What is "self-help"? A keyword search
on the Internet found almost four million references
- yes four million. The range of web pages that
came up included: a credit union in North Carolina,
The Ontario Self Help Resource Centre, an American
National Mental Health Consumer's Clearinghouse,
self improvement-related pages, legal advice,
information on everything from scientology to
tarot cards, as well as self help groups, organizations
and resources dealing with a wide range of social,
medical and mental health issues including depression,
nutrition, irritable bowel syndrome, eating disorders,
addiction/recovery, breast cancer and of course
bereavement.
I was going to have to do a lot of reading to
discover the meaning of self-help. So I tried
narrowing my search - here's what I found:
Typing in the words "self-help" in
the search engine "google.ca" produced
3,980,000 results. Add the word "Canadian"
and it drops to a mere 659,000. "Bereavement
Self-Help" will get you 64,600 entries -
limit it to Canadian, you'll still get 4,380.
It's hard to know when you're on the Internet,
what is and what is not useful information. After
an hour or so searching and clicking, my eyes
start to glaze over and I don't feel I've really
gotten anywhere! (A future goal of mine is to
work with a volunteer to compile a list of relevant
and helpful websites to add to the resources we
make available at BFO, especially for the newly
bereaved).
What's clear from the proliferation of self-help
support (both in the real world and in the virtual
world of the Internet) is that self-help is more
popular than ever. Why is that? Marisa Gelfusa
of the Ontario Self-Help Network (OSHNET) describes
the "magic" of self help this way: "I
think what really works in mutual aid is that
the knowledge and wisdom come from the people
in the group as opposed to outside expertise.
The real miracle is not what you find out in a
self help group, it's the process of being a part
of the group."
In my short time at BFO, I have come across many
wonderful examples of that magic. In addition
to the positive feedback we receive after members
complete their groups at BFO, volunteers also
benefit as a result of their ongoing affiliation
with the organization. I've met people who, after
having participated in a self-help group, have
gone on to volunteer in the organization - many
of them for 10, 15 or 20 years! When I ask them
why they are so committed to BFO they tell me,
"When my loved one died, BFO was here for
me. They saved my life. Now I want to be there
for someone else and give back some of the support
I received." It's not uncommon for me to
hear from a volunteer who has come in for a one-to-one
meeting with a newly bereaved person (some meetings
lasting as long as three hours!) that they feel
they got as much out of it as they gave. That's
what happens in peer support situations. Volunteers
feel that they continue to heal from their losses
by supporting someone else in their journey. Now
that's magic!
OSHNET has begun The Self-Help/Mutual Aid Quilt
Project, because they know that self-help works
and they want others to know it too! They are
looking for statements from people in all kinds
of self-help groups describing the impact of self-help
on peoples' lives. They want to create a "quilt"
of statements about the power of self-help.
We want BFO members' voices to be heard in this
very exciting project. So please take a few minutes
to:
1) Think about how your involvement in a BFO
self-help group has made a difference in your
life.
2) Write 4 or 5 lines and either email it to me
at prog.bfo@axxent.ca or drop it in the mail or
at the office the next time you're in.
All submissions will be confidential. Only your
initials, the type of group you were in and that
it was a BFO group will appear with your statement.
You can also participate by contacting OSHNET
directly via Marisa. She can be reached on email:
oshnet@selfhelp.on.ca, by phone: 416-487-4355
or fax: 416-487-0344. And if you want to check
out one of the great resources on the web, log
onto The Self Help Resource Centre's site at www.selfhelp.on.ca.
Betty Ann Rutledge
Coordinator of Volunteer Programs
December 17, 2001, was my first day as Executive
Director of Bereaved Families of Ontario - Toronto
and Doris Burns, the Transitional Executive Director
was there to greet me. She provided me with an
excellent orientation for which I was very grateful
- many thanks Doris!
My journey here began three years ago - the day
a policeman came to my door, late one evening,
to inform me that my son, Simon, who was travelling
around South-East Asia, had drowned in Indonesia.
As the initial shock subsided, I was left with
an overwhelming ache in my heart. "Why did
this have to happen to me?" I asked myself.
As the weeks grew into months, the question became
"What is the meaning of it all?" I knew
that my life would be changing even more, but
how, I didn't yet know. The only thing I knew
was that I would be working with grief and loss.
