wounded bird syndromeThey say marriage is for better or for worse. Couples try to support and care for each other, through good times and bad. Usually, when one of us hits rock bottom, the other can try to be the mainstay for a little while, to help the other along. But what happens when our child dies? The couple is now cast into the same dark place, struggling with the worst thing they have ever faced. Couples are there together, but they may discover that they are also there alone.

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Now not all couples in grief experience this dilemma. I believe that marriages with “wounded bird syndrome” suffer the most. What is the “wounded bird syndrome”?

Many times a nurturer will marry a wounded bird who is extremely dependent. They need their spouse to fulfill their every need. As a result, it puts a lot of pressure on the relationship. The person who is the nurturer feels as if the weight of the relationship is upon them and they feel smothered. The wounded bird is frustrated with the nurturer because they never can take care of every need that they have. What the wounded bird is trying to do is to have their needs met by someone who is not able to meet them.

A wounded bird in grief will seek someone to fulfill this unmet need.

I never knew what this meant until I got a text message one day from Cecile (names and events are changed to protect their identities). She asked “How can I tell Peter,my boyfriend to move on without being insensitive?” Then Cecile and I talked on the landline phone. She explained that her boyfriend lost his 5 year old daughter , Samantha in a car accident over 6 months ago. Not that I am nosy or anything like that, I asked if she was the mother of the girl.

“No. Peter and his wife were already separated a year before the accident” Cecile said.

Would it have been rude of me to ask: “Where’s the proof they are separated?” I just treated Cecile as a support system to Peter. For the next three months, Cecile and I were in contact. She wanted to comfort her boyfriend in his most difficult moment. Knowing how important support is, I gave tips on Handling the Bereaved. Then one day, a friend asked me to help a bereaved mother.

My friend said “Emma lost her 5 year old daughter to a car accident a few months ago. Can you talk to her? “.

DING-DONG. Something rang inside my mind.

I asked my friend “Is Samantha the name of her daughter who died on May 13, 2005?”

My friend affirmed.

What a small word our grief circle is!

The succeeding text messages infuriated me. I felt like a fool. I found out that Emma and Peter are very much married.

I immediately texted Cecile and confronted her about this revelation.

Cecile pleaded “Please don’t mention we talked”

I shouldn’t have given advice to Cecile in the first place. She used Peter’s grief to her advantage so they could get close and continue their trysts. Like a wounded bird, Cecile nurtured Peter with the grief support I provided. I was so mad.

I met up with Emma finally. I wanted to tell her about her husband’s girlfriend. A couple’s grief gets even more complicated with a third party. I waited for the right opportunity and allowed her to unload her thoughts and feelings. I found out that she knew about the existence of the girl even prior to Samantha’s death. As far as she knew, that relationship ended. I felt that I could not continue talking to Emma until I revealed the truth. I felt like a hypocrite if I withheld that tidbit.

I released the bombshell.

Emma’s face crumpled.

I wanted to cry when I saw her pained expression.

I thought she would kill me with this revelation but thank goodness she was full of gratitude.

I told her that she is not alone with the wounded bird syndrome. Another bereaved mother experienced the same situation with a “girl friend” of her spouse. What helped the couple was the knowledge that couples grieve differently. The Compassionate Friends, helped with this revelation. The spouse found comfort and strength in talking to other parents who have battled through similar difficulties and survived them. There is hope in Emma and Peter’s marriage. I introduced her to Angie, the bereaved mother who almost lost her spouse to a cunning girlfriend.

It is often said that a relationship is like a dance: we have to find a tempo that works for us both, but then each of has our own steps. Grieving will probably intensify our awareness of each other and our sense of ‘together yet alone’. The need to remember our child and to share memories will always be there. But our lives do continue, and the insights into our relationship that have been so painfully discovered as we grieve may enrich our partnership in the years ahead.

It’s that time of the year that I declutter my home. The library which is located in my home office is often filled with books because my family members are book lovers. As I reviewed the books on the top shelf, I screamed with delight upon discovering my son’s yearbook in Family Montessori Katipunan , his first school. I thought I had lost his yearbook after moving homes in 2007. I thought “there must be a message here”. I quickly leafed through the pages and found his handsome photo.

luijoe in yearbook

I could see that parents submitted anecdotes about their child. I could not help tearing and smiling at the same time. My heart tied in a knot as I read the last part.

