Alive Alone Newsletter Excerpts
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By Vicki
In good times, in bad times,
I’ll be on your side forevermore

Friends warm you with their presence,
trust you with their secrets,
and remember you in their prayers.

Friends share openly, laugh often,
care deeply and trust always.
Being with a friend is more important
than what you do.

Friendship is a treasure.
Friends listen to our words but hear our hearts.
Friends allow you the space and freedom
to simply just be.

A friend is someone who comes in
when the whole world has gone out.
A friend is the hope of the heart.
There is no joy in life like the joy of sharing with a friend.

Our friends are lenses through which
we can better see ourselves.
The language of friendship is not words, but meaning.
Happiness is having a friend.

True friends are never apart, each keeps the other in her heart.
Friendships begun in this world can be taken
up again in heaven, and are never ended.
Friendship is love with understanding.

Friends inspire you to believe the best in yourself,
to keep pursuing your deepest dreams -
then celebrates all your successes as if they were her own.

A good friend remembers what we were,
and sees what we can be.
Friends double our pleasure, and divide our sorrow.
Friends are our companions on a journey,
who support each other on this road of life.

In memory of son, Sandy




Many of us attend support group meetings for one reason - a child of ours has died. For some of us, however, the child that died was the only child we had, and though our pain is certainly no worse than those who have surviving children, there are differences. “We” will never hear the word “Mom” or “Dad” again. “We” have no hope of grandchildren. “We” only have ourselves to go on for. During the past seven years there has been many times when I have cringed in meetings as a fellow bereaved parent inadvertently hurt me. How can you as a compassionate friend help?

I have listed some ways to make it easier for a parent, with no surviving child, to be comfortable at support group meetings.

* When a parent with no surviving children is in your group, please don’t bring out the pictures of your grandchildren. Save them for someone who at least has the hope of grandchildren. We do not.

* Though you may have special problems with your surviving child (children) don’t expound on them. We would love to have any problem at all.

* Please don’t say, “I don’t know how you bear it.” That is equivalent to someone who has not had a child to die saying the same words to you. We “bear it” because we have no choice, just as you do not.

* Please do not tell us, “But you have your husband/wife.” It’s just not the same.

* Please don’t say, “You don’t have the worry about having another child die.” We would love to have that worry.

* Please do not tell us that entering menopause is nothing to be concerned about. To us, it is the ending of a chance that we will ever have a child to parent again.

* Please do not bring “surprises” to meetings. Support groups are for adults and while there are

occasions when bringing a child is appropriate, please do not do so unannounced. The sight of a child (be it your own, or a grandchild) may bring tears to my eyes. I want to be “safe” just as you do.

* If you are fortunate enough to have another child. I am happy for you. But please do not tell me the details of your pregnancy. For some of us, that is not an option.

* Please don’t tell us there are lots of children in this word to “parent”. This may be true, and while I may do so someday, it must be my choice.

* I understand that grief is not a contest. I know my pain is not worse than yours, but it is different, and there are different bridges to cross. Thank you for being compassionate to all of us.


In memory of my son, Sandy



By Bob Digan, Lee, MA

A child's gaze through windows mask,
Laughter and song as others play.

Tears fall to earth's domain,
Near to be is his wish.

Yet he staggers for better view,
To partake through windows haze.

Child held captive by dysfunction,
Knows the anguish of desires thirst unquenched.

A prisoner in his own body be,
How lonely, how arid, how long - WHY - must he?

So involved are others though,
Not knowing the torment of his heart.

Through rain, sun, storm or hail he'll endure,
to gain a friend his quest goes on -
While piercing through window haze.

What anguish, what loneliness, he asks not,
To be touched by an others hand.

Love, Dad





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