Coming from an eclectic background comprising
organizational development, community building,
finance, fundraising, counselling and psychotherapy,
I had many paths to follow. The moment I saw the
job posting for the position of Executive Director,
I knew immediately that this was it. This was
where all my skills and experience could come
together. I was offered the position and I happily
accepted. Coincidentally, the day I started at
BFO was the day before the anniversary of Simon's
death.
I am very excited to be a part of the BFO team.
My admiration for the volunteers grows daily.
Their commitment and tenacity have carried the
organization through some very difficult times.
Our staff is enthusiastic, energetic and very
hard working. I see nothing but wonderful possibilities
for our future - BFO is such a rich organization!
Although the past year, in particular, has been
exceedingly challenging, I know there is a bright
light at the end of the tunnel and we will get
there.
I feel honoured to be a member of this strong,
compassionate community and I look forward to
meeting you all.
A Child's Tree of Light Dedication
December 6, 2001
Elaine Gort - Bereaved Parent, Facilitator
Tonight we are here as grieving mothers, fathers,
brothers, sisters, grandparents, extended family
and faithful friends to participate in the dedication
and lighting of 'A Child's Tree of Light'. It
is a ritual that feels bittersweet. It speaks
of shattered dreams. The dreams we as parents
held for our yet to be born child, for our babe
held briefly, for our mischievous toddler, for
our cherished grade school child, for our teen
dancing towards independence, for our almost adult,
for our adult busy with career and possibly a
family of their own. We think of our children
whose lives were shaped by illness, and our children
for whom suicide seemed the only answer. Our tears
for all of these dear children mix with the tears
of those of you grieving mothers, fathers and
siblings taken too soon.
Like many of you, my family has faced several
holiday seasons grieving our shattered dreams
- grieving a death out of turn. We know that grief
knows no timeline and that being here tonight
may trigger our grief. I hope for each of you
the strength to reach out should you need comforting
and the capacity to comfort others who may be
unable to voice their need.
For those of you facing your first holiday season
without your beloved child or parent, thank you
for having the courage to attend, for taking yet
another heart-wrenching step on your grief journey.
I vividly remember attending my first tree of
light dedication and searching the tree for our
beloved son Mark's name - wanting to find it and
yet not wanting it to be there. Be gentle with
yourselves and your family members.
As we approach the dark days of winter, the darkness
outside can parallel the darkness within. Yet
what we will soon experience together is a symbolic
event - where there is no light there will be
light. A dark unlit tree adorned with the names
of our precious children will be transformed into
a tree glittering with a myriad of lights shining
upon those names.
Just as light may ease a child's nighttime fears,
light in both practical and symbolic ways can
be a solace along our grief journey. Just as we
yearn for the morning light we yearn for an easing
of our sorrow.
Wherever you are in your grief journey, allow
yourself to be conscious of even momentary glimmers
of light - the first time a family member shares
a memory of the person that has died, the moment
you are able to laugh and not immediately feel
guilty, a family event where you can acknowledge
both its pain and pleasure.
Creating new family rituals, is one way my family
sought to ease our sorrow. Some of those rituals
incorporate light which is also part of many different
traditions and festivals. On the 1st anniversary
of Mark's death we borrowed from the Japanese
tradition of floating lanterns down rivers to
light the way of the ancestors to the land of
the dead - this was especially fitting as he died
on the water.
Twelve years after Mark's death, I feel gifted
to have been able to find light in the midst of
inner darkness. The light provided by family and
counsellors that first brought me to Bereaved
Families. The light group members and facilitators
provided in the Mother's Group I attended. The
light that continues to provide healing as I participate
in commemorative events such as 'The Tree of Light'.
We have gathered here as a community of mourners
to transform this dark unlit tree into a memorial
of light. Standing here as a bereaved mother,
I feel honoured to represent all of you in dedicating
this year's tree to the memory of each of our
loved ones. I do so with hope that in your grief
work you will find light. I do so with hope that
where there is light there will be a measure of
healing.
I ask you to now join me in observing a moment
of silence to remember our children and our loved
ones and to remember the 14 young women who were
murdered on December 6th, 1989 in Montreal.
… and when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Romeo and Juliet, Act III, ii.
Dear Wonderful and Caring
People,
Last evening my two boys and I attended at City
Hall the Tree of Light event. This is our third
time. We have made this a tradition.
