tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28166025584569142172024-02-07T00:35:01.760-06:00Thoughts on life and death... and everything in betweenCJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-4814126549879205912012-12-13T16:58:00.001-06:002012-12-13T17:58:07.678-06:00The story behind...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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... "When the Unthinkable Happens: The Death of a Child"</div>
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It was 1999 and we have already lost three children and had a blighted ovum pregnancy.</div>
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I was grieving so hard and had so many shattered dreams that I did not know what to do with myself. I was teaching US Law, but the rest of the time, I wallowed. </div>
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I spent my time teaching and volunteering for the MISS Foundation, but I truly needed something else to look out of the grief-bubble I was living in.</div>
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My dear husband, knowing myself more than I do, told me that he would make a financial effort so I could go back to school. I decided to enroll in a Master program which would help me help others in grief. I was accepted to the Master in Family Sciences program at the Pontifical Institute John Paul II for the Study of Marriage and Family.</div>
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On August 1999, I went back to school! I had classes every Thursday and had lots and lots of reading and research during the rest of the week. I can honestly say that I enjoyed every minute of it, though I confess that I had some trouble with psychology. My favorite subjects were theology and philosophy, bioethics and, obviously, law.</div>
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In late 2000, we were directed to begin working on our dissertation. By that time, I knew I wanted to write about child death, a topic close to my heart. Not only because of my personal experience, because reaching out to others in grief became my life-line during my worst moments.</div>
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I had read many, many books on parental grief by then, all of them in English, but none in Spanish. The lack of validation of my feelings, emotions and thoughts, in my own language was definitely a strong reason to sit down before my computer for hours at a time, after spending many, many hours reading and researching. Thus my self-help writing journey begun.</div>
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I began writing about life and death: when does life begin and what are the signs of death. Then I did write about grief and its "stages". The theory of well-define stages and the true mess real grief is. </div>
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I tried to explain to my target audience - bereaved families: moms, dads, siblings and grandparents - what to expect after a child died. I tried to validate all the craziness and the excruciating pain and the deep sorrow and the numbness and the rage and the guilt. </div>
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Then, I tried to tell society in general and extended family, friends, medical personnel, teachers, priests and pastors and rabbis what <i>does</i> help and what <i>does not</i> help the bereaved. Here, I did not only used the extensive biography I had read. I used my experience as a MISS Facilitator, a HOPE Mentor and as a bereaved mom.</div>
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I learned along the way that, though society gives parents the "right" to grieve depending the age of the child at the time of death, no matter the age or the cause of death, parental grief has more similarities than differences. I have learned that the bereaved community is compassionate and caring and supporting. </div>
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I have learned so, so much from each and every bereaved mom, dad, brother, sister, grandparent, aunt, uncle, friend that I wish I had the opportunity to thank each one, individually, for being the best of teachers.</div>
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I know I say this a lot, but I am truly honored and grateful that I have been given the chance to reach out and share the love and the pain and the MISSing and the remembering of each MISS member and bereaved parent I have met along the way.</div>
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Each child has a special place in my heart and I hold each family close in my prayers for gentler days, as it is the only thing, other than listen and be present, that I can do for them.</div>
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This book was finished in 2001. Though it spent most of its time since then in a drawer and in my computer's memory, I have added to it now and then. I am finally able to publish the Spanish version on December 2012 and I hope soon, I'll be able to publish the English one. </div>
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<br />CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-68262642599697074582012-09-18T11:27:00.002-05:002012-09-18T11:28:38.601-05:00Time flies...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container zemanta-img" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:WWStoryRome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: clear:left;"><img alt="The original Angel of Grief in Rome." border="0" class="zemanta-img-inserted" height="201" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/0c/WWStoryRome.jpg/300px-WWStoryRome.jpg" style="border: none; font-size: 0.8em;" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption zemanta-img-attribution" style="text-align: center; width: 300px;">The original Angel of Grief in Rome. (Photo credit: <a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:WWStoryRome.jpg" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a>)</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the <a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grief" rel="wikipedia" target="_blank" title="Grief">grief</a> is finite”</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/150038.Cassandra_Clare" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">Cassandra Clare</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">, </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/6674845" style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;">Clockwork Prince</a></i></div>
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Yes, time does fly when we are busy. </div>
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No, time does not heal all wounds, just ask the bereaved.</div>
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This is a lesson I learned early in my own grief: it does not matter how many days, months, years pass after the death of a loved one, what matters is what we do with the time we are given.</div>
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Grief equals love, that has been the key for me. </div>
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Paraphrasing Cassandra Clare, if love is infinite, grief is infinite.</div>
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Am I taking anyone's hope away? I hope not. </div>
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What well-used time in grief does for us, is to help us learn to live with the physical absence of our loved one.</div>
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The pain will lessen - most days. Going on with our daily life will become easier - some days. It may even come a day that we will forget our grief for prolonged periods of time.</div>
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Do not be surprised if suddenly, WHAM! Grief rears its head and floors us, because I repeat, grief and pain equals love. Embrace your pain, don't fight it, acknowledge your loss, take deep breaths, work through your feelings, emotions and thoughts and remember the good, peaceful, gentle days that have come your way after the tragic death of your loved one.</div>
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You may wander, why is she writing about death and grieving after two fiction posts? </div>
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Easy, my Aunt Karen has been gone for five months and she is deeply loved and MISSed, may she rest in peace.</div>
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To my beloved cousins A & S, just remember that no matter what, you are not alone. I love you!</div>
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CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-72364291075253601642012-08-22T18:37:00.001-05:002012-08-23T06:39:03.849-05:00Heart Race <br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Elizabeth Bennet is a veterinary nutrition researcher who might innovate the horse food industry by creating new formulas that improve the animals' speed, height and strength.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></em><em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Fitzwilliam Darcy is owner and CEO of Pemberley Ranch, the world's premiere horse breeding facility.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><em>She and her research team need his grant to get the patent that would make her work self-sustainable. He needs her expertise to increase his horses' potential.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 10px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">©Carla Roel de Hoffmann</span></div>
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Elizabeth Bennet arrived late to her office. She was in her filthy jeans, with dirty boots and a stained T-shirt. She’d been detained at the outdoors lab getting the latest results of her new horse food formula. Her “trial subjects” were doing better than expected: more muscles and less fat. They were alert and healthy and ready to run faster than ever.</div>
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She was proud of herself and her team, but now she was in a hurry. The Dean had finally pushed her to make an appointment with Mr. Darcy.</div>
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He was the owner of the best horse breeding ranch in the world, whom would be able to give the money the University needed to make the final tests on Lizzy’s new formula and get the patent they were yearning to be self-sufficient and prosper. Life would change for the best for their School if Lizzy had anything to say about it.</div>
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Earlier that day, she had left a nice, elegant, light blue dress with all the right accessories at her office to change as soon as she got the latest data. If not for <em>Cool Night Dash</em>’s difficulty to get into the scale, she would have been ready by now.</div>
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She Wi-Fi the new document with her latest data she was giving to Mr. Darcy as part of her presentation to print, when she heard a knock. <em>Damn it! I won’t make it if the Dean comes by to chat</em>, she thought as she said, “Enter!”</div>
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The door opened and a tall, handsome man came in. He was dressed in a dark suit with a golden tie and a white crisp shirt. His black shoes were impeccably clean and polished. His eyes fell on Lizzy.</div>
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“I am looking for Dr. Bennet, do you know where I could find him please?” He said arrogantly.</div>
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<em>Just another chauvinistic pig, as if women did not have what it takes to have a Ph.D. </em>Lizzy thought but replied, arching an eyebrow, “And you are?”</div>
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“I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I have an appointment with Dr. Bennet. I hope you are able to get your mentor here on time, as he is not here and we have many things to discuss.” He answered in an emotionless tone of voice.</div>
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Lizzy lifted her chin proudly, squared her shoulders as if she was wearing the designer dress she intended to, held out her dirty hand to him and said, “Good morning Mr. Darcy. I <em>am</em> Dr. Elizabeth Bennet and as you can see, I <em>am</em> on time for our appointment.”</div>
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Mr. Darcy looked uncomfortable for a moment and then extended his hand to shake hers, “I am sorry, I was expecting somebody completely different…”</div>
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“Yes, I understand. We women are not capable of holding high academic degrees and be successful in our field. Do not worry Mr. Darcy, I am used to deal with men like <em>you</em>. Please have a seat.” Now and again, Lizzy was treated as if, because of her gender, she was less in her field. She had worked hard to make a name for herself and get where she was.</div>
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“Miss Bennet, if you would…” Fitzwilliam said.</div>
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Lizzy opened her palms dismissively, interrupting him and exclaimed, “It is <em>Dr.</em> Bennet to you sir, and I know your time is precious, so please, let us forget anything else but the purpose of our meeting. Here,” she said handling him the stack of papers she prepared ahead, including the newly printed new data that made her unable to change, “may I get you anything to drink before we start?”</div>
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Fitzwilliam Darcy woke up early, excited about the prospect to finally meeting the elusive Dr. Bennet. He took care of his appearance and finally arrived at the University of Merryton early in the morning. He had an appointment with a Dr. Bennet.</div>
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He thought himself lucky because, according to the Dean, Dr. Bennet rarely met with entrepreneurs, so dedicated he was to his laboratory and its tests.</div>
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He had read about the Dr.’s success in horse food technology. As owner and CEO of Pemberley, the most recognized horse breeding ranch in the world, he wanted to know this person and get him on board so his horses would be even faster on the tracks.</div>
