Monday, March 1, 2010


The signs were evident from the very beginning that my oldest son would not take the same path as the other two children in healing and grieving his father's death. Not that any one's path is the same - but his would be longer and more painful and difficult.

Within a couple months of Chris' death I was in contact with Hospice (or perhaps they were in contact with me). They had a wonderful woman who was working as a Counselor specifically for children. She would come to the house and talk to the children. My oldest refused to have anything to do with it. We tried the counselor at school. They pulled him out of class almost everyday to visit with the counselor. This did not seem to help either. We did things at home, that I hoped helped - but he needed more than what I could offer him. For two years this game continued. I tried to let him be - wondering if he could work through it. No. He was angry. He was angry that me and the other two children had somehow 'moved on' and forgotten. I tried to assure him, we had not forgotten. I think of Chris every day. Everyone just shows their emotions a little differently.

I asked around regarding an excellent male (I had determined he needed a male) children's psychologist who had knowledge and expertise in grieving. I didn't want someone who would classify him as depressed or some other label - I needed someone who would know what to do and how to work through this process with him. I had no luck in finding what I was looking for.

I was in for my yearly check-up with the doctor, and different that any other time I have been in for a similar appointment, the Nurse Practitioner saw me. She was interested in how things were - was I healing, were the children? I shared with her a little of what was going on and my frustration in finding what I was looking for in a Children's Psychologist. She told me that she thought she knew of someone who might help. He had a great reputation and she had heard a lot of good things about him. I eagerly accepted his contact information.

Making the phone call to his office just a day later, I inquired regarding his expertise and experience. He sounded as if he could be a match. We made our first appointment and took the hour long drive to his office. On the way up I talked with my son about how this would be a waste of time unless he wanted to feel differently. This doctor could help him, but only if he wanted to let go of some of the anger that he was feeling. He was surprisingly receptive. I was grateful.

Our first appointment went well and we established a pattern of every other week on Thursday nights or Saturday morning. The drive up provided us some quality time to visit and he was making progress. I began to see less anger, more smiling. After one year I was amazed at how far he had come. I was so grateful.

I was grateful to my Father in Heaven, for his divine intervention in giving me the nurse practitioner that day, not the doctor. For the nurse, that I had never met before, who cared enough to ask how the kids and I were doing. For a doctor, who cared and for my son being open to healing.

We had made some steps in the right direction.

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