In memoriam, Karen Roel (1946 - 2012)

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.  ~From a headstone in Ireland

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.

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. 

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 "Rojo Amanecer", a movie portraying the tragic events occurred on Tlaltelolco on October 2, 1968. Her work since then, had been nominated for several awards.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I saw her frustrated, annoyed, happy, sad, worried... but never angry. Maybe I was lucky, but I don't think so.

I consider myself lucky to have spent many days of my youth at her house, listening to her play her piano. 

She was gracious enough to help us with our school projects when they involved music, I remember many happy hours at her recording studio.

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.

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...

... Until we meet again,

C

"What we can mention, we can manage"

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Regarding death, we, as a society, often refuse to even mention the "D" word.

Our inner selves believe that if we don't call for it, death won't touch our lives.

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.

When it comes to children and grief, we usually expect children to:

• Act and react as adults
• Disregard the death of a loved one because we think they "don't understand" what is going on.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

When you are facing the bereaved, the most important thing to remember is: IT IS NOT ABOUT YOU!

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.

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.

I have lived by this principle for the last decade of my life: "There is no excuse for the lack of compassion, not whatsoever"

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.

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.

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.

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.

In the case you are unable to mention the above, please, please have someone capable to do so.

There are thousands of resources for grieving children, your obligation is to know them. There is no excuse not to have them.

Please, I beg of you, don't let a child grief alone because you are unable to be a compassionate human being!

The title of this entry was taken from the text written by Linda Goldman, regarding how to help grieving children within the school setting:

http://www.mcdes.org/pdfs/L%20Goldman.Grief%20article.pdf

Facing our demons: Children and Death

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On December 26th, a tragedy happened:

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.

I know of this tragic event, because one of my daughters is a classmate of the older girl.

As my girls attend a Catholic school, I thought things were going to be handled well. How wrong I was!

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?

• Her excuse: the lack of space inside the school chapel.
• 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.

Last Wednesday's afternoon, I got an email from the school administrators letting me know that my little girl HAD - 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.

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.

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!!!!

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!

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Even though, my area of expertise is parental grief, I do understand grief, as a 13 year old volunteer to The MISS Foundation.

I have read many, many books regarding children and teen grief.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

Christa Bowen (1975 - 2010)

Image by Walt Jabsco via Flickr

Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief.

William Faulkner

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.

It stated that one of my MISSters, Christa Bown, died two days prior.

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.

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.

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.

I remember her excruciating pain. She loved her girls so much. I was honored to know those precious little girls through their loving mom.

Even when she was in the pit, she would always reach out to others. Her compassion never lessened.

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.

Christa had a great sense of humor. Her wit made me laugh so hard, she brightened many of my days.

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.

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.

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.

I know she touched my life in a profound way. I am a better person because of her.

As John Taylor said: While we are mourning the loss of our friend, others are rejoicing to meet her behind the veil.

I know she now holds her precious girls in her loving arms, forever.

I am certain that many, many precious children gathered together to greet her.

Dearest Christa, thank YOU for touching my life, for being my friend. You will always be loved and MISSed. Rest in peace.

Time goes on... and so does life

Image by massdistraction via Flickr

Eleven years ago yesterday, I woke up in the middle of the night with the gut feeling that my baby had died.

One week before, we had a successful ultrasound. The baby was healthy and thriving. Its little heart was beating fast and we were ecstatic.

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.

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.

In a blur, I went home and packed, and my husband made reservation to fly as soon as possible to our US doctor.

Today, eleven years ago, our worst nightmare was confirmed: our baby died. She had a neurotubal defect that claimed her life.

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.

Finally, on December 22, I decided to have surgery to end my pregnancy.

I never got to see her or hold her. Her little body did not survive spending 20 days dead, nor the surgery.

We later found that she was a girl: thus Carlota was named.

Nobody remembered her yesterday, except me and my MISS friends. I am used now to the forgetfulness around me.

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.

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....

... 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.

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.

Center for Loss and Trauma - MISS Press Release

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

November 16, 2009

CONTACT: Dr. Joanne Cacciatore: 602.574.1000 or Katherine Sandler: 480.861.7511

MISS Foundation Helps Traumatized Families in the Center for Loss and Trauma

Phoenix, Arizona (November 16, 2009) --- The MISS Foundation, through the Center for Loss and Trauma, is opening their doors to help families suffering traumatic loss. Traumatic experiences traverse culture, ethnicity, socioeconomic class, religion, and region. No one is exempt.In the midst of such psychological despair, there is a sense of grief that cannot be explained or described or captured or contained.