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Horsemen from around the world praised and coveted his horses. They had won all Racetrack Derbies and Classics. His horses’ blood went way back to the fastest horses in history and maybe, just maybe, Dr. Bennet’s food formula would improve their performance.</div>
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He got out of his gray Aston Martin and walked to the building that housed Dr. Bennet’s office.</div>
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We walked the long corridors until he got to the door that held the sign:</div>
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<strong><i>“Dr. E. Bennet</i></strong></div>
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<strong><i>“Merryton Foods”</i></strong></div>
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He knocked the door and nobody answered. He was able to listen to the sound of someone working inside. A printer maybe? He knocked again and he heard a strong, impatient “Enter.”</div>
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Cautiously, he opened the door and took a peek inside. He found a young woman with no make-up, her hair held in a ponytail, her dirty, informal attire made her look young, and showed her curvaceous body in full glory. Putting some papers inside a folder, she turned his way and stared at him.</div>
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Her fine eyes and the lovely face they were set in, took his breath away. His treacherous body getting aroused at the sight before him.</div>
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Trying to disguise his arousal and shifting from side to side to alleviate the pain he experienced, he said, “I am looking for Dr. Bennet, do you know where I could find him?”</div>
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The beautiful woman before him narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose before answering, “And you are?”</div>
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Fitzwilliam was surprised by the harsh tone of her voice. She certainly was one of Dr. Bennet’s interns. The kind that took care of the mentor they worked for and worshiped the floor he stepped in. Maybe this dirty vision - but vision nonetheless - was protecting this genius from interference. He replied, “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I have an appointment with Dr. Bennet. I hope you are able to get your mentor here on time, as he is not here and we have many things to discuss.”</div>
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The lady arched her brow and a glint of mischief crossed her eyes. She stood straighter and walking towards him, she extended her hand and replied, “Good morning Mr. Darcy. I <em>am</em> Dr. Elizabeth Bennet and as you can see, I am on time for our appointment.”</div>
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Fitzwilliam was embarrassed beyond anything he had felt before! Why had he assumed that Dr. Bennet was a man? Did he read it in some of the food engineering magazines he devoured? No, not that he could remember, but he was positive that in <em>none</em> of the extensive material he had gone through, he had seen a picture of this beautiful, intelligent woman before him. He shook her small, warm hand and said, in a low voice, “I am sorry, I was expecting somebody completely different…”</div>
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Dr. Bennet interrupted his apology, anger changing the look in her eyes, “Yes, I understand. We women are not capable of holding high academic degrees and be successful in our field. Do not worry Mr. Darcy, I am used to deal with men like you. Please have a seat.”</div>
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Fitzwilliam needed to apologize, to make her see that he did not dismiss her success because of her gender, that it was an honest mistake, no discrimination on his part, “Miss Bennet, if you would…”</div>
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She put her hands on her hips and tapping impatiently her right foot, she looked at him as he was beginning to apologize and raising her hand to silence him, she sputtered, “It is <em>Dr.</em> Bennet to you <em>sir</em>, and I know your time is precious, so please, let us forget anything else but the purpose of our meeting. Here,” she said pushing forward a green folder filled with papers, and asking brusquely, “may I get you anything to drink before we start?”</div>
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Fitzwilliam shook his head in the negative and took the seat she indicated while she sat behind her desk.</div>
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While she conducted the meeting effectively, he was having a hard time concentrating. Not ever had he been so moved by a woman and he had never been so ashamed as well.</div>
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He knew he had insulted Dr. Bennet, but it had been impossible for him, so far, to apologize to her. She had interrupted his attempts and now was talking about her chemical discoveries in the mixing of grains and soy to increase the muscle mass on horses and how her trial results came to be, depending on the type of horse and the activity they were expected to do.</div>
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Quarter Horses were faster and stronger, those horsemen using Dr. Bennet’s formula exceeded in every competition, no matter if it was racing or barreling.</div>
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The warmblood horses were doing better in their timing and the height they used to jump, obviously, they were stronger as well. He knew for a fact that the Olympic champion used the food mix developed by the woman before him.</div>
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The results on Race Thoroughbreds was simply amazing. All of her trial subjects were able to improve their speed index significantly. He could not believe how much difference her food formula made.</div>
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He could feel her eyes on him as she explained how she came to the current formula and how she measured the success in each type of horse.</div>
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If he could get her to work with him on Pemberley horses, he would be able to change forever the world of race horses. He knew he had the best bloods, but the sheer muscle power this food formula brought, was overwhelming.</div>
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Dr. Bennet’s care for detail was amazing! The dark haired beauty before him was the best researcher he had ever encountered. Not even the genetic genius he had hired for Pemberley was as meticulous as she, and Fitzwilliam was sure Dr. Bingley suffered from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder in the highest degree, though he was not complaining.</div>
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Please let me know what you think...</div>
CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-61390488279128269892012-08-13T12:33:00.002-05:002012-08-14T18:40:54.911-05:00A Promise<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbIL40hnDqxOlxx-Km1FVWYq7R9Vh9mjvHsXaUjCgqLk4uwUCgqS07oLYWRSFLtZVjELwwBzwZse3hdOCCKAt-yJ0RSAiFMwIbTPSaNTgPvHvyXTJ3I5DO3hNeeP4ZxJt9lr9fCeL1a5_/s1600/513H8gsnanL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-64,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbIL40hnDqxOlxx-Km1FVWYq7R9Vh9mjvHsXaUjCgqLk4uwUCgqS07oLYWRSFLtZVjELwwBzwZse3hdOCCKAt-yJ0RSAiFMwIbTPSaNTgPvHvyXTJ3I5DO3hNeeP4ZxJt9lr9fCeL1a5_/s1600/513H8gsnanL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA278_PIkin4,BottomRight,-64,22_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I am sharing with you the first chapter of the <a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/1153077-1153077-pride_and_prejudice" rel="rottentomatoes" target="_blank" title="Pride and Prejudice">Pride and Prejudice</a> Variation I wrote last April.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You can download the entire story @ amazon.com</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I am thankful beyond words for all the readers that have purchased it. I am honored that you allowed me to share a part of me with you.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>This is a work of fiction. Please respect my rights as an author. Do not copy any part of my creation without my written permission.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>©Carla Roel de Hoffmann, all rights reserved.</i></span></div>
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<span class="Chapter1"><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Chapter One</span></span><span style="font-family: "Snell Roundhand Bold"; font-size: 36.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Fifteen-year-old
Lizzy Bennet couldn’t believe her luck! Her aunt and uncle had invited her on a
trip to the Lake District. After a week of travels, they were staying in a
beautiful town, where her aunt had lived in her youth, Lambton. Her relatives
were visiting old friends and had let her wander by herself. She walked outside
the lovely town, towards some wilderness and a churchyard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">As she came closer to the walls, she heard someone sobbing.
Her heart broke at the sound! Lizzy couldn’t help herself and went to find the
source of such sadness. She found a little girl, no more than ten years of age,
dressed all in black, clutching a beautiful doll, also dressed in mourning, and
crying her eyes out, leaning on the wall of an old and crowded graveyard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“What has
happened to you?” Lizzy asked the blond little girl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“My father
died some weeks ago and my brother and I came to say goodbye before we travel
to London.” The little girl responded while a river of tears ran through her
cheeks and she frantically searched for a handkerchief from between her doll’s
dress.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzy
handed her handkerchief to the girl while saying, “I am very sorry for your
loss, is your mother traveling with you as well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No, my
mother died after my birth. It is only my brother and myself now…” and she
began crying in earnest again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzy
couldn’t resist the urge to console this fragile, lonely girl. She kneeled
before her and hugged her while rubbing her back gently. After some time, the
girl regained some composure and let go of Lizzy’s embrace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She blushed
as she saw the dampness her tears had left in the kind lady’s dress. “I am so
sorry, please forgive me”, she uttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She
followed her eyes to the front of her dress and laughed, “Do not fret, I have
three younger sisters and I am used to looking like this after they have hurt
themselves if I am close enough to assist and hug them. As you see, I am quite
used to embracing crying girls who are unable to find their own handkerchiefs.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The girl’s
lips curled upward a little and she met the older girl’s eyes. “Thank you for
your generosity. You do not know me and here you have spent quite some time
listening to my sorrows and trying to comfort me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Are you by
yourself?” Lizzy asked while turning around and not seeing anyone close.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No, I came
with my brother… but…” Tears ran through her cheeks again, “I couldn’t stand a minute
longer without crying... next to him in front of our parents’ graves… so I
retreated… so I could cry without making my brother sad… I am not sure if he
noticed me leaving…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You walked
here?” Inquired Lizzy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No, our
carriage went to town to pick up some things my brother needs to take to London
while we…” sighing the girl’s eyes welled up again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh… are
you going to live with someone else, some relatives? Is that why you are going
to London?” asked Lizzy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“No, my
brother is my guardian along with our cousin, the Colonel, he and I… We will
live together, he has some business to attend now that everything… I just
couldn’t stay by myself now… I begged him to allow me to accompany… I don’t
want him to be alone…” The girl uttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“You are a
good sister indeed, I am sure he feels better knowing you are taking care of
him.” Lizzy’s eyes softened as she complimented the girl.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Georgiana!
Georgiana!” The worried voice of a man came to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“In here
Fitzwilliam!” the young girl yelled, then lowering her voice, she added, “Oh
dear, he is worried, I hope he is not mad…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“I am sure
he just wants to know where you are. See, he noticed you were not by his side.”
Lizzy winked at the girl and she giggled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">A young man
came hurriedly from between the graves, his face etched with grief and worry.
As he saw his sister, his face relaxed, but the sadness in his eyes remained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Are you
well dear?” He ran and kneeled before the girl, taking her hands in his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes
Fitzwilliam, thank you… I was overwhelmed and needed to…” Her eyes went to the
lady standing aside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He noticed
the young lady and stood straight and bowed. His eyes met hers. The look of
compassion and understanding that he saw in her eyes took his breath away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">She
curtseyed and looking into his red-rimmed eyes she said, “Sir, I am very sorry
for the loss of your father.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Thank you,”
he murmured while swallowing the lump on his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">The sound
of a carriage startled the group. Lizzy has never seen such an elegant set of
horses and means of transport!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Dear, are
you sure you want to come with me all the way to London? We can go back to
Pemberley and you can stay with Mrs. Reynolds. I will be back in a fortnight.”
