional, social, physical and spiritual boundaries are stretched beyond their life experience.  They find themselves buried under a burden of self-doubt, uncertainty and confusion.  Without guidance and support, they are left to fill in the open space alone -- and that process has the potential to be hurtful or destructive.

What's a Person to Do?

This particular Crucial Conversations essay does not contain a "final closure conversation" as in past essays.  The primary reason lies in the nature of the initial question.  Since the creation, establishment and maintenance of a personal destiny is essentially a life-long process the lessons I learned and therefore wish to share are such that they instead form a framework in which to conduct ongoing conversations with children related to life purpose.

Following are some guidelines for such ongoing conversations:

• We must take seriously all questions from children related to life purpose -- regardless of the age of the child at the time of the asking.  Often, adults mistakenly assume that children do not think about such weighty matters.  If a child knows that his/her questions about life will be taken seriously, he/she will be more likely to discuss issues they deem important.
• We must be honest about our own personal struggles with such issues.  As strange as it may seem, children often need to know that we as adults do not have all the answers all the time.  When they understand that we struggle as well, we have a chance to share with them the approaches that have worked as well as those that have not.  They have a chance to learn not only from our wisdom but the power of our process as well.
• We must invite them to become part of our team.  Generally, children love feeling as if they are helpful -- that they have something to contribute to a process.  This is especially true when faced with the aftermath of a death loss.  If we as adults will ask for their input and perspective we might discover that they have valuable information to share -- information not yet considered.  Inviting them to become part of our team can also open doors for us to share our perspective without seeming overbearing or insensitive.  
• We must acknowledge the value of their input.  It is not enough to invite them to become a part of the team, we must let them know how valuable they are to the process and what value their perspective brings to the table.  This step can be extremely empowering for both the child and the adult. 
• We must be open to and access other sources of support and guidance as well.  One of the most valuable lessons we can teach children is the process of discovering and accessing existing support resources.  Too often, we find ourselves feeling isolated and alone in the midst of a personal crisis.  If we as adults feel this way, imagine how children feel!  We have the opportunity to teach children to reach out.  Support and guidance are available from so many different sources -- religious institutions; social network organizations; books; cd's and tapes; seminars; non-profit organizations; counselors and therapists; social workers; physicians; hospitals; funeral homes; boys and girls organizations -- and the list goes on.  My experience tellsme that often adults have not compiled a list of existing support resources in their surrounding communities and therefore find it difficult to model healthy choices for children.  The first step in teaching children the process of accessing these resources is to compile a list of resources ourselves and then routinely use them.  We can only teach what we do!
• We must commit to "be there" for the long haul!  Children need to know that we will be there for them -- period!  Barring our death or incapacity due to illness, children need to know that we will be there -- even when those children become adults themselves.  The role changes as well as the ways in which we support them as they grow into adulthood, but the knowledge that they have a person or people in their lives with whom they have a shared history can be one of the most empowering assurances we can give.

The search for personal meaning and purpose in life is an ongoing process -- one that requires us to reach out to others around us.  Often, children are forced to engage this process in an accelerated way due to the experience of a death loss in their lives.  They fall victim to The Lord of the Flies Syndrome.  When this happens, the absolute best thing we can do is establish a meaningful relationship with them; treat them and their questions with dignity and respect; and commit to walking with them as a companion in their personal journey toward life purpose!

I have often said that the most meaningful and lasting connections are made at the point of another's pain and not at the point of their victory.  I encourage you to "stop and look at yourself in the mirror" and ask, 'What is life about?'  'Why am I here?'  'What am I supposed to do with my life?' -- and do so from the perspective of a child.  If you are able to do that, I believe a whole new world will open to you -- a world in which providing appropriate support and guidance to children as they work through The Lord of the Flies Syndrome will emerge and you will discover a deeper appreciation for relationships and process.

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2009 Mark E. Hundley

 

P.S. ~~ Please visit http://tinyurl.com/dxld8r for information regarding a unique fund raising campaign for the Journey of Hope Grief Support Center -- One in a Million!  thanks

Crucial Conversations With Children: Talkin's The Shots!

When You Least Expect It!

