Dealing with the Death of a Parent
Triple Points addresses three perspectives on the topic of losing a parent/spouse: a father, a son, a daughter and a professional. We also include tips on how to start a conversation about loss with your teen.
Parent
Anonymous
Two years ago, we lost my wife due to complications with her chemo treatments. Although we knew that her time was limited, we did not expect it to happen so suddenly.
My wife was courageous and remained outwardly strong and upbeat through her cancer journey. So, it was a tremendous shock to lose her unexpectedly, especially for our three children: our 23-year-old and 19-year-old daughters and 16-year-old son. There had been no time for my wife and me to prepare them for what was coming.
In addition to their grief and shock, they felt an underlying anger that I had not been honest with them about the diagnosis. All three had always insisted that they wanted honesty about everything, but we simply were not yet prepared to tell them. And of course, we wanted to protect them.
Our kids are mature and self-confident, but I worried about them throughout the grieving process. Initially, we attended a family grief counseling session together, but we couldn’t continue the sessions with us located in three different states. I continued to attend counseling and grief-support groups to show my kids that I was taking care of myself.
My oldest daughter was already ‘launched’ and thriving in Chicago and attending counseling on her own. Her younger sister was in college in North Carolina, and she relied on friends and a busy schedule instead of counseling. This worked for a short time, but I learned that college could be a very lonely place for students in grief. She has done fine despite that, but I wish that I had worked more with her school’s administration to provide her support options.
I think that my son was at the toughest age to deal with the loss of a parent. Just weeks after losing my wife, he was at fault in a serious car accident. I soon started to suspect substance use. He was never perfect, but it became hard for me to reconcile this new kid with the one who had the strength and courage to speak so beautifully at his mother’s memorial service.
After much searching, I realized that I needed to be a different parent than I was before. My wife had always been the better parent, so I tried to adopt her viewpoint in responding to situations as she would have. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, and I drew support from my grief counselor and advice and affirmation from late night phone calls to close friends.
The next year with my son seemed like an ongoing barrage of troubled events with law enforcement and school officials. In an odd way, I felt fortunate that he had the “bad luck” of always getting caught. This made it easier to show him that there were real consequences for bad decisions.Through all of this, I had trouble sifting the typical 16-year-old boy stuff from the grief-driven behavior. I often asked, “Why me?” I didn’t know how to deal with my son’s issues without my wife. But, I learned to listen to my gut and made some courageous decisions that illustrated for my kids, especially my son, that I was the parent and able to move forward.
We are all now moving forward. My son was a typical teenage boy who kept his feelings and emotions under the surface. I needed to help push him into situations where he could release them in a channeled and safe way. A huge step forward in my son’s grief process was his participation in a weeklong Outward Bound experience in the US Rockies for grieving teenagers.
Non-parent events like this provide a place where kids can “own” their grief without someone telling them how to do it. Through error, I learned to discuss decisions with my son instead of dictating them. During that rough year, he was balancing school, work and sports, and I insisted he quit his job so that he could focus. My insistence turned out to be a big mistake that caused more anger.
Looking back on that first year, I can see the depth of my son’s anger. Our journey won’t ever end, but as we change, it changes too. We have a closer relationship, and he is happier and making better decisions.
I have learned to be more transparent to all of my kids and continuously show them through my own grief journey that good and growth can come from sadness and loss.
Teen 1
by Cody Burger
My father, Larry Carl Burger, died on January 11, 2008. I was 14 and living through something that most teenagers don’t experience.
Graduating from the eighth grade had been amazing – the excitement of summer and the anticipation of high school and a family trip to Canada. Our trip started out great, but when we got to Niagara Falls, my dad got sick. I assumed he had the flu, but everything went downhill from there.
After we returned home, my parents met with many doctors, including an oncologist. My brother, sister and I weren’t told, so we thought everything was okay.
Then, after dinner one night, my dad said, “I have cancer, but don’t worry. I will be okay.” We all started balling. Just hearing the word, “cancer,” terrified us. But, my dad said that the surgery would remove all the cancer, and he would survive.
The big day arrived. My family was so excited, especially my dad. We got to say, “I love you!” before they whisked him into the surgical room. We walked into the waiting room, mentally preparing for a long day. After three hours, the doctor told my mother and me that the cancer had spread beyond repair. We started crying and returned to the waiting room to tell everyone.
