I was asked to tell my family's story at the gala -- here's what I said.
Good evening.
August 7, 2007 started out as any other Tuesday. After a pretty normal morning of rushing around, my husband, Steve and I left home with our 4 ½ year old son, Bear, in tow. In our driveway, we kissed each other goodbye, we said “I love you” and we drove out of our neighborhood together. Steve turned right to take our son to preschool and I turned left to go to work. I had no idea that I’d just kissed my husband and best friend of nearly 10 years for the last time. And I didn’t know that 24 hours later, I would be struggling to find the words to tell our young son that his Daddy had died and would never be coming home.
Anyone who doubts what a 4 ½ year old child is able to comprehend wasn’t there the morning I told our son his dad had died. I didn’t know that a child was capable of such heart wrenching, guttural sounds and I knew, in that second, that I had truly broken his young heart. That moment will forever be with me. My husband and I were a team, in every sense of the word and without him, I worried I would never be enough for our son and I worried that he would never be whole or happy again.
For the next several months, Bear and I navigated our journey of grief the best we could. It was all I could do to get out of bed each day and if it wasn’t for Bear, I wouldn’t have. I didn’t know how to help our son through his emotions of sadness, anger and frustration. I asked friends and family for advice, I read books on grief, we snuggled and talked about Daddy, we’d look at picture albums hour upon hour. His heart was broken – he even wore a band-aid on his chest, over his heart. He was struggling and I wanted him to talk to me about what he was feeling. I’m 41 years old now and I can barely put my feelings of grief into words -- how in the heck could I expect a 5 year old to do that?
Shortly after my husband died, I found an online support group for young widows. I found an incredible amount of empathy there – so many young people widowed, just like me. I finally felt like I wasn’t alone and they understood where I was coming from. We don’t have any family in Arizona and, at the time, I didn’t know any other widows with young children in the Phoenix area. My son was the only child I knew who had lost a parent and I felt very alone and isolated. I thought that if I could find other children who had been through a similar loss, it would help him just like meeting other widows had helped me.
Around Christmas of 2007, I found Stepping Stones of Hope and in March of 2008, Bear attended Camp Paz at School, a one day camp held at a local elementary school. I remember driving to the school, scared to death to leave him for the day. What if these people don’t know what they’re doing? What if he comes home more sad and angry than he is now? Lisa Weyer, the Executive Director at the time, looked me in the eye that morning and said something I will never forget. “You need to have the courage to allow Bear to have his own grief experience.” I remember walking back to my car, without my son, praying that I’d done the right thing in leaving him there for the day.
Eight hours later, I was relieved to see a smiling, confident and joyful little boy – very unlike the angry, sad and frustrated boy I’d seen for the previous 7 months. I finally saw the twinkle in his eye that had virtually disappeared the minute I told him his dad had died. Grinning ear to ear, he couldn’t wait to tell me about his day and he proudly showed me the contents of his big, brown grocery bag FULL of goodies. He happily pulled each item out of the bag and told me about them -- each item was connected to his Dad in some way. His colorful mask… The night-shirt with a drawing depicting a memory of playing baseball with his Dad ironed on the front… His painted butterfly… The baseball themed blanket, donated by Project Linus. The outline of his body, on butcher paper, with a band-aid placed over his heart because that’s where he hurt the most… All of these items have become cherished possessions in our home.
He was able to talk about his Dad all day – to other children who got to talk about their moms and dads, grandparents and siblings who had also died far too soon. Finally, he had a support group of kids who got it. And for the first time since my husband died, I felt like our son was really going to be okay after all.
Bear will be 7 in a few months and, thankfully, most of his friends don’t understand what it’s like to have a parent die. His friends come to school on Monday morning, telling of the fun things they did with their Dads over their weekend. Bear can’t share those same stories. Other Daddy’s are at their soccer practices, Cub Scout meetings and birthday parties. Bear believes his Daddy is watching those things from Heaven and hasn’t drawn a picture of him since he died that didn’t depict his Dad with angel wings. Other Daddy’s are teaching their boys the ins and outs of baseball, football and hockey.
He’s stuck with a Mom who still gets confused on how many innings there are in a football game. If you were to ask him what he misses most about his Dad, he’d say playing baseball in the backyard, snuggling on the couch and most of all wrestling. He’s told me I can have a boyfriend again someday – but “Mom, they’ve got to be able to wrestle.”
My family was given a gift the day I was challenged to have the courage to allow Bear to have his own grief journey and we’re both looking forward to attending Camp Paz in a few weeks to continue our journey. The Camp Paz at School one day program was an important tool for my family to be able to begin moving forward. As a mother of a grieving child, I am so grateful to Dr. Finch for seeing a need 10 years ago and filling that need.
After Bear attended Camp Paz at School, I called the Stepping Stones of Hope office to see if there was a fund I could donate to so that other children could attend camp, regardless of their family’s financial situation. I was surprised that after so many years of Camp, that no one had set up a fund like this. I feel strongly that all children grieving the loss of a loved one deserve an experience like Camp Paz, so I established The Steven M. Turner Memorial Scholarship Fund in honor of my late husband.
Families that need financial assistance are asked to pay what they can and my husband's fund picks up the rest. It is funded entirely through donations.
To date, I am pleased to report that the Turner Fund has collected over $6,000 in cash donations to help grieving children and their families attend Camp Paz. All donations made to the Turner Fund are used to benefit Stepping Stones of Hope, and 100% of every dollar has been specifically earmarked to help a child or adult to attend Camp Paz. It is my hope that in the very near future, The Turner Fund will be able to sponsor a Camp Paz of its own.
I’m also pleased that over $2,000 of the silent auction items presented tonight were donated on behalf of The Steven M. Turner Memorial Scholarship with 100% of the proceeds going to Stepping Stones of Hope.
I hate that my husband died. I hate that my son will grow up without his father. I hate that I know about Stepping Stones of Hope.
As a mom, I’m grateful that Stepping Stones of Hope does exist. And, as a wife, I am proud of what has been created with the Turner Fund and all of the families we will be able to help in my late husband’s memory.
Thank you.
I made it through my story without crying, thank goodness. I also received a standing ovation which was most humbling. My wonderful group of guests, filling up a table and a half, bought over $6,000 in auction items on Saturday night! Combined with I raised in cash from friends, family and begging (!) and what I paid for the table, we brought over $10,000 to Stepping Stones of Hope. That is AWESOME!!!
I was also presented with a "Hope" award -- I wasn't expecting it and was really touched.
1 comment:
It's a good thing I didn't go the fundraiser: I'd have been a sniveling, shriveling ball of tears.
Steve is proud of you, and I'm proud to know you.
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