I don't know about you, but often some of the most challenging tasks I face come at me when I least expect them!  Life, I think, sometimes has a way of lulling us into a false sense that all is well -- that everything is cool -- only to sneak up on us and smack us on the head!

Today marks the twentieth anniversary of my first wife's death!  Needless to say, when that event occurred in my daughter's and my life, we were taken completely by surprise -- ambushed, if you will, by the unexpected!  Now, some have a little warning about an impending death as in the situations that include a long-term terminal illness.  Yet, when the moment finally comes for the loved one to leave this life, there still is an element of the unexpected attached to the event.

Whether or not there is warning about the death of a loved one, the need to address the accompanying grief is paramount.

Control what you can!

Although we have almost no control whatsoever about what comes our way when looking at the death of a loved one, we do control at least one aspect of the process -- how we choose to deal with the aftermath.

Too many of us seek to control the actions, beliefs, perceptions or feelings of others when all we truly have the opportunity to control is our own personal set of mourning strategies.

One of the most important of those choices is the choice to talk about what we feel and experience.  Children tend to experience grief in conjunction with a general developmental time-line matching age with cognitive, emotional and volitional capabilities.  Generally speaking, the language of emotion for children is play -- they tend to express complex ideas and feelings through play when they are unable to do so verbally.  Although children develop at different rates within each developmental stage, articulate verbalization is an acquired skill that progresses as children grow.

That being said, typically children use BOTH play and words to express feelings about what is going on in their lives.  It is our job to pay attention to what is expressed and in what manner.  Bottom line with a grieving child?  Encourage them to "talk" in whatever method is most appropriate for them.

The Sick Man

About seven or eight months following Christy's death, Kacie and I made a trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she was born.  We were visiting friends and doing some sight-seeing.

Kacie always was a very verbal child and used spoken language quite well.  As a result, she and I conversed routinely and often about her mother's death.  When words were not quite available, we would employ art or stories or general play as outlets.

For about two weeks prior to this particular trip, Kacie had become uncharacteristically quiet regarding her mother's death and her feelings about it.  Almost commensurate with the sudden quiet, she began to complain of stomach aches, head aches and trouble sleeping.

While driving around one day in Albuquerque, we had the following conversation:

"Kacie, are you feeling OK?  I notice you didn't eat much breakfast.  Does your tummy hurt?

"I'm fine!"

"Well, I was just checking because I know how much you like waffles and you hardly touched yours today.

"I'm FINE, Daddy!"

This part of the conversation took place without her even glancing my direction.

"Well, I was thinking . . . since you have been telling me about your stomach and head hurting so much lately, maybe I need to take you to the doctor to see if there is something wrong with you that we can take care of."

"NO, Daddy!  I said I am FINE!"

Well, my first thought was, "Not!"

Anyway, as I drove, the idea for a little story came to me and I proceeded with care.

"Hey, Kacie!  Mind if I tell you a story?  She was used to me telling her stories since that was part of our routine.

"OK, Daddy!"

"Well, it seems that there was a man who was really sick on the inside -- so sick that he decided to go to the doctor."

"The doctor checked him over, asked some questions and took his temperature and then took him to his office."  As the man sat in the doctor's office the doctor said, 'Well, you're sick all right!'"

"The man got a little mad because he KNEW he was sick and he told the doctor as much!"  'I know I'm sick!  I want you to tell me how to get well!'"

"The doctor said, 'Oh, I can do that!  What will make you better is a long series of shots!  All you have to do is take these shots and in time you will be better!'"

I looked over at her to see if she was paying attention and when I paused she gestured for me to continue, so I did.

"Kacie, the Sick Man said, 'Absolutely not!  There has to be another way!  I hate shots!  I hate the pain of shots!  I hate the sight of blood -- especially when it is mine!  There has to be something else to do -- a pill you can give me -- anything but a shot!  ANYTHING!'"

I had her attention then because she hated shots as well!

I continued.  "Kacie, the Sick Man was in a really tough spot, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was Daddy!"

"Well, the doctor responded to the Sick Man and said, 'I'm sorry.  There isn't another way for you to get better.  You can choose to take the long series of shots and eventually get better or you can choose to not take the shots and stay the way you are.  It's your choice!'"