That was so hard.
Seeing my dad after surgery was difficult because he was weak and frail. It made me feel uncomfortable. This wasn’t my dad. But, I will always remember what he said: “Never give up, never surrender.” This became our motto during chemotherapy.
The two, tough months of chemo weakened my dad so much that he couldn’t eat, so he took a break from treatment to regain his strength. He felt best during this time. We had Christmas with our “normal dad,” who felt good and not sick, or so I thought.
One week later, Dad was rushed to the hospital, and we were told to say our goodbyes. When it was my turn, I hugged him for a while. I just lied there on the bed next to him, hoping that he would never leave me.
Dad lasted one more week. On the morning of January 11, my sister screamed, “Get dressed! We are going to the hospital.” I threw on some clothes, and we rushed out. Everyone was crying, even my brother, Paul, who rarely cries. Suddenly, Dad started making a noise. Everyone surrounded him and that was it. He wasn’t breathing anymore. I called to the nurse, saying,” I think he’s dead.” After that, we all just sat around Dad, sobbing.
My dad’s death didn’t feel real. We came home exhausted, but we sat together for a while, shocked and sad. Eventually, we went to bed and mentally prepared for the wake and the burial. The wake was at the funeral home, and people waited in a long line for hours to say their thoughts. For me, standing in the line was horrible; it made the loss feel real.
The next day was the funeral. My dad was buried on January 19, 2008. As we arrived at the church, I noticed that the parking lot looked full. I escorted my dad in his casket down the aisle and realized that the church was also packed. I saw my friends there; this meant a lot to me. Finally, I got to my seat. All I could do was cry. I couldn’t even listen to the sermon; all I could hear was the sobbing around me.
As we drove to the cemetery, I looked back and saw millions of cars. So many people wanted to pay their respects to my dad. We were allowed to write on the casket, so people took turns writing their feelings to my dad. In the end, the entire casket was covered with words. I love that our thoughts and goodbyes will always be with my dad.
Days later, I returned to school. School felt like a safe haven, almost as though nothing had happened. Yes, people expressed their sympathies, and I was thankful for their show of support. But at the same time, I didn’t want to hear anything about my dad; I wanted school to be unchanged. I needed to complete assignments and make up tests, and the routine felt normal and comfortable. In fact, school kept me sane through my grieving process.
Certainly, this experience changed my life forever. I had to grow up and be more mature than I was. I didn’t have a choice, as I had to help make things better for my family. There are things that I will never forget about my dad. My dad was amazing; he always spoiled me and knew exactly what to do when I was down. He could always make me smile. He was my best friend, and that will never change.
Teen 2
by Arielle Ginsberg
My mom passed away from breast and ovarian cancer when I was nine years old. At the time it was difficult for me to understand how her death would affect me in the long run because I was so young. Now, I’m 17 years old, and I think about how different my life would be if my mother were alive. Most kids take their parents for granted; they don’t realize how lucky they are to have a mom and a dad to go home to everyday.
After my mom passed away, I slowly began to take on the role as a mother figure in my household, even though before she died, my mom told me not to become the mom and instead have fun being a kid. Still, I’ve always felt the need to take care of my twin brother and dad by making sure they’re on time, waking them up in the morning and cooking them dinner.
It’s especially hard as a teenage girl not to have my mother because I can’t have the same relationship with my dad. My friends’ parents have always been supportive and available for me, but it’s still hard to see my friends with their moms when I don’t have mine. The older I get, the more I want to know who my mom was as a person. At nine, I was too young to really know her. I just wish she were here.
Now that I’m older, I’ve become more aware of what happened to her. Both my mom and my grandmother died of breast cancer, and it is scary to know about my higher risk. No one knows what will happen in life, but this experience forces me to really live life to the fullest and appreciate everything.
The biggest positive from my loss is that I am an independent, strong, young woman. I have had to learn a lot of things on my own in the nine years since my mom passed away, and the hard times and moments I may have missed out on have made me a stronger person. I am prepared for my independence as an adult more than most of my peers. I do question whether I’m growing up to be the best person I can be, but at 17 years old, I am happy with who I am. I do not know why my mom had to die, but I am determined to always hope for the best and make the best out of my life.
