Tag Archives: Death

Death of a Spouse

Finding Hope, Healing and Purpose After the Death of a Spouse

My first wife died in 1998 after a long illness. I was 41, widowed, and an only parent to two young boys. Now what? Many days I toiled with despair, hopelessness and questions. Many questions. St. Paul writes in Romans 8:28, “We know in everything God works for good with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.” To be honest, it’s hard to see the light when you’re in the thicket of grief. His purpose was not my purpose. But fifteen years later, through God’s grace, that has changed. The suffering we all went through has today revealed a beautiful ministry of hope, healing and purpose.

Below are portions from my memoir, The Greatest Gift-A Return to Hope.

~~~~

I wrote the vast majority of this book seven to eight years after Ann died. I think I needed some smooth waters to sail my boat on. I penned my words in, of all places, my dining room, on the same table Ann and I bought when we were first married. The same table she made things on, and at which the four of us enjoyed many great meals together.

As I wrote, things seemed to fall into my lap, like phone calls from old friends at just the right time with more descriptive views of what happened. I found writings that Ann made years ago and I think she’d hope they would find their way into print. It felt like all these years later, Ann was still orchestrating things.

We have all moved on now, the boys and I, and all who loved Ann. It’s what she wanted us to do and with her help, we have. You can’t go around grief, the circle brings you back. You march through it. Through the storms, sometimes crying with your head slung low off your shoulders, aching from your heels to your ears, and ironically, it’s the pain that gets you through the pain. Living it, owning it, allowing it to take up residence in you for a while, pouring out your tears to the moon on some bench in the middle of the night, your agonizing screams cutting through the thin cold air.

It’s the pain that gets you through the pain. You follow it. You feel it. It beats you down and builds you back up. It leaves you empty so you can be full again. Without this pain, you’re lost and numb, following a path that leads you back to the same bench and the same screams, slightly muted maybe, a different day, all else untouched.

Moving on doesn’t mean letting go. She’ll always be with me. I have relocated her now to an accepting part of my heart that comforts the memories and messages. She more than anyone has made me into the person I am today. I have merged back into traffic, the wind at my back, a smile on my face, and joy back in my heart. I feel lucky to have lived a good part of my life with her, and every time I look at my two handsome sons she comes back to me and reminds me of what we once had. That can never be taken away. That’s forever.

This journey took me to classrooms I would never have seen and taught me things I would never have known. I know now that the lessons are not in the hardships, they are choosing how to respond to them. I first learned how to grieve, and then I learned how to live. We are all faced with adversity in our lives, some more profound than others, but all these challenges we deal with are designed to teach us something, and when they don’t, it’s no one’s fault but our own.

At the end of her life, Ann gave back all she had left to give and took nothing with her but the love she had for us in her heart. She told me on one of those final days that she felt “blessed to have loved and been loved my so many wonderful people.”

We were blessed too.

~~~~

The ministry of hope, healing, and purpose is called Good Mourning Ministry, a Catholic bereavement apostolate, co-founded by my wife Sandy and myself. Sandy has been through her own grief journey, and we now feel called to help others who mourn. This ministry was founded in 2011, but the call from above came in 2010 during time before our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.

I have come to learn there are no stages to grief. We all experience loss in our own unique way. Healing is an intentional process, where we gather together as a community of faith to become disciples of hope. It is through prayerful reflection, practical learning and personal fellowship that we mourn. And in mourning we begin to build our bridge to a new and different life.

Sandy and I have held over 40 “Grieving with Great Hope” workshops with Catholic parishes throughout Michigan and Ohio, supporting the needs of over 1000 grieving people. The “Grieving with Great Hope” DVD Series is now in many parishes throughout the country. “Every parish should have your program. We are so grateful to have found GWGH and welcome it to Central Texas.”  – Deacon Tim and Liz Hayden, Holy Family Parish Copperas Cove, TX.

Sandy and I have not only lived our own grief journeys, but we are now educated as well. In addition to being a published author, I am a Certified Grief Counselor. Sandy has a Master’s in Pastoral Ministry, emphasis in bereavement. Above all else, we too are disciples of HOPE. We are blessed.

For more information about The Greatest Gift or Good Mourning Ministry, please visit our website at http://www.goodmourningministry.net, or email us: goodmourningministry@hotmail.com.

Good Mourning Ministry is a Catholic bereavement apostolate. Our mission is to be a transformative ministry, to be bearers of hope and healing to those who mourn the loss of a loved one. The “Grieving with Great Hope” workshops are prayerful, practical and personal. About one-third of the time is spent in church, some of which is before the exposed Blessed Sacrament. The remaining time is used for learning and sharing in small groups. For more information, visit www.goodmourningministry.net.

Related Articles:

Hope, Healing and Purpose After the Death of a Spouse

My first wife died in 1998 after a long illness. I was 41, widowed, and an only parent to two young boys. Now what? Many days I toiled with despair, hopelessness and questions. Many questions. St. Paul writes in Romans 8:28, “We know in everything God works for good with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.” To be honest, it’s hard to see the light when you’re in the thicket of grief. His purpose was not my purpose. But fifteen years later, through God’s grace, that has changed. The suffering we all went through has today revealed a beautiful ministry of hope, healing and purpose.

Below are portions from my memoir, The Greatest Gift-A Return to Hope.

