My grandma likes to tell the story of the moment she realized I was a very passionate person who was not afraid to be angry with God. When I was 5, my mom gave birth to my second younger sister, Hannah. While she'd felt the baby move the night before, the baby was stillborn. We took pictures, mom and dad held her, and...well, mostly I cried and raged about how I just wanted my new baby sister to be there (my 2 year old sister had more reason to be angry as Hannah had been born on her birthday, and so for years to come it was hard for us to celebrate...but I suppose that's neither here nor there).
It wasn't until I was in my early teens that I really started to talk about it and was able to participate in art therapy with another friend going through the loss of a sibling that I really started to understand my own loss and heal.
I don't know that I'm any better with handling grief these days, let alone helping others process it, but these are things I do know:
1) I have cried more in the past 3 or 4 days than I did in the days immediately following Jaime's death, as I came to several realizations.
2) I realized that the reason I'd freaked out about the kids trying to sneak out early to go splash! in the pools was that I was terrified of someone drowning. We know all too well now that it's possible to drown in an inch of water. The fact that that clouds how I perceive and react to very happy and energetic children just wanting to play in the water makes me realize that I have a lot more processing and grieving to do--and adjustments to make.
3) I realized that it's really starting to hit home for the kids, too. T asked me for the first time in a couple of months last week if we could call Jaime. And he asked again, even after I reminded him that we couldn't call her anymore because Jaime was with Jesus. And he yelled that he wanted to call Jaime and see Jaime...and I didn't know how to soothe him or what to say next.
4) While we focused on helping the little ones understand and find comfort, I think we may have missed the mark with the older kids, and they're hurting too and unsure how to express it. Bryon pulled me aside twice on Sunday to talk about his recital, the songs dedicated to Jaime and the moments of silence. I told him that that was a really nice way to remember her, but...I'm still not sure that was enough. Pastor said he talked to her as well. I was worried he might be feeling brushed aside. I'm not sure what the answer is to this, but I do know this--a meaner, heavier grief that speaks of time and longing and emptiness has set in for many and some of the anger over her death has come. And some of the understanding over what this loss really means is beginning to set in for so many.
Now is the time for us, as families, as those who loved Jaime, and those who miss her dearly, to start listening to the grief of our children and helping them to find a way to talk about it, write about it, draw about it--whatever helps them better understand and heal.
We talked about this at staff meeting this week, and decided that Elmo Sunday (September 8) would be a good opportunity for this downstairs. Back in March, I approached T's school counselor over what some good resources were for talking about death of a close loved one--and she sent me to this:
http://video.pbs.org/program/when-families-grieve/
While other books sort of helped a bit, T broke down crying when we watched this and started asking more questions about Jaime. It wasn't so sad in and of itself--but I think it's how he finally put the pieces together. We're planning to have the Sunday school teachers show this on September 8, and we're going to spend a good portion of our time during KFW talking about grief and how it's okay to be sad and that grief can be part of God's will as well.
Pastor Linda spoke to us at staff meeting on how a current child psychologist believes grief should be taught to kindergarteners, like please and thank you and sharing. Seeing as I'm in my thirties and still struggle with how to grieve at times, I agree. I also remember that grieving reminds me of the community and love that surrounds us. I believe that grieving is done as a community as well, and it seems to be time to listen for what the kids have to say to us about what they've learned through grief--and to give them space and time to talk about their grief over losing Jaime. May we all find the words we need to share, if need be, but mostly may we have the ears to hear what they need to say.
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