"Kacie, the Sick Man sat there for a few minutes, finally looked at the doctor and  said, 'OK, I'll take the shots!'"

I paused briefly again and then asked her a question. "Kacie, how are you and the Sick Man alike?"

She sat quietly for a while with her arms folded and a scowl on her face.  After a bit she cut her eyes my way and said with a little frustration, "Talkin's the shots, Daddy!  Talkin's the SHOTS!"

The Valuable Lessons

I sat there amazed that this little seven year-old girl was able to grasp the point of the story so clearly.  Talking is indeed the shots when it comes to healing from the pain of losing a loved one.  She got it!  I can say that from that time forward, all we had to do was refer to the Sick Man as a reminder to continue to express feelings related to grief.  In fact, we still do to this day!

What are the lessons we can learn in order to be better equipped to support children as they learn to mourn their losses in healthy ways?

1. Children need to be given both permission and instruction to express their feelings of grief. 
2. Children sometimes need assistance in finding the most appropriate means of expressing their  feelings -- words, art, play, etc.
3. Children need to know that talking can sometimes be painful, but helpful in the long run.
4. Children often need assistance in defining words related to the feelings associated with grief so that the point of reference for all conversations is consistent.
5. Children need to know that they have the freedom to talk or not talk -- they should never be forced to talk, but alway given the option to do so.  They need to know there is always an open door.
6. Children need to know that they can ask the same questions over and over again using the same words without being made to feel silly.  By asking the same questions time and again using the established vocabulary, children are able to add to their knowledge and understanding of the process in which they find themselves.

You know, as I write this, I am keenly aware that adults often need to be reminded that "talkin's the shots" when we face difficulties as well!  As they say on the airplane, "If the oxygen masks drop down, make sure yours is secure first, then assist your children with theirs."

I am hopeful that this little story provides a frame of reference as you work with the children in your life.

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2009 Mark E. Hundley

Crucial Conversations With Children: "I Don't Want to Go Home, Daddy!"

"I don't want to go home, Daddy!"

I recall those words coming from my daughter approximately three weeks following the death of her mother!  They sent a sort of nameless panic coursing through my veins.  Not want to go home?  With ME?  I couldn't believe my ears!  I fought the urge to pull rank and make a blanket statement that might ultimately adversely affect our relationship.  I knew enough to understand that was not the most useful path to follow, but I wasn't exactly sure what to do either!

Good or bad, we had set up temporary headquarters at my brother and sister-in-law's house in the aftermath of our loss.  My daughter and I had taken over a guest room - I, sleeping on the top part of a trundle bed and she on the bottom.  That way I could keep watch over her and be close in case she needed me during the night!

I made daily trips to our own home to replenish clothing and such, but our temporary place of residence provided a type of "vacation" from the reality of dealing with the diminished presence at our home.  As much respite as I received in being away from our home during the first few days, the longer I stayed away, the more frustrated I became.  I knew that our stay was temporary at best.  I knew that our place was across town.  I knew that we must return.  I knew also, that returning would be difficult -- more so for Kacie than for me -- but difficult nonetheless.

Things were moving along as well as could be expected -- that is until Kacie made her declaration.

The Declaration

Kacie's statement of intent caught me by surprise, I must admit.  I wasn't prepared for her to not want to go home.  Looking back, I can certainly see how she would much rather have been where she was than to face going home; however, I was just not prepared for her sentiments.

It was a Monday morning and she was about to exit the house and walk across the street to school.  I was preparing for work.  As I knelt before her to hug and kiss her goodbye, she made her declaration.

"I don't want to go home, Daddy! I want to stay right here!"

I noticed a slight clenching of her jaw after she made her statement as if she was preparing for an argument from me!

As taken aback as I was, I simply looked at her and responded, "Well, let's not worry about that right now, Honey.  We can discuss it later."

She seemed a little confused yet at the same time, relieved that I didn't come back at her.  Frankly, a part of me wanted to grab her up and take her home that instant!  A scared part of me could only see her leaving me as well!  I capped that panic as best I could and sent her on her way.  As I watched her cross the street, I wondered what I would do.

Saved By My Therapist!

Fortunately, I had an appointment with my therapist scheduled for later that morning.  It would be the second of many sessions and I was eager to get there.  Surely he would know what to do!

