When my Katie Kates went to Heaven on May 18, 2005, she was 19 1⁄2 yrs. old, and the world as I knew it was destroyed.
I did not know anyone who had lost their child. I felt like I had suddenly been dropped into a foreign county with no friends, cell phone, map or money and I did not even know the language. I was completely alone in an unfamiliar world. Family, friends and my church tried to help; however, I no longer lived in their world and they most certainly had no idea what to do or say to me.
I didn’t want to be in my own home; my daughter died in the middle of the night peacefully, when she was sleeping in her own bed, with me in the next room. I did still believe in God, however. I felt God must be very angry with me to take my baby! I had tried to live a good life. I wondered what could I have possibly done to deserve this?
It was hard to imagine how life went on. I became a robot, automatically doing what I needed to do and most of what I was expected to do. However, no one was home. I no longer was present, I was still in this foreign county all alone, lost, hopeless for the first year. I just wanted to die.
In May of 2006, my oldest daughter Christina found The Compassionate Friends. She wanted me to attend the National Conference in Dearborn, Michigan, which was only about a half hour from my house. I told her, “NO!” I wanted nothing to do with TCF. I couldn’t even take care of my own grief; how in the heck was I supposed to deal with thousands of others who also had had their lives destroyed? She asked me to do it for her; I told her I would try.
It was difficult to say no to my daughter, and therefore I decided to give the TCF Conference a try. Christina lives in another state and so I arrived at the conference a day before her. I was trying to keep an open mind but I did not want to be there. When I pulled up to the hotel valet, I did not unpack my car. I decided to register and look around first.
There were so many bereaved parents, grandparents, and siblings; it was much more crowded than I expected. I lasted less than an hour; I did not speak to anyone and kept to myself. I decided to leave and asked the valet to get my car. Two bereaved dads came up to me wearing TCF badges and said: “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” I acted like I did not hear them, but they would not go away. To make a long story short, they talked me into staying just for the night and offered some advice. “Don’t think about the conference, go to your room, order room service, take a long hot bath, watch a funny show or movie, sleep, wake up in the morning, go to the Opening Ceremony, then make your decision. Please stay, you will be happy you came.”
For some reason, what these two caring bereaved dads said to me made sense, and that is exactly what I did. I showed up at the Opening Ceremony, I found hope and new friends and my new normal world to live in that is no longer foreign to me. I’m thrilled I went!!
In the past nine years, I’ve been to seven Conferences; this year will be my eighth. I am the person who is outside whenever possible and watches for those alone, getting ready to leave. I try to give them a plan to hopefully find hope, just like the two dads gave to me.
So, if you’re afraid to come to a TCF’s National Conference, I understand because I have been there. I am now the woman standing just outside the front doors at every TCF Conference looking for someone like me who is thinking about leaving. If you see me, stop by and say hello to Katie Cassidy’s Mom and we’ll chat.
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Diane,
So much of what you wrote could have been written by my own hand. My Greg died 27 years ago. I was that ‘only’ parent who had lost a child. I went through so much of what you said. My first conference was in 1994 in Seattle. I had no idea what to expect. It was rather scary, but I was so glad that I stayed. I heard the most powerful words spoken by our dear Darcie Sims. That conference showed me that I could survive the loss of my child.
I have been to only 4 conferences. Last year I attended the first one I had been to in many years, in St Louis. Being a ‘seasoned’ bereaved parent I found a whole different perspective of the conference. I spoke with so many parents who were looking for ways survive and live life once again. My words to them were, ‘You have come to the right place.’
I will be looking for you outside the hotel in July, Katie’s Mom. Just to give you a big hug and say hello.