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Our Chapter Newsletter

Shirley Cote, mother of Dan, is the editor of our chapter's newsletter.  Thanks to Shirley's devoted efforts (compiling, producing and mailing), a printed newsletter is mailed to all registered chapter members every two months.  Many have expressed finding solace in the writings Shirley provides to us in each issue; we hope that you also will find some comfort.

Obtaining a printed copy:  If you have not been receiving your newsletter, want a printed copy of a lost newsletter or want to become a registered member, please let us know by sending an email to:  contact@tcfmanchester.org

Information available at this website:  For purposes of respecting the privacy of our members, the newsletters will not be available online in their entirety.  However, you may view the poems and writings that have appeared in our most recent issue by scrolling through this page.  Alternatively, you may click on an item in the list below to "jump" to that item.

Collection of Poems and Writings
from our NOV/DEC 2008 Newsletter

Memorial Candles

Robert G. / TCF — El Paso Chapter

These candles burning each December,
Symbols of those we remember,
Bring forth tears which freely flow
And mingle with the candles’ glow.
But thoughts of each dear girl and boy,
Those who no more may bring us joy,
Now cause our hearts to fill with pain
As we assemble here again.
Though tears still come in times ahead,
To gratitude we must be led
That for a while we held our child
And sometimes we cried, but often smiled.
May every candle lit tonight
Bring back into the memory’s sight
The joys we knew, mixed with the tears,
From our dear children through the years.

Light One Candle

In memory of David by his father, James N. / Minneapolis, MN

Light one candle, take my hand.
Move closer to each other,
All who want to smile again.
In this blessed time of year,
With your sorrow and tears,
Come together to remember and to light one candle.
The light is for strength to face
The pain welled up inside.
The light reminds us of shattered dreams, not to be denied.
The light is for courage to beckon others to our side,
For every tear we’ve cried…we light one candle.
We all know the reason that we value the flame.
It’s a commitment to each other,
To remember every name.
And a promise made that in our hearts forever they’ll remain.
Out of love we come
To light one candle.

Gifts I Would Leave For You

Jeffrey M., twin brother of Scott / TCF — NE Louisiana Chapter

The gifts I would leave beneath your tree
Aren’t those you could touch or see.
Not wrapped in Christmas tissue gay
But a gift of life to live each day.
The gift of love, warm and true
And health your whole life through.
Smiles, and happiness, and cheer
To keep us happy through the year.
These are the gifts I’d leave for you.
Though I know your life is through
Even if my heart has no song
I feel you here to guide me on.

Merry Christmas Ashley

Lisa M., sister of Ashley / TCF — Atlanta, GA

If I could make a Christmas wish
And know it would come true
I’d wish to have one more Christmas
Just to spend with you.
You were here in times of trouble
To help make me strong
You were here to share Christmas joy
And sing with us a song.
I was given the finest gift
To have a sister like you
For you were one true blessing
A gift my whole life through.

Though it hurts...

Written in 2007 by Flora L. — California

"Though it hurts to lose a loved one, it is most painful to grieve for what you didn’t get to enjoy with them.  Rather, remember the blessings they left behind, with so many wonderful memories.  Treasure their essence, for it is still here with you."

Grandparents and Holidays

For Bereaved Grandparents — Margaret G.

During the holidays we sometimes feel we need to be all things to all our children.  We want to share in the joy and excitement of our children with complete families.  For our bereaved children we want to understand, empathize, and above all, be aware of the special difficulty holidays bring for them.  We are caught in the middle of our children — a happy family on one side, a sad one on the other.  In addition, we have our own pain.  All this sounds impossible.  None of us can do the impossible. None of us should try.

Remember when your children were young, and one was sick and needed special attention?  You gave the extra attention and love that was needed.  This didn’t mean you loved the sick child more than the others; it simply meant that the sick one needed you more at that time.  So it is with your bereaved child.  That child is experiencing great pain and needs special attention.

To help yourself as well as your bereaved children, consider changing some holiday traditions.  Have a buffet instead of a sit–down dinner, or put the decorations in a different place or another room.  Recognize that the holiday is different and painful this year, and lean into that painful difference by making obvious changes.

Enlist your other children’s aid in helping your bereaved child during the holiday.  These children are grieving too, of course.  Remind them that while it may be somewhat uncomfortable for them to talk about a child who is dead, it is much more difficult to be the parent of a dead child and not hear the name mentioned.  Remind them, too, that all of you need some normalcy.  It’s all right to laugh and enjoy.  It’s all right to hug and cry.  Grief and happiness are things you share as a family, during holidays or every day.

Think of ways to remember and honor your grandchild in your family celebration.  Suggest that each person say how they miss the child, or talk about a certain thing they remember about him.  You may want to light a candle or display a picture in a place of honor to commemorate the life of this special youngster.

The holidays will never be the same again for you and your family.  There will always be a child or children missing.  It will not always be as difficult and painful as it is the first few years but you will never again have the old normal.  Instead, all of you will be creating a new normal.