I recall pouring out my heart that morning, spilling my fears and insecurities in an almost haphazard way.  I was scared -- a victim of my own imagination.

Instead of addressing "what I was going to do" in our session, my therapist led me to step inside my daughter's skin as best he could.  His expert guidance helped me see from her perspective -- feel from her heart -- experience from her emotional state -- think from her mind.  Once that exercise was complete, the words I would say came rather easily.  They flowed from a foundation of understanding that I had not possessed prior to that meeting.  I left feeling more confident that I could handle the difficult task ahead of me.

The Beginnings of the Conversation Process

After my session, I felt better prepared for the conversation Kacie and I would have.  What I was not prepared for was the curve she threw me!

That evening after dinner, we sat in "our room" and visited.  I approached the subject she touched on earlier in the day.

"Kacie, I wonder if you would like to visit about you and me going home soon?"

"Yes, Daddy!  I have decide that I am not going home!"

Well, my session didn't prepare me for that one!  She had moved from a sentiment of not wanting to go home to a definitive stance that she would NOT be going home!

"What do you mean, Honey?"

"I am not going home!  I don't want to!  I want to stay right here with you!"

I thought back to my counseling session and drew upon the new insight I had received that day.

"So you are saying that you would rather us both stay here -- that you are more comfortable here than you would be at home?

"Yes, Daddy!"

"I think I see what you mean."

She smiled and relaxed a bit -- then I had a curve of my own.

"Well, as much as I have liked being here, I really do miss our home and I just want you to know that I will be going home this Saturday!  I would really love for you to come home with me, but I certainly understand if you want to stay here."

That panicky part of me almost won out, but I was able to squelch it as I waited for her response.

"Well, I'm not gonna go home, Daddy!  I'm staying right here!" 

"No problem, Sweetheart!  I think I understand completely!  I just want you to know that on Saturday, I will be taking all my stuff that I have here and will be heading home.  Now, I will be more than happy to bring you all the things you need from the house so you can have them here with you.  Would that be OK?"

Although my response was not what she expected, she nodded in agreement and then said, "But I'm not going with you!"

I hugged her and suggested that she go play with her cousins.

Communication, Reinforcement and Consistency

Each day of the week, I consistently talked with Kacie and shared my plans to return home on Saturday.  I listened to her protestations and reinforced my desire for her to return with me.  I reflected back to her -- to the best of my limited ability -- my understanding of her feelings and thoughts.  Our conversations went something like this:

"Kacie, I just want to remind you that on Saturday I will be headed home.  Have you given any thought about what you would like me to bring to you from the house?"

"I am making a list, Daddy -- but I am not gonna go home with you!  I am staying right here!"

"I understand, Sweetie!  I'm just checking to see what you need from the house."

Although on the outside I might have appeared calm, collected and confident, on the inside I was a mess!  What would I do if she didn't ever want to come home with me?  How would I handle the situation?  As I struggled with those questions, I maintained the strategy my therapist and I had worked out -- but MAN was it hard!

The Power of Follow Through

Saturday morning came that week and after breakfast, I began packing my things and taking them to the car.  Kacie watched quietly as I did so.  I worked to keep my actions low-key, natural and positive.  Finally after my last load, I took Kacie aside and asked her a question.

"Hey, girl!  I'm about to go home and was wondering if you have your list ready for me?"

She sat quietly for a moment or two with her head down and then spoke.

"Daddy!  I've been thinking about going home with you and . . . well . . . I have decided that it is a good idea if I go home with you today!  I miss my house too!  Besides, you might need me and I wouldn't want you to be alone!  Is it OK with you if I come home too?

Well, my heart almost burst!  I was ecstatic!  Roy, my therapist, was such a wise man!

With tears in my eyes, I said, "Honey, that's a great idea!  I'm so glad you came up with it!  Let's see about getting your things together as well and go home!

We gathered her things, said our goodbyes and headed toward the next phase of our journey together!  I learned a great deal that week.  I wish I could say that I have lived those lessons as completely and perfectly since then, but I would be lying.  I have made many mistakes along the way; however, I have always been able to go back to that model of communication and re-establish a more helpful and useful strategy -- not just with Kacie, but with all significant people in my life.