The Center for Loss and Trauma 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. The Center for Loss and Trauma 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.

The mission of center is to C.A.R.E. for the most vulnerable members of society by providing highly specialized, expert counseling to those affected by traumatic loss; advocatingwith others so they may find hope, healing, and happiness in the aftermath of trauma; providing a place where compassionate research can occur; and educating individuals and society at large about the experiences of the bereaved. 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. Kathy Crowley, LCSW, has extensive experience working with individuals with chronic illness, abuse, and family stress.

The Center for Loss and Trauma also houses the MISS Foundation, a non-profit family bereavement organization, which offers free services to bereaved parents and siblings.Psychotherapy is provided on a sliding scale basis to those in need.

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."

For more information or to schedule an appointment at The Center for Loss and Trauma, please call 623.979.1000 or visit us online at http://www.centerforlossandtrauma.com. For information on the MISS Foundation’s services, please visithttp://www.missfoundation.org and the MISS Foundation’sPSA can be found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeHZuuohm-4.

Butterflies & Dragonflies

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The tragedy of child death leaves the family in a profound chaos.

It doesn't matter the age of the child at the time of death or the cause of death. Each family member has to work hard to redefine him or herself, to find their new role within the family and to find a way to survive.

Little by little, as the first months go by and the emotional anesthesia draws away, the bereaved parents search for new ways to reconnect with their dead child... maybe because they are not ready to say good bye, maybe because love trascends death.

Paraphrasing Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, death is the final liberation from the cocoon, the butterfly is free to open its wings and fly away.

It is curious how bereaved parents, from different cultures and from different parts of the world, identify the presence of butterflies - and in some cases, of dragonflies - as special visits from their dead child.

I know that for many strain from the subculture of parental bereavement, this idea is completely deranged, but who are we to judge how a parent copes with the death of their beloved child?

Wouldn't it be more compassionate not to judge and appreciate the beauty that nature offers?

Every time you see a butterfly near you, with its beautiful colors, imagine that someone who is not physical presence is saying hi.

When you see a dragonfly, with its transparent wings and its color body, flying erratic nearby, think of a kiss someone special is sending you from above.

Open your heart and close your mind for a bit... remember: love is stronger than death.

From my Life Quote of the Day Gadget

Image by loswl via Flickr

People living deeply have no fear of death ~Anais Nin

Are you afraid of death?

What are you afraid of? Your own death or the death of a loved one?

I can honestly say that before my children died, I was terrified of my own death. I was scared of what would happen in the after life.

My perception of my own mortality changed with the tragedy of loosing my own children. I remember in my early grief wishing to go to sleep and never wake up. I wanted to die, not only to stop the horrible pain I was experiencing, but to join them, wherever they are.

I lost the fear of dying. What better gift to be reunited with those babies for ever?

The question arose: Was I absolutely sure I would join them?

That, among other considerations, stopped me for killing myself.

I knew then, that I had to make the most of the time I had left on this Earth in order to hug my children one more time, forever.

I have to life to the fullest. Making every second count. Being their voice in this life. In short: making them proud.

I do fear the death of those I love, but I have learned that I have no control over what may come.

I fear the pain, but I do not fear my grief, who has become a dear friend of mine.

What my children in heaven have taught me is to embrace life -with its happiness and its deep sorrow-, always to say "I love you" to those I love. To enjoy the sunrises and the sunsets I have the chance to witness. No matter what others might think, hug and kiss those I love.

Life's firsts

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While taking a shower this morning, I began to remember some of my firsts in life. Those that made me who I am today and from what I have learned so much.

So I thought that I wanted to share some with you:

• First time someone in my family died: I was 6 years old, it was my father's grandfather and I remember a lot about him.

• First book: Little Women, between 6 and 7

• First time I traveled by myself: I was 7. I went to Chicago to spend time with my dear aunt Mary and my dear uncle Dick.

• First time I was crushed by death: At 11, when my dad's dad died.

• First time I taught: I was 10 and I taught a ballet lesson to younger girls... That was fun!

• First time I hated someone: I don't remember the exact age I was - maybe 5 or 6. My mom was crying into the phone, she was talking to her mom, who always made her cry. I hated my grandmother so much for hurting my mom I wanted to slap her hard.

• First time I was kissed: I was 14, he was my first "boyfriend". He was the oldest brother of one of my friends. I was so confused by all my mixed emotions, that I broke up with him the next day.

