Newsroom
The day that changed my life forever
By Carolyn Baltaz, BFOMR Board Chair
Shared at the 2012 Tree of Bright Stars Ceremony
When I was asked to speak at the 2012 Tree of Bright Stars I was deeply honoured and somewhat apprehensive. Sitting on the Board and now being Board Chair has given me a new perspective of what Bereaved Families does for the community and for families who suffer the tragic death of a child. Welcoming the Living With Loss group into the BFO program has given us an even greater way to help those in need.
I am not bereaved with the death of a child. I have endured the loss of a brother 17 years ago and my father a year and a half ago. If I had known about BFO all those years ago or had the Living with Loss program been around, I’m sure my own grief journey would have been quite different.
Sunday, August 13, 1995 changed my life forever. My mother had the terrible task of having to call me that morning to tell me my brother had been killed in a car accident. Luckily I was living just down the street at the time and was able to reach my parents in just a few short minutes. What greeted me was something I will never forget. I entered the house and was immediately met by my father who was in a state of disbelief with a dazed look on his face that told me he would never remember most of what was happening. Clutching his heart, as he had a heart condition, I thought the stress would be too much. As soon as I could get him to sit down I immediately encountered the poor officer, whose job it was that day to come to my parent’s house and tell them their son had died. Quickly moving pass the officer, I came upon my mother sitting in our living room looking shattered and broken. Knowing things had to be done I took over the task of doing what was needed.
My brother Chris died on the Gardner Expressway in Toronto, killed by an intoxicated driver. I went down to Toronto to identify his body and went to the funeral home with my mother to begin the process of bringing Chris back home to Kitchener. These tasks and others like phoning our family, cleaning out his apartment, helping my parents choose his head stone allowed me to ignore the grief I just wasn’t capable of coping with.
My family unit was now no longer. My parents were forever changed. How do you go about celebrating birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas when someone you loved so much is no longer with you? How do I go about life when I know my parents need me but don’t want to say it? Who do I turn to when no one I know has been through this and when we went to therapy and the therapist says that what we’re going through is perfectly normal? The moment I learned the power of peer support was when I asked my mom who else I could call after I had called our immediate family and without hesitation she said “Anne”. She said to me “Anne lost her son. She’ll understand.”
My grief journey was long, longer than it needed to be as I refused to allow those feelings to the surface. I felt there was no safe place to express them as I was always the strong one-the doer-people would worry if I fell apart. The last thing I wanted to do was cause someone else to worry or create sadness. Going back to college in 2002 helped me finally find a place for those emotions. I became a licensed funeral director. Here was a place where I was surrounded by people whose job it would be to deal with people like me who were suffering because tragic things happened to someone they loved. With their understanding and many strong shoulders to lean on I learned how to have compassion for myself.
When my father got sick early in 2011 with lung cancer, I knew what lay ahead. I knew what the end result would be and what I would be asking of myself when his time here with us came to an end. I found the journey of losing my father difficult. Watching someone suffer in their last days is hard to watch but you stay to bring them whatever little comfort you can. I was actually out of the country for the week prior to my father dying. When my plane landed I immediately made my way to my father’s bed where my mother had been keeping vigil. He was agitated when I arrived and calmed when I took his hand and told him I was home. He quietly left this world less then 24 hours later.
My mom and I packed up his room and said good bye to dad. I went home put on my suit and set about the business of looking after my dad. I picked him up from Freeport and prepared him for his funeral. This was something I knew how to do. I was doing the last thing I could for my dad. It was a quiet time between my father and I, where I could put all my thoughts into perspective, something I hadn’t been able to do with my brother’s death. Again I was surrounded by my peers some, who have lost parents and know how to offer a quiet shoulder or a much needed laugh.
My grief journey has been long and winding and I have traveled it. Reaching a feeling of “normal” hasn’t always been easy but I now feel comforted by my memories of my brother and my father. In the coming holiday season and in the times to come I wish you all a feeling of peace and comfort in your own memories.