| The
Toronto Sun
© Copyright 2006, Sun Media Corporation
SACRED
PASSAGE
ROADSIDE MEMORIALS ARE AN EXPRESSION OF PUBLIC GRIEVING FOR
A TRAGIC LOSS
Friday, January 13, 2006
Tag: 0601131116
Edition: Final
Section: Lifestyle
Length: 87 lines
Page: 48
BY JOANNE RICHARD, TORONTO SUN
The sidewalk
memorial to slain teen Jane Creba dismantled earlier this week continues
to reappear as gestures of support and condolence keep her memory
alive.
Impromptu memorials make the bold pronouncement: Someone we love
died tragically right here -- and it was wrong, says Toronto bereavement
expert William Cooke, who ascertains that these spontaneous expressions
of grief, often erected at roadsides following a tragic traffic
accident, are a growing and widespread phenomenon in North America
and are fast becoming part of our grieving process in the case of
tragic loss.
"I believe the impromptu memorials for Jane Creba, like the
memorials for Holly Jones and Cecilia Zhang, are a dramatic form
of community non-violent protest. Whereas the flowers and wreaths
at roadside memorials are almost always put there by those directly
connected to the person who has died, the flowers laid for Jane
and Holly and Cecilia and so many others are brought by those of
us who never knew them," says Cooke.
"They symbolize two important, opposing things: Our standing
with these girls and their families and our standing against those
who perpetrate these acts and against the forces we often feel so
helpless to stop.
SPONTANEOUS SHRINES
"With one solitary rose, we say 'yes' to life and 'no' to
senseless, violent murders," says Cooke, a Toronto registered
marriage and family therapist.
According to Cooke, generally, spontaneous shrines are erected not
only to protest to the world against tragedy, but to mark as sacred
the place of death and to provide a warning to others.
A memorial site overflows with flowers, hand-written notes,
stuffed animals and balloon, for 11-year-old Holli-Lyne Toulouse
killed only days ago by a car at a crosswalk.
"Place matters to us. We often call it sacred ground where
earth meets heaven," says Cooke.
"When a senseless, tragic death occurs, through accident,
suicide or murder, we have no chance to say goodbye. We feel robbed
-- we are bereft and often very angry. And so we feel compelled
to return to the very place that the person drew her last breath.
Some go to say goodbye; others to say a prayer. We try to give that
treasured loved one what she deserves -- a safe passage. In marking
the place, a life is honoured. That life matters."
Cooke, a member of the Bereavement Ontario Network, says roadside
memorials often mark the sacred intersection where life met death,
serving as a sober reminder of the vulnerability and frailty of
life.
'ALL THE LOSSES'
"They communicate to us a dire warning: Someone died at
this very spot on the road. Slow down! It could just as easily have
been you."
Memorials, symbolizing a life snuffed out, usually in youth, "let
you grieve the person lost but also grieve all the losses in your
own life too." There are so few rituals today that allow
us to grieve and, like funerals, memorials give people permission
to express all their grief and make a statement against the horror
and ugliness of it all by counteracting with something beautiful
-- the flowers.
"People are making an affirmative statement about life in
the face of death," he adds.
The phenomenon of erecting shrines in the memory of a loved one
is not new in the world.
"In certain Catholic-centric cultures, like Mexico and Spain,
shrines at the side of the road are common. In tragic accidents,
no rites were given so mourners feel a direct obligation to assist
that person's dying and help them get into heaven," says Cooke.
Dr. Margaret Fisher, who teaches at Queens and U. of T., says she's
seeing an increase in roadside memorials. "These are physical
tokens; symbols that give expression to the heart-wrenching grief
that these people are feeling."
Memorials may in fact replicate the community that gives people
a sense of belonging and coping -- "it creates a community
of connection, of suffering together," says Fisher, a registered
marriage and family therapist who has run bereavement groups. "And
it allows us to empathize with the family and friends who have suffered
such an enormous loss."
And, she adds, roadside shrines are poignant reminders of our own
mortality and "remind us that we too are finite creatures;
that it could happen at any moment -- one moment you're laughing
and talking and the next moment you're gone," she says. "We
personalize the accident and victims -- this could be my child.
It levels us, sobers us and makes us realize that we're all vulnerable."
Illustration:
1. photo by Stan Behal
2. photo by Mark O'Neill
Strangers and friends leave flowers and stuffed animals at makeshift
memorial for 15-year-old Jane Creba who was slain on that spot on
Boxing Day; memorial marks the scene of a pedestrian accident that
took the life of Holli-Lyne Toulouse, 11.
Maclean's
Magazine
© Copyright Rogers Media Inc.
