Children are the forgotten mourners. When there is a significant loss in their lives, they are also often "lost" and overlooked by the adults who are mourning the same loss. The reason often given is that they are young and resilient. While children are resilient, they are not unaffected by grief. They feel deeply and are often confused by those feelings. If they are lucky, they will find a caring adult who can explain those feelings. All too often, they do not. Adults often don't understand their own feelings and haven't the emotional strength to handle a child's grief.
When I was 17, my paternal grandmother died. She was my best friend, the one person in the world who seemed to understand me and love me unconditionally. I was devastated by depression and despair. My family didn't recognize what was happening and put it down to adolescent angst. I overheard them saying I had just lost it and may need to be institutionalized. I've never forgotten that experience. I wasn't able to do my grief work until after my husband died. I didn't want other children and youth to experience grief in emotional isolation.
One of the editors at Deseret Book told me that I was not a one-book author. There as nothing definitive on grief in children, so I decided to write a second book. I asked my three younger children to write a section about what they thought and felt when their father died. It was enlightening and are included, as written, woven into the text of the book, When a Loved One Dies.
- Shane was 8 when his dad died and he was 11 when he wrote about it. After sharing his experiences and feelings, he concluded thus:
I had a hard time going through the grieving process; it was long and hard. I lived through it because I didn't put my feelings on hold. . . . When I feel sad and alone, I go to my mom and talk about it and ask for a hug. . . . You'd be surprised how much one hug can do for you.
- Terri was 12. She wrote of her experiences when she was 16. The grief was hardest on her because. unlike Shane, she did put her feelings on hold. She lived in denial, as if it had never happened. When we moved to Provo in 1984, it jarred her out of denial. She wrote:
. . . I had to face that my father was really dead and that I was not dreaming.
- She took all of her anger out on me and it was very difficult for us both. We sought professional help. She told me once that she was
. . . afraid to love [my mom] too much. I loved my dad so much, and he died. . . . everything I love, I lose.
- Shawn was sixteen at Carmon's death. He wrote a paper for his high school English class that was include in the book:
We are a death denying society. People say, "Give it time, it will eventually heal itself." That's not true. Time doesn't heal anything but physical wounds. Emotional wounds take more than Bactine and Band-aids. It takes work, but from that work . . . come growth.
Shawn had an understanding friend to whom he could talk about anything; what a gift! He also kept a journal which gave him a place to process his grief work.
This little book has many practical suggestions to the young person grieving and for the older person dealing with a young person through the process. It is a great addition to any e-library.
Unfortunately, the book is out-of-print. You can still download an e-book at www.deseretbook.com. You can also occasionally find a used copy on Amazon.
The activities on emotional honestly are good for any child or adolescent who is dealing with emotional overload. I hope you will look for it.
It was not quite six in the morning when the call came from the Sheriff's office: "Mrs. Buntin, we have some officers coming to your house. Can you give us directions?"
That was the beginning. My husband of 20 years was dead in a one-vehicle accident on the Mogollon Rim in Arizona.
Thus I entered into a world of what seemed to be never-ending grief. I knew I would feel sad, but I didn't know I would be so angry! On those rare occasions when I seemed to get my head above water, some great cosmic hand pushed me back under. I was mad at anyone who still had their spouse. I was angry at the elderly who were growing old together. I was mad at Carmon for "slipping his skin" and leaving me with four children as a single mom. Mostly, I was angry with God. Like C.S. Lewis, even my strong Christian testimony brought little comfort. People said, "He's in a better place." I answered that I knew he was, but wondered what I was supposed to do for the next 20 or 30 years?
One evening in the late fall, I had stayed late at work to hold a special education conference with the parents of one of my students. When the papers were signed and they had left, I was alone with our school psychologist, Ken Grosscost. He turned to me and asked, "How are you doing?" I had already learned that when people asked that, they wanted me to say, "I'm fine. Thanks for asking." If I tried to tell them what was really happening, they'd back away. People began to avoid me as if I had the plague, so when Ken asked I said, quite harshly as I remember, "You don't want to know and you don't have the time it takes for me to tell you!" He said, "Yes, I do want to know and we'll take however long it takes."
That opened a door that reassured me that I wasn't crazy, just grief-stricken. Ken referred me to a class at the community college on the subject of grief. I enrolled for January.
The first class with Jan Belknap was an explosion of affirmation and knowledge. I learned that grief was not only acceptable, but that it is a psychological necessity to make real in our heart what our head already knows. That night after class, I called my mother in Las Vegas and told her that if I survived, I was going to write a book. No one should have to experience such loss without knowing what was happening to them.