———————————

I wrote the vast majority of this book seven to eight years after Ann died. I think I needed some smooth waters to sail my boat on. I penned my words in, of all places, my dining room, on the same table Ann and I bought when we were first married. The same table she made things on, and at which the four of us enjoyed many great meals together.

As I wrote, things seemed to fall into my lap, like phone calls from old friends at just the right time with more descriptive views of what happened. I found writings that Ann made years ago and I think she’d hope they would find their way into print. It felt like all these years later, Ann was still orchestrating things.

We have all moved on now, the boys and I, and all who loved Ann. It’s what she wanted us to do and with her help, we have. You can’t go around grief, the circle brings you back. You march through it. Through the storms, sometimes crying with your head slung low off your shoulders, aching from your heels to your ears, and ironically, it’s the pain that gets you through the pain. Living it, owning it, allowing it to take up residence in you for a while, pouring out your tears to the moon on some bench in the middle of the night, your agonizing screams cutting through the thin cold air.

It’s the pain that gets you through the pain. You follow it. You feel it. It beats you down and builds you back up. It leaves you empty so you can be full again. Without this pain, you’re lost and numb, following a path that leads you back to the same bench and the same screams, slightly muted maybe, a different day, all else untouched.

Moving on doesn’t mean letting go. She’ll always be with me. I have relocated her now to an accepting part of my heart that comforts the memories and messages. She more than anyone has made me into the person I am today. I have merged back into traffic, the wind at my back, a smile on my face, and joy back in my heart. I feel lucky to have lived a good part of my life with her, and every time I look at my two handsome sons she comes back to me and reminds me of what we once had. That can never be taken away. That’s forever.

This journey took me to classrooms I would never have seen and taught me things I would never have known. I know now that the lessons are not in the hardships, they are choosing how to respond to them. I first learned how to grieve, and then I learned how to live. We are all faced with adversity in our lives, some more profound than others, but all these challenges we deal with are designed to teach us something, and when they don’t, it’s no one’s fault but our own.

At the end of her life, Ann gave back all she had left to give and took nothing with her but the love she had for us in her heart. She told me on one of those final days that she felt “blessed to have loved and been loved my so many wonderful people.”

We were blessed too.

——————————-

The ministry of hope, healing, and purpose is called Good Mourning Ministry, a Catholic bereavement apostolate, co-founded by my wife Sandy and myself. Sandy has been through her own grief journey, and we now feel called to help others who mourn. This ministry was founded in 2011, but the call from above came in 2010 during time before our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.

I have come to learn there are no stages to grief. We all experience loss in our own unique way. Healing is an intentional process, where we gather together as a community of faith to become disciples of hope. It is through prayerful reflection, practical learning and personal fellowship that we mourn. And in mourning we begin to build our bridge to a new and different life.

Sandy and I have held over 40 “Grieving with Great Hope” workshops with Catholic parishes throughout Michigan and Ohio, supporting the needs of over 1000 grieving people. The “Grieving with Great Hope” DVD Series is now in many parishes throughout the country. “Every parish should have your program. We are so grateful to have found GWGH and welcome it to Central Texas.” – Deacon Tim and Liz Hayden, Holy Family Parish Copperas Cove, TX.

Sandy and I have not only lived our own grief journeys, but we are now educated as well. In addition to being a published author, I am a Certified Grief Counselor. Sandy has a Master’s in Pastoral Ministry, emphasis in bereavement. Above all else, we too are disciples of HOPE. We are blessed.

For more information about The Greatest Gift or Good Mourning Ministry, please visit our website at http://www.goodmourningministry.net, or email us: goodmourningministry@hotmail.com.

Good Mourning Ministry is a Catholic bereavement apostolate. Our mission is to be a transformative ministry, to be bearers of hope and healing to those who mourn the loss of a loved one. The “Grieving with Great Hope” workshops are prayerful, practical and personal. About one-third of the time is spent in church, some of which is before the exposed Blessed Sacrament. The remaining time is used for learning and sharing in small groups. For more information, visit www.goodmourningministry.net.

Related Articles:

Death of a Child

Of all the pains that life can hand us, arguably the most searing is the death of a child. A parent’s world irrevocably and horrifically changes forever, no matter what the circumstances or the age of the child.

In what seems to be a manner contrary to the natural order, parents not only have a physical and emotional part of themselves ripped away, but also have the loss of all of the hopes, dreams, and aspirations they had so completely invested in their child.

With this loss, a parent’s world radically and dramatically changes forever. Most friends, relatives, and acquaintances do not know how to approach or console for fear of offending or upsetting the parent. Many parents say they begin to feel that they are treated as if they have a contagious disease. In an attempt to seem normal, or “over it,” emotions are suppressed and the parent begins to withdraw or become distant. This reaction, however, compounds the all-encompassing feeling of being totally alone.

Many well-intentioned attempts have been made to assist parents in recovering emotionally from their loss, including psychotherapy and various support groups. However, in an attempt to be all inclusive and “politically correct,” the spiritual perspective of the grieving process—or even the existence of God—is usually lacking (or actively avoided) in many of these approaches.

It was the personal experience of my own family and this deep need for spirituality that led to what is now known as the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents.

Emmaus Ministry logo

Thanksgiving evening of 2002, a healthy, ambitious and successful young US Air Force Captain, Paul Monaghan, took his own life, without any explanation or warning signs. As unexpected as a lightning strike on a clear blue day, Paul’s death shattered our idyllic, comfortable family life forever.