Practical Applications

Through the years, I have worked with and observed children, teens and their parents struggle with similar challenges.  I am reminded of my experiences and work to tap the wisdom imparted to me during that time.  Following are a few lessons I would like to share in hopes that you will find some guidance for the situations you face in life.

1. Children need a sense of stability and normalcy in the wake of tragedy.  Often, this sense will come as a result of being in a place and around people that provide continuity and familiarity. 
2. Children need to feel valued and cared for.  Spending time with them; listening to them; validating their thoughts and/or concerns; providing appropriate support for them are all necessary.  When you are unable to be that support, make sure there are others in the wings who can step in temporarily while you deal with your own personal challenges.
3. Children need to know that you have a plan -- even if they are not ready to embrace it initially.  They need to know that you have sought the best advice possible and have put together a direction in which you intend to move. 
4. Children need the freedom to express their intentions even if those intentions are counter to your plan.  Remember, they will likely experience some degree of fear, anxiety and uncertainty.  The sense of stability and normalcy they have experienced is likely to appeal more to them than the uncertainty of yet another change.
5. Children need the flexibility to change their mind without feeling shamed for doing so.  Remember!  They are children and require support and guidance during difficult times.  If we as adults struggle with our feelings and thoughts during times of difficulty, imagine how much more they do!
6. Finally, children need to know that you are open to continued conversations about the adjustments ahead of them.  There is never any real benefit in "one big tell-all" outlining all the steps to be taken.  Life demands flexibility and children deserve continued communication.

Any Thoughts?

I encourage you to share your thoughts and experiences.  Help me help others with your insight and wisdom.  Please feel free to submit your ideas and suggestions.  We will all be better for the experience!

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2009 Mark E. Hundley

Crucial Conversations With Children - "A Day is Like Seven Years!"

The day dawned early on that mid-July morning in 1989.  Not quite six months had passed since life dealt my daughter Kacie and me a hand that altered our perceptions of the world; of life; of God; of continuity and purpose -- of everything!  We had struggled -- struggled to make sense ofthe unthinkable!  The day Christy -- Kacie's mother and my wife -- died as a result of injuries she received in an automobile accident set into motion a series of events that continue to reverberate through time and space even today affecting people in all walks of life!

At the beginning of the previous month, I had decided to go back to school to pursue my teaching credentials and then continue to work on my master's degree in counseling.  My summer had been filled with study and time with Kacie.  I cherished that time with her -- walking, talking, playing, reading together, sharing sadness as well as joy as we worked to take each day as it came.

I had started therapy about two weeks after Christy's death, going weekly in an effort to galvanize my mental, emotional and spiritual health so that I could provide as much stability and direction for Kacie as possible.  Those therapy sessions were invaluable investments into the potential for healthy living for both of us!

That Saturday morning was not unlike most other Saturday mornings since I started back to school.  While Kacie slept, I studied -- that is until she awoke and then we would have breakfast together and plan our day.  I recall Kacie rounding the corner into the kitchen of our small home that morning, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.  She pulled out a chair across from me and just sat, staring off into space.

After an uncharacteristically long period of silence, I asked "You OK, Honey?" 

"Yes, Daddy," she replied.  "I was just wondering!"

"What were you wondering, Kacie?"

She paused briefly and then asked, "Does my mommy miss me, Daddy?"

Oh my!  What a difficult question!  I much preferred to answer the questions related to Dante's Inferno that rested in front of me than tackle HER question!

"Well, Honey," I stumbled, "I am sure that Mommy knows all about what and how you are doing right now -- She's in Heaven and . . . "

I paused when I recognized confusion and frustration sweep her features.

Before I could continue, she said, "I know!  There's no sadness and no tears in Heaven!  So I guess she DOESN'T miss me AFTER all, does she?"

With that said, she ducked her head and began to cry.

I quickly moved to her side and put my arm around her little shoulders.  After kissing the top of her head, I scrambled to bring some semblance of order to the chaos that swept through her soul.

"Kacie, what if your best friend in all the world moved to California -- you would miss her and she would miss you, right?"

Through her tears and sniffles, I heard her say, "Yes!"