The man asked gently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes
Fitzwilliam, I am sure. I do not want to be alone after…” Her eyes welled up
again and he hugged her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“All right
then dear…” He said, leading his sister by the elbow, as the carriage stopped
on the other side of the graveyard’s walls and a footman jumped off the
carriage and opened the door for them to climb up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Georgiana
was almost at the door, when she suddenly turned and ran to hug the lady that
stayed behind, witnessing the love and devotion and sorrow those two siblings
were feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Lizzy’s
arms came around the little girl in surprise. As Georgiana let go and looked
up, Lizzy smiled at her and told her in a small voice, pointing to the doll,
“Take care of your brother and take care of that beautiful lady. May you
introduce us please?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Oh, she is
Anne, as my mother. Anne, may I introduce you to…?” Georgiana asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">“Elizabeth
Bennet” she curtseyed, “I am glad to make your acquaintance Lady Anne and Lady
Georgiana.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Georgiana
smiled and hugging her again said, “Thank you.” She finally let go and ran to
the carriage where an older lady was waiting inside, as she sat, Lizzy heard
the woman admonishing the young girl for God knew what.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Fitzwilliam
was shocked by his sister’s reaction. She was always shy and reticent with
strangers. Had she hugged and talked to a stranger and smiled?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">He met
Lizzy’s eyes, bowed and murmured “thank you”, turned around and climbed onto
the carriage. As soon as the door closed and the footman sat aside from the
driver, the horses were leaded forward and they were gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lizzy
watched the carriage go with tears in her eyes, her heart breaking at the sight
of those two sad, lonely, bereaved siblings. Looking frantically for her
handkerchief as the tears rolled down her cheeks, she began to laugh. Georgiana
had taken it with her! She had no other choice to use the back of her hand and
return to the inn to get another one.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
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CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-23102158753555396562012-04-25T10:40:00.005-05:002012-04-25T10:41:10.938-05:00In memoriam, Karen Roel (1946 - 2012)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_twn7-NzxTOj9D88berlIOHpKB9fOIrOzkXgyc0ScSVBZdAek9GUr6oJPw0m2N83Hnw2ZFCdgARYUXouIpiWBxONrzJp6GTU4WOxR_XSoXl24XtKuz_WFRyH4fl8YYlBVgAWUZQIc2vU/s1600/562777_10150757679028909_709758908_225242407_1588345531_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_twn7-NzxTOj9D88berlIOHpKB9fOIrOzkXgyc0ScSVBZdAek9GUr6oJPw0m2N83Hnw2ZFCdgARYUXouIpiWBxONrzJp6GTU4WOxR_XSoXl24XtKuz_WFRyH4fl8YYlBVgAWUZQIc2vU/s1600/562777_10150757679028909_709758908_225242407_1588345531_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><i>Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~From a headstone in Ireland</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Karen Roel, was the 5th and only girl in a family of 6. She was born of César Roel, a successful Mexican lawyer, and Josephine Schreurs, and accomplished violinist.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Being a child of a violin player, she grew up surrounded by music and creativity. Two of her older brother were rock stars in the late 50's and 60's. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">She recorded her own albums, but she made a career on composing music for commercials and movies. Along with her younger brother, Eduardo, she won an "Ariel" (the Mexican equivalent to an Oscar) for the score of <i>"Rojo Amanecer"</i>, a movie portraying the tragic events occurred on Tlaltelolco on October 2, 1968. Her work since then, had been nominated for several awards.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Her pride and joy were her two daughters: Amanda and Sabina. Her best gift in life, her beautiful grandson León, with whom she shared birthday.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Her husband died of a massive heart attack 27+ years ago, so she had to face being a single mother since her girls were 8 and 5 years old.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Four years ago, she was diagnosed with Lymphoma. She fought hard to continue living. She didn't want to loose a day with her daughters and grandson.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">After her second round of chemotherapy, she was declared in remission. At the beginning of April, she was rushed to the hospital due to complications to her liver and kidneys.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">As the fighter she was, she put all she had to get well. Sadly, will is not what she needed to recover as her body began to shut down.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">She died peacefully at 10:20am on Tuesday, April 17, in the arms of her beloved daughters and in the presence of one of her sister-in-law, her younger nephew, two of her nieces and a dear friend of her girl's.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I was honored to be chosen -by life, by her and by God- to be present at that powerful, life-changing moment, once again witnessing the greatness of love, as it conquers death.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">As her oldest niece, I can say that she was a loving aunt. She had a wonderful sense of humor. She was always nice and caring.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I saw her frustrated, annoyed, happy, sad, worried... but never angry. Maybe I was lucky, but I don't think so.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I consider myself lucky to have spent many days of my youth at her house, listening to her play her piano. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">She was gracious enough to help us with our school projects when they involved music, I remember many happy hours at her recording studio.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">When my grandma died, I spent many hours with her, cleaning the house and reading letters and papers and stuff. Those moments, alone with my aunt, at grandma's house, are treasured memories I will always hold close to my heart, as we were able to share many family stories among us.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Dear aunt Karen, thank you so much for being an important part of my life. Please know that you will be always loved and MISSed...</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">... Until we meet again,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #330000; font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">C</span></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-9362283254104155672012-03-21T13:40:00.002-05:002012-03-21T13:44:57.819-05:00A personal perspective on grief and clinical depression<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left;"><a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Ivan_Kramskoy-_Unconsolable_Grief.JPG" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/7/70/Ivan_Kramskoy-_Unconsolable_Grief.JPG/300px-Ivan_Kramskoy-_Unconsolable_Grief.JPG" alt="Ivan Kramskoy- Unconsolable Grief" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="493" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left; width: 300px; ">Ivan Kramskoy- Unconsolable Grief (Photo credit: <a target="_blank" href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Ivan_Kramskoy-_Unconsolable_Grief.JPG">Wikipedia</a>)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663300;">There is no excuse for the lack of compassion...</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>First of all, lets get the terminology out of the way, just to know that we are standing on firm ground:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Depression is defined as "a biological-based mental illness that can have lasting emotional and physical effects, such as feelings of worthlessness, guilt, or indecision; difficulty concentrating; change in appetite or sleep habits; loss of energy, interest, or pleasure; loud, violent, troubled, agitated, slowed, or anti-social behaviors; drug or alcohol abuse; and difficulty with interpersonal relationships."</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>A depressive disorder is an illness that involves the body, mood, and thoughts. It affects the way a person eats and sleeps, the way one feels about oneself, and the way one thinks about things. A depressive disorder is not the same as a passing blue mood. It is not a sign of personal weakness or a condition that can be willed or wished away. People with a depressive illness cannot merely "pull themselves together" and get better. Without treatment, symptoms can last for weeks, months, or years. Appropriate treatment, however, can help most people who suffer from depression.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Symptoms of depression include:</span></p> <ul> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Feelings of hopelessness, pessimism.</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You feel that life is/has been "passing you by"</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You don't want to see people or are scared to be left alone</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Social activity may feel hard or impossible</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Feelings of guilt, worthlessness and helplessness</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Persistant sad, anxious or empty mood</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You feel exhausted a lot of the time, with no energy</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You feel as if even the smallest tasks are sometimes impossible</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You spend a lot of time thinking of what has gone wrong, what will go wrong or what is wrong about yourself as a person.</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Loss of interest in previously pleasurable activities</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You feel a burden to others</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You sometimes feel that life is not worth living</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You feel no confidence in yourself</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You have difficulty sleeping or waking up</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">You have changes in weight, significant loss or excess gain</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Restlessness, fatigue</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Physical aches and pains, sometimes with fear of being seriously ill</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Thoughts of death and suicide</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Increased Heat beat</span></li> <li style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Poor concentration, memory or attention</span></li> </ul> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Grief, on the other hand, is the internal process we go through</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px; color: #000000"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">after a loss.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It is the internal part of loss, how we feel. The internal work of grief is a process, a journey. It does not end on a certain day or date. It is as individual as each of us.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Grief is real because loss is real. Each grief has its own imprint, as distinctive and as unique as the person we lost. The pain of loss is so intense, so heartbreaking, because in loving we deeply connect with another human being, and grief is the reflection of the connection that has been lost.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It does not have a clear beginning or clear end. It is a reflexion of feelings surrounding the loss. As we don't get over the loss of someone, we have to learn to live with that loss. Eventually, we will be able to remember and honor our loved one without feeling pain.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We shall grief as long as we need to.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The difference between mourning and grief is that the first is the external part, the actions we take, the rituals and the customs we have when someone dies. Grief, instead, is the internal part of the loss.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Ok, now why are all these people - including annoying me - raising their voices and filling your FB, Twitter, email and another way of communication, with words such as "DSM", "APA", "Bereavement Exclusion", among others?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The crux of the matter is that the members of the APA (American Psychiatric Association) are revising the DSM, which is the catalog of mental illnesses and disorders and are seriously considering getting rid of the bereavement exclusion.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Up until today, a physician would wait to diagnose someone with clinical depression if their patient had suffered a loss. That is what is called the "Bereavement exclusion".</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The proposal to the new edition of the DSM, its 5th, indicated that a person should be treated as clinically depresses just after TWO WEEKS, yes that is correct, just FOURTEEN DAYS following the death of a loved one.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Remember the differences between mourning and grief? It might be the case that the DSM V committee confusing both… That is something to consider.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now lets get to my story... The story of my illness and my personal and professional experiences with death and loss and the bereaved, so you may get why I chose to use the words "personal perspective" on this post:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>When I was eighteen years old, I was diagnosed, for the first time in my life, with clinical depression, or "major depressive disorder" as it is listed on the DMS IV.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Sadly, it is a trade that I share with several family members and thankfully, I had received the appropriate treatment since then.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was taught, back then, to accept my depression and to learn to live with it. I have been living with my illness as any diabetic lives with his/hers. I am not different from anyone. I just need to be careful with my mood swings and my energy level.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have consulted many, many doctors over the last twenty three years of my life. I have been lucky enough to find the right psychiatrist at the precise moment of my life. I am grateful beyond words for them and the use of their knowledge to help me deal with my depression.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Let me tell you something more about my illness:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My symptoms at one time or another, had included each and every one of those enlisted above... yes, I did contemplate committing suicide at one point.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Extreme fatigue is the symptom that dominated my depression. It is still my <i>depression demon</i>.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>When I was not treated, just getting out of bed and brushing my teeth, took away all the energy I had and still, I inevitably, had the rest of the day ahead of me. The effort of daily activities put me in a foul mood, not because I was angry at anyone, simply because I lacked the internal battery I needed to fulfill them. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The medicines I have taken over the years, had been extremely helpful in balancing my energy level, remember my diabetes - depression comparison?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Of course I get tired, but I am able to get throughout the day and the rest I get at night is enough to charge my batteries as a healthy person does.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>When I was in my late twenties, my husband and I lost three children prior to their birth due to a balanced maternal translocation. In just two years, we had to deal with their deaths.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>At that moment in time, I was already in psychiatric treatment, getting the antidepressants that I have needed to treat my symptoms, do you remember me telling about extreme fatigue as my depression demon? That is what I am referring to.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My psychiatrist was compassionate enough not to treat my grief as clinical depression, she still is. She knew well enough that I had reasons for feeling as I was. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She never medicated me to make me feel numb. She never urged me to get over the intense pain I felt over the death of my children. She sat down with me, twice a week and listened. She is a good example of what a doctor should be, according to the Hippocratric Oath she took when she became one.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After a couple of years and working very hard though my grief, both within the MISS community and with my psychiatrist during our therapy sessions, I began volunteering for the MISS Foundation.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>By then, I was able to reach out to other bereaved parents. I got certified as Support Group Facilitator and working with the bereaved was the reason behind the Masters in Family Science that I earned at the beginning of the century.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have been honored to walk along with many, many bereaved parents through their grief journey and to know their children through their loving eyes. It does not matter the cause of death or the age the child had when he/she died.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have met and worked with bereaved parents under medication, given just after the death of their child. Do you want to know what happens to them? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Their grief gets relegated to be dealt with for a later time. The medication they get is unnecessary. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Why? Because they are grieving, they are not depressed!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They have to work through their feelings, emotions and thoughts, they have to reconsider the plans they had for their life, they have to live with the daily reality that their child has died and will not come back. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They have to understand that there won't be kisses and hugs, long talks and arguments, graduations and weddings, nor will there be grandchildren from that particular child.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Do see the depth of their situation? Can you understand the magnitude of their suffering? Do you truly believe that medication will integrate the death of their child?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Bereaved parents, as any bereaved person, need time. First, to let the reality of the tragedy sink in on their brains. That takes between three weeks and two months.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Then, the grief process really starts... Its continuum is a roller coaster of emotions and feelings and thoughts, which may appear similar to some symptoms of depression, but are not. They are normal and natural and expected within the grief journey these parents embarked without their will.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>“Compassionate Human Contact is what they need, not medication!”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>How do I -and every HOPE mentor, Support Group Facilitator and Online Support Group Moderator with in MISS- work with these families?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Well, I give them my time, freely. As I will never get it back, I know how important every minute I am before a grieving parent is. I am willing to listen and sit with them as close or as far away as they need me to be.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I am willing to sit along with them in that dark, pit hole grief takes us once in a while and wallow with them, and then, holding hands get out to the world again.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Was I able to explain the difference between grief and depression?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Was I able to make clear the difference between compassionate care - from you physician, your social worker, your clergy person, your family, your friends, your support group - and medication?</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I hope I had... After all, I am not in the mental health business, I am a lawyer!</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have said what I needed to say.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Please think about what you have read, and let me know what your thoughts are.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634; min-height: 17.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 12.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; font: 14.0px Verdana; color: #996634"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">References:</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 21.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Courier New'; color: #370079"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><a href="http://grief.com/questions-answers/on-grief-grieving/">http://grief.com/questions-answers/on-grief-grieving/<span style="font: 12.0px 'Courier New'; letter-spacing: 0.0px; color: #370079"></span></a></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Courier New'; color: #370079"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128874986">http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128874986<span style="font: 12.0px 'Courier New'; letter-spacing: 0.0px; color: #370079"></span></a></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Arial; color: #370079; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Courier New'; color: #370079"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><a href="http://www.depression-guide.com/dsm4.htm">http://www.depression-guide.com/dsm4.htm</a></span></p></span></div></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=74a5b544-e92c-403e-9612-b2602188b025" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a></div></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-52965027934802787712012-02-09T18:07:00.008-06:002012-02-09T19:29:13.477-06:00February 10, 1982<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPa56j88ciOUSJXmGVL8wux1HjgywG1FOu6la_iAdAF3UiyP2wYPZhseBGdYZJ64ey7z1EO7M1fOMi0pWEa1oCU4LlmwWhkRZG65Af1qZOZHFcww2-ulMR33oxpKlVJSdCEybDZcUj27pl/s1600/sc008fc914.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPa56j88ciOUSJXmGVL8wux1HjgywG1FOu6la_iAdAF3UiyP2wYPZhseBGdYZJ64ey7z1EO7M1fOMi0pWEa1oCU4LlmwWhkRZG65Af1qZOZHFcww2-ulMR33oxpKlVJSdCEybDZcUj27pl/s320/sc008fc914.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707310293398455858" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;">In loving memory of César Roel González, beloved husband, father and grandfather</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;">10/09/1909 - 2/10/ 1982</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">A little girl, very close to her extended family, who lived next door to her grandparents, was nervous on that particular day.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Her paternal grandfather had been in the ICU for the last two weeks. His health had been declining for the last couple of years mainly due to his cigarette addiction, but this was serious. A tragic accident happened, maybe related to his previous health problems but nobody knew the whys and the what ifs. Her parents hadn't been home on the past 15 days.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">She had been invited to go to an amusement park for the birthday of a classmate. She didn't feel like going but her mom insisted. She had a good time with her friends, but her heart was heavy with worry. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">After the girls arrived to the birthday girl's home, her mom called her to let her know that her granddad was doing "better", so mom needed to stay put at the hospital, therefore, she was to go home with another friend's mom.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"Mom, are you sure he is better?" - asked the little girl</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"Yes sweetie, he is getting out of the ICU" - replied the mom</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Two days later, her parents came home dressed in black. They summoned the girl and her two younger brothers to their bedroom. With tears in their eyes, they told their children that their granddad died 2 days before and he was already buried.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">After some crying, the children were instructed to wash their faces and get ready. They were going to their grandparent's house to attend a Mass in memory of their beloved grandfather. "No crying please, your grand mom hasn't shed a tear and she need all of us to be strong" - were the last words she heard before going to her room to get ready.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">No crying was allowed after that...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">He got out of the ICU because he died. The mom didn't had the strength to tell her the truth: he had hours left. Her parents and her aunts and uncles decided to hurry through the wake and the burial. Everyone was emotional drained and wanted to get it over with. The children were "protected" by being left in the darkness for a couple of days.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">That little girl was 11. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">That was one of her first encounter with death. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">That little girl was me.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">No healthy mourning complicated the grieving process. Children need to have a strong role model in the difficult moments of their lives, so they can integrate the tragedies of life, overcome the worst and learn from the experience.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Yes, I did have strong role models: for suppressing my feelings, for burying my emotions and for not grieving in a healthy way.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">It took me years of therapy to work through my complicated grief, that only got worse as other losses and the death of my own children. I didn't have the psychological tools needed to mourn and grieve in a healthy way.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Honestly, I no longer blame my parents - because I blamed them for a loooooooong time. I now know that they did what they could with the tools they had at hand. They are experts hiding their pain, it is a survival mechanism. They did their best after the traumatic and tragic death of my grandfather.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I don't know if my grandfather's death and the subsequent suppressing of our feelings and emotions affected my other family members. It is a topic that became a taboo in our family, so I haven't talked about it within my family circle in the last 30 years. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Tragic, I know.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Maybe that particular moment in time impacted me so much, that I became a obsessed with death and dying. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Maybe my complicated grief and the pain of cleansing my old wounds has pushed me to work with the bereaved as soon as possible. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Maybe that little, frightened, hurt girl in me has found the strength to overcome her pain and reach out to others and be very, very vocal about healthy grieving.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Today I repeat the words of William Faulkner: </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"Given the choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief". </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">-Because love is stronger than death...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">P.S.- Please, please don't let this story repeat. Face your pain and work through it, be a strong, healthy grief-role model for the kids in your life. If you are unable to do so, reach out and find someone that will be able to teach your kids how to grieve in a healthy way.</span></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=39889afb-1b09-40e2-a0ce-557609eaa147" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-12195418817269212742012-02-02T17:23:00.008-06:002012-02-02T18:09:28.663-06:00"What we can mention, we can manage"<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left;"><a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Comfort_in_Grief.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e5/Comfort_in_Grief.jpg/300px-Comfort_in_Grief.jpg" alt="English: Comfort in Grief" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="450" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left; width: 300px; ">Image via <a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Comfort_in_Grief.jpg">Wikipedia</a></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Regarding death, we, as a society, often refuse to even mention the "D" word.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Our inner selves believe that if we don't call for it, death won't touch our lives.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Again, I have terrible news for you: death will touch your life. Either because you WILL die, without any doubt; or someone you love will die.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">When it comes to children and grief, we usually expect children to:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><ul><li style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Act and react as adults</span></li><li style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Disregard the death of a loved one because we think they "don't understand" what is going on.</span></li></ul></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Since 1999, I began working with the bereaved. I learned that if a child is old enough to love, he/she is old enough to grieve. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">The child might not acknowledge the death of a close relative or friend, but s/he will recognize that those around him/her are stressed out. Depending the developmental age a child has when facing the death of a loved one, his/her understanding will vary.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I firmly believe that those who work within a school and interact with children, have to be prepared to face - and to offer support to - a grieving child.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">If you have been working within the school system and have never had to face a grieving student, you have been very lucky. Or you haven't acknowledge that one of your students was grieving.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Grief is a natural response to a loss, it is not exclusively to death. It might have been that your student lost something material, that is not important to you. It might have happened that your student lost someone important in his/her life because that someone moved. Maybe your student lost the stability of a loving home because his/her parents divorced.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Have you thought of the pain that a certain situation has brought to your student? Have you minimized their grief because their loss is not important to you?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">When you are facing the bereaved, the most important thing to remember is: IT IS NOT ABOUT YOU!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Your feelings, your emotions, your thoughts, your experiences do not matter. When you have to offer support to a grieving child, no matter the source of his/her pain, you have to be able to put yourself out of the picture and focus on him/her.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">You have to recognize that you don't have the power to make him/her understand what happened, to take his/her pain away, to make things better. The only thing you can do is listen and be there.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I have lived by this principle for the last decade of my life: "There is no excuse for the lack of compassion, not whatsoever"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Ignorance, our own inability to face grief, our selfishness, our problems, the lack of time are no excuses in my book for the lack of compassion. When put in a situation of setting an example for younger ones, the crime is even graver.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">It is true: if we can mention a situation, we can work through it and we'll manage. This is a paradigm that we have to learn to live with.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">If we can mention death and pain and suffering and grief, we can work through all the feelings, emotions and thoughts they bring and we'll be able to manage.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">If we can talk about death and grief with our charges, our students, we'll be able to help them through a trying stage in their lives and we'll manage.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">In the case you are unable to mention the above, please, please have someone capable to do so. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">There are thousands of resources for grieving children, your obligation is to know them. There is no excuse not to have them.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Please, I beg of you, don't let a child grief alone because you are unable to be a compassionate human being!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:78%;">The title of this entry was taken from the text written by Linda Goldman, regarding how to help grieving children within the school setting:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:78%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:78%;">http://www.mcdes.org/pdfs/L%20Goldman.Grief%20article.pdf</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><br /></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-30391657703695699372012-01-21T11:35:00.006-06:002012-01-21T12:39:31.160-06:00Facing our demons: Children and Death<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left;"><a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Angel_of_grief_lathrop_post.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/81/Angel_of_grief_lathrop_post.jpg/300px-Angel_of_grief_lathrop_post.jpg" alt="English: Scan of Postcard "856 - Angel of..." style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="188" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left; width: 300px; ">Image via <a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Angel_of_grief_lathrop_post.jpg">Wikipedia</a></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>On December 26th, a tragedy happened:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>A family of four were enjoying their time together, when suddenly, the mom fainted. Everything was done to bring her back. Nothing helped: she died of a pulmonary embolism in the prime of her life. She left a loving husband and two beautiful daughters, ages 7 and 4.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I know of this tragic event, because one of my daughters is a classmate of the older girl.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As my girls attend a Catholic school, I thought things were going to be handled well. How wrong I was!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The first Friday after classes resumed, they celebrated a Mass in memory of this loving, beautiful wife and mom. Sadly, the school principal didn't consider necessary for the girls' classmates to attend. I understand the 4 year old children would be difficult to manage, but the 2nd grade students couldn't be there? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Her excuse: the lack of space inside the school chapel. </span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">The truth: there was space enough for 40+ little girls to attend and learn how to be compassionate and caring towards a suffering friend, but someone was not facing their demons and their lack to be compassionate.</span></li></ul></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last Wednesday's afternoon, I got an email from the school administrators letting me know that my little girl <i>HAD</i> - as it already had happened -attended a class with the school chaplain in which they talked about the tragedy that happen upon this beautiful family.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now, let me get this right. I am not opposed to the fact that the school chaplain, which is a beautiful, compassionate, intelligent man spoke with my girl and her classmates about death.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>What makes me mad beyond words is the fact that they did it without letting us parents know, beforehand, the nature of the class and its contents!!!! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I wouldn't be angrier if they spoke about pornography to my children without letting me know first. I wouldn't be more upset if they spoke about masturbation to my 8 year old girl!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>How dare they violate my primary right, as a mother, to be the first to talk about this life-altering subject to my own child?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As many adults of my generation, I was brought up in a culture that thinks that because we do not talk about death, we can keep it at bay. A society that keeps death closeted in a sterile hospital and then in closed coffin and expects us to mourn and grieve in a "well-bread" way: avoiding others feeling discomfited because our open display of emotions.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We expect our children to understand it quickly and quietly and then, move on with their lives, happy and carefree as they were before the reality of life got the best of their childhood.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Well, let me tell you something: death is the only reality that we know, for sure, we will face. We tend not to think about it because we fear it. I do believe that we fear more the death of those we love that our own death, but still, we fear it all the same.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have bad news for you: Death is a messy thing. Mourning and grief are messier. When a loved one dies, part of our own life dies as well. The loss might be unbearable; the pain, excruciating. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Our life changes radically: nothing will be the same as it was before. We need the time and space to face what happened, to work through our thoughts, feelings and emotions. Probably, our physical health might be compromised for a time being. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As we embark on our grief journey, we need all the help we can get, although we might not even be aware that we need it. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The grief we face after the death of a loved one does not resolve itself in a couple of months, or even in a couple of years. We need to be aware of this reality and make the best of it. This is what makes us stronger. As in the case of these little girls, they will revisit their grief over their loving mommy's death over and over, as they grow up and understand it in a different light and when significant events in their lives take place.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now, I strongly believe that compassion is a learned human virtue. We are used to think that because we are human, we are compassionate. Well, I am sorry to disappoint you. Instinctually, we avoid pain. Even the one others suffer. When we see others in pain, we cringe inside either because it hurts us seeing another in pain or because it reminds us that it could be me the one that suffers.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Compassion has to be taught. The best way to teach it is with our example. It the case of the classmates of these girls, the school - being a Catholic school, staving to make good, virtuous women of all their student - lost a golden opportunity. They should have been present on that Mass. Lending their loving presence and strength to that friend that needed to feel surrounded by love and understanding. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now, back to the other charge I lay here. Another golden opportunity was lost as well. I believe that trying to explain death to those little girls, considering their developmental stage and opening a trusting communication channel is an honor that should be cherished. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I confess I am a devout Catholic. This fact does not blind me to the need to understand things in a human, rational plain, and then elevate them to the theological point of view. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>How easy is to talk about God's will when you are not in pain! How easy is to tell other to accept God's will when your loved ones are alive, happy and healthy!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I, as a parent, was wrongly deprived of my primary right to educate my girl about the truth of death. What is left to me is to pick up the pieces and try to make the best of it, and correct all the misconceptions my girl got last Wednesday, with all the lack of information I have because the school didn't gave us parents the content of that class and I have to work from what my 8 year old girl understood or misunderstood.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Even though, my area of expertise is parental grief, I do understand grief, as a 13 year old volunteer to The MISS Foundation. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have read many, many books regarding children and teen grief. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have had to work hard through my own misconceptions about death and my own complicated grief over the death of a beloved grandparent, as I did as society expected me to do at the time of his death and never got the chance of grieving his tragic death in a healthy way.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I have had the honor to walk along others through their grief journeys after the untimely death of their loving children. I have seen the consequences of bad death education and its repercussions in the grieving process, complicating the very difficult grief journey of a bereaved parent.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So, don't you think it is time to face our own demons in order to help others in need? Don't you think it is time to face yourself in the mirror and accept your limitations? Don't you think it is time to accept we can make mistakes, and even with the best of intentions, hurt others in need?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I urge all of you to look inside yourself. I urge you see if your incapacity to face pain and suffering is affecting others, is challenging your ability to educate and care for those you should teach how to be better.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I invite you to accept the reality of death in your own life. I invite you to face the fact that death will touch each and everyone of us, one way or another. I invite you to deal with your demons and be there, be really there, for those close to you that are in grief.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>If, after looking inside yourself, you are brave enough to acknowledge that you don't have it in you to be there, please, I beg of you, look for someone who can lend the support you are unable to lend. It is nothing wrong with this. I applaud your honesty and bravery!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I wish, with all my heat and soul, that non of you were to feel the pain and grief of loosing a loved one to death. I wish, with all my heart, that I had the ability to shelter you from grief. Sadly, I know I can't.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>If you have a moment, please say a little prayer for the family I told you about. Please say a little prayer for all the families that are going through the terrible tragedy of the death of a loved one. Thanks.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=30bb1d47-2d73-4a2e-ab13-e20412a6c70d" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-70747962045647125712011-12-16T17:31:00.003-06:002011-12-16T17:46:31.800-06:00Happy birthday Jane!!!!<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: right;"><a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Jane_Austen_coloured_version.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:right; clear: right;"><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d4/Jane_Austen_coloured_version.jpg/300px-Jane_Austen_coloured_version.jpg" alt="Jane Austen" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="371" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: right; width: 300px; ">Image via <a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Jane_Austen_coloured_version.jpg">Wikipedia</a></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';">Today, December 16, 2011, is <a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Austen" title="Jane Austen" rel="wikipedia">Jane Austen</a>'s birthday. She was born 236 years ago.</span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I can honestly say that I read her novels a couple of years ago. I downloaded her books for free on my <a class="zem_slink" href="http://www.amazon.com/Kindle-Wireless-Reader-Wifi-Graphite/dp/B002Y27P3M%3FSubscriptionId%3D0G81C5DAZ03ZR9WH9X82%26tag%3Dzemanta-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3DB002Y27P3M" title="Kindle Wireless Reading Device, Wi-Fi, 6" Display, Graphite - Latest Generation" rel="amazon">Kindle</a>. I can truly say that I got hooked. I became an Austen fan in my late thirties.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Since then, I can tell you that I have read every prequel, sequel and variation that has been written. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I am an avid reader. I read about a book a day, some days, even more! I download most of my novels, but when I don't find anything new to read, I always go back to one of Miss Austen books.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">My husband makes fun of me every time I am engrossed in one of Austen-inspired books. I honestly believe he thinks I've lost my mind. He wonders how can I spend so much time with the same characters.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">How? Because they are wonderful! She created amazing characters and some of the authors that have continued their stories have done a beautiful job.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">So today, after so, so many months of absence from my blog, I am coming back to thank Miss Austen for her novels, for giving me - and thousands others - hours of joy, pain and sorrow with her beloved characters.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Happy birthday Jane!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">By the way...</span></div><div><br /></div><div><div><p align="center"><a href="http://www.strangegirl.com/emma/quiz.php" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.strangegirl.com/emma/quizlizzy.jpg" width="200" height="300" alt="I am Elizabeth Bennet!" /><br /><br /></a></p></div><div><a href="http://www.strangegirl.com/emma/quiz.php" target="_blank">Take the Quiz here!</a><p></p></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_e.png?x-id=fe28ad10-b127-430f-a5d5-e716567f2eab" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-25963503304413142142011-05-10T11:21:00.005-05:002011-05-10T11:42:59.715-05:00The real meaning of Mother's Day...<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31158400@N06/4121439943" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2729/4121439943_38d56e39ec_m.jpg" alt="White flowers" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="180" height="240" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left; width: 180px; ">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/31158400@N06/4121439943">Gabludlow</a> via Flickr</span></span><blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">To all mothers whose children died before their time...</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I decided to come out of the closet: I hate Mother's Day!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know "hate" is a strong word, but I really do hate the date. Why? Because it has become a Hallmark holiday. Because I don't need a special day to tell my mom I love her. Because I don't like how consumerism force my children into feeling bad if they don't "give" me a gift to show me their love. Because I don't need a special day to go out and eat with my family. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">OK, I admit that the date has become more of a nuisance since my oldest baby died. But I can honestly say that I don't like the date at all, even now when I have three living children that fill my days with love and my arms with their hugs.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don't need flowers or gifts to know I am appreciated by my children and my husband. I don't want them to feel obligated to do something special for me on a set date. I appreciate their small gestures everyday, those are the ones that let me know that I am loved.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So, back to the title of today's post. I am here quoting my dear friend <a href="http://www.kotapress.com/section_articles/holidays/motherFatherDays/jones_realMeaning.htm">Kara</a>, from whose blog I copy the following:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; color: rgb(102, 102, 102); "><p style="margin-top: 0px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 12px; line-height: 1.25em; "></p><blockquote><p style="margin-top: 0px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 12px; line-height: 1.25em; ">In 1870, Julia Ward Howe wrote and published a protest against the carnage and violence of the Civil War -- this was a protest led by WOMEN WHO HAD LOST THEIR SONS!!!!! It was bereaved mothers who started this!!!! Hallmark is WAY OFF the mark with the way this holiday is commercialized and propagated now, BUT in the beginning, this was a day of protest, an expression of horrified grief from bereaved mothers who were parted from their sons!! Wow. Okay. That's a different spin.<br /><br />So what did Julia have to say back in 1870? You read and see for yourself:</p><blockquote><p style="margin-top: 0px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 12px; line-height: 1.25em; ">Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be that of water or of fears!<br /><br />Say firmly: "We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.<br /><br />We women of one country will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says "Disarm, Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."<br /><br />Blood does not wipe our dishonor nor violence indicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.<br /><br />Let them then solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after their own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.<br /><br />In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.<br /><br /><em><strong>Julia Ward Howe<br />Boston<br />1870</strong></em></p></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><p style="margin-top: 0px; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 12px; line-height: 1.25em; "><em><strong></strong></em></p><div><em><strong><br /></strong></em></div></blockquote></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You see? Mother's Day is about those women that lost their children to death. It is not about gifts, flowers, small appliances and cards. Is about compassion and love... Love that survives beyond death.</div><div><br /></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=98b9ee3e-561d-4907-997a-6ec6eb7888a4" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-57512085263697208682010-11-30T11:34:00.004-06:002010-11-30T11:55:51.600-06:00Why quit?<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left; width: 250px; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32507796@N00/404663268" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/166/404663268_ca6e48c91a_m.jpg" alt="Quit smoking" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left;">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/32507796@N00/404663268">acethelegend</a> via Flickr</span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today I want to tell you why I am quitting smoking.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Let me set the record straight: I love smoking cigarettes! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I began smoking when I was 18, quitted when I was 24, and started again when I was 34. I have never felt dizzy or nauseous or sick from smoking. Even though my dh doesn't believe me, I love the taste of my menthol cigarettes, although I am not a fan of the lingering smell.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I retook the habit, at 34, I had my three living children at home. I didn't want to set a bad example for them, so I only smoked when they were all in bed, outside our home and quickly, afterward, I brushed my teeth, washed my hands and face and changed into my pj's.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I thought I could keep it like that for a long time. Of course, I forgot that children are smarter than we give them credit for, so baby boy knew I was smoking. So, I decided to stop hiding from them the fact that I smoked, but still tried to keep them from inhaling second-hand smoke.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Once they knew, I began to smoke more, although I did it in our yard. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When they began asking me why I smoked, I answered them as honestly as possible: "because sometimes mommy does foolish things and smoking is foolish". The explanation got to: "because I am stupid."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I might have been 35 or 36 when my children asked me to stop smoking. I don't think they knew the consequences of my actions, but I am sure they hated the stench of it. It was so easy for me to tell them back then that I would quit when I turned 40.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The fatal day began to approach and I tried my best to get out of my promise, but in my heart of hearts I knew that would be a very bad thing to do.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am supposed to make of my children good people. Trustworthy, honest, decent, loyal, respectful, healthy adults. I couldn't face them if I begin breaking my promises to them, mainly if they remembered so vividly a promise I made them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They witnessed my struggles to make up my mind. They have watched me getting as healthy as possible before quitting and they were there when I smoked my last cigarettes and threw the rest of the pack away for good.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">They saw me putting a nicotine patch the first two days and me being sick as hell and they knew I threw the rest of the box away.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have been truthful with them when they ask if I am having a hard time without smoking. They have noticed some changes in my daily habits, mainly those that involved me getting outside and light up a cigarette. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have explained them that my mood swings have nothing (well, almost nothing) to do with them, but I am struggling to quit.