Last year I spoke at a fundraising dinner for the Erika Whitmore Godwin Foundation, the creation of Susan and Wendell Whitmore, a couple who transformed their personal mountain of sorrow into a living monument to their daughter Erika who died in the prime of her life.
The Whitmores created a website, www.griefHaven.org, to help parents and others maimed by the death of a child escape the black swamp of despair and find a road to a brighter future.
About half the people at the dinner had lost a child and therefore were serving a common sentence – to live the rest of their lives with a hole in their hearts.
No one could blame them if they retreated to a dark dungeon of despondency, but the remarkable people in that room refused to surrender. They made a painful peace with their reality so they could move on, so they could laugh, so they could enjoy the company of others and savor good memories without being consumed by regret.
Their strategy is not to bury their pain so deep that they forget their loss. They want to remember, to celebrate, and to honor their children – not by weeping but by improving the world in their child’s name.
I thought the evening would be depressing and there were indeed solemn moments, but in the end, the event was uplifting. These folks prove the resiliency of the human spirit and an inner strength we all have if we choose to draw on it.
Winston Churchill once said, “If you’re going through Hell, keep going.” That’s what these folks did, proving that even the darkest days ultimately yield to the warmth and light of sunshine.
This is Michael Josephson reminding you that character counts.
After I wrote yesterday's commentary (660.2), I received this letter from Susan Whitmore:
Michael,
I hear the sorrow, the disbelief, and the stunned awareness in your words. You are correct. There is no way to ever imagine the horror that we all face when we realize our child is dead and never, ever coming home. The pain is beyond description, and that is why I started this organization. It kills me to think that anyone would find himself or herself in that deep, dark, hopeless hole of agony with no one to turn to who can give needed support, tools, and hope. I had nowhere to turn, and I swear to God I will do this work until I take my last breath, for I want to make sure no one else ever goes through having nothing to hang onto.
The reality is that no matter how a child dies, the end result is the same. That child is gone –forever. The difference is in the memories with which we all have to live and incorporate into our lives and work very hard to heal. I relived watching Erika die over and over and over a million times, haunting me wherever I was, even in my dreams. But I was with Erika, and today I am grateful for that fact.
There are those who aren’t there, and they have different memories to live with. Then there is this situation, where they are there and witness it. PTSD is a huge part of losing a child. In Julia’s mother’s case, it is all so horrific that it’s right up there with someone watching their child be murdered or accidentally killing your child yourself, which also happens in car accidents, freak accidents, etc. We all have that one split second where it hits us for the first time. “My God! My God! She is dead. She is dead. She is never coming home. No hugs. No phone calls. No future. No anything. It’s done. My baby is gone. Why? Why? What happened? I don’t understand.”
It doesn’t matter whether they were 32, as in my case, or 13, as in Julia’s case. They are always our babies. We cannot believe they are actually dead, and then, for a long, long time after that, we relive that reality over and over again until it sinks in. That is where support groups are very important and powerful and why we offer so many different items from which a parent may pick and choose.
The only thing that helps me whenever I am contacted (regularly, every day) by someone somewhere in this world who has lost another child is that I focus on the fact that griefHaven is there for them, we are there for them, and if we survived, anyone can. I thank God for that every day, and it brings me great relief and peace of heart.
We will be there for them unless they turn us away (which has never happened). Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. We are starting a new support group as well as a teen support group. Steven Reuben and Wendell will run the teen support group while I will run the parent support group.
Michael, thank you for all of your love and support over the years.
Susan
The Erika Whitmore Godwin Foundation
"Where Hope Resides"
www.griefHaven.org