• First surgery: The one that I remember was when I had my wisdom teeth removed at 15. My first one was at 3 months old.

• First time I fell in love: I was 15, he was 5 years older than me. I was head over heels for him. We broke up 5 years later.

• First time I knew who I was: I was in Cuba for ballet training, I was 16 and I was on my own for 1.5 months. I learned so much about myself and the values I hold dear.

• 
• First time I defied my parents: I was 20 and they grounded my baby brother. I decided to pay for his trip and take the consequences.

• First time I failed a class: I was in 5th semester of Law School - 20 or 21 - and I failed "History of Medieval and Modern Law". I swore my parents would kick me out of the house, but instead, they just smiled and said "welcome to normality".

• First time I was really proud of myself: when I presented my bar exam and defended my thesis.

• First time I knew I had found the "one": I was 24 and my mom's mother died. My then boyfriend stood up by my side all the way. He helped me handle the horrible funeral arrangements for her.

• First home: a tiny apartment dh and I lived in when first married.

• First death I witnessed: My beloved dad's mom died and I was honored to be by her side.

• First time I wanted to die: when my oldest son died.

• First time I considered suicide: when my second daughter died.

• First time I knew I would survive: It was late at night and I had an epiphany: I was the voice of those children that died before their time. If I wanted to see them again, I would have to be stronger and fulfill the mission I have on earth.

• First book: I was 28. It is called "Introducción al estudio del Derecho Norteamericano"

• First time I knew I would be happy again: When I held my son in my arms.

• First time I reached out to others in grief: When I met Isabel through the internet.

Death in our lives

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One way or another, death is always there. Like a monster in the closet, a shadow on the corner of our room, like an unexpected visitor, like a dear friend.

Its presence is felt differently depending our own fears about our own death and that loved one we fear might die.

If we are OK with the reality of our own mortality, death will come easier than to those who fear it.

But death, ultimately, is about the death of others. The effect it will have upon us depends on our attachment to them.

We are so used to listen about death that we don't notice the times the "d" word reaches our ears. All news programs refer to death at least once. Tragedy is present in every corner of our world and with the easiness that media gets to the facts and the way it gets to us, it is more present than ever.

Sometimes, when we are with our friends and family, someone will relate that someone's friend, cousin, brother, sister, aunt, nephew, niece, grandparent, parent, wife, husband or child died. It might cause an impact on us, but not the same way someone we love died.

That love we have for one another is what changes our views on death. When it reaches OUR friend, cousin, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, nephew, niece, grandparent, partner or child it devastates us in ways we never thought possible.

What matters in death, is the death of a person we love. It will break the relationship we have, the communication between us will get "disconnected", our life - as we knew it- will end.

Those of us who work with the bereaved, usually think about those left behind with death comes.

I can't fail to think - even to say a little prayer - for that parent, partner, child, relative or friend of that person that died.

Today, a dear friend of one of my cousins died. He was 39 and died of a massive heart attack. It has already made the news. But I just can think of those parents that have joined a club they never wanted to be a part of, of that young widow that is alone from now on to raise their children, of those children that will grow without the physical presence of their loving dad, of those friends that were so close to him, that will miss him dearly.

Tonight, my heart goes out to them and I just pray that they find the strength to find peace after the tragedy stroke hard.

Love v. Fear

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There is no fear in love, ...perfect love expels fear ~Henri Nouwen

I have been a volunteer for The MISS Foundation for 11 years now.

When I meet someone and they ask what I do and I explain that I work as a volunteer with families after the death of a child, no matter their age or the cause of death, a question always arises: "How can you do that every day?"

Honestly, I do what I do, first and foremost, to honor the memory of those three babies of mine that died before their time.

Second of all, I do it because I am honored to be allowed to walk with these wonderful people through their grief journey and to meet their children through their loving eyes.

I am always in awe to see, to hear and to read so much love, even through the most horrible, inexplicable and raw pain they are in.

They have had to bury their precious children, they have faced the most horrible tragedy a human being should experience: the death of a child.

Still their love shines through.

Once in a while the question comes: "would you change a thing in your life if you already knew the outcome?"

"No!" That is the answer they'll give.

Would you rather not knowing your child if you knew he/she would die? No.

It is worth the pain of loosing a child to death, just to be able to feel that undying, maternal love. It is worth the pain of burying one's child, just to have seen the look in his/her eyes.

And all the rawness of that terrible grief is worth, just to have gotten into one's child's embrace and hearing "I love you mom"


Because love is stronger than death.