I, like Elaine Gort find it most difficult to
approach the Tree. I send my boys to go first.
Seeing my late husband and sister's names just
depletes me. I eventually make my way, and then
the waterworks begin. It has been 8 years for
my sister and 7 for my husband. Seeing their names
erases the years and brings it back to the present.
Even though I find it emotionally draining, I
plan to attend for as long as you continue to
hold this coming together of individuals who have
so much to share - the loss of a loved one.
God Bless.
Maria Christina Blanchard
The documentary "Our Grieving Hearts"
aired on CBC in November, it examined how parents
coped with the death of a child.
Three stories were told:
Margaret and Pierre Trudeau and the drowning
of their 23-year old son, Michel;
Linda and Glen Woods who lost one teenage
son to suicide, and a second to a car accident;
Frances and Peter Napoli's 5-year old daughter
died of a brain tumour.
Our library at Bereaved Families now has two
copies for those who are interested in viewing.
The Lighting Ceremony was done by Chris Walsh,
Bereaved Parent, Facilitator. Chris was joined by
her daughter Patricia Liverseed, Bereaved Sibling,
Facilitator.
Jason had a passion for life which was infectious.
Everyone around him got caught up and carried
along by his enthusiasm and joy. He was a few
months away from college graduation and looking
forward to a career which everyone agreed he was
meant to pursue and would excel at. Jason had
a large circle of close and trusted friends and
was secure in the love and support of his family.
All of that came to an end on the afternoon of
New Year's Day, 1998, when the car in which he
was a passenger lost control on a snowy road and
swerved into oncoming traffic.
That was also when the lives of those who love
Jason changed forever in ways we could never have
imagined. We were plunged into a time of indescribable
pain and loss and our hopes and dreams for Jason
vanished. Each of us struggled with feelings of
anger, regret and overwhelming grief. Any sense
of control over our lives and our futures had
been snatched away and we were left feeling utterly
alone with our sorrow. I have a tremendously close
and loving relationship with Patricia and the
rest of my family and it was never more needed
or appreciated than after Jason's death. Our shared
grief brought us even closer together and cemented
the roles we play within our family. However,
grief is a very personal and lonely journey and
very much shaped by the relationship which is
lost.
That is when I found Bereaved Families. It was
such a relief to speak with others who shared
that same terrible bond - others whose children
had died. I can remember that during those first
few months after Jason's death I would walk into
a room and think to myself "There is no one
else here like me - there is no one else who has
lost a child" and be overcome with a desperate
feeling of loneliness. At Bereaved Families there
is no need to feel alone. That sense of belonging,
of being able to share those overwhelming and
sometimes frightening thoughts and emotions we
experience after the loss of a child, was like
a lifeline to me. The opportunity to speak with
others who truly did understand what I was going
through returned some sense of normalcy and calm
to my life at a time when it was about as far
from normal and calm as possible. I think the
presence of Bereaved Families also brought comfort
to my own parents and siblings, because they felt
I was in good hands and that there were others
out there helping them to look after me.
Bereaved Families was also there for Patricia.
We both lost Jason on that New Year's Day, but
Jason is my son and he is Patricia's brother.
We each had a very distinct relationship with
him and he played different roles in our lives.
We lost the same person, Jason, but we lost a
different part of ourselves, of our identities.
Because of that, our grief experiences have not
been the same. Patricia was able to spend time
with other young adults who shared the same loss
and a similar grief, because they too had suffered
the loss of a sibling.
When I met with BFO staff and volunteers in those
first few months, I was a little frightened by
how they each were still consumed, many years
later, by the death of their child. I understand
that now. The death of a loved one, especially
a child, truly is life altering. We do learn to
laugh again, to let a little happiness back into
our lives, but we never forget, we never go back
to what we were before and our lives are not what
we expected them to be. We incorporate that loss
into our lives and the loss itself, as well as
the person who died, become a part of us. Bereaved
Families helps us to do that.
Recent world events have brought
to the forefront the concept of communities coming
together in time of crisis. Those same world events
are a sharp and painful reminder of our own losses
and also serve to heighten our compassion and
empathy for others who are suffering. Add to that
the emotion of the holiday season, a time when
the bereaved feel especially alone, and we realize
how our own Bereaved Families community is here
to offer us comfort and support. The annual "Child's
Tree of Light" has become a touching holiday
tradition for me. The doves, each bearing the
name of a loved one, symbolize the comfort and
peace that Bereaved Families brings to us and
the bright lights symbolize our happy memories
and love. It is time when we can renew friendships
and remember our children with sadness but also
joy, a time when we feel a little less alone.