Four
Dates, One Therapist
Marriage
counselling used to be for couples who were married. Not anymore
LIFE
November 07, 2005
BY REBECCA
ECKLER
At age
28, Jessica (all names have been changed), who works in publishing,
and her 32-year-old boyfriend Mike, a businessman, starting seeing
a marriage counsellor at Jessica's request. Neither Jessica nor
Mike, who had been dating for 14 months, were thinking about getting
married or even engaged. They simply wanted to stop fighting constantly.
"The therapist did help," says Jessica, who lives in Toronto.
"He taught us ways to fight better, if that makes sense. Of
course, we did end up arguing over who had to pay the bill. I thought
we should go 50-50, but he thought that because it was me who wanted
to go, I should be the one to pay." The relationship didn't
last. "We weren't good for each other," she says. "Therapy
helped me realize that."
Sally, 33,
a lawyer, and her ex-boyfriend Fred, who works in banking and who
is also 33, went to a marriage counsellor after two years of dating.
"Looking back, it was a red flag that something was not right
in the relationship. It was his idea to go. But he didn't want to
continue because he thought the therapist was siding too much with
me," says Sally. "We would talk about a fight we had the
night before and I think because he was seeing her individually
as well, he thought she would have more of an alliance with him,
which wasn't the case, and that made him even more frustrated and
angry and harder to live with." After a brief engagement, they
broke up. "I don't think it helped us at all, but it was worth
a shot."
Toronto psychotherapist
and couples coach Catherine Wood says she has more and more twentysomething
couples making appointments to see her. "People have been scared
by years and years of hearing about divorce statistics. They realize
this isn't an illusive thing. They realize that that could be them,"
she says. Brian Zelt, a Calgary psychologist, agrees that couples
dating today have grown up hypersensitive to divorce. "They
don't want to go through that."
Wood charges
$120 an hour (therapists charge anywhere from $100 to $180 an hour)
and couples come to her for periods ranging from three to 10 sessions.
"It's always the million-dollar question -- how long will they
have to come see me," she says. The contentious issues are
fairly standard: affairs, sex, money, in-laws, friends, how much
time they spend together.
One of the
first questions she asks a couple is, "Do you want to get out,
or do you want to work on it?" They come to see her because
"either they've made a poor selection and choice in person,
or they simply don't have good communication skills with one another,
or it's a combination of both."
Jocelyn, 36,
and Kyle, 37, both artists in Calgary, went to a couples therapist
while they were dating. "We had moved in together and all the
sparks seemed gone. I knew I still loved him, and I knew he still
loved me. But he started becoming, how shall I say, way more friendly
with another woman than I felt comfortable with. We broke up for
four days over it, and realized we were both miserable. But I had
trust issues after that. It was my mother who suggested we see someone.
I think if I had brought up everything I wanted to say at home,
we would have ended up in a miserable fight." It worked for
them. Three months later, they eloped. They've now been married
for almost two years.
William
Cooke, a Toronto social worker and registered marriage and family
therapist, says one reason more and more young couples are seeking
counselling is because the whole phenomenon of therapy has become
"more of a resource, like having a financial planner, or personal
trainer." But there is only so much a couples counsellor can
do. "People will come in and ask, 'Is he the right one for
me?' or wonder if they should 'stay in it,' " Cooke says. "That's
not the therapist's job. The therapist is there solely to help them
get the tools to figure that out on their own. We're not plumbers
who can easily fix the problem."
More and
more of his clients are also couples in their 20s and early 30s,
not married and not intending to marry. "Another group that's
growing is people getting out of relationships who see me before
they get into their next one, so as to not make the same mistakes."
Cooke says that in 75 per cent of the young couples he sees, the
woman has initiated the sessions. Couples in therapy, he says, tell
couple friends who are fighting they should see a therapist, and
"that's why it's caught on."
Sally says
she wouldn't go to couples therapy again. "It made me really
uncomfortable. Especially when he started asking about our sex lives.
I know sex can be an issue, but the therapist was a man. I was like,
'Hello? I don't want to talk about my sex life with two men!' "
Jessica doesn't
share her opinion. "A healthy relationship is the most important
thing in a person's life. We spend hours and hours and hundreds
of dollars fixing our hair and our bodies," she says. "To
spend a few hours and a few hundred bucks on something that could
last the rest of your life? What's wrong with that?" Jessica
is still single. "I have to meet a guy I really like before
I take him to therapy. I'll know I really want to make it work with
someone when that happens."
The Toronto Sun
© Copyright 2004, Sun Media Corporation
JOURNEY THROUGH GRIEF
CONFRONTING THE UNRELENTING PAIN OF LOSS HELPED DIMINISH IT
Monday, November
15, 2004
Tag: 0411150787
Edition: Final
Section: Lifestyle
Length: 82 lines
Page: 48
BY JOANNE RICHARD, TORONTO SUN
NED LEVITT
has endured what every parent dreads -- he buried his child.