Thanksgiving = Thanks + Giving

Roxanne F. / TCF — Troy, MI

Some of you are so fresh in your grief that you may not be able to feel very "thankful" for anything this holiday.  I know.  ’ve been there.

The way I dealt with the first holiday season after my son’s death was to basically ignore it.  I did not shop for the rest of my family’s gifts.  I put money in envelopes.  I did not put up a tree or any holiday decorations in my home.  I was lucky enough not to have to deal with any younger children and the holiday as Patrick was "the baby" at 16 1/2 and my daughter (then 20) was not living at home, either.  And for that I am thankful.  It allowed me the freedom to do what I felt like doing and when I did.  And I am thankful that I have so many good memories of Patrick.

I know it will be difficult facing your first holiday season without your child, to think of these kinds of things to be thankful for, but do try.  Find at least one thing — you had YOUR CHILD in your life, no matter how short or how long — to try to be thankful for.

I know that other bereaved parents have younger children at home, and you cannot ignore the holiday as I did.  As your whole family is affected by the loss you’ve suffered (whether they show it or not), I would like to recommend that you discuss and plan the upcoming holiday season with them.

There may be family traditions that would be too painful for you to do this year. Be honest about your feelings.  If there is an event or task that you feel absolutely must be done and you are unable to do it, ask others (your parents, brothers or sisters, friends) to do it / take your place this year.  You may wish to start a new tradition, something in remembrance of your child is a good way to acknowledge that he or she will always be there with you, in spirit, and will never be forgotten.

Whatever you do, or don’t do, this holiday season, I believe you will find that if you follow your heart and do what you feel like doing / want to do, it will be easier to get through this first holiday season.  Don’t force yourself to do what other people tell you "should" be done.  Or what you think "other people expect" from you, or rely on you to do.  There is nothing so important that the world will end if it doesn’t get done "just like always / just like every past holiday season".

To borrow these words from a friend of mind, "...be gentle with yourself, walk softly, take your time, and look for peace."

Giving Thanks

Sascha W. (taken from NE LA Chapter)

I cannot hold your hands today, I cannot see your smile, I cannot hear your voices now, my children you are gone.  But I recall your faces still, the songs, the talks, the sighs.  And story times and winter walks, and sharing secret things.  I know you helped my mind to live beyond your time with me.  You gave me clearer eyes to see, you gave me finer ears to hear, what living means, what dying means, my children, you are gone.  So here it is Thanksgiving Day, and you are not with me.  And while I weep a mother’s tears, I thank you for the gifts you were, and all the gifts you gave to me, my children, who are gone.

Thanksgiving

Karen N. / TCF — Box Elder County, Brigham City, UT

Our time together was too brief, your life on earth numbered in but days.  Yet, how could I have loved you more if I had held you through the seasons of your life?  When does love begin?  For me the day you first moved within me wrapped me in such warmth that it can still keep out the cold as here I stand missing you and all that we could have shared.  Death has robbed me of your softness and of all the dreams I had for you, but not of my love.  Not even death can take that from me — from us.  And for that, I am thankful.

It’s Better Now

Mary C. / TCF — Atlanta, GA

How I wish I had known someone, anyone, I could have turned to back in 1978 as I approached the first Thanksgiving after my son’s death who could have told me IT WILL BE BETTER!  Unfortunately, there was no Compassionate Friends in Atlanta at that time, so I anticipated my first Thanksgiving with fear and trepidation, thinking it would be that painful for as long as I lived.  Those of us who have had several years to make our adjustment can to nothing of greater import than to pass on to you the message that you will learn how to handle the holidays.  I don’t know any shortcuts.  If I had I would have used them back there.  It takes experiencing a few Thanksgivings and Christmases before you come to know what you need to do to handle those days.  If you’re new as surviving, do whatever it is that you need to do to get through these first special times, but do them knowing that it won’t always be this painful.  Please believe me when I tell you, it really is better now.

Tradition, Tradition, Tradition

Sue A. / TCF — South Bend, IN

Even in normal times, tradition isn’t what it is always cracked up to be, and sometimes "tradition" gets in the way of sanity.  Often we cling to tradition because it’s easier, we don’t want to offend others, we don’t want to be embarrassed, or we don’t know what else to do.  When you are a grieving parent, giving in to tradition can drive you over the edge.

I found myself in the "tradition predicament" regarding putting up a tree the first Christmas holiday after my son, Chad died.  I didn’t want, need, or have the energy to put up a tree.  Yet other family members wanted a tree and they wanted it as it always had been, big, bright, and decorated with ornaments they had purchased or made through the years.  What eventually took place, with regard to a tree, changed our holiday forever and it has been a good thing for everyone involved.

I don’t know the exact circumstances of how our "new tradition" came into being that first year.  But I do remember frustration, tears, and upset people.  I also remember my daughter saying to me it was her Christmas too and she needed a tree.  It was her older brother, the one she remembered getting up with every Christmas morning when she was little that was dead, and she had to have something so she could deal with the emptiness.  So she came up with a plan.  She and her father would go find a tree and she would take care of the decorations all by herself.

