WELCOME...
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|
| to you who are receiving
this newsletter for the first time and to our regular members. We
are a self-help organization offering nonjudgmental friendship and
understanding to bereaved parents, grandparents, and siblings. BP
purposes are to aid these persons in the positive resolution of
their grief and to foster their physical and emotional health. Our
chapter meets in a donated church facility, but no religious creed
or affiliation is involved. Persons of all faiths (or no faith),
creeds, and races are welcome! We have no dues, and no one is required
to speak at any meeting. Listening is OK. If you need us, we’re
here for you. If you do not need help yourself, please bring your
compassionate understanding to those who need the support of other
bereaved parents, siblings, or grandparents. |
The Bereaved Parents of North
Texas meets regularly on the third Monday of each month at 7:15
pm in the Flynn Hall Lounge of the First United Methodist Church,
201 S. Locust Street, Denton, Texas. (For directions, please see
the
map on the back page.) Baby-sitting available, SEE BELOW: |
BABY-SITTING
AT BPNT MEETINGS? |
Parents who
need baby-sitting at our monthly meetings should contact Jessica
prior to the last Sunday of the month for our 3rd Monday meetings.
This way she can arrange for the sitter. Contact Jessica at:
940-382-5478 |
| COMING UP IN MAY... |
Will be a presentation especially
helpful to those who want to keep communication open and honest
with a spouse, parent, child, sibling, or friend. But at the moment,
the presenter may not be able to attend, in which case, we'll have
a “share” session, to talk about our children. We hope
to see you there.
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| LOVING LISTENERS... |
Your telephone links you
to a loving listener. Do you need to talk about your child's
life and death with someone who truly understands your anguish?
Those listed below have volunteered to listen and to try to
help you. By allowing others to help you, you also are helping
others. If no one answers at one number, please call another.
Give us a call. It helps to talk!
Shirley &
RD Cawyer - 940-668-7717 -
auto/train accident
Beth Reynolds
- 940-321-3302
- auto accident
Dale &
Shannon Johnson - 940-591-8539
-
stillbirth
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| |
Share your child...
Submit stories about your child and/or pictures if possible for
future newsletters. I would like to have something to post in the
newsletter that pertains to your child during the month of their
birthday, anniversary, holiday or any other month. Specify which
you prefer to see it published. Either mail to the newsletter address
or email to Beth Reynolds at bethreyn@centurytel.net. |
NEXT MEETINGS
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19 MAY
|
16 JUNE
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| |
Mother’s
Day Without My Daughter
My daughter Teri died on Friday morning, May 2,
1986. Mother’s Day that year fell on May 11. I was still
in shock and unrelenting physical pain that Mother’s Day.
Our local florist, who had known Teri, told us that several weeks
before she died, Teri had arranged for Mother’s Day bouquest
for me and her mother–in–law. He wondered if I wanted
to cancel the order.
“No, don’t cancel,” I fairly
yelled at the man. I wanted the flowers. I wanted everything Teri
had touched! If Teri had arranged for flowers to be sent, of course
I wanted them. It was importatnt to complete anything that she
had begun. Why didn’t others realize that?
The florist delivered the flowers himself. I think
that he arranged an especially exquisite bouquet since he knew
of Teri’s recent death. In fact, he had decorated the church
for her memorial service. Then I noticed the card.
My heart leapt. Teri’s handwriting! I really
cannot say exactly what raced through my mind. Surely I could
not have thought that she was still alive. I tore open the card
with trembling hands and read, Sorry I can’t be with you
today, but there flowers say I love you. Teri. Reassurance from
beyond? That was my first thought in my grief, pain and confusion.
When I gathered my wits again, I deduced what
had happened. Teri was to have been out of town on a business
trip over Mother’s Day that year. Because she surprised
me with something special every Mother’s Day, she seemed
distressed and mentioned that she could skip this particular trip,
for she wanted to spend Mother’s Day with me. Of course,
I insisted that she go.