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He is a very energetic child in spite of his asthma. His favourite past time is reading (pretending to) his books, playing with his Lego blocks, writing in workbooks, running around the house and driving his sisters crazy. When he is in a good mood, he likes to kiss everyone. He always wants to be loved. However, when he is scolded, which he hates, he says “I am a good boy!” with much conviction.

Come to think of it, children are born without any baggages. Children are good. It is adults that give them the bad habits. Parents help shape their thoughts and habits in their early years. When I wrote this anecdote, Luijoe was only 4 years old. True, Luijoe was a good boy.

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It occurred to me that Luijoe taught me a lot about parenting. Luijoe did not mince words when he found something wrong with my parenting style. I am sure most of you have learned some important lessons from your children. I would like to share some of these poignant memories from my son.

1. Patience, mom

One of the important skills that all parents need to learned is how to be patient.

There were times my son wanted to get his way and he would cry when I refused. When I tell him to stop his crying spells, he’d raise his hands like a STOP sign “Mom. give me time to stop crying. I need more time to stop”.

That really gave me an insight that kids do not automatically stop crying like one would shut off the faucet.

2. Breastfeeding is good for babies

I still remember my son tugging at my sleeve “Mom, did you do that to me?”

He led me to the room where Maan, his former yaya was breastfeeding her son.

“Of course, I breastfed you.” I hugged my boy.

“Are you sure mom? Breastfeeding is good for babies.”

My son didn’t seem to believe me. Too bad I didn’t have photos of our breastfeeding moments. I pointed out the cross stitching projects in the kitchen .

I explained “When I breastfed you, I did cross stitch projects because it took you an hour to feed.” He seemed satisfied with my answer but the next day, he nagged me with the same question.

Luijoe’s fascination with breastfeeding inspired me to start my breastfeeding advocacy in 2007.

3. Don’t spank

My son once berated me for spanking him, “mom you should not spank”. I wanted to hit myself. I did not know any better. My parents brought me up, that spanking is a form of discipline. I turned to using another style “Face the corner” . He did not like it either but I had set rules that needed to be followed. Luijoe’s words haunted me through the years which probably moved me to pursue Children rights and eventually push for The Positive Discipline in Lieu of Corporal Punishment of Children Act of 2011.

4. Take time to smell the flowers 

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Flowers remind me to let go of work. Luijoe reminds me that I need to smell the flowers. I smile at the sweet memories, of his hugs which came with a bunch of flowers as a surprise. “I love you so very much, Mama,” he’d cry out. Remembering all these often bring tears to my eyes. The flowers he picked often came from our garden or the park. It is a bittersweet memory. I wish I could turn back the clock and hear him say “I love you so very much, Mama,” over and over again. Maybe it is one reason, I often deluge my home with fresh flowers.

5. Pray , mom

My son is very prayerful. I bought him a Catholic prayer book which we would read every night. I also had my own prayerbook which I shared with him.

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Luijoe’s favorite prayer book

One time, Luijoe held my face with his chubby palms, “pray, mom”. I gave him a hug and prayed along with him. Without my Luijoe beside me now, I turned to prayers. I found the power of a praying parent. All I can do now is pray every day. I let go of worrying. It has been said that “worrying is like praying for what you don’t want.” Let go and Let God is my motto.

For many years, I struggled to find the meaning of my son’s death. As memories flow, I am reminded that Luijoe is never really gone. He continues to live in me. There is a lot to accomplish. Luijoe reminds me of the bigger work that God has set out for me in this world…declutter the mess.

I wrote this many years ago but I want to share this story again because Easter Sunday is very special.

“If I die, Mama, will I be alive again?” Luijoe asked. My six-year-old was lying on the bed, flipping through the prayer books piled on his tummy.

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It was Holy Week, a month before that fateful day of May 27, 2000.

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I turned my body to face him and stroked his cheek. How could I explain the mysteries of death to a little boy? “When we die, Lui, we will live forever, through eternal life in heaven,” I said the lines I’d memorized from the teachings of our Catholic Church.

“When I die, I will be alive again!” he exclaimed, jumping in bed, arms wide in exuberance.

“Yes, baby, you will live forever, but not on Earth.” I smiled at his childish enthusiasm and wide-eyed wonder. “I won’t see you anymore, but you will have eternal life with God.”

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With a serious look on his face, he asked, “Mama, who goes to heaven?” His chubby fingers twirled on the strands of my hair. He sniffed the ends and splayed my hair along his cheeks.

“Good boys go to heaven and usually they become angels.”