For five years afterwards, when she wasn’t numb, my wife, Diane, frantically searched. Searched for answers from her son’s wife on what actually happened. Searched for answers from his friends on what he was like leading up to his death. Searched for answers from Air Force investigators, who took an entire year to file their death report. Searched for answers not so much to the question of “why” as to “how”. How could her beautiful son do this to himself? How could he do this to the family he loved so much? She frantically searched for understanding, read an entire library of books on the death of a child and suicide, went to psychiatrists, psychologists, and psychotherapists, joined support groups and journaled. Nothing helped at all.

During these years, she prayed for two things: the strength to get out of bed in the morning and an understanding of how she could make some good come from such a horrific tragedy, but her prayers seemingly went unanswered. She felt God was not listening. During this time, she says, she received some strength from her faith, but not much comfort.

Then one day, everything changed. Undoubtedly, it was the Holy Spirit that prompted her to attend a totally unrelated program that eventually led to a deep relationship with a compassionate religious sister, who was a Spiritual Director. They met at St. Anthony Shrine, a Holy Name Province Franciscan community in Boston, MA. Slowly, after five years, her numbness began to subside.

Over and over again, she talked with her Spiritual Director about the promise of eternal life…the fact that life has changed for Paul, not ended. The fact that she would indeed see him again. For the first time since 2002 Diane, in the rich teachings of the Catholic Church, finally found peace, comfort, and hope.

All this while, I was on a different journey. I put my feelings and emotions in a tightly wrapped box deep within me, while pretending to the entire world that nothing was wrong and that I was fine.

It is indeed fortunate that my wife and I had the wisdom to grant each other the ability to grieve in our own ways and so avoid what many married grieving parents experience – a good marriage becoming fragile or totally falling apart because of resentment or misunderstanding of the ways in which each other are grieving.

Eventually Diane made the life-changing decision to leave her position as vice president of a local college and go to work raising money for the Shrine in Boston. Growing more deeply in her spirituality, she eventually felt called to ask the Guardian of St Anthony Shrine if he would support a ministry to spiritually serve other deeply wounded grieving parents. She believed that focusing on the spirituality of the grieving process could help many other parents as much as it helped her. He agreed, and together they decided to offer a spiritual retreat for parents whose children had died. They opened it to any parent whose child of any age had died by any cause—no matter how long ago, and no matter how close the parent did or did not feel to God.

And so, with nothing more than trust that the Holy Spirit would guide their efforts, Diane and the Franciscan friars of St Anthony Shrine held their first retreat in March of 2009. I initially wanted no part of this endeavor, reasoning that real men bear up no matter what, fearing any display of any weakness or helplessness. Nevertheless, I ultimately went to the retreat to support Diane. There is no doubt in my mind that during that weekend I, too, was showered with the gifts the Holy Spirit so generously offered that day.

Fr. David Convertino, OFM, then Guardian, described that initial retreat, “This was one of the most grace-filled experiences that I have had during my entire life as a priest and as a friar.”

From this uncertain beginning, the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents was born. It now offers One-Hour, One-Day, and Weekend Spiritual Retreats wherever it is called to do so.

The ministry does not provide therapy or function as a support group. In fact, parents are told that they will not be asked to stand up and relate their stories, or even to speak at all, unless they choose to do so. Rather, the ministry seeks to create a safe and sacred space for parents to “undress their hearts” before God and others who know and feel their pain—and to focus on the tenets of our Catholic faith and the certainty of the Communion of Saints now and in the future. Truly it is new evangelization in action.

Since its inception, this ministry has helped hundreds of parents initiate or reinvigorate their relationship with God—and with their deceased children. Over the past eight years it has evolved into a ministry for grieving parents offered by grieving parents. Very much parent-led, it is a ministry requiring very little parish or diocesan time or money. Parents struggle through and share the horrendous pain of their own journeys with each other, while inviting Jesus to join and comfort them, just as he comforted his grieving disciples on the road to Emmaus.

To the best of our knowledge, there is no other similar type of ongoing ministry focused on the spirituality of the parent’s grieving process anywhere in the United States. Since its inception, the ministry has served hundreds of parents from sixteen states, as well as Canada.

While its spiritual home continues to be St. Anthony Shrine in Boston, the ministry, as a 501(c) (3) non-profit, now partners in ministry with the Archdiocese of Boston, the Diocese of Wheeling-Charleston WV, and parishes in RI and CT as part of its mission to assist other parents and dioceses in introducing and maintaining this powerful ministry.

After one or more initial retreats offered in collaboration with our Boston-based retreat team, typically local parents are called by the Holy Spirit to carry the ministry forward in their own areas. In providing witness through personal testimony to other parents, many have found that “It is in consoling that we are consoled.”

Introducing the ministry in your area at little or no cost is relatively easy. Because we have been blessed with generous donations and several grant awards, we are able to come to you, wherever you are, bringing many years of experience and well-developed templates for offering your Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents spiritual retreats. Please call us at 617-542-8057 for more information or email diane@emfgp.org.

About the author
Charley Monaghan is a co-founder of the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents, which serves the spiritual needs of parents whose children of any age have died by any cause, no matter how long ago. The ministry is based in Boston, MA.

Related articles:

Spiritual Help for Grieving Parents

Of all the pains that life can hand us, arguably the most searing is the death of a child. A parent’s world irrevocably and horrifically changes forever, no matter what the circumstances or the age of the child.