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I hope that they learn that we cannot always do what we feel like doing, because somethings are bad for us. I hope they learn that will power is more important than anything to get what you want and were you want.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I hope they know that I love them with all my heart and that I am doing my best to be the best person and the best mom I can be.</div><div><br /></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=467b190d-4209-4fba-9f6a-66ea33c12d9c" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-25237119194955479592010-10-02T12:51:00.005-05:002010-10-02T13:07:37.786-05:00Position Statement of the MISS Foundation regarding "Pregnancy Loss" Campaigns<table width="600" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="bodyTable" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium; "><tbody><tr><td valign="top" align="left" class="defaultText" style="font-size: 14px; color: rgb(136, 136, 136); line-height: 28px; font-family: Helvetica; background-image: url(http://gallery.mailchimp.com/799706b3fccc214a076b1ad13/images/bgtile.jpg); background-repeat: no-repeat repeat; "><div class="content" style="background-image: url(http://gallery.mailchimp.com/799706b3fccc214a076b1ad13/images/header.6.jpg); padding-top: 40px; padding-right: 70px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 70px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; "><h1 class="title" style="font-size: 35px; font-weight: 100; color: rgb(119, 119, 119); font-family: Georgia; line-height: 31px; margin-top: 20px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 40px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; ">Position Statement of the MISS Foundation<br />Regarding "Pregnancy Loss" Campaigns<br /></h1><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Co-Authors, Dr. Joanne Cacciatore & Kara LC Jones</span></span></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Whatever is unnamed, undepicted in images,</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">whatever is omitted from biography,</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">censored in collections of letters,</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">whatever is misnamed as something else, made</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">difficult-to-come-by,</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">whatever is buried in the memory</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">by the collapse of meaning under</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">an inadequate or lying language –</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">this will become, not merely unspoken,</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">but unspeakable.</span></span></em></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-align: center; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">-Adrienne Rich</span></span></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><div style="text-align: justify;">Definitions for purposes of this document:</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Stillbirth: The intrauterine death of a baby after twenty completed gestational weeks until birth. Stillbirth is always a naturally occurring event </span></span><strong style="line-height: 16px; "><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">and often occurs at or near full </span></span></em></strong><strong style="line-height: 16px; "><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">term for no apparent reason.</span></span></em></strong></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><strong style="line-height: 16px; "><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></em></strong></p><p style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><strong style="line-height: 16px; "><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></em></strong></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Miscarriage: The intrauterine end of a pregnancy anytime from conception to twenty completed gestational weeks. Miscarriages are also spontaneous, naturally occurring and unpreventable events.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Qui tacet consentit:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><strong style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">In response to the promulgation of the term “Pregnancy Loss” used in </span></span></strong><strong style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Awareness Campaigns:</span></span></strong></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><strong style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></strong></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The MISS Foundation has been asked its position on the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Campaigns. Several years ago, after careful consideration with the bereaved parents advisory board, the MISS Foundation made an executive decision for our organization not to utilize the term “</span></span><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">pregnancy and infant loss</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">,” but rather recognize October as </span></span><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Infant & Child Death </span></span></em><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Awareness Month</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> We use this language to describe all the awareness campaigning we do for the month of October and on the day of October 15th.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The key reason relates to the use of the vernacular "</span></span><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">pregnancy loss</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">" when addressing the issue of a sudden, intrauterine death of a child. Language chosen to describe social problems is very powerful. Historically, euphemisms are used to sanitize social problems. Yet, if we do not call it what it is, in the case of stillbirth, the birth of a dead baby, society will never pause to pay attention and the 'cause' will take longer to establish firm roots and gather the necessary support for research and improvements in care. For most of our members, the use of the phrase “pregnancy loss” was not an acceptable description of their personal, traumatic losses. Rather, the language, for them, felt dismissive. In dissecting the phrase, there is an inference that a child, in fact, did not die. Rather that a pregnancy was "lost." For many women, the phrase decries and derogates their very personal tragedies: they did not lose a pregnancy. Their babies died.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We also found that even some women who have experienced the loss of a child to miscarriage also reported feeling offended by the term “</span></span><em style="line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">pregnancy loss</span></span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">.” Author and artist Kara LC Jones says, “I did not lose my children or my state of pregnancy in a crowd. With my stillborn son, I had a c-section. With my miscarried son, I was in full, natural labor for two days before he was born. When I chose to raise awareness about the life, death, grief experiences, I wanted to use a term that gave full gravity to what happened. Infant & Child Death Awareness expresses my experience, because so much more happened here </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">that is deserving of </span></span><u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">honest</span></span></b></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> language.”</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" size="11px" style=" line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Scientists illuminate some important factors to consider when addressing the issue of perinatal death:</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">1. Loss is complex. The responses to loss are even more complex. Bowlby’s theory posits a continuum of responses seen in parents who lose children to death more closely associated with the degree of attachment than "time" spent with a child. In other words, quality of the attachment not quantity of the attachment informs the psychological </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">responses of the bereaved. Ambiguous losses (Boss, 1994) may incite "complicated mourning" and these are often the most difficult to resolve. There isn't 'more love or attachment,' rather, mixed or ambiguous emotions, either from internal or external sources (meaning that often society assigns taboos and stigma to some losses), that exacerbate the parent's response (they know they feel overwhelmed, bereaved, and desperate but may not feel their feelings or loss are acknowledged and they struggle for validation from the 'social group' which they often do not receive). These are often disenfranchised losses such the death of a "less than perfect child," AIDS deaths, deaths by suicide, stillbirths, and even some highly conflicted relationships that end in death.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">2. Stillbirth has been empirically demonstrated to evoke strong and enduring psychological distress and emotional responses in women, similar to any child's death. In addition, there is a physiological paradox stemming from the many physiological responses that occur during the final trimester of pregnancy and in the postpartum period to prepare the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">woman's body to give birth and to facilitate the many changes that occur, including pain receptor preparation. These nuances coupled with the final outcome, a dead baby, at the end of the birth process, seems to incite an impasse for many women. Her body knows she gave birth and responds accordingly however there is no baby.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">3. Miscarriages evoke a variety of responses in scientific data. The continuum ranges from grief responses similar to any child's death to little or no grief responses. There are many hypotheses in the scientific world about this phenomenon. One posits that women who conceive easily and are younger handle early miscarriages "better." Thus, older mothers or the women who endured years of infertility might respond differently. Some studies demonstrate that women with unplanned pregnancies who miscarry report feeling "relieved". Other women who were not particularly trying to conceive but who </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">were happy with the pregnancy appear to be somewhere in the middle of the continuum. Another hypothesis has to do with spiritual beliefs about when life begins. For women who believe enthusiastically that life begins at the moment of conception, the miscarriage, at any stage, is the death of their child. For another woman who may not hold the same spiritual values, or who may not "attach" early in the pregnancy, the miscarriage may be viewed as a "pregnancy loss" and not the death of a child. Yet, even in these studies, there are varying responses.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Because love and loss are so nuanced and complicated, and because language is so powerful, the MISS Foundation chooses to channel its energy into campaigns that align with our philosophies about supporting women, men, and children after the death of a child at any age and from any cause.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Indeed, love – and sometimes predictive grief- are not always measurable in a scientific test.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">There is never a good age or a good time to lose a child to death. Whether at birth, one year, ten years, thirty years, or sixty years, it is simply out of life's natural order. Simply, the death of a beloved child is life's most painful experience of suffering.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:small;">This is the cornerstone principle of the MISS Foundation.</span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">© 2010 by the MISS Foundation</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">All Rights Reserved</span></span></p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "> </p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">Do not reprint or reproduce any portion of this document without prior written </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">permission.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">Reproduced with permission.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></p><div> </div></div></td></tr><tr><td class="footerRow" align="left" valign="top" style="text-align: center; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10px; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); "></td></tr></tbody></table>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-15086776144075159222010-10-01T09:22:00.005-05:002010-10-02T12:50:11.653-05:00Banned-books week?<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left; width: 250px; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/60211151@N00/374945272" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/168/374945272_dd3040d893_m.jpg" alt="Banned Books Week Banner" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left;">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/60211151@N00/374945272">DML East Branch</a> via Flickr</span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:small;"><table border="0" width="100%" height="162"><tbody><tr><td width="91%" height="17">"<i>Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a good book, kills reason its self</i>."</td></tr><tr><td width="9%" height="20" style="text-align: center;">John Milton</td><td width="91%" height="20"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Yesterday, my dear friend Kara posted of FB about "Banned-books week".</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My first thought was incredulity. Am I in the 15th Century? Are people burning books somewhere and I didn't get notified?</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Kara sent me this link:</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">http://www.banned-books.com/</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I have been reading it and found that authors such as Mark Twain, William Shakespeare, Ernest Hemingway, Carlos Fuentes, J.K. Rowling, Maya Angelou, Honoré de Balzac, James Joyce, Nathaniel Hawthorne, George Bernard Shaw, Alexandr Solz</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">henitsyn, J.R.R. Tolkien, Gabriel García Márquez, among others have been banned.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I love to read. I usually read anything that falls into my hands, being a paper, old-fashion book or an e-book. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I have read great books and I have read rubbish. I have read theology and philosophy books that are real jewels in my book collection, and I have read things that deserve to be in a trash can. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But that is MY opinion on what I have read. I can share it with the people around me. I can recommend a book or say that it is not worth 5 minutes of your time. But who am I to ban a book?</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I am now rereading Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows, just to get in the mood for the release of the first part of the same-name movie. I learned yesterday, that I am the greatest fan of a banned book and that I have read it to my kids, does that make me a criminal, an unsuited parent?</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So, as my dear friend Kara asked: what are you going to read to protest against banned books week?</span></span></span></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=e7d01a1e-73bf-4800-aa3c-235ebeed9ced" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-29511743220977567612010-09-28T13:24:00.004-05:002010-09-28T14:04:26.055-05:00Gratitude<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25182307@N00/2804893241" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3293/2804893241_22f08af95b_m.jpg" alt="Nature's Umbrella" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="240" height="183" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left; width: 240px; ">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/25182307@N00/2804893241">Swamibu</a> via Flickr</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000099;"><br /></span></span></span></i></div>Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all the others. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">Cicero</span></span></span></span></i><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Gratitude is defined by the Webster's Dictionary as "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">a feeling of thankful appreciation for favors or benefits received; thankfulness"</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">Sometimes in life, feeling gratitude is hard. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">Personally, when my children died, I couldn't find anything to be grateful for. I felt robbed, I felt cheated by life, by God, by my own body. Of course, bitterness took over and I had to work hard to understand that I still had a lot of things to be thankful.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">I started trying to find 5 things to be grateful each week: less than one thing per day.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">I have made a daily commitment with myself: I try to find 5 things, at the end of the day, to be thankful for. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">Somedays I find it hard and I really have to work towards my goal. Other days, gratitude comes easy and at night, my list is much longer than I imagined it could be.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">For example, yesterday I was specially thankful for:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">Being alive surrounded by my healthy, happy loved ones</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">Baby pup is recovering from surgery OK</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">My brother found a new home to lease and he's moving his family in at the end of the week</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">Both girls loved their meal and ate better than other days</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; color: rgb(0, 0, 153); ">Big boy had a great afternoon and evening: he did his homework soon and then was able to go to soccer training</span></li></ul></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I invite you to do this exercise. You'll notice that your view of life will improve considerably.