Teen 3
by Joseph Iudica
Many teens report that their mother is the most significant influence in their lives. My case is not that different. My mother greatly influenced my life through the way she lived, but even more so through the way she died.
Even while dying, my mother lived. In her deepest pain, she experienced joy in being with my father, my two sisters and me. Her desire to be a mother everyday, first and foremost, was a living, breathing lesson of love and parenting. Our last Christmas together gave me a picture of her strength that is forever ingrained in my mind. Even though her body was weak and her pain was visible, she smiled and celebrated. In her death, she brought my family together. We grew closer because of our combined loss and learned to lean on one another when times were tough.
My mother taught me that family comes first and matters most. Material possessions can be replaced, but loved ones are irreplaceable. For nearly four years, my mother battled with brain cancer. She endured multiple surgeries and painful treatments. Willing to do whatever it took to fight her cancer, she traveled long distances to receive treatment. My mother did all of this with a smile on her face, hiding the pain from her loved ones. When doctors told her she would never walk again after surgery, she proved them wrong, taking her first steps within two weeks. Her drive and determination compels me never to give up and always to try my hardest.
My mother’s memory lives in me today. I am frequently reminded of her perseverance when I am exhausted and want to stop studying for an exam or stop running in a soccer game. When I want to give up, I envision my mom’s grace and stoicism during her painful battle, and I am filled with strength and determination to finish what I started.
My mother’s illness and death has had a lasting impact on my family and me. We have grown much closer as a family and have found closure through each other. As an individual, I have grown into a mature young man. The trials I have lived through have tested my strength and resiliency. If my mother were still alive today, my goal would be to make her proud of me. But somehow, I know in my heart, she already is.
Professional
by Kathy Maxwell, LISW-S
When families experience the death of a parent, it brings emotional pain and grief to the teenager and the surviving parent. Though the loss is great, families can take steps to help teens and parents cope during this challenging time.
A parent’s death interrupts the normal life of the teenager. Regardless of whether the death is sudden or anticipated, the teen’s initial response is usually shock. Even though Cody had some preparation for the impending loss, his father’s death did not seem real. Roles and responsibilities shift in families when a parent dies, as shown in Arielle’s story; teens often talk about the need to “grow up fast,” which is difficult to avoid. Parents can keep the lines of communication open in order to balance the needs of everyone.
Feelings of anger, as described in the article written by the anonymous father, are a common response to a parent’s death. Teens benefit from being allowed to express their anger in ways that do not harm themselves or anyone else. Saying, “you shouldn’t feel that way,” denies the teen his reality. Of course he is angry, and the parent is likely to feel that way too. It is helpful to recognize this emotion, and others that arise, for what they are: a normal reaction to something that feels very sad and unfair. Teenagers cognitively perceive the reality of death, including its universality, inevitability and irreversibility, but they need help understanding, accepting and expressing their emotions.
The teen years, as we know, are fraught with conflict. Though conflict is normal, it can complicate grief because teens may feel some responsibility for the death and may carry a residual guilt. The loss also brings mortality to the forefront. For teens who have lost a parent to illness, as Arielle describes, there is an increased awareness of health, disease and dying. This can create anxiety in the teen, not only about the teen’s eventual death but also about the surviving parent’s lifespan. The anguish teenagers experience in losing a parent is understandable; Cody’s story exemplifies the depth of sorrow. But all of these emotions – guilt, vulnerability, fear and sadness – coupled with the normal search for independence, attest to the teen’s need for guidance and protection from the surviving parent.
The anonymous father recognized the need to demonstrate to his children that receiving support is an essential part of healing. As he stated, coping was something that was difficult to do alone. While not every parent will seek a support group or counseling, parents will benefit from showing their children that they are willing to work through the reality of their grief.
Teens typically spend a good deal of energy trying to define and embody “normal.” Teens who have lost a parent are suddenly different from their peers. They often feel uncomfortable returning to school, feeling like they are being treated differently. Parents can help by asking their teens how they would like the school to be informed. This empowers teens, giving them a chance to regain some control. Support groups for teens who have experienced a death are also helpful because being with others who are going through the same kind of thing helps them feel less alone.