In what seems to be a manner contrary to the natural order, parents not only have a physical and emotional part of themselves ripped away, but also have the loss of all of the hopes, dreams, and aspirations they had so completely invested in their child.

With this loss, a parent’s world radically and dramatically changes forever. Most friends, relatives, and acquaintances do not know how to approach or console for fear of offending or upsetting the parent. Many parents say they begin to feel that they are treated as if they have a contagious disease. In an attempt to seem normal, or “over it,” emotions are suppressed and the parent begins to withdraw or become distant. This reaction, however, compounds the all-encompassing feeling of being totally alone.

Many well-intentioned attempts have been made to assist parents in recovering emotionally from their loss, including psychotherapy and various support groups. However, in an attempt to be all inclusive and “politically correct,” the spiritual perspective of the grieving process—or even the existence of God—is usually lacking (or actively avoided) in many of these approaches.

It was the personal experience of my own family and this deep need for spirituality that led to what is now known as the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents.

Emmaus Ministry logo

Thanksgiving evening of 2002, a healthy, ambitious and successful young US Air Force Captain, Paul Monaghan, took his own life, without any explanation or warning signs. As unexpected as a lightning strike on a clear blue day, Paul’s death shattered our idyllic, comfortable family life forever.

For five years afterwards, when she wasn’t numb, my wife, Diane, frantically searched. Searched for answers from her son’s wife on what actually happened. Searched for answers from his friends on what he was like leading up to his death. Searched for answers from Air Force investigators, who took an entire year to file their death report. Searched for answers not so much to the question of “why” as to “how”. How could her beautiful son do this to himself? How could he do this to the family he loved so much? She frantically searched for understanding, read an entire library of books on the death of a child and suicide, went to psychiatrists, psychologists, and psychotherapists, joined support groups and journaled. Nothing helped at all.

During these years, she prayed for two things: the strength to get out of bed in the morning and an understanding of how she could make some good come from such a horrific tragedy, but her prayers seemingly went unanswered. She felt God was not listening. During this time, she says, she received some strength from her faith, but not much comfort.

Then one day, everything changed. Undoubtedly, it was the Holy Spirit that prompted her to attend a totally unrelated program that eventually led to a deep relationship with a compassionate religious sister, who was a Spiritual Director. They met at St. Anthony Shrine, a Holy Name Province Franciscan community in Boston, MA. Slowly, after five years, her numbness began to subside.

Over and over again, she talked with her Spiritual Director about the promise of eternal life…the fact that life has changed for Paul, not ended. The fact that she would indeed see him again. For the first time since 2002 Diane, in the rich teachings of the Catholic Church, finally found peace, comfort, and hope.

All this while, I was on a different journey. I put my feelings and emotions in a tightly wrapped box deep within me, while pretending to the entire world that nothing was wrong and that I was fine.

It is indeed fortunate that my wife and I had the wisdom to grant each other the ability to grieve in our own ways and so avoid what many married grieving parents experience – a good marriage becoming fragile or totally falling apart because of resentment or misunderstanding of the ways in which each other are grieving.

Eventually Diane made the life-changing decision to leave her position as vice president of a local college and go to work raising money for the Shrine in Boston. Growing more deeply in her spirituality, she eventually felt called to ask the Guardian of St Anthony Shrine if he would support a ministry to spiritually serve other deeply wounded grieving parents. She believed that focusing on the spirituality of the grieving process could help many other parents as much as it helped her. He agreed, and together they decided to offer a spiritual retreat for parents whose children had died. They opened it to any parent whose child of any age had died by any cause—no matter how long ago, and no matter how close the parent did or did not feel to God.

And so, with nothing more than trust that the Holy Spirit would guide their efforts, Diane and the Franciscan friars of St Anthony Shrine held their first retreat in March of 2009. I initially wanted no part of this endeavor, reasoning that real men bear up no matter what, fearing any display of any weakness or helplessness. Nevertheless, I ultimately went to the retreat to support Diane. There is no doubt in my mind that during that weekend I, too, was showered with the gifts the Holy Spirit so generously offered that day.

Fr. David Convertino, OFM, then Guardian, described that initial retreat, “This was one of the most grace-filled experiences that I have had during my entire life as a priest and as a friar.”

From this uncertain beginning, the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents was born. It now offers One-Hour, One-Day, and Weekend Spiritual Retreats wherever it is called to do so.

The ministry does not provide therapy or function as a support group. In fact, parents are told that they will not be asked to stand up and relate their stories, or even to speak at all, unless they choose to do so. Rather, the ministry seeks to create a safe and sacred space for parents to “undress their hearts” before God and others who know and feel their pain—and to focus on the tenets of our Catholic faith and the certainty of the Communion of Saints now and in the future. Truly it is new evangelization in action.

Since its inception, this ministry has helped hundreds of parents initiate or reinvigorate their relationship with God—and with their deceased children. Over the past eight years it has evolved into a ministry for grieving parents offered by grieving parents. Very much parent-led, it is a ministry requiring very little parish or diocesan time or money. Parents struggle through and share the horrendous pain of their own journeys with each other, while inviting Jesus to join and comfort them, just as he comforted his grieving disciples on the road to Emmaus.

To the best of our knowledge, there is no other similar type of ongoing ministry focused on the spirituality of the parent’s grieving process anywhere in the United States. Since its inception, the ministry has served hundreds of parents from sixteen states, as well as Canada.