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';color:#000099;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=bc778600-71fe-47f5-a77d-15bce00b9c16" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-43340013928388213562010-09-24T13:52:00.007-05:002010-09-24T14:21:39.390-05:00The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud.<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Charlie-St-Cloud-Ben-Sherwood/dp/0553584022%3FSubscriptionId%3D0G81C5DAZ03ZR9WH9X82%26tag%3Dzemanta-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3D0553584022" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Hw4StLRtL._SL300_.jpg" alt="Cover of "Charlie St. Cloud: A Novel"" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="183" height="300" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left; width: 183px; ">Cover of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Charlie-St-Cloud-Ben-Sherwood/dp/0553584022%3FSubscriptionId%3D0G81C5DAZ03ZR9WH9X82%26tag%3Dzemanta-20%26linkCode%3Dxm2%26camp%3D2025%26creative%3D165953%26creativeASIN%3D0553584022">Charlie St. Cloud: A Novel</a></span></span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud</i>, by Ben Sherwood, is one of the books I read this summer.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> T</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">he book description says: "... tells the haunting story of a young man who narrowly survives a terrible car wreck that kills his little brother. Years later, the brothers' bond remains so strong that it transcends the normal boundaries separating life and death... By day he (Charlie) tends the lawns and monuments of the ancient cemetery where his younger brother, Sam, is buried. Graced with an extraordinary gift after surviving the accident, he can still see, talk, and even play catch with Sam's spirit...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"... Luminous, soulful, and filled with unforgettable characters, The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud is one of those rare, wise books that reveal the mysteries of the unseen world around us, gently transforming the worst pain of loss into hope, healing, and even laughter. Suspenseful and deeply moving, its startling climax reminds un that sometimes tragedies can bring about miracles if we simply open our hearts."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">As many of you might remember, I have had the honor of working with bereaved parents for a little more than 11 years through volunteering at The MISS Foundation.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">"Death and Life", that is how parental bereavement feels like. We die when our child dies and we, then, learn to live a new life that is robbed of present and future, a new life that is filled with pain and sorrow, a new life that has many, many lessons and gifts to offer, as we open our hearts and souls and minds to listen, to find healing and peace and happiness again.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I've heard how many are afraid of forgetting their precious children. How people tell them that they should "let go", so their babies are able to "rest in peace". How they wished they could see, talk, hug and kiss their beautiful children one more time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I have leaned from my own personal experience and from the wisdom shared by many that walk their own grief journey along with me, that parenting a dead child is possible.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">We are able to transcend the physical realm to parent our dead child. How?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">It is not easy, as we live and communicate through our bodies. The first urge a new mom has is to hug and cuddle her precious newborn. We, as bereaved parents, are not able to do so; but we can still hug them and kiss them in our hearts.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">How I wish I had the power to give each and every bereaved parent a gift like Charlie's? How I wish they could find the way to talk and play and hug and kiss their precious little ones? Sadly, I can't.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">The only power I have is the one my choices give me: </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">I chose to be present and willingly walk the grief journey of those that allow me to walk with them. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">To lend a hand. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">To know those precious children through the loving eyes of their courageous parents. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande';">To do my best in the time I have on earth, to be worthy of finally hug and kiss and love my children to eternity.</span></div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=ef974a14-2ed0-4de6-b688-356d467bcd2d" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-82218336900153434272010-09-23T10:42:00.003-05:002010-09-23T11:00:36.513-05:00Summer readings<span class="zemanta-img separator" style="clear: left;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kindle2largetext.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; display: block; float:left; clear: left;"><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/7/7d/Kindle2largetext.JPG/300px-Kindle2largetext.JPG" alt="The text can also be displayed in larger sizes" style="font-size:0.8em;border:none;" width="300" height="432" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; clear: both; float: left; width: 300px; ">Image via <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kindle2largetext.JPG">Wikipedia</a></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After a hard, difficult year, I decided to give myself a present: a Kindle. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I bought it during the summer and it has been my constant companion ever since. It's perfect size, makes it easy for me to carry it around in my purse.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have purchased some good books and have downloaded a lot of free ones.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I read new books from my favorite authors and got some recommendations from good readers.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have also read some useless novels that were free, but I have enjoyed them for what they were: summer readings.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I've never read inspirational novels, but I did. Some were good enough to have in mind when my girls get older. Others were just rubbish.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In a matter of days, I read the complete collection of Jane Austen's writings. Can you believe that I never read them before?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I got a great book on suicide, specially written for survivors. Yes, I know. I am "obsessed" with death and grief and pain - as my husband says - but that is the way I am.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Currently, I am reading a book on sexuality called "What's love got to do with it?" by John T. Chirban. My kids are reaching pre-puberty and I need to be prepared, don't you think?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you have any good books to recommend, please send me an email.</div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://www.zemanta.com/" title="Enhanced by Zemanta"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/zemified_a.png?x-id=90befb1a-8295-4a34-a6c0-a5ad0ad88ffb" alt="Enhanced by Zemanta" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-47266024121999604382010-09-23T10:31:00.002-05:002010-09-23T10:42:38.194-05:00Haven't been aroundThis is my first post since March.<div><br /></div><div>After my friend Christa died, I have been in a blur.</div><div><br /></div><div>In just one second, life changes dramatically. I have been trying to live in the real world. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have tried to be more present for my children. I have read a lot. By a lot, I mean 46 books during the summer.</div><div><br /></div><div>I try to be outdoors more and are committed to stop smoking this year.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I am back.</div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-22507103728447959112010-04-06T14:26:00.002-05:002010-04-06T14:46:09.708-05:00Thirteen years<p class="zemanta-img" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; float: left; display: block; width: 203px; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28067762@N00/3270037099"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3497/3270037099_8bd09fb3fe_m.jpg" alt="grief detail #1" style="border:none;display:block" width="193" height="240" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/28067762@N00/3270037099">spiderflux</a> via Flickr</span></p><i></i><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Grief changes shape,</span></div><blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><i>but it never ends.</i></div></blockquote><div><i></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> </i>-Keanu Reeves</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I remember April 6th, 1997 as if it was yesterday.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My husband had been gone for 2 weeks in a trip and I was pregnant with our first baby. I was at the beginning of the second trimester.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My mom picked me up early that day. We went to buy flowers and she helped me to fill our small condo with them. We had lunch together and we made plans for the little one I was expecting. We talked about what I would do when he was born, I was still teaching at a Law School and I was planning to leave him with her while at school.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She left me in the evening and I got ready to pick my husband at the airport. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I bought some water and sat down waiting for his plane to land. I went to the bathroom and noticed the red blood.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I called my ob-gyn and he said to stay put and called him the next day if I was still bleeding.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The bleeding got heavier. I remember watching my husband arrive and walking as slow as possible. The tears began to flow as I told him what was happening. His excited face turned into horror.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We went home and we called the doctor again. He prescribed some hormones. My husband went to buy them. They did the trick.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Around 4:00 am, I felt the urge to run the bathroom. There was blood everywhere. I called my husband and we called the doctor again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He saw us around 7:00 am. He did an ultrasound, there was nothing left of our baby.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was numb. We went to the movies, not wanting to think or to feel. Avoiding reality the best we could.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I cried my eyes out that day.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next day, my husband went to work and I the pain started. I couldn't breathe. I called him and my mom. I don't know who called the dr.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was rushed to the hospital and had a D&C done that afternoon. Part of the placenta was responsible for the labor pains I experienced. We learned from it that we lost our dear son.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thirteen years have passed since that tragedy. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dearest Cesar, you are always in my heart and in my mind. I love you beyond death and I MISS you beyond words. Until we meet again my dear one.</div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/69e9cc5e-e1f5-4b2c-b2b4-e8367dd76081/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_c.png?x-id=69e9cc5e-e1f5-4b2c-b2b4-e8367dd76081" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-5742547018665907812010-03-24T16:12:00.006-05:002010-03-24T17:06:00.725-05:00Christa Bowen (1975 - 2010)<p class="zemanta-img" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; float: left; display: block; width: 250px; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23597967@N00/2849588938"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3168/2849588938_130bb156d5_m.jpg" alt="Rest in Peace" style="border:none;display:block" width="240" height="138" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/23597967@N00/2849588938">Walt Jabsco</a> via Flickr</span></p><i></i><blockquote style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></blockquote><blockquote><i><br /></i></blockquote><blockquote><i><br /></i></blockquote><blockquote><i><br /></i></blockquote><blockquote><i><br /></i></blockquote><blockquote><i>Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief. </i> </blockquote><blockquote style="text-align: center;">William Faulkner</blockquote><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last Wednesday, I received a tragic email. I was sitting with my big boy, reading a book, when the light in my Blackberry began blinking. He noticed first and I read the message.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It stated that one of my MISSters, Christa Bown, died two days prior.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As shock numb my mind, I raced downstairs to call Dr. Joanne Cacciatore, CEO and founder of The MISS Foundation. I just needed to hear her voice, sobbing, to know that it was true.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She was 35. She was exiting the parking lot of a grocery store when she was killed in a car crash. A senseless tragedy, without a doubt.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I met Christa many years ago. I was already a moderator for The MISS Foundation Online Support Groups when she joined. Her precious daughters, Caitlyn and Alexa died.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I remember her excruciating pain. She loved her girls so much. I was honored to know those precious little girls through their loving mom. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even when she was in the pit, she would always reach out to others. Her compassion never lessened.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then she became pregnant with her twins, Tyler and Austin. Her joy for having her baby boys in her arms was palpable through her words. Each shared milestone, each anecdote brought a smile to my face.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Christa had a great sense of humor. Her wit made me laugh so hard, she brightened many of my days. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Christa was a great friend. She was always there for me, even though we never met in person. But we knew each other. We shared the worst pain and the merriest joy. We sat in the pit together and then helped each other out of the hole of sorrow. Our grief over the death of our children formed an unbreakable bond between us.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She reached out to others in grief more than 9 500 times on the MISS Support Groups, plus many, many times in a more private way.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She was a thoughtful and caring friend. I cannot imagine anyone that knew her, didn't got transformed by that little, intelligent, loving, blonde beauty.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know she touched my life in a profound way. I am a better person because of her. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As John Taylor said: <i>While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet her behind the veil. </i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i></i>I know she now holds her precious girls in her loving arms, forever.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am certain that many, many precious children gathered together to greet her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Dearest Christa, thank YOU for touching my life, for being my friend. You will always be loved and MISSed. Rest in peace.</div><div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-18985311948157987372009-12-31T13:36:00.002-06:002009-12-31T13:57:35.791-06:00Friendship<p class="zemanta-img" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; float: left; display: block; width: 250px; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/78415063@N00/3923332324"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3536/3923332324_452cc90a14_m.jpg" alt="Friends are stronger than darkness" style="border:none;display:block" width="240" height="240" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/78415063@N00/3923332324">gilderic</a> via Flickr</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We spent Christmas with my brother and his lovely family.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We left their home and their company on the 26th, to Eastern Texas, to our second home.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Big boy has been obsessed asking his dad and I about our friends from each stage of our life.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We were sharing with our kids about friendship and the different friends we've made along the way.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I told him about my elementary school friends, some of whom I am blessed to still be friends with as we have continued our friendship through life. They have shared my best and my worst. Our lives have moved to different directions, but we still have that special connection of knowing each other for more than three decades.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I also shared that I made beautiful friends during my ballet years. I haven't seen them, but I hold them close to my heart.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then we moved to Law School friends. Dh and I share many from those years as we went together to Law School. My dear friend Tere now lives in Spain and my dear friend María José lives in the same city, but family life has gotten in the way of us meeting more frequently, although we love each other dearly.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We talked about some of their friends' moms, whom have become friends of mine. We have shared watching our own children grow and blossom. We share many values that we want to pass on to our children and friendship helps.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We arrived home. There, on our mailbox, was a little box for me. I opened it and I found a beautiful angel ornament from my dear friend Sharon. Even though the lateness of the hour, I still had to share more about my friends with my children.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have met the most amazing women and men through grief. The death of my own children placed me in a sub-culture no one wants to belong to. I was to reach out in pain and met the most wonderful people on earth.