Conference lgp30::christian-perspective

	To keep depression at bay when you have experienced a loss,
here are some suggestions:

DO:
	o pray
	o eat well
	o join a support group
	o postpone major decisions
	o stop wallowing
	o grant yourself 30 minutes per day for grieving
	o accept compliments
	o avoid hasty decisions
	o accept responsibility
	o avoid unrealistic expectations
	o avoid complainers, associate with positive people
	o ask your pastor or chaplain or Stephen's minister or other expression
	  of pastoral care to call
	o (add your own)

DON'T:
	o stay in bed all day
	o lean on your children or best friend
	o fall in love in the transition period
	o use junk food, coffee, alcohol or food as an escape
	o (add your own)

	Should you find yourself slipping into a downward spiral of hopeless-
ness, seek professional mental health assistance.  Depression is no disgrace
and is nearly always successfully treated.

(to be continued)
Peace,
Richard

When I feel sad, Lord, with old friends far away and new ones not here yet--
when loneliness takes my breath away and there's no hand to hold--

How do I wait, Lord?  What do I do in the meantime?

When I remember love, Lord, and long for quiet laughter shared with secret
smiles--when emptiness shatters over me sharp as ice--

Oh, God, help me--What do I do then?

When I feel old, Lord, and my arms ache to hold the babies that are grown--
when the pain washes through me and spills down my face--

How do I bear it, Lord?  What do I do?

Quietly, as an echo in the silence, the answer comes--
You make the coffee, answer the phone, feed the cat, wash your hair, type
the letter, pay the bills, catch the bus, pass the salt.
Quietly, as an echo in the silence--You do the next thing.

				--Nancy D. Lawrence '76

Peace,
Richard

    
                   I have learned of late that feelings should be felt with
    all the intensity that is there and not denied and put away.
    
    
    Dave

	He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the dimly
burning flame.  He will encourage the faint hearted, those tempted to
despair. (Isaiah 42.3 The Living Bible)

Peace,
Richard

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, 1990, my mother passed away.

This year has been hard.

I've never really thought of myself as "close" to either of my parents,
but apparently my feelings were stronger than I realized.  I still think
sometimes when the phone rings it will be her...until reality kicks in.

I had no mother to send flowers or a card on Mother's Day.  My birthday
came and went without a card from her.

It has all felt so awkward and so sad.  The death of a loved one is 
an ache that time and opportunities to talk are the best medicine.

From my training as a chaplain, I learned that it takes an average of
5 years to be able to recall memories of a loved one or to have a
significant date pass without hurting.

Peace,
Richard

    Praying for you, Brother.  The holidays can be tough on us all, eh?
    
    The Lord be with you,
    
    Jeff

    RE: .5 I can relate. My mother died 28 years ago. I was 10. It
    still hurts. It was in September. The next month JFK was killed
    and every year when the media makes a big thing about that it all
    brings back memories of my mother. "Where you you when JFK died?"
    Morning my mother - thanks for bringing back the pain. I wish people
    would let it lie. Holidays are bad enough.
    
    			Alfred

Re.5 

 Richard:

          Most people say that this is the time of year that the
    loss of someone they love bothers them the most and I also
    have to admit that around the holidays I think a bit more about
    my own mother who died five years ago.
          More often however, I find that it is when I am doing something
    that she taught me to do or when I find myself "being my mother",
    that is doing something exactly as she would have or behaving just
    as she would have that I find myself missing her. In the big things
    like holidays, birthdays and such I've pretty much adjusted, but it
    is usually in the small things and in odd moments that I find myself
    feeling kind of sad.
          The day does not pass that I do not think about her. I cannot
    look in the mirror without being reminded how much I am like her and
    funny as it might sound these very things that sadden me also give
    me cause to smile and feel a bit of joy.  
           I find happiness and strength in knowing that I am lot like her
    in looks and personality. When I cook something from one of her recipes
    I smile and think that in numerous small ways she is and always will 
    be a part of my life.
           I don't know if the pain ever goes away or if it should. Perhaps
    what happens is that we begin to put it in perspective. Sorrow is as
    much a part of life as happiness. It comes with the territory of being
    human, but part of being human also includes recognizing how much
    others give to our lives.  
                                                      
                                                            Mike 

Re: .6, .7, .8  Thanks all for the tenderly expressed responses.

The holidays are considered "high risk" times for persons in grief.  Strong
upsurges of grief frequently accompany the holidays, especially the first
year or two.

The truth is, whenever a friend or loved one dies, we are *not* the same
and everything, including the holidays, will be different.  One of the
worst things we can do to ourselves or to one another is pretend that
"everything's okay" when it is not.  That doesn't mean we need to "cancel"
the holidays, but we may need to make some adjustments.