While its spiritual home continues to be St. Anthony Shrine in Boston, the ministry, as a 501(c) (3) non-profit, now partners in ministry with the Archdiocese of Boston, the Diocese of Wheeling-Charleston WV, and parishes in RI and CT as part of its mission to assist other parents and dioceses in introducing and maintaining this powerful ministry.

After one or more initial retreats offered in collaboration with our Boston-based retreat team, typically local parents are called by the Holy Spirit to carry the ministry forward in their own areas. In providing witness through personal testimony to other parents, many have found that “It is in consoling that we are consoled.”

Introducing the ministry in your area at little or no cost is relatively easy. Because we have been blessed with generous donations and several grant awards, we are able to come to you, wherever you are, bringing many years of experience and well-developed templates for offering your Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents spiritual retreats. Please call us at 617-542-8057 for more information or email diane@emfgp.org.

About the author
Charley Monaghan is a co-founder of the Emmaus Ministry for Grieving Parents, which serves the spiritual needs of parents whose children of any age have died by any cause, no matter how long ago. The ministry is based in Boston, MA.

A Special Family: Shaped by Down Syndrome, Grief and Grace

By the time our son Stephen turned seven, we were hoping to adopt another child. To our three birth children, Guy (8), Stephen (7), and Matthew (5), we had already added David (3) and Danny, whose Down syndrome no longer seemed remarkable. He had passed the ripe old age of one and, although he was developing more slowly than our four older boys, he was making strides at his own pace. Other than a small PDA (a patent ductus arteriosusa or small hole in his heart) and the croup which scared us all half to death, he was in good shape physically. (The hole eventually closed, and he outgrew the croup, thank God!) Except for the time I fed him too many carrots and turned his skin orange, we were doing a pretty good job of parenting. Danny had grown into being just another member of the family, and we felt that we could care for one more baby with special needs. Down syndrome did not seem like a disability. It was a challenge which early intervention services helped us to meet.

The following spring, we met John Francis in The New York Foundling Hospital. He was four months old. The first time I held him, he looked up at me and smiled. (I refuse to believe it was gas!) I was a sucker for cute babies, and his little face won me over. Like Danny, John Francis had a small PDA. This was not an issue, but the colostomy bag attached to his little abdomen did present some problems. I had to learn to care for it before The Foundling would release him to us, and that made me nervous. But he had that adorable little smile and I soon managed to clean out his bag, “like a pro,” one of the nurses said, as though his guardian angel was guiding my hands. Looking back now, I think perhaps he was!

Our first night at home, I had a slippery little mess on my unskilled hands. I think that was the only time I wondered about the wisdom of our decision! My sister, who was present for my struggles and frustrations, suggested that I use a meat baster to flush out his little bag. That solved my biggest problem and I continued to use that baster until his colostomy was reversed by the time he was two.

The other boys did not like the idea of the colostomy bag, although it was covered up and soon became a non-issue. They were also against us naming the baby “Francis.” They thought the kids in the neighborhood would make fun of him. I had to laugh at that. Here was this little Chinese baby with Down syndrome and a colostomy bag and they were worried about kids making fun of his name! But we compromised on that, and named him John Francis instead. To my knowledge no one has ever made fun of him or of his name!

After his slippery beginning, John Francis found himself the littlest child in a busy household. We had decided, even before adopting Danny, that our family life would not change because of the addition of children with special needs. We went to Church, took them all to McDonald’s, went shopping and on vacation. Other than toting more luggage, along with the usual baby paraphernalia plus that necessary baster, we managed. My husband took the older boys to their sporting practices and events. I stayed home with the little ones, and joined him when I could. We were a typical family, busy in the chaos of everyday life.

Russo 2 children

All of the boys got along, but Stephen took a special interest in John Francis. They were “roomies” and Stephen seemed happiest when he was holding the baby in the crook of his arm. I can still see the look of pure joy on his face as he went about the house toting John Francis with him. They went to bed and crib, as usual, on the night of February 12, 1990, but Stephen came out of his room about 10 p.m. in distress. He had a terrible headache and could not sleep. I gave him some pain reliever and put him back to bed. I could soon see that this was not an ordinary headache. We called for an ambulance and, by 3 a.m. the following morning, Stephen was dead. His undetected brain aneurism had burst suddenly, without any warning. That is what made us a “special family”: grief, not Down syndrome.

A family does not get over the death of a child. As time went on, we began to function again, but it was very difficult. The older boys mourned Stephen quietly, and my husband, Tony, sank into a deep depression. The laundry did not stop, the house did not stay clean, and the meals did not cook themselves. I managed to get through some very difficult days bearing the brunt of a loss which nearly paralyzed us all. Losing Stephen was the greatest challenge of our lives.

I knew that, in order for me to heal, I had to give myself over to something greater than my loss. It seems incredible to me now that my husband, Tony, went along with my desire to find another baby, but he did. We began to actively pursue another adoption and were led back to The New York Foundling Hospital the following year.

A baby girl with Down syndrome had been born in January of 1991. She had a large hole in her heart and lay, we were told, like a little blue doll. The agency did not want us to meet her until after her surgery. They were afraid she might not survive, and did not want us to face what would be another devastating loss. A lot of prayers were sent up to heaven during the next few months! After the surgery, we were finally called in to meet her.

Now this little bundle was a challenge of a different sort! She had not developed the ability to suck and swallow. On the positive side, her heart had healed well and her prognosis was good. I faced the daunting task of putting a tube down her nose into her tummy four times a day so that she would be able to get the nourishment she needed to thrive. I was to do that after I coaxed her to drink from a bottle, something she never quite mastered. I did not know if I was up to this task, this risk of giving our hearts to another child, at all.

