“This is the day the Lord has made, so let us rejoice and be glad” Psalm 118:24.

It is

fitting that I sit to write about loss and the need of communication to properly assimilate

the trauma experienced. March 2nd 2008, my wife and I were awakened just after 6:00am

by the shouts of our evening nurse. We came downstairs to find our son not breathing

and his heart rate at thirty-eight and falling. Before our eyes, we watched life pass from

the eyes of our two-year old son, Ambrose. In that moment my heart rested as Job, and I

thanked God for this new day.

We worked on our son until the squad arrived; however, he remained

unresponsive and lay lifeless on our living room floor. The efforts of man to bring life

back to us continued in the Emergency Room until he was pronounced death at 7:05am.

Our first son fought against all medical odds and remained with us for twenty-five

months.

Ambrose was born at home in February of 2006, and stopped breathing right after

birth. We spent the first sixty-two days of celebrating his life in Children’s Hospital as

his expectation of life moved from days to weeks, to months. Ambrose’s life was at the

doorstep of the death from his first breath, placing my wife and I right along side him.

However, anyone who knew him would only comment on the smile that crossed his face.

Before my acceptance of Jesus Christ and the truth of His Word, death was faced

alone, with the comfort of a bottle of whiskey. Death was about me, not the passing of

the individual, but my need to express sorrow. I, as many, lived as a professional wailer.

This self-centered view of death faded away against the beatific vision, and our Blessed

Lord put my love to test in witnessing the passing of my best friend (my mum), five

months after embracing the fullness of truth in His Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.
 We speak of loss in death, however, as a Christian. Why is this our focus? Are

we to live as Job, or the wailers hired for the funerals? The loss is mine, not my

mother’s, or my beloved son’s, for they have gained the promise of Christ. They rest in a

perfected state, which I only pray to reach in my own life. We do not grieve in many

cases because we do not discuss the loss (death in this case), nor do we discuss our

emotions afterwards. By saying we often do not grieve, I am referring to a positive grief,

not that of the professional wailer.

However our grieving is not alone. In the case of Ambrose, my wife and I need

one another; we need to live as our covenant of marriage, two becoming one. For it is

only by such that we are able to properly swallow the jagged pill that is the death of our

first-born son. Her grief is mine, just as mine is hers; moments as these should open our

lives to the mystical body of Christ, and unite us in our suffering. As one hand suffers so

does the other; this is true in our accepting the passing of our son.

This imagery of the mystical body helps one to understand the need of

communication in these times. Should we be the burnt hand we must realize it does not

suffer on its own. The opposite hand holds the ice, sprays the aerosol; it offers

consolation to the injury. This is the truth of healing. We need to offer not only words,

but an ear to one another as we work through our loss to see its fulfillment.

Granger Westberg in his 1978 book Good Grief details ten stages that one

normally follows in accepting loss. What is important is the fact that there is no generic

time-line to be followed, nor does everyone experience every stage in his or her road of

grief. However, each offers insight that should be discussed. From this point forward we

will take each of Westberg’s stages and place them over my dealing with the death of
Ambrose and personalize the offered to the understanding of loss.

The first stage is that of shock/denial, which acts as a buffet to allow the emotions

to slowly enter ones life. In the case of Ambrose, shock was a luxury we could not

afford. He needed immediate medical attention and we were the caregivers in this case.

Shock/denial often dilutes one’s actions and his ability to respond to the needs of a

situation. Ambrose needed CPR, 911 had to be alerted, and information of his conditions

needed to be communicated to the EMTS.

In this situation, shock and denial happened two years prior with his early fight

for life. Death was something we faced on numerous occasions during his short life,

with each instance preparing us to face the outcome of March 2nd. Without the early

trauma the events of March 2nd may have been too difficult for us to have faced with clear

minds. This gives testament to Westberg’s words of grief being a process of dealing.

Our grieving with Ambrose throughout his life enabled us to deal with his passing in our

hands.