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had to talk about my MISS friends. I am blessed to have met many of them. Still, I haven't met - face to face - most of them. These are the most compassionate, loving people you could ever meet. We have shared the worst pain we have experienced and we are there for each other. We would willingly through ourselves into the pit of sorrow, to cyber-hold each other hand and slowly and gently get out of there to face another day. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Together, we have learned to take one day at a time, sometimes, just remember to breath in and breath out.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We have learned to live life again, even amidst the pain. We have learned to laugh and enjoy our time on earth the best way we can.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We share grief and rage and happiness and memories. But most important of all, we share our beautiful children.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I know I have said this before, but I am honored beyond words to have met these great children through the eyes of their loving parents.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was time to go to bed. The children were yawning and tired.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thank you, thank YOU my dear friends for making my life better. Thank YOU for filling it with love and compassion and grief and joy. Thank YOU for still being there for me, after all these years. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thank YOU Sharon, this post is dedicated to the beautiful memory of smiling, gorgeous Shelby.</div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/b1fafe51-544c-456a-aa1e-56c8039f5bdb/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_c.png?x-id=b1fafe51-544c-456a-aa1e-56c8039f5bdb" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-67455393688129181952009-12-13T16:44:00.003-06:002009-12-13T16:55:39.907-06:00Memories...<p class="zemanta-img" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; float: left; display: block; width: 250px; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/8922532@N08/1424722718"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1362/1424722718_766e2cc610_m.jpg" alt="one lit candle" style="border:none;display:block" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/8922532@N08/1424722718">max's pixs</a> via Flickr</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span><span></span></span>Yesterday, my godson received his first communion. His parents celebrated their 11th wedding anniversary.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Eleven years ago, I was not able to attend their wedding. I was left in the US, waiting for my baby to leave my body by her own. The doctor decided that it was safer to be nearby in case I went into labor.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As we were celebrating as a family to joyous occasions, I could not help traveling through memory lane.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My husband came back for his brother's wedding and my mom traveled to be with me in case I needed to go to the hospital. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That day the genetic specialist called and gave me our diagnosis. I needed my dh to be by my side, and I couldn't tell my mom what I had learned.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was my baby girl's tomb and life seemed not worth living.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I wrote on my last post, I survived the pain and the sorrow, and eleven years later I am a better person because of my dead children.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today is National Children Memorial Day: a worldwide event to remember all those precious children that died before their time. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">No matter where you live. Please lit a candle at 7:00pm so during 24 hours, all around the world, candles burn in memory of the children that are loved, MISSed and that make this world a better place to live in.</div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/4def6242-f19d-4d57-8cca-a77674f36cf7/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_c.png?x-id=4def6242-f19d-4d57-8cca-a77674f36cf7" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-62799261378009080502009-12-03T17:43:00.002-06:002009-12-03T18:02:32.590-06:00Time goes on... and so does life<p class="zemanta-img" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; float: left; display: block; width: 250px; "><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/49503124519@N01/64770380"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/25/64770380_757fa6d4c8_m.jpg" alt="death and life are the same mysteries" style="border:none;display:block" width="240" height="180" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution">Image by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/49503124519@N01/64770380">massdistraction</a> via Flickr</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Eleven years ago yesterday, I woke up in the middle of the night with the gut feeling that my baby had died.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One week before, we had a successful ultrasound. The baby was healthy and thriving. Its little heart was beating fast and we were ecstatic. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I remember waking up my husband and telling him that I knew the baby had died. I had the urgency of picking up a name: for a boy, José Luis; for a girl, Carlota.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He told me to make an appointment for another ultrasound as soon as the doctor was open, and so I did. At 1:00 pm, we found out that our baby had died. She measured exactly the gestational age she was supposed to be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In a blur, I went home and packed, and my husband made reservation to fly as soon as possible to our US doctor.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Today, eleven years ago, our worst nightmare was confirmed: our baby died. She had a neurotubal defect that claimed her life.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We spent together the next 20 days. I was not ready to let her go, even though I knew she was already gone. During those days, we had so many tests and exams done, that most of our time was spent at the hospital.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Finally, on December 22, I decided to have surgery to end my pregnancy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I never got to see her or hold her. Her little body did not survive spending 20 days dead, nor the surgery.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We later found that she was a girl: thus Carlota was named.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nobody remembered her yesterday, except me and my MISS friends. I am used now to the forgetfulness around me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My body remembered in a not-so-funny way. I came down with bronchitis and laryngitis a week ago. Our bodies always remember those horrible, tragic moments, even if our minds try to block it out.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Eleven years ago, I was sure I would not survive the pain and sorrow of loosing my baby girl and her brother and sister, in less than 2 years. I thought I would die of sadness.... </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">... Eleven years later, I am a survivor. I enjoy life -most of the time- to be honest. I love those three children that were given to me to be raised, they feel my life with joy and wonder. I love my husband more than I did back then. I am honored to have known so many wonderful children, whose lives ended before their time, through their loving parents' eyes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sweet girl, you will always, always be loved and MISSed. No matter how long I live, I will always remember you. Thank you for choosing me to be your mommy, you and your siblings have been the greatest teachers one could hope for.</div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/37ad2225-7acf-4b60-8beb-4c2c5e373c37/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_c.png?x-id=37ad2225-7acf-4b60-8beb-4c2c5e373c37" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-36472074282588525892009-11-15T15:41:00.003-06:002009-11-15T15:49:11.646-06:00When in doubt...<p class="zemanta-img" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; float: left; display: block; width: 310px; "><a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:G._Conti_La_parabola_del_Buon_Samaritano_Messina_Chiesa_della_Medaglia_Miracolosa_Casa_di_Ospitalit%C3%A0_Collereale.jpg"><img src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/0f/G._Conti_La_parabola_del_Buon_Samaritano_Messina_Chiesa_della_Medaglia_Miracolosa_Casa_di_Ospitalit%C3%A0_Collereale.jpg/300px-G._Conti_La_parabola_del_Buon_Samaritano_Messina_Chiesa_della_Medaglia_Miracolosa_Casa_di_Ospitalit%C3%A0_Collereale.jpg" alt="La parabola del Buon Samaritano Messina Chiesa..." style="border:none;display:block" width="300" height="207" /></a><span class="zemanta-img-attribution">Image via <a href="http://commons.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:G._Conti_La_parabola_del_Buon_Samaritano_Messina_Chiesa_della_Medaglia_Miracolosa_Casa_di_Ospitalit%C3%A0_Collereale.jpg">Wikipedia</a></span></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is a principle in moral and ethics that states: "when in doubt, don't act".</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have found to exceptions to this principle. Both in Canon Law, regarding the Sacraments of Baptism and Anointment of the Sick.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If there is the slightest possibility that the person who will receive the Sacrament is dead, it is better to administer the sacrament instead of not doing so.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I believe that the same exception applies to compassion.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you think that the person needs your support, please reach out. It is better to be told not to do so, or that there is no need to be compassionate, than leave a needed person alone.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When working with bereaved parents, we are trained to watch their body language and look for the signs to approach them in a more personal level. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In my experience, a hug is always better than leaving them alone. If you are not comfortable hugging, maybe you could reach out squeezing their arm or patting their back.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When in doubt, never, ever leave someone in pain by themselves.</div> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/99e01c57-361f-4557-86c2-3b7b62a6d5f8/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_c.png?x-id=99e01c57-361f-4557-86c2-3b7b62a6d5f8" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" style="text-align: justify;border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-width: initial; border-color: initial; float: right; " /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2816602558456914217.post-9367025817798085142009-11-14T12:34:00.003-06:002009-11-14T12:38:22.908-06:00Center for Loss and Trauma - MISS Press Release<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'century gothic', serif; font-size: 21px; line-height: 34px; "><p class="MsoNormal"><span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><b><span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Joanne%20Cacciatore" datetime="2009-11-05T15:01"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">November 16, 2009</span></span></ins></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; text-decoration: underline;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">CONTACT: Dr. Joanne Cacciatore: </span></span></b></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">602.574.1000 or </span></span></span><span><b><span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Joanne%20Cacciatore" datetime="2009-11-05T15:02"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Katherine Sandle</span></span></ins></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">r: </span></span></b></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">480.861.7511</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">MISS Foundation Helps Traumatized Families in the Center for Loss and Trauma</span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align: justify;"><span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Phoenix, Arizona (November 16, 2009) --- The </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">MISS Foundation</span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">, through </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">the Center for Loss and Trauma</span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">, is opening their doors to help families suffering traumatic loss. Traumatic experiences traverse culture, ethnicity, socioeconomic class, religion, and region. No one is exempt.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">In the midst of such psychological despair, there is a sense of grief that cannot be explained or described or captured or contained.</span></span></span></span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><i><a href="http://www.centerforlossandtrauma.com/" style="color: rgb(241, 95, 62); text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">The Center for Loss and Trauma</span></span></a></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> is one place where compassionate psychotherapy, counseling, and research can occur, as well as the bridging of vitally important supportive resources to help families in need. Located in North Phoenix, this unique center specializes in providing services to those affected by traumatic experiences, death, grief, and various types of loss. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">The Center for Loss and Trauma </span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">also serves military families, those coping with the death of a child, bereaved families, those affected by natural and mass disasters, victims of crime, families going through divorce or separation, and those suffering reproductive losses.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">The mission of center is to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">C.A.R.E. </span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">for the most vulnerable members of society by providing highly specialized, expert </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">counseling</span></span></b></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> to those affected by traumatic loss; </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">advocating</span></span></b></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">with others so they may find hope, healing, and happiness in the aftermath of trauma; providing a place where compassionate </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">research</span></span></b></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> can occur; and </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">educating </span></span></b></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">individuals and society at large about the experiences of the bereaved.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Dr. Joanne Cacciatore, LMSW and CEO, is a researcher and an expert family and individual therapist in the field of traumatic death and bereavement. James Jones, LMSW, is a Vietnam veteran and specialist in PTSD.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Kathy Crowley, LCSW, has extensive experience working with individuals with chronic illness, abuse, and family stress.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">The </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Center for Loss and Trauma</span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> also houses the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">MISS Foundation, </span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">a</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">non-profit family bereavement organization, which </span></span><i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">offers free services</span></span></u></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> to bereaved parents and siblings.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Psychotherapy is provided on a sliding scale basis to those in need.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">Dr. Cacciatore passionately explains, “Society’s only appropriate response is offer unconditional support and compassionate care so that one day, having been upheld and cared for, those who have suffered from such trauma can reach out their hand to help another. It is the only way to truly heal."</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">For more information or to schedule an appointment at </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">The Center for Loss and Trauma</span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">, please call 623.979.1000 or visit us online at http://www.centerforlossandtrauma.com. For information on the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">MISS Foundation’s</span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> services, please visit</span></span><a href="http://www.missfoundation.org/" style="color: rgb(241, 95, 62); text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">http://www.missfoundation.org</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; "> and the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">MISS Foundation’s</span></span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">PSA can be found at </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeHZuuohm-4" style="color: rgb(241, 95, 62); text-decoration: none; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeHZuuohm-4</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; ">.</span></span></span></span></p></span> <div class="zemanta-pixie" style="margin-top:10px;height:15px"><a class="zemanta-pixie-a" href="http://reblog.zemanta.com/zemified/3535bec1-3a04-4674-91cf-88e15f407161/" title="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" src="http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_c.png?x-id=3535bec1-3a04-4674-91cf-88e15f407161" alt="Reblog this post [with Zemanta]" style="border:none;float:right" /></a><span class="zem-script more-related pretty-attribution"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://static.zemanta.com/readside/loader.js" defer="defer"></script></span></div>CJCACC's Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05820427280670478076noreply@blogger.com0