Written by Chris Walsh
Two days
after Jason died I was sitting on the front porch
of my family's home with one of my school teachers
who was very close to both Jason and myself. He
said something to me that only after a long time
could I understand. In fact it would be only after
a long time that the world would pull itself back
into focus for me. I think that's the way it is
for many people, many times in our lives. We've
all experienced things that snap the image of our
reality out of frame, that make all we're accustomed
to hearing inaudible and distorted… When Jason
died it was as if my senses had all been submerged
by the prevailing feeling one has in the face of
grief. Like being underwater, nothing was clear,
my day-to-day motions were slow and calculated without
calculating them at all. Everything is both automatic
and redundant… the world washes over you in
blurry images and distorted sounds. I'm not exactly
sure when my world returned to me but the seemingly
impossible did eventually happen. This ability to
continue, not quite recover but mend the dizziness
and constant confusion, the ability to return to
a sense of normalcy astounded me as much then as
it does now, as I see it prevalent in all those
who bear the weight of their mended grief. Since,
I have never ceased to marvel at this human quality.
It is also, however, responsible for a lot of missed
lessons, confusion, and Kleenex… still, it
remains the virtue that gets us through.
The wisdom needed to see this virtue is one that
can only come from a hard and enlightening interaction
with those who are also expressing that very virtue.
I would not be able to tell you about this with
such confidence had I not first seen it and shared
it with others. Do we not have to be with people
to know that we are in fact a person? Don't we
first have to see traits in others to first admire
and then adopt them ourselves? We're social creatures,
undoubtedly, and learn, live, grieve and laugh
with each other best of all.
This was made available to me when I first went
to a group at Bereaved Families. Not only was
it a comfort for me to be surrounded by others
who could understand my grief but it also helped
me understand the grief of my family and how the
unexpected in life effects us all very personally
and differently. After Jason died I had never
imagined that I would be sitting around a coffee
table laughing about how I wasn't eating, sleeping,
thinking straight… y'know, the usual.
It's difficult enough as a young adult to be
understood and to find those to understand. Imagine
the relief to my confusion and loneliness when
I found not only those close to my own age, exciting,
interesting people with similar goals and views
as myself, but people who also understood what
it was like to lose a family member. These were
the people that I was afforded the opportunity
to become very close to in the time following
my brother's death.
These were
people that understood the unique initial shock,
our mutual slow and seemingly unproductive recovery,
our families' thrown into turmoil, our world view
shaken so completely… And most of all we shared
and understood the one thing that was probably so
difficult for us all in that younger age group;
We understood the fragile nature of life, its chaos,
its lack of real security… We gained through
each other a remarkable understanding our own mortality.
I cannot begin to tell you how humbling this notion
is to a 19 year old, nor how frightening it would
have been had I not had the support of others who
were shaken by the same thoughts.
I can't stress how important this support was
for me and my mother during that time and I can't
stress enough my complete and sincere gratitude,
appreciation and how fortunate I feel for having
found a place at Bereaved Families. It was them
who provided me with an outlet, it was them who
turned the worst time in my life into a time of
growth and learning, it was they who were there
as I slowly drew myself out of grief and into
the beginning of a spiritual journey. It was them
who finally allowed me to understand what Jason's
teacher had said to me that day on the porch so
inconceivably long ago. It's because my experience
and all that I've taken as wisdom from them and
myself that I have, over the course of the last
three years been volunteering my time to Bereaved
Families by facilitating drop-ins, running a children's
group and giving to others the same gift I was
given when I needed it most of all.
Is it not by the virtue of others that we see
and learn of those virtues within ourselves? My
being here now and all of you being here now is
testament to that very legacy and we are all gifted
enough to show others our strength and the common
discovery we've made together about being human…
not alone but together.
So I suppose you would all like to know what
Jason's drama teacher said to me?… there
is not one aspect of my experience four years
ago that I wouldn't share in the hopes that I
may do all the good I received from others sharing
with me.
He said to me; "One day it won't hurt so
much to love him again."
Have you ever wondered
whatever happens to people when they die or why
rainbows appear in the sky? Many questions like
this go around the world every day. Sad things can
happen in life but when someone dies it can be very
painful and sometimes can change your life forever.