As detailed in an earlier stage, one allows the emotions to slowly enter one’s life

so we are able to express the feelings of the loss. This is stage two Expression of

Emotion. Once again the happenstances of Ambrose’s life placed us directly into the

stage of expression. I remember the first call I made back to our house, as Ambrose lay

unresponsive in the trauma room, and I had to relay to his Godfather his condition. It

took about three breaths before I could muster the words to another.

Each time we share the events of March 2nd with a new person, we revisit the

night of his passing and all the emotions come freshly into our minds. My wife and I

held our son for the last time at just after seven in the morning. The boy that God had
given had returned home to His Father’s arms. Through immediate family we shared the

loss, cried, and found strength to help the ever-expanding circle deal with others plunged

into stage one.

Once we assimilate the expression of the emotions, stage three which is

Depression and Loneliness, the feelings of sorrow and isolation begin to set-in. This is

one stage that our faith can lead us beyond. The Communion of Saints is a beautiful

truth, which rains grace to the lives of those open to our faith. It is this truth that faded

the depression, which brought light to the loneliness, and peace to the fact that my son

was praying for me. The death of the innocent is easier in that through their purity they

rise directly into the eternal bliss of Gods abode. However, not all hold to such comfort

within our faith.

Westberg’s lists the fourth stage as Physical Symptoms of Distress, which can

include physical tension, shortness of breath, lack of power even tremors and chills.

Personally this stage was largely absent from my dealing with the death of our son. As

many people, I carry tension on my shoulders and neck, something I envision as the

weight of my cross. Again through placing all things back to our faith the peace of grace

enables me to avoid many aspects of this stage. Without faith this stage is easily

understood through my use of the professional wailer. The ill effects of stage fourth are

the woe to me. It seems to me the hardships of stage four are a result of personal hurt to

mask the truth of the loss.

Faith has carried me past much of stage four leaving Westberg’s stage five of

Panic, as something absent from my journey. I find it odd that with Westberg being an

ordained Lutheran Pastor he saw the need to address Panic without a notation to faith.
Panic in death comes from the unknown; however, to a committed Christian our eternal

life rests in the promise of Christ. Without faith, panic is inevitable in loss. Tuesday

morning my heart cried one sound – “you cannot do this alone” – my conscience was

speaking to my failing to celebrate the Divine Offices. I sought to be there for others

without first being there for myself. Our relationship to Christ is the rudder to guide our

way through the grieving process and to keep us looking to the grace of God.

Panic often leads to Hostility and Resentment, which is stage six; this can be

directed to people and often to God. In the opening of this paper we again turn to “…let

us rejoice and be glad.” There is none to blame in the passing Ambrose. My wife, his

nurse, all the medical staff, and myself did everything possible, but God called him home

as He did with my mother. The absence of this lay with my view of life. From the

moment of our birth we are in fact dying, faith and reason brings the conclusion that in

death we live.

Again I turn to Job 10:2 ‘…should we expect good from God, how can we not

expect evil.” In the reference to evil, it is what we deem as evil. I am sad that I shall

never see my son grow, however, his prayer may be those that bring my fallen life into

the eternal bliss. The price of freedom is great and how can I project anger to one who is

now free?

Westberg sees the process of grief entering a seventh stage that is Guilt Reaction,

being that we somehow begin to blame ourselves for the loss. Personally I do not see this

as a healthy stage of grief, for again we are making the focus about “I”. Stages as these

remind me of the music of the Liturgy which places its focus to the people and not to the

Father. Turning from our focus of God, even for a brief period can be harmful.
 In our process of grieving blaming ourselves can be detrimental to more people

than ourselves in these times. Should we allow such emotion to guide the process of

grieving we will be torn apart with anguish, and stage four being physical symptoms of

distress will be fully experienced. It is here that I disagree with Westberg, it seems to me

stage four is a result of stage seven.

Through faith I hold to the truth that there are no “what ifs” should we begin this

road; we face a long journey into pain. My choices to the amount of time spent with my

son are done. There is nothing I can do to change that fact. To spend time now mourning

my choices, my decisions, would only take away from the truth of the situation and my

ability to communicate with others. My son has died, that is my focus, not how I chose

to act in his life. Bishop Fulton Sheen wrote a book Lift up your Heart. In it he offers

the journey of men, from ego, to I, to divine. Should our focus be anything but the divine

we will face all stages that Westberg offers. However, should we discern the road to the

divine much of his analysis on Good Grief seems foreign and rests with the worldly.