That was ten Christmases ago and this year, once again, my husband and my daughter will leave early in the morning, a week before Christmas, and hunt for a tree, just the two of them.  When they come home, I will prepare breakfast, while they get the tree in the holder, and move the furniture.  We will sit down together and enjoy our meal and then my husband and I will leave for several hours.  During that time we will do whatever we feel like doing.  We have gone to the cemetery, gone for walks, gone to the bookstore, visited friends, etc.  When we return, my daughter will have decorated our Christmas tree, and the whole house!

Every year the tree has been different, limited only to my daughter’s imagination and the budget we keep her on.  She didn’t use our regular ornaments for a while and when she did, she told me ahead of time and said how meaningful it was for her to be the one who put Chad’s ornaments back on the tree.  We have continued this "new tradition" to this day.  Now, I find angel ornaments to put on the tree to honor our missing angel, and enjoy with my husband, sons, and family, my daughter’s traditional tribute to her brother.  This "changing tradition" has been so healing.  Our family has had the brightness and beauty that a lighted tree can provide, and I have been able to save my energy for other things I wanted to do.

During the next few weeks, I hope you will make the activities of the season as stress free as you can.  I hope that you will feel free to experiment with new traditions, knowing there is no "right way" to go through this season, only "your way".  I hope that you will remember Christmas is only one day and that the time leading up to that "one day" will probably be more difficult than the actual day.  And finally, I hope for peace in your hearts, if not today then tomorrow, or the tomorrow after, or the tomorrow after that.

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

Faye M. / TCF — Jackson, MS

‘Twas the month before Christmas
and I dreaded the days,
That I knew I was facing —
The holiday craze.
The stores were all filled
With holiday lights,
In hopes of drawing customers
By day and by night.

As others were making their holiday plans,
My heart was breaking — I couldn’t understand.
I had lost my dear child a few years before,
And I knew what my holiday had in store.

When out of nowhere, there arose such a sound,
I sprang to my feet and was looking around,
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The sight that I saw took my breath away,
And my tears turned to smiles in the light of the day.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a cluster of butterflies fluttering near.
With beauty and grace they performed a dance.
I knew in a moment this wasn’t by chance.

The hope that they gave me was a sign from above,
That my child was still near me and that I was loved.
The message they brought was my holiday gift,
And I cried when I saw them in spite of myself.

As I knelt closer to get a better view,
One allowed me to pet it — as if it knew —
That I needed the touch of it’s fragile wings,
To help me get through the holiday scene.

In the days that followed I carried the thought,
Of the message the butterflies left in my heart —
That no matter what happens or what days lie ahead,
Our children are with us — they’re not really dead.

Yes, the message of the butterflies still rings in my ears,
A message of hope – a message so dear.
And I imagined they sang as they flew out of sight,
"To all bereaved parents — We love you tonight!"

Thank you from Linda S.

Sometimes all I can feel is the sharp jagged metal of his wrecked truck.  All I can see are the two trees and the road, one week later, with the shadow of a blood stain.  The lifeless forms of his clothing are all I have to hold.

Parents who have lost children share an unwanted bond, but not all are like you, Compassionate Friends.  When I see your tears I look at my tears.  When I listen to your stories, I often hear my words.  When I hug you it is as if I am embracing myself.  For an instant, a broken circle is completed.

If I could show my gratitude to you...

It would sound like the voice of my two year old son, Erek, "I right hear Mommy".  It would be the sound of cheering on the sidelines of a soccer field as he scored one of his many goals.  In the background, would be his often "hard to listen to" adolescent music. In the distance, we would hear the sounds of hammering, carpentry, framing a new house, work he loved as a young man.

It would taste like the food he loved to cook and eat, hearty meat and potato meals, cheeseburgers, his freshly caught fish, and barbecue chicken wings for Patriot games.  My thanks would be sweetened with a traditional New Orleans King’s cake that Erek liked to share with us.  Should I include one he thoughtfully bought for his sister’s birthday, but then took a little too long to mail, from Louisiana to New York City?

My thank you would have the scent of saltwater beaches, the hot Florida gulf coast where he loved to fish or the cold Cape Cod water in Wellfleet where we spent summer vacations.  Erek would want me to include the wind in our faces, on a clear NH winter day after a snowstorm, perfect for snowboarding.

It would look like last December’s candlelight service, as I hopefully and a bit apprehensively, entered the church, not ever having met any of you before.  My appreciation would be illuminated by the beautiful flashing slides of your children.  Even though my son’s picture was not among them, amazingly I saw his face in so many of their faces.

It would look like all the kind gestures from you this past year, the picture buttons, the cards, the beautiful garden and brick walkway, and of course, the butterflies.

If I could make it so, it would feel like all the times we ever held our children and all the hugs they ever gave us.