It was a cool night on October 22, 1996. I was
at my Hebrew school as usual. About halfway through
I went home early because something happened to
my Zaidy (grandfather). The doctor came and my
mommy took him to the hospital and I went to bed.
The next day I was back at school. After lunch
my Mom came and took me to the hospital. When
we arrived all of my cousins were there. About
an hour later my mom told me Zaidy might die.
I was very upset when I heard. About a half-hour
later she came back and said he had died. All
the way home I cried.
I am in grade 6 now and to this day I still wonder,
Why do people die? And then I thought maybe people
in heaven show us they are really there by giving
us a sign. The story below may help you understand
why there are rainbows and maybe answer the question,
"What do people in heaven do anyway?"
Racing through the night I caught a glimpse of
an eagle. A few seconds later I saw another bird
that was the colour of the rainbow. I thought
I was dreaming. When I got home, I saw my Mom
and Bubby (grandmother) crying. They told me my
Zaidy had died. That night I went to bed. I looked
out of my window and caught a glimpse of the cemetery
where Zaidy would be buried the next morning.
After the funeral was over I ran home to my room.
I looked out my window at the cemetery and saw
a white light over Zaidy's grave. All of a sudden
the light sprouted wings and turned the colour
of the rainbow like the bird I had seen the day
before. I thought to myself, I must be dreaming.
I got on my coat and raced towards the woods in
hope to find the bird, my Zaidy. It started raining,
I kept running. Up ahead I saw the bird with streams
of light coming out of it until it rested in a
tree leaving a Rainbow. I stepped closer. There
was a scurry of movement on the ground and the
bird leapt up to action and dove at the poor mouse
and then rested waiting and waiting.
Then out of nowhere there was a voice, like my
Zaidy's. I called out, the bird turned to look
at me. It had tears in its eyes from crying. I
looked at it, it looked back. I said to myself
that it had to be Zaidy.
I retreated home that night to find almost everyone
in my family at my house. I ate supper and went
to bed. That night I saw the bird from my window.
I opened the window and called out into the darkened
night, there was no reply.
The next morning I went to the woods to look for
the bird. Up in the distance I saw a figure sitting
on a bench, it was singing. I figured I would leave
it alone, even though it was a Rainbow Bird. I went
to school that day and still could not concentrate
on my work. The next morning I went to see the bird,
it was not there. Then up in the distance I could
see it landing on a branch. I waited for the bird
to rest and then I called out. When it heard me
again in looked at me with tears and said my name.
As I ran to it, it raised its wings and called
my name filling the air with dozens of colours
flooding the sky. I hugged the bird tightly and
said to myself now I know Zaidy is with me when
I want him to be.
A few years went by and I still visit the bird
on a regular basis, but I will never forget the
song I heard on the way to school one morning:
Flying day and night
Flaming through my wings colours brighten the
sky
I hunt with stealth and leave behind no fear
I am the Rainbow Bird
Stormy or clear
My rainbow will cheer those who hear
I am a heavenly bird that lights the night
I am the Rainbow Bird
Cold and warm please show no fear
Please show you hear
I need your presence because I am a lonely bird
I am the Rainbow Bird
Everyone who made a membership donation will
be acknowledged in our Annual Report for 2001.
The following individuals contributed to our
annual membership drive during late November and
December 2001.
Beverly Shugg Barbeito
Chris & Elaine Gort
Lydia Kett
Ronald Manzer
All group participants have access to our services
and programs for 12 months. At the end of this
time we invite you to join as a member to continue
receiving our newsletter and other information
about upcoming special events and memorial events.
In becoming a member you also help ensure that
our bereavement services remain available free
of charge to other bereaved families.
* Italian Family Support Nights are
held at the Columbus Centre at 901 Lawrence
Avenue West (Lawrence & Dufferin), signs will be
placed in the front entrance.
Please Note: Family Support Night
is not appropriate for children to attend.
We are thankful for the generosity of
Lou Tseramis and his family
who regularly display our coinbox
at Chris Coffee Shop.
Thank you for your support.
This newsletter is produced for our
members and supporters. Our newsletter is available
by mail and email.
We welcome submissions, please forward to Laura Larsen
(llarsen@bfotoronto.ca).
We reserve the right to edit items submitted for publication.
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