Stage eight is seen as the Inability to Return To Usual Activities. We are unable

to cope with our regular routine, and a feeling of emptiness may prevail. I find myself at

the end of the stage in my sons passing. Last week seemed to encompass more activity

than what a month would normally hold; yet everything from work to study was placed

on hold. We all need to come to terms with loss; however, the tight rope is how much

time is needed before our return? A return to stage three is highly probable should we

remain out of the norm too long. The old cliché is true; get right back on the horse:

however, first take time to understand the fall.

This is key. Once we in all truth understand and accept what has happened we
need to return to our normal life. This in return will also help us to continue on the road

of living with the loss. My son would not want my life turned upside down; moreover,

my family needs me to be the guide I have been. There is no true sense of loss carried

into our day should we begin in prayer and hold to the beauty of our faith.

Stage nine is the truth we all await in loss, a truth that comes to each individual in

their own time, Hope Comes Through. Mourning brings those who suffer to acceptance

of the loss and in that moment hope of another day becomes a light instead of the pain it

was prior. Once we have fully realized the loss, our days slowly return to normal. We

begin to once again find our steps and live for each day.

Here again I find myself at odds with Grangers list. As a Christian we should

never abandon hope, to do such is to abandon our faith. Hope is a cornerstone of

Christian living. What is true during these times is should we lose focus, and look to the

“I”, and not the loss, hope will become clouded by our wallowing. We are called as

believers in Christ to hold to the truth of the resurrection and the hope of our own.

The final stage of Good Grief as listed by Ganger Westberg is stage ten

Readjustment To, Or Reaffirmation of Reality, here we find ourselves making inroads to

the new patterns of life. The loss is never forgotten, and in my case the life of our

Ambrose will ever be with us. However, we must continue to live in the hope that one

day we too, through the mercy of God, might find ourselves back in his arms.

The journey to stage ten is not simple for many people. Often we return to earlier

stages as we meet moments in life that represent the loss. Ambrose had nursing care each

evening and through the night. No doubt for sometime my wife and I will find it strange

that someone is not coming to our house at 5:00pm and again at 11:00. There is
emptiness in our home that was once filled with activity. These and many other incidents

are moments that bring us back to the loss of Ambrose.

However, what is most important is how we deal with these memories. They are

a beautiful reminder of the gift he was to our lives and many others. We need to thank

God for all the blessings Ambrose brought into our life. With a focus to our faith we are

able to climb any mountain and fight off any night.

What is key in every stage of grief is our willingness to share and more

importantly listen and recognize the needs of others who are affected. There are no two

who grieve the same. It is important not to expect another to embrace loss as you,

regardless of how close they are to your life.

Time each day needs to be taken to talk about the emotions and ask one another

where are you? It is too easy for us to slip into sole grief forgetting we are never grieving

alone, as we are the body of Christ. More so in marriage one needs to be always

conscious of their spouse’s needs. Not only is the health of the individual a concern, but

that also of the marriage. Sharing our emotions brings about healing and reveals the

connected nature of one another to the loss.

What is most important in dealing with loss is our willing to listen and a

commitment to move forward. Many times words are not the medicine. It is silence that

is needed. We must properly discern the time to talk and the time to listen, to aid those

facing the process of grieving. Just the fact of emptying the build-up emotion is healing

in itself.

Our commitment to progress is key. Without such we may idle too long in any

stage and quickly develop an abnormal grieving process. How quickly does depression
turn to the absence of social interaction, or physical distress develop into real medical

problems. Erich Lindemann listed these are more signs of abnormal grief, all of which I

believe stem from a lack of commitment to progress – the loss of hope.

Jesus Christ died on the Cross that we all might live, not here on earth, but in the

eternal bliss of the heavens. This is the promise I hold dear and this promise makes

everyday a day worth rejoicing. Our son rests in the heavens and I must make a

commitment to myself to honor his passing, which means living each day and

acknowledging the needs of others sojourning the losses of their lives.