When she seemed disappointed with my attitude,
I suggested that we have our own special Mother’s Day the
following Sunday—-just the two of us—- and she visibly
brightened. “If you’re absolutely sure, Mom,”
she’d said, inviting me to be completely honest with her.
When she was satisfied that I would not mind waiting the extra
week, we enjoyed the rest of our luncheon together. I think now
that it bothered her, nonetheless, to postpone our Mother’s
Day celebration.
Subsequently, and without my knowledge, she made
a special trip to the florist to order flowers and write her note,
knowing it would be a surprise for me while she was out of town.
I am sure she was planning something special for the following
week, too; but, of course, now I’ll never know what it might
have been.
––Shirley Cognard Ottman
The Slender Thread
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| LET US REMEMBER . .
|
| |
| May Birthdays |
|
 |
| -
Sandra Richardson Dunn |
May
01, 1949 |
|
Daughter
of Tom & Virgie Richardson |
| - William
Prettyman |
May 01,
1984 |
|
Grandson
of Ronnie & Peggy Adkins |
| -
Christian Joshua Hart |
May
01, 2000 |
|
Son of
Kristi Taylor & Josh Hart |
| -
Cheyanne Arnold |
May
15, 2002 |
|
Daughter
of John Arnold |
| - Jeffrey
Lee Draper |
May
23, 1975 |
|
Son of
Charles & Barbara Draper |
| - Shirley
Hale |
May 24,
1945 |
|
Daughter
of Sybil & WB Arrington |
| - Terese “Teri”
Lynn Atkins |
May
02, 1986 |
| Daughter
of Shirley & Bob Ottman |
| -
Bethena Lyn Brosz |
May
03, 2001 |
| Daughter
of Janet Shires
|
Sister
of Marcia Lewis |
| - Maladie Ann
Morrison |
May
07, 2002 |
Daughter
of Maladie Kubicek |
| - Patsy Erwin
|
May
12, 2001 |
| Daughter
of Myrel Fiorelli |
| - Cheyanne Arnold
|
May
15, 2002 |
| Daughter
of John Arnold
|
| - Michael Flores
|
May
23, 2002 |
Son
of Luis & Opal Flores |
| PLEASE NOTE: The editors
regret any misspelled names, incorrect dates, or any names omitted.
Please contact Beth Reynolds with any corrections or additions at
bethreyn@centurytel.net; 940-321-3302; fax 940-497-4790 or 8 Crest
CT Hickory Creek TX 75065. |
Send in Your Butterfly
Stories...
Judy Hominick, presented
a workshop on butterfly gardening for the 2001 Gathering in Dallas.
She reports that, “I have been amazed to hear stories from
people about encounters with butterflies. The stories also show
a comforting connection between butterflies and the death of someone
close. For instance, when a dozen monarchs were released at a
memorial service held for a young girl’s mother who had
died, all the butterflies flew off until one returned to briefly
perch on the shoulder of the young girl.
She asks that if you have
had a similar experience with a butterfly and a loss and would
like to share it for possible inclusion in a book which she is
writing, she would like you to contact her at:
|
Judy
Hominick
8619 Richardson Branch Trail
Dallas, TX 75243
web site: www.riverrunning.com
Email: hominick @swbell.net |
|
CHAPTER OFFICERS
Moderator . .
