Reeling from the sudden death of our three-year-old son Blake, desperate for anything that might ease the pain, my husband Jeff and I had decided to visit a support group for parents whose children had died—The Compassionate Friends. At that long-ago meeting, mothers and dads sat in a circle and one by one recounted the details of their child's death. Before my turn came, I excused myself to go to the ladies' room. And I never came back. Jeff found me sitting on the floor in the hall, sobbing. "I can't take this! It's making things worse!" I cried. Finally I ran from that building never looking back. Time passed before I mustered the courage to go to another Compassionate Friends meeting, but this time I stayed. I listened, learned, shared, and healing started as hope finally returned to me. In time, Jeff and I started a chapter of The Compassionate Friends and became leaders of the group. Reaching out to other bereaved parents, offering hope to the hopeless helped us heal and go on with life. I received and gave hugs and, if we cried, it was always okay. I would do whatever I could to spread hope to as many hurting people as I could, in memory of a husky little blond-haired, brown-eyed boy, who changed my life forever . . . A Grateful Parent
---------------------------------------
Every year thousands of "Pats and Jeffs" find their way to Compassionate Friends meetings and begin their lifelong road to healing.
|
|
|
|