After we met Maria Grace, I went to church. By then Stephen had been gone a year and a half. While sitting in the back of my parish church, I looked up at the altar, praying for guidance. There, my soul very clearly saw Stephen, holding a little baby out to me in his outstretched arms. It was as if he were offering me the gift of life. How could I reject it?

Again, angel hands seemed to guide my own as I learned to feed Maria Grace. We brought her home by the end of that week, another China doll, when she was seven months old and weighed less than eleven pounds. Matthew, our youngest birth son, had taken over Stephen’s place as “roomie” and chief holder of John Francis. I was able to devote my time to the baby’s careRusso 3 children resized

Our children are now grown. Our oldest son, Guy, works in a school with a boy who has Autism. He hopes to teach full time in September. Matthew worked in a Day Program with adults with special needs for three years and is looking forward to teaching Social Studies in the fall. David was a “Buddy” with United Cerebral Palsy and also “buddied” while he served in the army. He will graduate from college this May. Danny and John Francis both go to work daily in Hub Sites, gathering places from which adults with special needs go out to serve as volunteers in the community. Maria Grace also volunteers at a Hub Site. This only daughter of mine has grown into a confident 23-year-old who has the ability to keep us all in our places. Even the dogs! Down syndrome has not been a disability for us. It has been, instead, the lens through which we, my husband and I and all of our children, have learned to love each other. You can see our story on YouTube at “What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Baby with Down Syndrome”. I hope that the smiling faces it contains suggest that Down syndrome is a gift, like life itself.

How has it been raising a family in which three members have Down syndrome? It has been a gift to treasure – and to share!

The Theology of the Body According to St. John Paul II

When John Paul II was elevated to the papacy, he unveiled a series of reflections on which he had worked for some time. He gave these in the form of weekly general audiences between 1979 and 1984. These talks became known as “The Theology of the Body” and have had a growing impact on Christian thinking about what it means to be embodied as male or female.

Reflecting on the Genesis accounts of creation, Pope John Paul II underscored the way in which the body reflects or expresses the person. The human person discovers his dignity through his body and its capacity to express his ability to think and to choose, unlike the animals, who lack this ability. (See Genesis 2:19-21.)

Yet humanity is radically lacking in its expression in only one sex. The full meaning of the body and hence the human person is revealed only when the man stands over against another unique way of being human–woman. This distinctive way of being a person and a gift for others, male and female, reflects what the late pope called “the nuptial meaning of the body.” Coming together in the profound partnership of marriage, man and woman live for the other in mutual love and deference. This union is expressed concretely in the couple’s bodily gift of themselves to one another in sexual intercourse. Here they speak a profound language of total self-gift and unconditional fidelity.

The late pope understood the impact of sin on the human person. The Fall brings about a series of ruptures within the person, radically diminishing the body’s capacity to express reason and freedom. It introduces alienation and a struggle for control into the relationship of male and female, distorting their relationships in marriage and in human society (cf. Genesis 3:16). And it devastates the human sexual drive, redirecting it from an impulse toward life-giving interpersonal union between covenantal partners to a desire to use and exploit others for personal satisfaction.

Yet with the death and resurrection of Christ, sin does not have the last word on the condition of the body. The grace that flows from the cross and resurrection effects a “redemption of the body,” not just in heaven but here and now. Through the healing effects of Christian prayer and sacramental worship, the body is enabled to express the person and his or her ability to think and freely choose.

The grace of Christ also enables men and women to overcome their mutual conflict and live together in marriage in the exercise of “mutual submission out of reverence for Christ” (cf. Ephesians 5:21; Mulieris Dignitatem, no. 24). This transforming grace enables the body in its maleness and femaleness to be offered as the expression of the “sincere gift of self” in a way reflective of the person’s vocation– as single, married, or a consecrated celibate.

The human person as a unique embodied subject is thus understood through the three panels (or triptych) of the Christian mysteries of creation, sin, and redemption. The result is what John Paul II himself modestly referred to as an “adequate” understanding of the person. This vision enables us to recognize and affirm that the body and the gift of sexuality are good. At the same time it highlights why this gift is falsified by extramarital or contraceptive sex that sever sexual union from its inherent meanings of unconditional fidelity and life-giving fruitfulness.

The mystery of the human person is continually confronted by new issues and challenges. For example, much of the reflection on the body and its relation to the person within Christian tradition has been undertaken by men. During his pontificate John Paul II called for a “new feminism” that would better account for the distinctive insights, experiences, and gifts of women.

In addition, issues of the relationship between the body and the person take on new urgency in light of expanding scientific and medical technology that has raised questions at both the beginning of life (reproductive technologies, the status of cryo-preserved embryos, stem cell research, and attempts to clone human beings) and its end (the personhood of the persistently comatose, the meaning of suffering, and how to define the moment of death). To continue to affirm the fundamental biblical conviction of the goodness of the embodied person created in the image of God while addressing such pressing questions is the task for the further refinement of the “adequate anthropology” of John Paul II’s “Theology of the Body.”

About the author
Professor John S. Grabowski is a member of the Department of Theology at The Catholic University of America.