The after-effects of grief continue long into the young person’s life, as demonstrated by Arielle’s thoughts. At each important stage of life, the loss is revisited. Cody states he will never forget his father, who, in his heart, will always be his best friend. Although it can hurt, talking and reminiscing about the parent who died helps teens incorporate the parent into their life. Other ways to bring healing include telling stories, wearing jewelry or clothing that belonged to the parent, having and using some of their possessions, visiting the grave site, writing letters or drawing pictures and making a memory book or box to capture stories, photos and other mementos.
Cody recognized that he is forever changed by the loss. Arielle noted that she has learned to always hope for the best even as she has been through the worst. The father eloquently expressed the wisdom that one can gain through grief: “Good and growth can come from sadness and loss.” The experience of losing a parent can actually bring the family closer as they acknowledge the loss, but continue on with their lives. There is room for hope when a family can accept and express grief openly on the ever-evolving path of healing.
Kathy Maxwell, LISW-S, a clinical program staff member at The Gathering Place, a cancer support center in Beachwood and Westlake, Ohio, where she works with teens and young adults. She also maintains a private practice in Solon, Ohio.
Start the Conversation
How can a non-family member help a grieving teen?
By Laura Serazin, MA, ATR
Actions speak louder than words. This is never truer than when you reach out to a grieving family. Last night in our support group, one teen smiled as she explained how three of her father’s friends had fought at his funeral about who would get to plow the family’s driveway. She said they finally decided to share the responsibility. Notice that they didn’t come up at the funeral and say, “If there is anything I can do to help, give me a call.” All of the teens agreed that these words were not helpful and did not mean much.
Losing a parent in a household leaves a lot of gaps. Perhaps there is no longer anyone to drive a teen to practice, help him with algebra or cheer her on at her volleyball game. Who will mow the grass or help the teen get ready for prom? As a caring adult, you can impact the life of a child by a few acts of kindness. If you are not sure what the teen or the family needs, then make a few suggestions, but let them know that you are open to ideas. Even if there is another type of loss, the parents may be so incapacitated by their grief that they are unable to support their teen. They may not have the energy or ability to do everyday things. After losing a child, some parents can’t even get out of bed. Think of the burden that puts on a teen.
Remember that whatever you do, be genuine. Don’t say, “I know how you feel,” don’t give false promises and don’t approach them in pity. They will appreciate sincerity, even if they don’t show it.
Laura Serazin, MA, ATR, Children’s Program Coordinator, Cornerstone of Hope.
We’ve addressed loss a lot in our family — loss of family members, but also loss in general (I work in a social service field where loss is a big issue). And it seems to me that it’s not “a conversation,” but rather, a lifetime of conversations, some short, some long, about a lot of things related to loss. I believe that illness, death. loss have to be normalized — the more modern cultures become, the further we move away from the reality of death — and that’s not a good thing.
A LOOK BACK ON THE PROCESS OF GRIEVING A LOSS
As a father I must say that there seem to be some “accepted” realities about grieving by the father, or head of household, that just don’t seem to hold up for me. As with anything, I try to view things from a “balanced” perspective, at least I think I do. I certainly maintain this as a valid perspective. In grieving, I tend to view it as a shared responsibility.
When our son (18 and a wise soul at that ready to take on the world), brother to our children, friend to so many others, died so suddenly a while back, I considered how my grieving would impact the family. The “advice” I heard mostly was, “you’ve got to stay strong and hold up for the family, keep It together, etc.” This didn’t seem to fit for me though in principle it did. At least it didn’t hold up in how I heard it in my head, “Don’t cry, remain stoic, carry all the load, be strong for everyone, etc” Funny how “unbalanced” my own mental thoughts can be for myself with respect to my preference for a balanced view to life.
So, I considered the strengths of my wife and my children and the friends that they and we had together when Pat was alive. It screamed to me, “include people in your process and share in theirs.” So I tried to do my best. And I tried to keep a focus on grieving together; even though I also felt that there is just an inarguable solo piece to all this kind of thing for all of us. At some point, we all will be faced with our own empty time and space through which we must find our own individual path.
There was one way in particular that helped me to see the wisdom in the communal piece. It had to do with Pat’s friends, most of whom we knew and some we didn’t. The few I didn’t know was my own personal kick in the pants in recognition that Pat had truly begun his own life and that there would be some things that we just hadn’t been privy to.