.Shannon Ratliff-Johnson & Virginia Gallian
Secretary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.Shirley Ottman
Membership . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Tom
Richardson
Treasurer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . Bob Ottman
Newsletter Editor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Beth
Reynolds
Greeters. . . . . . . . . .Wanda Edington & Virgie Richardson
Supplies. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . Louise Ferry
Our Credo
We are the parents whose
children have died. We are the grandparents who have buried
grandchildren. We are the siblings whose brothers and sisters
no longer walk with us through life. We come together as Bereaved
Parents of the USA to provide a haven where all bereaved families
can meet and share our long and arduous grief journeys. We attend
monthly gatherings whenever we can and for as long as we believe
necessary. We share our fears, confusion, anger, guilt, frustrations,
emptiness and feelings of hopelessness so that hope can be found
anew. As we accept, support, comfort and encourage each other,
we demonstrate to each other that survival is possible. Together
we celebrate the lives of our children, share the joys and triumphs
as well as the love that will never fade. Together we learn
how little it matters where we live, what our color or our affluence
is or what faith we uphold as we confront the tragedies of our
children's deaths. Together, strengthened by the bonds we forge
at our gatherings, we offer what we have learned to each other
and to every more recently bereaved family. We are the Bereaved
Parents of the USA.
We welcome
you. |
| |
My
Brief Rainbow
Rainbows appear only on
dreary, rainy days.
They beautify the world for a few brief moments.
These moments, however, can be spectacular.
YOU were my brief rainbow.
You entered my life
And stayed for but a short while.
Nonetheless, the memories of those moments
When you blessed us with laughter and delight,
Joy and smiles, charm and
beauty,
Gaiety and happiness,
Mischief and silliness, sunlight and moonbeams,
Giggles and love (ad infinitum)&
Made the deluge, the tears
of pain and anger,
Helplessness and fear, insanity and agony,
Sadness and heartbreak, emptiness and loneliness
Bearable.
Rainbows, however brief,
Make the world a brighter, lovelier place.
How grateful I am that I had you,
My brief rainbow.
––Peggy Kociscin,
Albuquerque, NM
Food for the Soul
|
 |
| One Day
If one day you feel like crying, call me.
I don’t promise that I will make you laugh,
But I can cry with you.
If one day you want to run away,
Don’t be afraid to call me.
I don’t promise to ask you to stop,
But I can run with you.
If one day you don’t want to listen to
anybody, call me
And I promise to be quiet.
But, if one day you call and there is no answer, come fast to
me.
Perhaps I need you!
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you’ll
find them at the end of each of your arms. As you grow older,
you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself,
the other for helping others.
– – Joan Reberio
Winnipeg Canada Chapter Newsletter
|
May we all stop and have a moment of silence this Memorial Day,
in remembrance of all servicemen and women who lost their lives
while serving their country.
"Your silent tents of green
We deck with fragrant flowers;
Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours."
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
|
| Mother’s Day
When I got out of bed this morning, I turned
the radio on as usual. Someone was talking about an upcoming
special day. Still sleepy, I tried to figure out what special
day was being discussed. Within a few moments the words
Mother’s Day were spoken. I sat down and began to
think about the last several Mother’s Days before
the death of my son Douglas.
Sitting at my dresser, I opened my jewelry
box and picked up the last gift my son had given to me:
a pair of earrings. Holding this last gift in my hands,
tears began to fall. When he had given them to me, he had
less than two months to live. This July it will have been
five years since his death. The emotions and powerful feelings
I had this morning were as strong if not stronger than the
day he died. I sometimes still feel that this is all a bad
dream, and he will again walk in the door with his blonde
hair and deep blue eyes, and his funny little grin.
I ran to the calendar and saw that on May
12th I was going to be gone on vacation. Suddenly I felt
a sense of relief. In fact, I am leaving the U.S. and going
to a country where Mother’s Day is not celebrated
at all. That was even better! I love and adore my other
children and grandchildren, and so I pray that one day I
will again look forward to Mother’s Day. But this
year, I’m just happy that I’ll be gone.
––Shirley Carrigan
Where Are All The Butterflies?
BP of North Texas
|
| Am I Still A Mother
In 1985, I gave birth to a
beautiful baby boy that my husband and I named Brendan.
He was the first child for us; the first grandchild o both
sides of the family. We quickly settled into being a family.