“I don’t want to go to hell,” he said with vehemence.

I hugged him, said he was a good boy, and promised that he would never go to hell.

Head bowed, he picked up a prayer book to continue praying, then looked up. With both hands planted firmly on my cheeks, he asked, “Are the clouds heaven?”

“I’m not sure if the clouds are heaven, but it’s somewhere up there and hell is down there,” I said, kissing his fat cheeks.

He never tired of asking the same questions over and over again, as though reassuring himself that there were angels that protected him and that heaven was a beautiful place to go when someone died.

Why had I not seen our conversation as a sign that something devastating was about to happen? If I had sensed the omen then, could I have prevented his death? Had Luijoe known he was leaving us soon and in his childlike way, tried to warn me?

(The above is an excerpt from the story I wrote on Luijoe’s Life and Death from The Fallen Cradle edited by Agnes Prieto)

Sometimes I wished I had the power to go back in time and stopped his death. Of course, that is not possible. Those wonderful words he told me weeks before his death is what keeps my faith alive.

Luijoe’s words never fail to bring me hope that we will reunite one day. It gives me the courage to put meaning in my life.

My religious background always taught me that Jesus is in Heaven with God and the angels and that Heaven is a place to go , but only after we die. The ultimate questions rests on , “how can anyone see or experience Heaven after they’re dead, since we’re taught when you die, everything ceases to exist? ” “Or does the spirit live on?” Has anyone actually heard a heaven testimonial from a loved one?

Another common question is “What is the use in striving for something that is intangible, invisible and unseen? Or is it? Eternal Life seems so elusive.”

Yet I will go with my faith. I believe my greatest proof is my son when he innocently exclaimed that “When I die, I will be alive again” two weeks before his untimely death. How simplistic but that is faith.

Faith is one of the virtues that keeps me alive and going in this temporary world.

“I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” (John11:25,25)

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16)

May Easter Day remind us not only of our Lord’s resurrection but also that of our precious children. We hope your celebration of Easter is filled with the joy the Christ offers in his resurrection.

Happy Easter day to all.

stjohn.jpgWhen a child dies, it’s not the natural order of things. For many years, I struggled to find the meaning of my son’s death. Five years and a lot of pain later, I finally found the answers. It all started with an email to Cathy after I invited her to join as co-founder for the Compassionate Friends Philippines.I have to mention that this support group is not around anymore,  but I continue to offer comfort in my aboutmyrecovery.com blog.

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She replied and readily agreed to join. What struck me was her statement:

I now know that we are called to serve in different ways because we have different missions. Setting up Compassionate Friends in the Philippines is clearly yours as Migi’s Corner and Grief counselling and death education are mine.

How could that be? If I wanted a mission, a foundation seems a more noble idea. “The Compassionate Friends” is not an original idea. So there I was thinking, Alma, Cathy and Pia initiated foundations all in the memory of their children. I don’t have any memorial or foundation in Luijoe’s name. I felt a bit sad, but Cathy’s words stuck in my mind for many days until I remembered a conversation with my son during Holy Week.

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The actual picture that Luijoe pointed out in his prayerbook

This is what I wrote in Luijoe’s memorial site almost 21 years ago:

Then one night while we had our usual prayers before bedtime, he pointed to the picture of St. John the Apostle which was found in his Rosary Prayer book. I explained that Jesus told John to take care and comfort his mother when he dies. Luijoe seemed to be touched by St. John and the following nights, he kept repeating the same question and this time he was asking how John was related to Mother Mary. I found that to be a very deep question, and I just said he was one of Jesus’ apostle.

Now I realized the meaning. It was like Luijoe was making sure I would remember John. I did remember our conversation during the wake .It touched my heart that my son was worried about my grief.

I realized Luijoe wanted me to carry on the comfort to others. The St. John symbolizes compassion. By working with The Compassionate Friends, I would act like a “St. John” to other bereaved parents. This memory brought tears of joy and nostalgia. Even if I am no longer around in this mortal world, this grief support group will still continue on. Truly, God works in mysterious ways and He uses our children to help us find and shape our ministries. It is our children who remind us of the bigger work that God has set out for us in this world.

I wrote this post a long time ago when I was still active with “The Compassionate Friends”. But I continue to talk to parents who have lost a child through my blog and sharing this podcast. My son never let me forget that there are many “St. Johns” in my life. Today, Good Friday reminds me Luijoe is never entirely gone

Luijoe is never entirely gone.

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Luijoe’s favorite prayer book