Till Death Do Us Part

The following is an excerpt from the book It Is Well: Life in the Storm by Chris Faddis, shared with permission from the author and Carmel Communications. In his book, Chris writes about finding out on Easter Sunday 2011 that his wife Angela had terminal colon cancer. She died 17 months later at age 32, leaving behind her grieving husband and two young children. It Is Well is a story of grief, love, loss, and faith.

To purchase It Is Well, please visit http://itiswellbook.com.

I sat with Angela as much as I could, holding her hand, playing music and praying many prayers, yet I would find myself feeling very restless and anxious. There is no more helpless feeling than sitting by a loved one’s side waiting for them to die. I felt as
 if I should be doing something. To move away from the instincts
 of trying to help her live, of doing everything I could to fight
 this disease, towards suddenly giving up was painful and heart wrenching. I had discerned our decision to move Angela home with hospice care with the help of very knowledgeable friends who walked me through the process of making this decision. It was clear that Angela’s body was in the pre-active dying process, and that there really was nothing we could do to stop it. One friend posed the decision this way: “At some point it is time to surrender to God and if she is in the pre-active dying process, it might be that time to accept death.”

I was confident that we had made the right choice, but as 
I sat in her room, I felt helpless and useless. I would rethink my decisions and question myself. “Am I giving up too soon?” This wasn’t helped, of course, by a few well-meaning people who voiced that they thought I was giving up hope. So in my restlessness and uneasiness I would pace, find things to do and find myself getting frustrated. As I would come back into the room, I would look at Angela’s peaceful face, and I would realize that my only job was to just be present to her and to wait patiently with her for death. When I finally surrendered to this reality, that my only job was to just be present to her, I felt an incredible peace.

hands

Chris Faddis holding his wife Angela’s hand

One particular afternoon, just a few days before she died, I sat with Angela and held her hand as I read to her. She would occasionally look up and listen or smile. I would tell her how much I loved and cherished her and she would respond with a faint response. At one point she whispered, “I always knew you would cherish me to the end.” As she fell back to sleep, I looked down at our hands and her ring was missing. It had fallen off several times, as Angela was so frail that it was now too large for her finger. She had placed it on the table next to her bed. I picked up the ring
and placed it on her finger and held her hand again. I gazed upon our hands, reflecting on that ring and what it symbolized, on our hands and the symbolism of husband and wife walking hand in hand through life. I thought about the first time we held hands. It was on our first date to Cirque du Soleil. At one point Angela had moved her hand near mine and then gently touched my hand. I took her hand till the crowd erupted in applause and a standing ovation. Angela never admitted to holding my hand that night. She would say, “I did not hold your hand that night. I wasn’t ready.” 
I would laugh and remind her of the many things she did during that time of friendship – when she supposedly did not want to date yet – like lean on me, touch my hand, and even press her cheek against mine for a long time, as if to wait for a kiss. She would laugh at me and say, “Whatever, I was not that forward.” I then thought about when we did finally hold hands after we were “officially” dating. There is something remarkable about holding hands when you are falling in love.

Many people say it’s in the kiss that you know, or it’s love at first sight; I tend to think it’s in the hands. Holding hands was not always romantic, but holding hands was our constant connection to one another. Even when in an argument or a difficult conversation, we would often hold hands. When Angela was struggling with depression, I held her hands many times just to calm her, to soothe her, to help her feel supported. Angela, too, would hold my hand when I was having a hard day or down about my
job situation or our financial hurdles. A simple touch of her hand would instantly soothe me.

Through Angela’s cancer journey, holding hands had become our primary form of intimacy. Whether Angela was receiving chemotherapy, waiting for surgery or simply resting at home, we would spend lots of time holding hands, talking, praying and simply being present. As I held her hand during this seventeen-month journey, I would often squeeze and hold her hand very tight as I thought about losing her, as if I could somehow hold her tight enough to keep her from dying. Now sitting in our room as she lie in wait for death, holding her hand was literally all I had left. She could hardly speak or even acknowledge my words; I simply had to hold her hand to communicate my love and to be sure she knew she was not alone. Indeed, I would be there till the end.

As I thought about her hands, I also thought about that ring, the one I gave her as I asked her to be my bride and the ring that stood as a symbol of this life-long Sacrament of Marriage. With that ring came our promise to love one another fully and completely until death came for one of us. The wedding ring speaks of permanence, of commitment, of an unbreakable bond between a husband and wife. Yet that ring could not bind her any longer; it could not keep her from dying, and it certainly could not keep her from heaven.

As I sat in this moment, I wanted to capture our hands one last time. I took a picture that I later shared. It is the image of us holding hands with Angela’s ring as the focal point of the image.
 A week or so earlier I had verbally told Angela that she was free to go home. My words on that day were, “You took my hand and you have loved me well. When Jesus comes and offers you his hand, you are free to go.” After taking the picture of our hands I felt I should say those words again. So I wrote them down and then read them to Angela:

“Till Death”

As if I could keep you longer, I placed this ring back on your finger today. It had fallen off a few times.

Oh, that this ring could keep you here longer. It is a mark of our commitment; it is my promise to love you with my whole heart, and yet there is a love greater than mine that will take you soon. How could this mere piece of gold compare to the love of God, which loves you completely, wholly, and perfectly?

It cannot, so I will hold your hand a little while longer. I will keep putting this ring back on your finger. But when the time comes and He asks you for your hand, you are free to go. Go to that perfect love which makes all things new. Go and be whole again. For now, till death do we part.

Ten Tips for Dealing with Grief

The holidays can be difficult when one is grieving the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, or the loss of a job or one’s health. Here are some guidelines that can help you heal during the holiday season.