"OK.  What if we decided that in one month, you were going to visit your friend.  Do you think that you and your friend would be sad because you were apart or excited about the fact that you were going to see one another in a month?"

She stopped crying and grew quiet as she contemplated my question.

After a brief silence, she responded, "I guess we would be excited about seeing one another and not worry about being apart!"

"I think you are probably right, Sweetie!  You would be more aware that you were going to be together soon than aware of being so far away from each other."

She looked up at me anticipating something else, so I continued.

"Since your mommy is in Heaven, I think she is more aware that she will see you one day there than she is feeling the sadness of missing you."

God I hoped that my answer had helped and not made her pain worse.

After another pause, she said, "I get it!  It's like that verse in the Bible where it says 'A day is like seven years!'"

"That's right, Honey -- except it says a THOUSAND years!"

She laughed a little and said, "Oh, yeah!  That's right!"

My attempts to help her make sense of a troublesome worry seemed to ease the situation for the time being and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The next week when I had my therapy session, I relayed the story and was commended on the good job I had done.  I felt encouraged.  My therapist then extended our conversation by telling me that my job was not complete, however.  He told me that I must go back to her and make sure she knew that she must not allow her desire to see her mother cause her to do something that would take her there sooner than intended.  I quickly saw the wisdom in that and made sure we discussed the necessity of her staying around to fulfill her life purpose.

About a week after our Saturday morning conversation, I sat contemplating her words and had a staggering revelation!  She was more correct than I had initially thought!  When she responded,"A day is like seven years," she was responding from her own life experience!  She was seven years old, so for her, being separated from her mother was a lifetime -- HER lifetime!  That realization shed a whole new light on how children work to make sense of the senseless.  A thousand years had no meaning whatsoever for her -- but seven years made all the sense in the world!

In the years since that morning, I have worked at learning how to listen more carefully to children of all ages -- to what they say as well as what they don't say -- when talking about their disappointments.  My education is a continual process.  I have, however, deciphered a few lessons that I think children would like for adults to know.  Allow me to share them with you here.

1. Children think deeply and seriously about the things that cause them sadness or disappointment.
2. Children struggle to make sense out of life using concepts that are familiar to them.
3. Children ask questions ALL THE TIME seeking to make sense of what has happened to them -- many times, they ask the same question over and again seeking to understand at a deeper level.
4. Children are open to our honest attempts to provide answers and information -- even when we don't know the answer they appreciate our honesty.
5. Children are more patient with us than we are with ourselves sometimes when it comes to finding answers.  As long as we work at finding answers WITH them, they will continue to come to us for guidance.
6. Children want to know that there will always be someone to whom they can turn when they have questions or need support -- even if we aren't perfect in the process.

Perhaps another day down the road, I will have other lessons to share as I continue to learn from my young teachers.

May I encourage you to do a couple of things?  First, take a few moments to write down all the life lessons you have learned from your children or the children with whom you work.  I think you'll be amazed!  Second, if you feel so inclined, please share some of those lessons with us in the comments section of this blog!  We'll be richer for your sharing!

Thank you and until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2008 Mark E. Hundley

 

 

Crucial Conversations With Children - "Can I Help Someone, Daddy?"

"The "Rock," The Media & The Question!

I take you back to the week following Thanksgiving 1989 -- ten months following the death of my first wife, Christy.  Only a few weeks prior to her death, Christy and I had committed ourselves to run the Dallas White Rock Marathon in December 1989; however, that intended joint endeavor became a solitary venture -- one that would teach me many things about myself and life.

The first week of February that year marked the beginning of my training for my first ever marathon.  To say the least, the experience is one I will never forget.  Week in and week out; mile after mile after grueling mile; through all kinds of weather; in spite of periodic illness; I trained in order to honor a memory and commitment. 

Shortly after Christy's death, I initiated an endowed memorial scholarship at the University of North Texas -- the institution from which she had received her Bachelor's and was about to receive her Master's.  Sometime in early October of 1989, I got the idea to run the marathon seeking sponsorships from friends and family in order to add to the endowment fund.  At a time when I was needing additional motivation to continue my trek toward the marathon, this idea provided the boost I sought!

