"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.

Friendship

Image by gilderic via Flickr

We spent Christmas with my brother and his lovely family.

We left their home and their company on the 26th, to Eastern Texas, to our second home.

Big boy has been obsessed asking his dad and I about our friends from each stage of our life.

We were sharing with our kids about friendship and the different friends we've made along the way.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Together, we have learned to take one day at a time, sometimes, just remember to breath in and breath out.

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.

We share grief and rage and happiness and memories. But most important of all, we share our beautiful children.

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.

It was time to go to bed. The children were yawning and tired.

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.

Thank YOU Sharon, this post is dedicated to the beautiful memory of smiling, gorgeous Shelby.

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.

Lets talk food!

Image by jlastras via Flickr

I want to share with you the meal I fixed for my family today:

Ingredients:

• 1 lb alubias (Spanish white beans)
• 1 lb pork meat
• 1 lb beef meat
• 1 lb chicken meat
• 1/2 lb chorizo
• 1/2 lb cured ham (if you get hold of serrano ham, it is much better)
• 1 onion
• 1 pinch of saffron (the Spanish spice you use to make paella)
• 3-4 cloves of garlic
• pepper corns
• enough water

• 1 big onion, diced
• 2-3 cloves or garlic, minced
• cilantro leaves, shredded
• salt and pepper
• olive oil
• corn tortillas, heated
  

1. Clean and soak the alubias overnight in cold water
2. In a BIG pot, throw the rest of the ingredients and cover them with cold water. DO NOT add salt, because the ham and the chorizo are salty.
3. Heat and simmer for approximately 4 - 6 hours
4. When the meats are fork tender, take them out of the broth and let them cool down
5. Put the alubias in the broth and cook until tender.
6. Meanwhile, shred or cut the meat into fine strips.
7. In a pan, heat the olive oil, saute the onions until tender, add the garlic and the meat.
8 Add the cilantro leaves, and add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve the alubia soup as a first course and then serve the meat and the tortillas and watch your family enjoy your fabulous meal!

My new home office

Image by [ r ♥ c e y t ♥ y ] {I br♥ke for bokeh} via Flickr

We've been home a couple of weeks now.

The internet is finally working properly, although our electricity is not. I hope the technician will finally have the time to come here and fix it.

I devoted myself to get the kids' new school material ready and to prepare my lessons. Last week, I finally decided it was time to move my stuff out of my husband's now desk to my new home office.

I now have a place of my own. Well, sort of. My new home office is at the beginning of our new family room/homework space/ mom's place. I moved my books before the summer holidays and finally got a beautiful 1950's desk. I love it!

It has lots of little drawers and some big ones too. It has room for me to keep safe all my little trinkets and my papers. On top of it, I placed a small bookshelf that now contains some of my most priced books: books about bereavement and law books. On top, I placed my binders, which contains my past lessons, the notes I took while studying my Masters Degree and my MISS presentations. I even got a little space in which I have some VCR tapes about bereavement.

During the mornings, I have gorgeous sun light that enters through our glass doors and even on the evenings, when the kids are here, I get some peace to work on my computer and log on to the MISS Foundation Online Support Groups.

I want to thank my dear dh for all the hard work he put into our home remodeling. And for giving me the beautiful desk I wanted so much.

I want to thank my parents for pestering me all those years to make me value the company of a good book and for making me learn a second language.

I want to thank God for giving me the gift of brain power.

I am back!

After a couple of weeks of absence, I decided to come back and share with you some of my thoughts.

Summer is a crazy time for me and my family. We are apart: me and the kids and dh back home.

I miss him terribly when this our reality, but I see my kids personalities blossom beautifully. They get to experience the freedom and the safety that our Country does not offer currently. They are relaxed and happy.

I am much more relaxed than I used to be. For one, my kids are older and much more easy to handle. I am more confident as a mother, which helps a BIG deal. I have more time for myself, which is simply great!

I began exercising again. I was a classical ballet dancer for many years and was used to hard work. Then I injured both my feet and knees, so stop. It has been nearly 10 years since I did some kind of physical activity. I've gained 15 kilos since then and my body has changed dramatically.

I haven't recovered my old body (well, I am almost 40), but I feel better and dropped one pants size already. I don't want to be my usual fit self (I am not 18 anymore), but I want to be in better shape.

On an unrelated subject, have you ever noticed that when you are not in front of your computer, many topics come to your mind? I am always inspired in the shower on what to share with you all. The car is a great place for me to think and be with myself. But every time I turn on my computer, I am clueless. I am blaming the heat here, but still, I have been off the blogging world.

I have less than two weeks more of summer vacations before we return to our "normal life". I expect to become a regular blogger then.

Me, the seasonal single mom

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I am very lucky to have been married for nearly 13 years.

As all marriages, we have had our good, our bad and our worst moments, but mainly it has been a great decision to share our lives with each other.

We got married believing firmly that we were meant to be with each other for the rest of our lives. We have tried to fulfill such believe.

Five years ago, we bought a second home in another Country. We bought it knowing that we would be spending here as much time as we could, giving our children the possibility to experience, first hand, the way of life of other people, to broaden their horizons, to learn a new language.

At the begining, it was very difficult for me to be with three children under the age of 4 by myself for long periods of time. My mom came and my dh tried to spend more time with us.

Now that our children are 8, 7 and 6 years old, things are easier for me as a mom. But it is begining to be difficult for me as a wife to see my husband come for a weekend every two weeks and leave again.

I know that he has to work hard. His job and his expertise at it, is what allows us to have the life style we have. I don't earn a penny, no matter if I teach or not, my salary is an embarrassment to all salaries. I know that his job is only possible in our Country and that is why he has to go back... but still, it is hard not to be with him.

Don't get me wrong, it is not only the intimacy thing here. When we are at home, he is dad and I am mom and we do our best to raise the kids. He goes to work early in the morning and comes back to have lunch with us and then gets back at night. I get up early, very early. Get the kids ready for school, drive them and then all the things we SAHM do. I also do my volunteer work at home. I go to pick up the kids, drive home for lunch, help them with their homework, oversee their computer time, their TV time, their Wii time, see they eat well, get them to bed and wait for my dh to arrive home.

While we are here though, things are different. We have a routine when dh is not here: we get up, eat breakfast, the kids help me with their beds and dirty laundry, drive the kids to daycamp, get back, get lunch started, do some housework, go pick the kids back, get home, have a late lunch - early dinner, see that they get a shower at least, watch some TV together, do some summer homework, go to bed.

When my husband comes home it is like Christmas in July: no routine, no order, no helping with house chores, unmade beds, eating outside, going very late to bed, toys everywhere.

It is not that I am complaining about the mess, I am grateful for the kids' mess. I am grateful that he comes for a weekend.

Still, this is not the way I like my life to be. I am a summer single mom and I don't like it at all. I want my family together, everyday.

I know we made this choice together, but it is hard not to be together.

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.