1. Grieving takes energy, so be gentle with yourself. Treat yourself like you would treat a friend.

Try this today: Write out “I am a precious child of God” (or “treat yourself like your best friend”) and place it on the mirror in your bathroom or bedroom. Then read it every day.

2. Spend time with people who listen and validate your feelings, and give yourself permission not to spend time with those who don’t know what to say or those who say insensitive things.

Try this today: Call a friend who will listen, and talk with him or her.

3. Create time and space to grieve. Set aside time and get in touch with your feelings. Let the tears come. Use photos or videos to prompt the feelings if you need to. Jesus cried and He understands the need to cry and the need to let go. But He has also redeemed the entire grief process. He has been through this so you don’t have to do it alone.

Try this today: Depending on your needs, call a retreat center to set aside time with the Lord and yourself. Even a few hours at your local church can be helpful.

4. Remember a good thing that your loved one would want for you. When I was grieving the loss of my mom and dad, I would remind myself: “What would they want for me right now?” We know our loved ones would not want us to be consumed by our grief. They want us to know that faith tells us we will see them again. In the meantime God can heal us through the love of others.

Try this today: When you are sad, tell yourself it is okay to be sad; it is okay to cry. Then remind yourself of a good thing that your loved one would want for you.

5. God can turn our grief into gratitude. Rom 8:28 tells us that all things work for the good for those who love God. God loves us so much that by the power of the Holy Spirit, God will heal our grieving, and use it for good. I have seen this in my life and it brings new meaning to my pain.

Try this today: Read Romans 8:28 and write down what it means for you in your grieving.

6. Consider changing holiday routines. Some traditions may be comforting, so keep them. But some traditions may be difficult, and you may lack the energy to do them. Give yourself permission to change them if you think God is calling you do to that.

Try this today: Talk with a safe loved one who can help you decide what rituals to keep and which ones to change.

7. Make time for activities you used to enjoy. I love martial arts, and I try to go to class every Thursday evening; it is my “group therapy.” After my dad died in 2005, Thursday night came, and out of habit I went to martial arts. After coming home my wife asked me, “Did you have a good time?” After a long pause I said, “No, I didn’t, but I went.” At certain times in the grieving process we have to do the things we used to like to do before our grieving started.

Try this today: Take a moment to list some of the things you used to enjoy before your grieving started, and pray about which ones the Holy Spirit wants you to do this week or this day.

8. Consider the way you view yourself. You are not the problem; you are precious. Avoid negative self-statements such as: “How could you be so stupid?” or beating yourself up with regrets (“If only I had told her before she died . . .”). Start telling yourself positive things: you are God’s child, God loves you, God cares for you, you are good and beautiful because God created you good and beautifully.

Try this today: Tell yourself something positive right now! Stop any negative words, which are not helping your healing and may indicate that you need to do more grief work.

9. Understand you are not alone. There is a universal and particular side to all suffering. Universally, there are many people who understand some of what we go through when we grieve. Particularly, you can never fully understand my suffering nor can I fully understand your suffering because I am not you and you are not me. If we focus too long on the particular side it becomes too self-absorbed and we buy the lie that “nobody understands.”

Try this today: If you feel like “nobody understands” the depth of your pain, tell yourself that is only half true: that universally, many people understand the work it takes to grieve, and remind yourself that Jesus understands completely.

10. There is no right way to grieve. We all grieve differently, and men and women will grieve in their own unique way. Being aware of this can free us from trying to control another’s grief work. That said, if a person is not grieving at all and is not sleeping well, has anxiety, or is keeping so busy so as not to feel anything, those can be indicators that they may need more grief work for healing to happen.

About the author
Jim Otremba, M.Div, M.S., LICSW is a licensed therapist and Catholic coach in Minnesota (www.coachinginchrist.com).

Marriage: The Later Years

The later years includes the blissful “empty-nest” season of a marriage that can feel like a second honeymoon. Many couples welcome their new freedom,” while others have a hard time letting go. Sometimes a couple who happily thought they were in the empty-nest stage are faced with a boomerang young adult who again needs their care, presence, home, and perhaps babysitting services. The later years can also bring major health issues and the gradual loss of abilities.

Second marriage couples enter the later years of their lives but it’s the early years of their marriage. Men and women who marry after a divorce or death of a spouse, or after waiting for the right person, experience in their later years some of the same adjustments of young marrieds.

Issues of diminishing health, grief over peers dying, and significant blocks of togetherness time are common. Thus, the wife who married her husband “for better or for worse, but not for lunch together!” becomes a poignant cliché.

How do couples re-negotiate their relationship to take into account their new freedom, increased time together, possibly decreased income, and fading health and energy? Some do it with grace because over the years they’ve learned the marital dance of flexibility and tolerance. Some complain a lot – about life, about each other, about the weather.

Some may want to complain but know that’s not very endearing. Yet they struggle with letting go of the old patterns and roles of their life together. For these couples, the desire to let go with grace may be enough motivation to:

  • Attend a marriage enrichment program geared especially to older couples
  • Explore new hobbies and interests together
  • Volunteer with their church, community, or other good causes that would benefit from their experience
  • Deepen their spirituality to help them deal with the losses and limitations of later life
  • Forgive others’ faults and drop long-held grudges

Other Resources

The Second Half of Marriage small group resource: see listing on the Encouragement and Enrichment page.

For Further Reading