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At the time of my daughter's birth in 1983, I felt
I had finally gotten my life to where I wanted it to be. I had the
daughter that I had always wanted, I was happy, and I was 'on my
way.' That all changed in a split second the night of Kristen's
death, Sunday, July 21, 1985 ~ when I was horrifically 'disconnected'
from life and the hope of living that life with joy.
To me, having my life together meant that my mind,
body, and spirit were all in 'sync.' Despite the normal concerns
of living, a quiet inner peace created balance for me. I felt connected
within myself, as well as with others. It was as if energy flowed
freely throughout my body. Although sometimes partially blocked
by past issues coming to the forefront, overall the freedom of that
flow was uninterrupted ~ at least until I heard those gut-wrenching
words, "Kristen is dead."
Inner chaos was upon me! It was those words, as well
as many others, that snapped and literally destroyed the bridges
between my mind, body, and spirit ~ bridges that would take many
years to painfully rebuild piece by piece.
Losing Kristen was the most devastating experience
of my life. I knew my life would never be the same. I felt that
inner peace shatter before me ~ never again to have that same feeling
of oneness and wholeness.
My inner 'shatteredness' and chaos was not only fueled
by Kristen's death, but also by what had occurred prior to 'letting
go' of her earthly presence. Minutes before Dan and I made the decision
to turn off the machines sustaining Kristen, our parish pastor came
in to 'comfort' us. Little did I know how his presence and words
would impact not only my spiritual life, but also my grief journey
for the next several years.
Having been raised Catholic, I had great respect for
the women and men who gave of their lives to serve God. However,
one quick insensitive comment that dark night changed that drastically.
After the on-call pediatrician informed us that there
was nothing they could do for Kristen, Dan and I were then faced
with the decision of when to turn off the machines to 'let her go.'
That's not something any parent should have to face. Yet, because
we were faced with this, I felt having a priest with us to prepare
Kristen for her 'journey' would help us cope presently, as well
as in the future. In my mind, knowing that Kristen was blessed by
a 'man of God' before her death would make things somewhat bearable.
What I had come to expect from a priest and what I
got were two different things. The shattering of what I thought
was a realistic expectation was what cut me off from my spiritual
life force for almost a decade.
When we asked the priest to just 'be with us' while
we made the decision, he immediately asked us, "Do you know how
long we're going to be here? I'm meeting 3 other priests for dinner
at 6:30." Dan and I could not believe what we had just heard! I
can remember my first thought after he said that. In total disbelief
and anger I said to myself, "You son-of-a-bitch!" We immediately
told him, not asked, but told him to leave. This was at 6 p.m. At
6:05 p.m. Kristen was declared dead.
When I look back on that moment, my rage was not
just about the disgusting and insensitive comment. It was coming
out of all the times in my life I felt abandoned and that something
of value to me was being ripped from my heart. Yet, even though
my very first experience with death occurred when my 36-year-old
dad died suddenly when I was 3 years old, leaving my mom and my
5 other siblings to 'survive,' there was NOTHING that could have
prepared me for the emotional intensity of losing Kristen.
I not only lost my daughter; I lost my 'self',
my inner peace, my life force. The priest totally invalidated
our experience and our feelings. I felt torn apart as if a bomb
had been dropped on an already shattered heart. I expected him to
be there for us and he wasn't. He failed us in our time of need.
And even though he has since died, I have been 'punishing' him for
years for what he said. My tranquility or inner peace was shredded
and replaced with turbulence and chaos.
My anger at God's human disciple and at the situation
we were thrust into, kept me anchored in my grief in varying degrees
over the years. I just could not understand how anyone could have
eating out as a higher priority than being with a grief-stricken
couple about to release their only child to God. Damn him! This
was not something I was about to forget or forgive.
Over the last several years I have definitely not
forgotten those damaging words. However, through the grace of
several 'spiritual awakenings,' I have been taught that forgiveness
is not something you do for someone else ~ you do it for yourself.
My damning him and everyone else who had abandoned me in my lifetime
was 'killing' me, as well as my relationships with my family and
friends.
Since Kristen's death, my grief journey has been impacted
by several other losses that have further complicated my search
for pathways to forgiveness and to reconnecting my shattered mind,
body, and spirit. Those losses added to my already 'boiling cauldron'
of anger. It had often reached exploding levels where I would find
myself yelling at my boys or others and knowing full well who I
was screaming at ~ all those that had left me or betrayed me, those
that had wounded me ~ wounds that I felt would never heal. I now
realize that not forgiving myself and others kept me from moving
from woundedness to creating a new and different kind of wholeness
for myself.
When I finally allowed God's love and grace to work
within me, I was able to work through my anger and use all the energy
I had been using to keep that anger from fully exploding towards
rebuilding my inner world. That flow between my mind, body, and
spirit that had been blocked by rage was now reconnecting.
I have always been aware that God loves me no matter
what. My family has also given me much love. I just hadn't been
allowing it to fully enter my wounded heart. After that spiritual
experience, I not only was able to feel God's love and forgiveness,
I was able to freely receive the love my children and husband have
been offering me all this time. Before, I just wouldn't allow their
love to penetrate that rage. As I experienced forgiveness, that
unconditional love washed over my broken heart like a soothing salve.
The process of healing was now able to continue, albeit slowly.
Intertwined with my personal growth, another facet
of my healing journey is my professional work with grieving individuals.
My mission with this type of work is to hopefully help prevent some
of the complications I had encountered due to unresolved past
family and loss issues and to what people insensitively said and
did early on in my journey. Additionally, by educating others about
the normalcy of grief reactions, possibly 'breaks' in their connecting
world may be less severe and more open to their own healing experience
through the power of love and grace.
That power is within all of us. At times, however,
we just can't see it or feel it. We may feel hopeless and powerless
and that nothing will be able to help us heal. We may feel destined
to be wounded forever. Yes, we may have those wounds forever. But
that doesn't mean that they have to stay open or fester from our
rage, guilt, or fear.
The healing process is just that ~ a process. And
if we give ourselves permission to fully experience that process,
intense emotions and all, we may open a pathway for love and grace
to enter our 'fractured hearts' and to create the hope and possibility
of reconnecting our inner world. That reconnection may give us the
courage to move forward from our woundedness to a new and different
level of wholeness ~ a wholeness that allows us to go out into the
world and be the instruments of love and light we are all destined
to be.
Deb Lee Gould, Director
FOD Family Support Group
February 4, 1995
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