Grief Digest Articles

By Elaine E. Stillwell, M.A., M.S.Getting Back to Work is a tough transition for many parents following the death of their child. Worried about feeling strong enough, being able to concentrate, controlling crying, talking to people, leaving the safe haven of home, along with not wanting to lose their job or a paycheck, are all weighty factors these heartbroken parents must consider as they decide when to return to work, which involves reentering an accustomed social environment as a changed pers …

Thirty years ago, July 12, 1986, a young 29 year old New York City cop, Steven McDonald, was shot and wounded by a troubled teenager while on duty in Central Park, becoming paralyzed from the neck down, and defying medical predictions that he would survive. Instantly, the life of this man, his bride of a year, and the baby they were expecting, were all changed forever.Since Steven McDonald grew up in my hometown, lived within 3 miles of my home and worshipped at my parish church, his story deepl …

Hello BeautifulAfter a yearlong battle with Cholangocarcinoma, a form of bile duct cancer, Julie, my beautiful wife of 25 years died. We knew from the first diagnosis that it was terminal, one to three years at best. The first round of chemo was every promising, but things soon took a turn for the worst. At our last doctors visit we were told there was no farther treatment, the chemo that had worked so well was now ineffective. I cried every day, prayed every day, and provided the best care for …

Why do flowers grow?Don’t they know?That with the winter snowThey will go.Why do trees stand tall?Above us allWith coming of the fallThey’ll hear the callWhy would birds want to sing?AnythingThe new day may not bringA song to singWhy does the snow fall down?To the groundDressing farm and townIn velvet gownWhy is this world so cold?And very oldA beauty to beholdOr so I’m toldWhy do people die?We’re left to cryWe say our last goodbyeAnd want to dieWould stars shine if they knew?Or had a clueThat o …

My first life ended with a phone call. Hours before anyone said the word, I knew what that phone call meant. My husband had died; suddenly, shockingly, just hours after the surgeon had rung to say he was fine. Stranger still, I knew he would die, even though everyone assured me that it was more or less a routine operation. But even when I knew he would die, I did not believe myself. Nor did I believe, after that phone call, he had actually died. Despite standing beside his body, bringing in the …