Then he descended
into a purgatory of pain, anguish and self-persecution, the black
hole of grief. "I left the world for a very long time -- I
was absolutely devastated, torn apart and self-destructive,"
says Levitt, a 57-year-old Toronto franchise lawyer.
But salvation
came.
Levitt transcended
the grief by ascending a mountain of emotional and mental agony,
befriending the pain along the way and then claiming the mountain
in her memory. And Levitt chronicles his journey in No Mountain
Too High: A Father's Inspiring Journey Through Grief (ECW Press),
a truly uplifting story that is all about life -- but that which
begins with death.
His daughter
Stacey, 18, died tragically nine years ago when she was hit by a
car while out jogging in Toronto. She was thrown 10 metres through
the air, landed on her head and never regained consciousness.
That was the beginning of the end of Levitt's "charmed"
life as he knew it: After identifying her body at Sunnybrook Hospital,
enduring the funeral and sitting Shiva, he awoke into the unrelenting
reality of grief, guilt, anger and sorrow -- and a shattered life
without his daughter.
'NEARLY LOST
MY MIND'
He could barely
go on. He didn't want to go on -- but he couldn't bear the thought
of his wife, Cheryl, and two remaining daughters suffering another
overwhelming loss.
"I nearly
lost my mind -- I called my brother in Florida six times a day.
There was no relief from the grief, nausea and pain."
He faltered,
raged, cursed, cried an ocean of tears, pleaded and bargained with
God, and then, in his desperate quest to survive, he faced his pain
head on and clawed his way out of the frightening depths of despair,
devastation and darkness: "You must run into the fire, not
away from it. You diminish the pain by feeling pain," says
Levitt. "There is no way out of the pain -- you have to go
through it, fight it and dominate it. You must find meaning."
Levitt's journey
of survival, healing and redemption involved finding a reason to
go on: First he published a collection of Stacey's poetry and entitled
it I Am A Rose, and then he began to reach out to other bereaved
parents.
Then, 14 months
after Stacey's death, in his unrelenting determination to make meaning
of his life and loss, Levitt travelled to Mexico to complete Stacey's
unfinished climb up Mt. Ixta, where he left a memorial to her: A
box containing copies of her poetry book, and note paper and pens
for fellow climbers. Stacey had embarked on a challenging climbing
expedition mere months before her death but was unable to make it
to the top of the 17,000-ft. mountain because of stormy weather.
No Mountain
Too High tells the story of who Stacey was, the special bond of
love between Levitt and his daughter, and the joy of connecting
with her spiritually -- on and beyond the mountain. Although gone
physically, Stacey, an outstanding student, poet and athlete, became
his saviour from the heart-breaking aftermath. And he emerged a
crusader.
BRUTALLY HONEST
"I decided
not to hold back in the book -- when your heart is broken, it's
open," says Levitt, who is brutally honest about his journey
to heal his broken heart.
"Now I
live a very joyful life -- even though I have suffered greatly.
I still carry pain, but it has transformed me and has given me joy.
I've learned many lessons from my tremendous personal loss and I've
gained compassion and understanding," he says.
"I miss
her everyday and think of her all of the time, but it's with joy,"
says Levitt, who's been married for 37 years. "I'm healthy,
ambitious and doing things. I paid the price and now I want joy
and I carry a message of hope."
Levitt wants
to inspire others to overcome their problems -- whatever they are.
He has found salvation in helping others cope with bereavement,
loss and survival and is a frequent speaker for bereavement groups.
"For me,
the work I do brings meaning to an otherwise meaningless situation
and has helped me get through it and move on," he says, adding
that Stacey's poetry has comforted people all over the world and
continues to do so -- on the mountain and throughout the vista beyond.
Connect with
Levitt at the Web site Iamarose.com.
Illustration:
1. photo by Alex Urosevic
NED LEVITT holds a picture of his daughter Stacey who, in the summer
of 1995, was fatally hit by a car while out jogging.
2. 2 bookcovers
The
Toronto Sun
© Copyright 2004, Sun Media Corporation
DEATH
OF A CHILD
Monday, November 15, 2004
Tag: 0411150794
Edition: Final
Section: Lifestyle
Length: 31 lines
Page: 49
BY JOANNE RICHARD, TORONTO SUN
DEATH of
a child is an "assault to the natural order of life,"
says grief specialist William Cooke.
"When
we lose a parent, we lose ties to the past; when we lose a partner
or friend, we lose ties to the present; when a child dies, we lose
our ties to the future.