About the middle of November, I awakened one morning with a thought running through my mind!  "This is MEDIA WEEK," I said to myself!  Now, I had no idea what "Media Week" meant -- I just knew that I was in it!  I immediately began calling newspapers, radio stations and local television stations to tell them about my project -- running the White Rock Marathon in memory of my wife and to raise funds for the memorial scholarship endowment.  To my surprise, the media was interested!  Suffice to say that over the next few weeks, I was interviewed for numerous newspaper articles and radio programs and one television spot!

Now, every time a story ran, I received calls and letters from total strangers asking how they might donate to the cause!  I was really pumped!  Then the night the story ran on television, I received calls from strangers until around midnight -- each one expressing interest in giving to the cause.  Some even wanted to give to Kacie and me directly.  I deflected those requests and asked instead that they give to the scholarship fund.  The only word I have to describe that experience is AMAZING!

As a result of that exposure, in excess of $10,000 was given to the endowment fund at UNT!

The day of the marathon happened to be Kacie's eighth birthday.  I recall the flood of emotion that filled me as I crossed the finish line that Sunday so long ago -- emotion flowing from multiple sources that almost overwhelmed me.

Later that evening at home, Kacie and I were sitting on the sofa watching television.  She reached out, took my hand and asked, "Can I help someone, Daddy?"

The Conversation

There it was, yet another of her perspective-altering questions.

"Can I help someone, Daddy?"

"What do you mean, Honey?"

"You know -- like you have done by running!  Can I help someone?"

"Well sure you can!  Sweetie, you help people every day!  You help me; you help your friends; you help you grandparents!"

"No, Daddy!  I mean, can I help someone I don't know?  You know, like give them something that makes them feel better!"

Wow!  What a question!  What a perspective!  At a time when I expected her to be hurting over what she had lost, she was seeking an avenue through which she could share a part of herself!  I was humbled.

"Sweetie, can you tell me where this desire to help someone you don't know has come from?"

I'm not sure I really expected her to be able to articulate her thoughts, but she did so in a manner that completely blew me away!

"Well, Daddy, I got the idea from all of those people who wrote you and called you about Mommy's scholarship!  They don't know you or me or Mommy and they wanted to help US help others . . . so, I just thought that I could help someone I don't know!"

Once again, I was humbled and deeply moved by her desire to reach out to people -- people she didn't know -- in order to make a difference in their lives.  With a tears welling in my eyes, I responded, "Sure you can, Honey!  Sure you can!"

"Thank you, Daddy," she said as she gave me a big hug!

The Application

That single conversation ushered in what I anticipate will be a lifetime of Kacie seeking opportunities to extend a helping hand -- especially to people she does not know!  I have witnessed this beneficence demonstrated in her life time and again since that evening.

The next day after that conversation, we found a Salvation Army Angel Tree and purchased an item appropriate for the project.  Next she took all the money she had in her piggy bank and deposited it in the Salvation Army "pot" manned by a lady ringing a bell.  Finally, she carefully and lovingly went through her toys and dolls selecting items only "gently used" and asked me to take her to the Good Will drop off point so she could make sure others had toys for Christmas.  It was one of the grandest Holiday Seasons I have ever had -- all because we had a conversation related to helping other people!

What About Now?

During this Holiday Season -- whether you are Christian, Jewish, Muslim or any other faith -- perhaps we can all learn something from Kacie.  Perhaps we can all ask the question, "Can I help someone?"

Money is tight.  The economy is fragile.  Tomorrow is fraught with uncertainty.  A vast majority of us are being forced to cut back.  What are we to do?

Maybe . . . just maybe the answer to this troubled Holiday Season can be found in discovering ways to help one another -- to reach out and do something that will bring a little joy or happiness to the life of another!  Maybe we can participate in a Crucial Conversation with the children in our lives that focuses on the honor and respect inherent in giving to others. 

Maybe we can't buy as much as we have in the past.  Maybe we won't be able to do as much as we would like.  Maybe we'll have to rediscover that the meaning in life is most often found in asking the question, "Can I help someone today?"

I am hopeful that the conversation Kacie and I had almost twenty years ago will provide a renewed perspective for joy in this Holiday Season.

Until next time . . . Peace!

Mark

Copyright 2008 Mark E. Hundley

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