I kept a journal and in the fall of 1983, about 18 months after Carmon's death, I began my promised book. Using my journal and a lot of inspiration from God, I wrote a chapter at a time until it was done. It was published in hard copy as The Living Half. When Deseret Book released it in paperback, a few years later, they retitled it All Alone: Surviving the Loss of a Spouse. (I actually like my title better, but by then, they held the copyright and signed my royalties checks!)
Here are a couple of excerpts from the book, taken from my journal:
I read the note on the refrigerator again and again: " Dear Kathy, Call the doctor Friday about my blood tests. See you Sunday. I love you, Carmy." It was Sunday. Where was he?
I forgot to call the doctor. I was so relieved when the doctor called me. I thought, "How lucky I am. I'll never have to tell Carmon that I got busy and forgot him." Now it doesn't matter, but I still know; I got busy and forgot him.
Today was Carmon's birthday. Needless to say it has been a very difficult day for me. I awoke with the same empty pit of loneliness inside that I feel most mornings. It would be nice to wake up full of joy and anticipation. It's been so long that I've forgotten what joy feels like. Sometimes the pain is almost more than I can bear.
I'm sitting here by the fire, wrapped in a quilt, watching the lights twinkle on the Christmas tree. The calendar says that it is December, less than three weeks until Christmas. It is cold and hazy today. We've had a night or two of freezing weather. The world rolls on; the seasons change from summer to autumn and winter. I watch it all with a certain amazement, in my mind it is still August 29. It should be hot outside. It is Sunday again and he is still not home.
. . . . .
Eleanor Knowles, former executive editor at Deseret Book, told that mine was the best book on the subject of grief she had ever read. Many of the dozens of people who wrote to me told me that I was telling their story. They related so intimately with the experience.
In 1984, the book was reviewed by Muriel Stevens of the Las Vegas Sun newspaper. She wrote, in part:
The package was given to me just before I left the paper one night. Inside was a note from an old family friend, Barney Rawlings. The no accompanied a book written by Barney and Hazel's daughter, Kathleen. I picked it up meaning only to leaf through it until I had time to read it. After the first few pages, I gave up. All else could wait. I could not put it down. . .
Just after I finished reading, I stopped by to chat with Ruthe Deskin. She too had lost a beloved spouse and had been given a copy of the book by Barney. We discussed this meaningful tome, shed a few tears, and then we parted.
Many people who wrote to me told me that they, too, could not put it down once started. If you or someone you know is struggling with unresolved grief, please give them a copy of All Alone: Surviving the Loss of a Spouse. Order it online at www.deseretbook.com or www.amazon.com.
I think you'll be glad that you did!
I remember as a young woman wondering if I would live long enough to see the 21st century. Now I'm on the heels of the perfect eye-sight year: 2020!
I have done a little writing in the past two years, but not as regularly or as well as I have in the past. I did publish "A Pig in the Kitchen" which is available online. I also expanded a short pamphlet I wrote for my children several years ago into a book that was published by Cedar Fort Publishing in Springville, UT. It is called "The Words of God: 8 Crucial Bible Themes Supported by the Book of Mormon. "It is also available online at www.amazon.com and at Barnes and Noble. Deseret Book also carries Words of God.
I started a small company called Gebara Education, LLC. I have a web page, www.gebaraeducation.com. I am hoping this coming year to do some educational consulting and tutoring. I'll also use Gebara to market my four books. It is really frustratingly slow however. I know that I have talents to share and at least a .little wisdom gleaned over 74 years of life, but I don't know how to market effectively to get people to my pages, including this one! I've been approached by marketing companies, but they all want over $1K to start and I don't have it. 2019 may open some doors for me.
On the downside, I've gone through a terrible, deep depression since 2016 when I retired from my job, sold my home, left Snowflake and lost my best friend. It has been 2 years of soul-deep and horrific losses. In retrospect, I am amazed, quite frankly, that I was able to complete and publish two new books. I haven't blogged or kept up my website, both of which make me feel like a slacker.
I was very ill in September and was in the ER on three different occasions. It seems I have developed vertigo, most likely as a result of the debilitating depression which effects body, mind, and soul. I'm much better now, but still suffering on days when things flare up. This has limited my driving, which is a huge loss of independence for me. I'm hoping to put all of this behind me in 2019. I cut my last anchor on Christmas Day and hopefully I won't allow it to reel me back into despair.
I had trouble accessing my blog this morning and my web-page says it is unsecured. So much for New Year's Resolutions!
Michelangelo is reported to have said encore imaro: I am still learning. He was in his late 80s. I am at least a decade younger than he at the time he said it. What's my excuse?