Life was perfect. At first, I was afraid I wouldn’t
know how to be a good mother. I must have called my mother
about a zillion times to ask her advice about everything!
I read whatever I could get my hands on. I questioned all
my friends, who had children, to learn about “mothering.”
On a rainy, Friday morning in October 1985, our “perfect
life” turned into a nightmare. Our beautiful son,
our Brendan, was dead; the apparent victim of SIDS (Sudden
Infant Death Syndrome). The weeks that followed his death
are somewhat blurry, but one things I will never forget
is the teller at the bank who was the first to ask, “How
is your baby?” I felt faint and short of breath as
I quickly explained that he had died of SIDS a few weeks
earlier, and I made a quick exit. My husband and I immediately
made the decision to get away for a few weeks; to go somewhere
where no one would ask about Brendan. After a two week trip
to the east coast, we returned home and tried to pick up
the pieces of our once “perfect” life.
In May of 1986, I dreaded the first Mother’s Day without
my Brendan. Was I still a mother? How could I celebrate
Mother’s Day if my baby was dead? I remembered the
time I had spent worrying whether I would be a good mother.
Where was I to look to learn to be a “bereaved mother”?
Who would guide me and hold me up when my world was crashing
down around me? As I argued and debated with myself over
my status as a mother, I was fortunate to have a loving,
supportive husband and kind family, friends and relatives
to reassure me that yes, indeed, I was still a mother. Just
because Brendan was not pysically in the here and now, did
not negate the fact that I carried him safely in my womb
for nine months and held him to my breast for nourishment
for four months and eighteen days.
As an outward sign of my motherhood, my husband presented
me with a beautiful garnet ring that was “from Brendan”!
Brendan had been so attracted to the color of red, we decided
that it must be his favorite color. I received flowers and
phone calls from family and friends to acknowledge the brief
but wonderful life of a very special little boy. The message
came out loud and clear. Yes! I am still a mother! Nothing
can ever take that truth away from me.
––Nancy Maruyama,
RN, NCBF, Crystal Lake, IL
Bereavement Magazine
|
| |
A
Mother's Love Determines How A
mother's love determines how
We love ourselves and others.
There is no sky we'll ever see
Not lit by that first love.
Stripped of love, the universe
Would drive us mad with pain;
But we are born into a world
That greets our cries with joy.
How much I owe you for the kiss
That told me who I was!
The greatest gift––a love of life––
Lay laughing in your eyes.
Because of you my world still has
The soft grace of your smile;
And every wind of fortune bears
The scent of your caress.
– –Author
Unknown
|
.gif) |
| Break the News
to Mother While
the shot and shell were screaming on the battlefield,
The boys in blue were fighting their noble flag to shield;
Came a cry from their brave captain, "Look, boys!
our flag is down;
Who'll volunteer to save it from disgrace?"
"I will," a young voice shouted, "I'll
bring it back or die,"
Then sprang into the thickest of the fray,
Saved the flag but gave his young life; all for his
country's sake.
They brought him back and softly heard him say:
"Just break the news to mother,
She knows how dear I love her,
And tell her not to wait for me,
For I'm not coming home;
Just say there is no other
Can take the place of mother;
Then kiss her dear, sweet lips for me,
And break the news to her."
From afar a noted general had witnessed the brave deed.
"Who saved our flag? Speak up lads; 'twas noble,
brave, indeed!"
"There he lies, sir," said the captain, "he's
sinking very fast,"
Then slowly turned away to hide a tear.
The general, in a moment, knelt down beside the boy;
Then gave a cry that touched all hearts that day.
"It's my son, my brave young hero; I thought you
safe at home."
"Forgive me Father, for I ran away."
~Charles K. Harris
|
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Thoughts
of you sparkle, for they are the jewels in my mind’s treasure
chest.
– –Haiku by
Diantha Ain
Bereavement Magazine
|
A fellowship for
bereaved parents
You need not walk
alone!
|