However, right after his death there was a large group of friends that wound up camping in our living room for days on end. It was in a good visibility spot so we felt OK about permitting it. And we felt persnally good about it too, since we knew most of the kids personally and their families. We didn’t really have the heart to turn them away anyway. So we tried our best to be sure that we and they stayed in contact with their parents and just appreciated their presence and energy and seeming unending willingness to assist each other in their own grieving process.
I must say that it was one of the most healing things for me just to have the fortune to watch them help each other help themselves process this thing that was so incomprehensible. We kept ourselves watchful and available to them, on the periphery, in case they needed it. But mostly it seemed as though it was just a natural process for them.
They wept openly but also laughed and told stories and comforted each other and ate. It was to me miraculous to behold. Though we remained concerned, it seemed something that needed little outside support. The one support though, that was most generous, was the seemingly unending outpouring of food dropped off at our house day after day. I so thank all those who felt so disposed, it was truly a godsend. My wife and I cannot thank them enough, even at this late date.
In an uncontrollable sidelight, we must remember Sandy a member of our church congregation. She has since died. She was the Godmother to our youngest, the first to have her arms out to grab hold of her on our first trip with her to church; close to my wife and our family, always ready to lend a hand with the kids. She kept some of the kids when we were both working. She tended to be one of those saintly souls who always found time to do for others, especially when it came to cooking, down right, down to earth home cooking but really good stuff. On the day of Pat’s death, before we even realized that the word was out, there was a home cooked whole turkey with the trimmings setting on our dining room table. Our church is known for this and particularly Sandy. And it is so wonderful a feeling of love and caring and comfort to be at the receiving end of this at such a time. She will be truly missed for her angelic acts of home cooked kindness and just seeming to be there when folks needed it most.
The funeral in itself was a happening beyond belief. There were two days of a seemingly unending sea of people to pay their last respects. So many grieving and just plain caring people. Folks were literally standing in the stairwells at the church just to be present for the funeral itself. So many just wanting to share of themselves and their stories of Pat. It was well over a 3 hour process and then some.
After the funeral, “back at the ranch”, the numbers of overnight campers began to dwindle once the kids began to get back to their normal lives. Perhaps because the food supplies became less plentiful as well. I hope not. It took some time for some. I think some of the parents just began to feel the weight of enough is enough and needed to find some time to minister to their own. But, by that time, it seemed as though much of our grieving had dissipated as well. It was time to turn to the special needs of our family as a family. Even so, our home began to feel less and less alive and more and more emptied to our own personal family grieving, a jolt back to the reality of our family life.
It seems that our family was so otherwise occupied in the beginning processes of all this that it was all we could do just to oversee the general process and hold on to each other tightly. But their was no question that these friends of Pat’s and their parents, these “over-nighter sentinels”, these grieving generous souls, and the accompanying generosity of their openness, had supported us and our children during their presence. It seemed truly a happening that only took place for that special set of events and moment in time, perhaps never to be repeated (as life goes, probably not, maybe not, definitely not, hopefully not, your choice.)
In any case, perhaps the one most important learning that I can cull from these events, is the powerful healing nature of the human spirit when left to its own best devices, by all involved parties. The parents certainly didn’t need to leave their children outside of their own supervision under such concerning circumstances. The friends of Pat could have looked to other things and means to grieve for themselves. We could have certainly had a different take on the whole process.
But somehow it seemed that all parties were willing to accept their choice as positive and healthy; whether or not each of us may or may not have been aware of what was helping us to have made the choice that we did. It all just seemed so natural and, dare I say, normal? Perhaps, in this sometimes so deeply divided and troubled world of ours, we loose touch with the most natural processes of life; in this case the sudden death of a deeply loved one. And we fail to recognize these same processes when they are most helpful and necessary. I truly thank God that our friends and family and Pat’s friends were able to stay in touch with theirs and so helped to show our family the way.
i can’t thank Your Teen Magazine enough for running this article. it helped me to focus on some of the most important and meaningful elements of what i in particular and our family experienced as a result of Pat’s death. my hope is that in sharing just a small part of our story it may help some others through theirs. our debt is truly great to so many who did the same for us. bless us all in our sometimes murky and difficult trek through this miraculous life we share.
MTY – Thank you for your generosity in sharing your painful story. Pat seems like a special soul.