"It
is widely felt that the death of one's child is the most devastating
of human losses -- children are not supposed to die before their
parents," says the registered family therapist in Toronto who
holds his Masters in social work and theology.
HELP NEEDED
Help is
often needed to navigate this journey. "Not necessarily professional
help, but help from wide and experienced guides who can help us
navigate the terrain of the journey of grief and mourning."
According
to Cooke, "Words quickly reach their limit when it comes to
comforting a grieving parent. Even more important is the courage
to stand alongside and be steadfast, when all words fail."
He highly
recommends a film by Irish filmmaker Jim Sheridan called In America.
"It's a beautifully told story of a young, healthy family making
their way in a new world as they mourn the loss of their son and
brother. This film takes us into the lives of a mother, father and
two young daughters as they struggle to live and to mourn."
The Toronto Sun
© Copyright 2004, Sun Media Corporation
DON'T BE
AFRAID TO REACH OUT FOR HELP
Monday, November 15, 2004
Tag: 0411150793
BY JOANNE RICHARD,
TORONTO SUN
CHILDREN AREN'T
supposed to die.
Bereaved Families
of Ontario offers hope and helps the healing begin. "It takes
great courage to reach out," says Janet Wilson, executive director
of Bereaved Families of Ontario-Toronto. "We try to create
safety and commonality so bereaved parents feel understood."
Wilson knows:
Her 26-year-old son, Simon, drowned three years ago while travelling
in Indonesia. "People need to know there's hope -- that you
can go on living and dealing with life."
"The
pain is there as much as it ever was but it becomes more manageable.
You learn to bracket it but you never get over it."
Through Wilson's
traumatic grief journey, she got her Masters in social work and
changed careers -- from running a women's shelter to heading the
provincial office of Bereaved Families. "I wanted to make Simon
proud of me and to do my little bit to make a difference ... Life
is so precious."
At the volunteer-based
organization, bereavement support is offered through self-help and
mutual aid. Parents and children share their grief with other bereaved
families. "Their common loss often helps them to reconstruct
their shattered lives, to communicate again with one another and
to go on living with the memories of their lost child."
More than 1,000
trained volunteers who are themselves bereaved facilitate the programs
-- "their courage to help others is tremendous. They relive
their loss every time they reach out." Volunteer health professionals
support the facilitators and advise on programs.
To reach Bereaved
Families of Ontario, call 416-440-0290 or visit Bereavedfamilies.net.
The
Toronto Sun
© Copyright 2004, Sun Media Corporation
THE HEALING
PROCESS
Monday, November 15, 2004
Tag: 0411150795
Edition: Final
Section: Lifestyle
Length: 59 lines
Page: 49
BY JOANNE RICHARD, TORONTO SUN
GRIEVING THE
death of a child is a nightmare worsened by the fact that "we
live in a death- denying culture," says Ned Levitt, the bereaved
father and author of No Mountain Too High.
Levitt says
that society's discomfort with death leads many people to avoid
and isolate the bereaved because they don't know what to say or
do. "We have so little education and experience in the language
of loss, we worry that we will say the wrong thing, so we bring
greater hurt upon the griever by not saying anything at all."
Many people
who are struggling with loss become isolated from the very human
contact and support they so desperately crave and need, he says.
The bereaved
need time, attention, kind words and, most importantly, someone
to listen to them. Levitt offers this guidance.
Tears: Have
the strength to let the person cry in your presence without offering
solutions -- perhaps offering only a hug.
Touch: Within
the bounds of good judgment, many people benefit enormously from
touch and embrace when they are in pain from loss.
Acknowledgment:
Empower the bereaved by acknowledging their pain."We
should not say that we understand, if it is a loss we have not experienced,
but we can always confirm that we are aware they are in pain from
that loss."
Speaking: Let
the bereaved speak. "The very act of talking about the pain,
the deceased and the nature of the loss, is therapeutic. Being a
good listener is much more valuable than offering advice."
Time: "Time,
by itself, will aid the healing process. But how that time is spent
will make all the difference," says Levitt. "Working through
issues, making an effort to reinvest in life, taking a new, more
fulfilling path in life will all hasten the healing process and
help the wound to heal with a healthy and clean scar."
LOST
A feeling of
emptiness,
a hunger.
Something just beyond reach,
unable to grasp.
A black hole,
falling slowly,
nothing to hold on to.
A feeling beyond fear.
Helpless and lonely,
Plunging deeper into the dark,
unknown depths below.
A shimmer of light,
small and faint.
Hope,
an ending,
a beginning.
by Stacey Levitt,
January 1990, reprinted from I Am A Rose.
Stacey was born May 19, 1977, and died August 30, 1995.
Illustration:
3 photos
STACEY LEVITT was an adventurous young woman, living life to the
fullest.
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