The following are offered as suggestions to help those grieving during the
holidays (adapted from "Alert," November, 1991):

1.  Don't try to force the holiday spirit.  The griever may alternately feel
happy and then experience sudden sadness.  Stay with your/their feelings
and let them happen.  Denial only causes our pain to fester.  Listen to
your/their feelings.  If feelings are allowed to surface, they are likely
to dissipate more quickly than if they are "stuffed."

2.  Decide ahead of time how you want to celebrate the holidays.  Some people
choose to keep "everything the same" and others want to change "everything."
Each person should listen to their own grief and have permission to celebrate
in the ways that best suits their needs at the time.

3.  Do something to remember the loved one.  "Remembering" is critical to
grief processing.  For the griever: Do something special to honor the
memory of the loved one -- give a donation in their memory; buy yourself a
gift "from" them; write them a letter telling them how much you miss them
and put it under the tree.  For those close to someone in grief: Don't
ignore their loss;  Don't pretend "everything is the same"; Do something to
remember the loved one, like: Send a plant (rather than flowers because it
is a remembrance that goes on living); Give a donation in honor of the deceased
(a gift to help others); Share your concern for the one in grief but try not
to overwhelm them with your grief; Prepare a meal or a box of goodies for them;
Include them in holiday festivities but respect their need to decline the
invitation.

Grief takes time.  And each person's time-table is uniquely their own.
Remember the greatest gifts you can give yourself and others during this time
are love, patience and understanding.

Peace,
Richard

    Re: .9
    
    I lost my father this October to Brain Cancer.....The recent
    thanksgiving was ~different~ and sure felt empty.
    
    The comments in .9 are helpful...
    
    Marc H.

    Mike,
    
    Your note touched me deeply (.8).  It is a loving tribute to your
    mother.
    
    Ro
    

    Not only is my father dying (my mother has arranged for hospice care
    which means 6 months or less to go) but I'm dealing with not having
    being with my immediate family for Thanksgiving and wondering what
    Christmas is going to be like. 
    
    This is one day at a time living.
    
    Bonnie

    Re: .10
    
    My heartfelt sympathies, Marc.
    
    God's peace be with you,
    Richard

    I just returned from Florida, where I was visiting my parents.  I live
    with the knowledge, as I have ever since my father's kidneys failed,
    that he is dying.  Since I live far from my parents, I don't get to see
    them often, and when I do I realize that it may be the last time I see
    my father.  Dialysis is wonderful in that it allows people without
    functioning kidneys to live, but it is also a serious strain on the
    body.

    I wonder if anyone has any thoughts about dealing with this kind of
    lingering, chronic condition, as opposed to a sudden death.  Does it
    prepare you better for the inevitable?  From what I have seen, this may
    not be true--the death still comes as a blow.  I think that no matter
    how ill my father might be, I still take his existence for granted; I
    think that deep down, I have been assuming that my parents will always
    be alive as long as I am.  On the other hand, perhaps this illness has
    allowed me to think about my and my father's shared mortality.  I don't
    even remember telling my father that I loved him until a few years ago
    when he was hospitalized for this condition.

    -- Mike

RE: .14

Mike, I think any death can be difficult to deal with.  I do feel if a person
lingers is may be hard to see them suffer.  At least there may be time for you
and him to communicate any and everything you've ever wanted to discuss with
him without having regrets of not having said them.  

There are stories in Reader's Digest of people that cared for others that
died after a long illness and most of them say they appreciated having the
extra time to talk with the person, to be in their company, and to experience
their uniqueness while still in their human form.

My father-in-law died in a automobile accident and so many things should have
been discussed but weren't.  I really don't think he knew how much he was
appreciated by his family.  Everyone should live each day as if it is their 
last.  Don't leave things unsaid that could be said today because the person
(or you for that matter) may not be here tomorrow.

Peace and love,

Judy

    Thanks, Judy.  You expressed the point that I hinted at; living with a
    lingering illness often pushes us into saying and doing things that we
    might have later regretted *not* doing.  The sad thing, and this is not
    an easy lesson, is that we really should be doing these things anyway. 

    -- Mike

    Mike
    
    In dealing with my dad I've been glad for the chance to see him and
    to tell him I love him. However, watching him go from an alert,
    intelligent vibrant man, to a peevish childlike old man as the
    cancer has attacked his brain, has been heart wrenching for
    all of us.
    
    Bonnie

    Bonnie, I agree, and I hope I wasn't giving the impression that I find
    anything good about watching a relative suffer through a lingering
    illness.
    
