My Grief Story...

I boxed up my Halloween decorations today and heard the radiator clinking away, working to warm the house for the first chilly days of the season. As those sounds filled the space, I realized that we are full steam ahead into the holiday season. With Thanksgiving, and all of the joy and challenges it brings, at the end of this month I want to take a moment to focus on another day that’s got my attention. Thursday November 21st is National Children’s Grief Awareness Day. Many of us put so much energy into making the holidays special for the children in our lives. Did you know that 1 in 5 children will grieve the death of a close loved one at some point in their childhood? Children’s grief is as real and as complex as our adult grief. It is so important to honor their feelings and experiences, to allow them to grieve, and to devote energy to that much like we do to put smiles on their faces during the year’s more magical days.  

As I look towards November 21st, I think back to my own childhood – I’m lucky to have so many wonderful, warm memories of time spent together with my family on both ordinary days and holidays. But I also have many clear memories of feeling confused and overwhelmed by grief. Both of my paternal grandparents died when I was in elementary school, and the summer before I entered fifth grade my Uncle died by suicide. My Uncle. My Dad’s twin brother, who my brother and I completely, whole heartedly idolized and adored, was gone from my life in a flash. As an adult now, I can look back and understand the devastating toll those losses would have taken on my Dad, especially with them occurring in such close proximity to each other. As a child, I was frightened and alone. I was certain that I had done something to cause my Uncle’s death, and because he and my Dad were twins, I was afraid my Dad was going to die too. I made it my mission to try and determine what I had done to cause my Uncle’s death so that I could be sure not to make the same mistake and risk losing my Dad. You can imagine the tremendous amount of stress a child would feel thinking that they were somehow in control of preventing the death of a loved one.  

I wish that we had had a space to come together and grieve as a family. I wish that someone had let me know that what had happened was not my fault. I wish that someone had told me it was okay for my parents to be sad, to seem more withdrawn. Even to seem irritable or stressed…that those things did not mean that they did not love me anymore or would never seem like themselves again. I think my parents were afraid to talk to me about what had really happened, and for my Dad I think it was too painful. I wish that he had had other adults with similar experiences to share his pain with. 

I was, as children are, intuitive enough to sense that it wasn’t okay to ask about or share about what had happened, and so I never did. The end result was silence – we did not discuss the deaths, and sadly, did not spend time talking about my Dad’s family or cherishing their memories. My Dad died in 2010, and the lack of those conversations – those shared family memories – is so painful.  

I know that conversations like these can feel overwhelming. Sad. Scary. Awkward. At A Haven, we are here to help you navigate those painful moments. To provide a space where you can lay out your sadness, your worries, your middle of the night mind-racing thoughts. We are here to be alongside you the first time a memory brings a smile instead of a tear.  

We provide space for children to share with other children, for adults to share with other adults, and for everyone to have a chance to recognize that no matter how they are grieving they do not have to do it alone.  

This month, let the children in your life know that you can be a safe space for them, and we welcome you to come see our safe space and share your stories with us.