After a Child’s Murder: What Parents Need to Know About Guilt, Grief, and Survival

When working with families and friends of people who have been murdered I find that the operative verb is never died but was killed . . . Being killed is seen as different from dying; it's unnatural, a form of theft, an act of taking something from you and your loved ones. What is taken is a person's life and all of its promise for future joy and happiness, companionship, and accomplishment. It is the most precious commodity one can steal and the greatest loss one can suffer.  ~ Helen Fitzgerald

A reader writes: I’m writing this letter in hopes of finding some peace. It will be three years next month that my son was murdered. He was only 18.

Mixing Grief, Medication, and Alcohol: A Dangerous Combination

Heavy use of drugs or alcohol can intensify the experience of grief and depression and impair the bereavement process. ~ J. William Worden

A reader writes: I wonder if I might turn out to become one of those complicated grief people. I have all the risk factors. I'm not usually a drinker or a drug taker -- I've been regularly using alcohol and Serax (oxazepam) since my husband died. The same thing happened after we got his diagnosis a year ago, but when we received some positive news that they might be able to beat the cancer or at least control it - I was able to cut out the oxazepam and reduce drinking to a glass of wine a day. Then he suddenly died - and we were completely unprepared. Even the doctors were surprised.

In Grief: Coping with Anxiety and Panic Attacks

Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.  ~ C.H. Spurgeon

A reader writes: I am trying to figure out if what I am going through is normal. I am thinking that it is probably some kind of panic or anxiety attack. It started when I had something upsetting happen totally unrelated to the death of my friend. Everything went okay with that situation but things seemed to get worse as the evening went on. Yesterday it was like I had tunnel vision all day. I felt shaky and detached. I have been restless, anxious, and feeling like I am sleep deprived when I have actually been sleeping.

When a Parent Dies: Supporting the Grief of Adolescents

A father is one of God's first gifts to our hearts, and his love stays with us always.  ~ Holly Gerth 

A reader writes: I lost my dad 6 months ago. He had a tumor in his pancreas that was discovered two years before that. He was told he had cancer on my 13th birthday. He had many operations, and cancer treatments like chemotherapy, but after a long struggle he died in a hospice in our city. I live with my mother and my 7-year-old brother. We are happy, but I feel really sad sometimes, because I miss my dad. I was very close to him, and we were very alike in the way we were both mechanical. He was a professor of engineering and he wrote many articles and textbooks. I am very proud of him. I boast about him a lot, and it makes me feel better to know that he did something in his life that was so fantastic – or I think so anyway. It’s just gone past 6 months since he died, and I’m beginning to feel very sad a lot of the time.

In Grief: Learning from Experience

There is only one thing more painful than learning from experience, and that is not learning from experience.  ~Laurence J. Peter

Over a single weekend, a remarkable series of posts appeared in one of the forums on our online Grief Healing Discussion Groups. Entitled What I’ve Learned, it began when one of our widowed members decided to share what she’s learned from grief ~ both positive and negative ~ and she invited others to follow suit.

The result is a remarkable list of helpful tips and insights, all containing the wisdom that only comes from the hard-won, gut-wrenching experience of having lost a loved one. We decided that such wisdom deserves to be shared with others who are grieving.

In Grief: Acknowledging Jealousy and Anger

It would be impossible to estimate how much time and energy we invest in trying to fix, change and deny our emotions ~ especially the ones that shake us at our very core, like hurt, jealousy, loneliness, shame, rage and grief.  ~ Debbie Ford

A reader writes: My counselor came. We talked. I told her about my horrible feelings about other people who have been ill and are recovering. Instead of feeling good for them like a proper empathetic person should do, I feel sorry that they are getting better. How totally awful is that? My counselor said that it's anger that my husband died and they didn't. She said she asked me way back if I felt anger at my husband’s death and I said No. She said now the anger is coming out in resentment that others have survived and my husband has not. I think she may be right. I have struggled with this because it seems such a horrible attitude.

Supporting a Survivor of Homicide Loss

Spend 24 hours in my shoes as a victim of gun violence and I guarantee you will never look at guns the same way again.  ~ Bill Jenkins

A reader writes: I lost my significant other of 6 years only 4 months ago. We shared 4 children together and life is just not the same. I can't figure out why I am numb, frozen and slowing down. Things have gotten very hard, I truly don't want to express how hard. The pain I feel is crazy but I keep striving to be positive and to also find a new identity in this process. Nothing is the same.

I started a blog dedicated to him in hopes of finding other women (or anyone) who has lost their partner because I feel very alone in my battle. I wanted to express my feelings truthfully and freely amongst individuals in hopes to connect and help heal. I lost Damian to murder so connecting with people who understand that part as well were my hopes. Id like to hear other stories and also have the wisdom of others as well. Hopefully writing to you can help, but I would love for other women to connect and share their stories as well and hear me vent.

Making Room for New Love after Loss: Hope, Healing, and Resources

And think not that you can direct the course of love, for love, if it's worthy, directs your course.  ~ Khalil Gibran

A reader writes: I have insight into my growth through grief these past 2 years. At first it was a tight shell around me, I couldn't let anyone in. Now it's a softer cocoon. I empathize with newly bereaved in a way I never got before. I sit, I'm patient, I listen.

I feel room in my heart for a new life partner while maintaining my connection with my deceased husband. How did I get here? I met a guy, a widower, he gets it! He gets me. I get him. It's new, I'm hopeful. I miss my deceased husband daily and I'm "in like" with a new man. I have room in my heart yet it feels awkward -- and hopeful.

Learning to Grieve What Never Was: Understanding the Hidden Grief of Childhood Abandonment

The scars of abandonment linger, revealed in the fear of closeness, the craving for validation, and the haunting echo of 'I’m not enough'.  ~ Tracy A. Malone

A reader writes: I was recently informed that my mother has died, and I am grieving. My mother left me when I was a little girl. It hurt. I denied it for 40 years. So far I have attended two different bereavement groups. Both are filled with people who are grieving a loved one. I am not. I do not have a string of memories of our times together to talk about: how she taught me how to bake a pie, helped me plan my wedding, helped me through my divorce, paid for college, took care of my kids while I met my second husband, etc. I do not fit into those groups. They are grieving such a beautiful memory that I’m afraid I will poison their precious period of grief if they hear my story of abandonment. I didn’t have a mother to maintain kinship ties with an extended family. I had an evil stepfather who was remote and distant and lied to me about why my mom was gone: “She left you.” 

When Support Feels Absent: Finding Comfort After Loss

It sounds obvious, but it wasn’t until I was sitting with a friend (and feeling gloriously understood) that it finally clicked: no man can ever replace your mother.  ~ Anna Pasternak

A reader writes: I tearfully happened upon your website by chance this morning. My dearest friend, my mom, died in my arms this past month. I had brought her here to live with me after her colon cancer returned. From the moment of diagnosis, I watched her hurt and endure so much treatment, never giving up, always smiling, always gentle, humble. Mom lasted 7 months. My precious friend is no longer with me. Since she died, I’ve received very little support from my husband or anyone else. I joined an online grief group, but I do not feel as if I belong there. My friends have faded away. You would be surprised how people fade away when someone is thrust into care giving. Even our church turned their backs—no calls, no words of comfort, no nothing. My husband confronted them on this, but still no contact.

I do not understand. What am I doing wrong? My heart is breaking—where do I turn? I want to know it is okay to cry and that I will still be loved. I want to know that I can be distant in my sorrow and I will still be loved—not rejected. Can you help me to understand?