    -- Mike

Re.14
    

  Mike:

        Having watched my my mother die of cancer over the course
       of a couple of years I have some idea of what a person 
       goes through in having a loved one that is dying.
        The advice that has been given in the previous replies
       about taking advantage of the time you have to say what
       needs to said and to resolve those things that need to
       be taken care of is wise advice indeed.
         Even having taken the opportunity to do that I still must
       say that those two years were the single most horrible
       experience of my life. I felt anger, helplessness, fear, guilt,
       outrage, frustration and depression. Every time the phone range
       I wondered if it would be "that call". 
         It was very difficult to try and explain to people why I 
       "wasn't myself" much of the time and when I did try, well...
       death and dying are not a subject that most people in our
       society are comfortable with.  
         The most valuable person you can have in you life during
       such a time is someone who will just listen to you. Someone
       who will give you their shoulder to cry on when you really
       need one and give you a hug when you are wondering how you
       are going to get through the day. 
          It was a hard lesson to learn that this was not a "normal"
       time in my life and that trying to lead a "normal" life,
       at least for me, was just not possible.
          To address another of you points, I thought that I would 
       prepared for it when my mother died. I was wrong. When she
       died I was crushed. Deep down I knew that her pain and suffering
       were over and there was certain sense of relief about that, but
       it was cold comfort at best.
          I cannot say that, "I know how you feel or I know what you are
       going through". No one really understands what another person goes
       through at such time. My heart goes out to you and the best I can
       do is offer you support and love. Please feel free to send me mail
       or give me a call ( I'm in the book ) if you are so inclined.


                                                                 Mike
          
           
                  

    Thanks,  Mike.  I appreciate your comments.
    
    -- Mike

    RE: .17
    
    Bonnie.....had the same experience with my father. Cancer of the brain
    just seemed to destroy the person from the inside out! I could see
    changes every day.
    
    Marc H.

    Mike
    
    No, I wasn't assuming anything negative about your remarks, it is just
    very very hard for me to talk about this, and I tend to be rather
    abrupt when I do. It *hurts*. I've cried a few times but not as much
    as I need to.
    
    and thanks Marc, that is exactly what has been happening to him. He's
    like a little child when I call now. Mom had the doctor put him on
    valium because he had gotten so fretful and demanding, so now he's
    like a happy childish drunk. It is so heart breaking.
    
    Bonnie

    Been thinking about this subject for a couple of days, whether it is
    harder to lose a dear one unexpectedly or to suffer with them through a
    long illness.  Having been through both types of experiences I would
    say that any death experience is as unique as the person who passes on.
    When I was 19 I lost my uncle (who was like a father to me as I never
    saw my own father growing up and lived with or near my uncle during my
    youth) and less than three months later, the man I was engaged to in
    car accidents.  Looking back I realize it took me at least ten years to
    process that grief and trauma.  Even then, I guess I hadn't dealt with
    it entirely as a couple of years ago I was at a Shared Heart workshop
    where I tapped into deep sadness that I needed to release.  Mostly it
    had to do with not having closure, not being able to say goodbye and
    tell either of them how much I loved them and how much they meant to
    me.  
    
    Anyhow, it is my belief in God and that those we love are never really
    separated from us that has sustained me.
    
    Ro
    
    

The following composition was written by one of Leo Buscaglia's students.
To me, it was and is a profound reminder of how we too often delay expressing
our love and affection to those most dear to us.

Peace,
Richard

			Things You Didn't Do
			--------------------

Remember the day I borrowed your brand new car and I dented it?
I thought you would kill me, but you didn't.

And remember the time I dragged you to the beach and you said it
would rain and it did?  I thought you'd say, "I told you so!",
but you didn't.

And remember the time I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous
and you were?  I thought you'd leave me.  But you didn't.

And do you remember the time I spilled strawberry pie all over your
car rug?  I thought you'd hit me.  But you didn't.

And remember the time I forgot to tell you the dance was formal and
you showed up in jeans?  I thought you'd drop me, but you didn't.

Yes, there were a lot of things you didn't do.  But you put up with me.
And you loved me.  And you protected me.  And there were lots of things
I wanted to make up to you when you returned from Viet Nam....
...but you didn't.

I recommend highly a book entitled "Into the Light: How to Pray with the
Sick and Dying," by Ron del Bene.

The following represents a highly abbreviated version of a process which
is elaborated upon in the book and which was helpful in every instance
I used it while serving as chaplain.

When a family member or other loved one is dying there are four steps
you can take with that person which will help bring inner peace and
closure to both of you.

1. Say "Goodbye."

2. Ask forgiveness for any hurts or wrongs you may caused the other.

3. Forgive any hurts or wrongs the other may have caused you.

4. Remember something good about the the other or reminisce about something
   good you shared together.

What if the dying person miraculously recovers?  Wonderful!  Praise God!
It won't hurt your relationship a bit to have done these things.

If the other has died, these steps may be done alone, possibly during
prayer or meditation, while holding a mental image of the loved one.

Peace,
Richard