Dear Parents,

No matter the time that passes, it can always feel like yesterday.

That’s how trauma works, its etched into your very being like the grain on wood, it creates you like the fascia that holds your bones and muscles together. No matter how much you’ve grieved or processed. Without warning, that day can return in a blink of an eye. All of it, the feeling of the air, the voices, that first feeling of losing your breath, the first realization that nothing will ever be the same again, the date; ALL OF IT.

You hear about it on the radio.

Read about it in the papers.

You see it on the news, and, you think ‘how sad’.

But, you NEVER imagine it happening to you.

I was 14 when my Dad was murdered. Stabbed to death by his girlfriends 17 year old son. It was my 8th grade summer, three weeks from starting freshman year. The news swept quickly through my small town and even quicker through my recent 8th grade class.

This weird thing happens when you experience a traumatic death, people come out of the woodwork. People take it upon themselves to stop by, sometimes random people you don’t really know so well, a neighbor, a old teacher, friends parents, parents friends or co-workers.

Everyone has something to give, a kind word or piece of advice on how to handle things. Handle things like; a possible murder trial. A funeral for your hero. The man who killed him.

All you can selfishly think to yourself is,’ how would you know’.

The more advice you receive from people who have never been through a brutal death make you feel more and more isolated. The intentions of care is clear. However, the words can feel empty, distracting, and confusing. So much processing is going on, the last thing you want to hear is ‘how to deal with it’. This distracts you from what YOUR heart and soul need to cope. Children, are very impressionable after all.

I didn’t leave my room the first day. I remember hearing a car screech to a halt, looking out my window, I saw her on the ground bleeding. The car had ran my cat over. I distinctively remember my stepdad rushing out with a trash bag in a desperate attempt to spare me the site, it happened right in front of my bedroom window. Not more then 10 minuets latter I emerged from my room to use the bathroom only to find my 1.5 year old brother running with scissors, opening and closing them, unattended. I rushed to him and grabbed the scissors as he was tripping, falling onto them. I cut my hand deeply with the blade; 15 years later I still have a scar.

Calming or comforting a child going through such a event has to be the hardest thing for a parent. I didn’t want anyone around me, I was tired of the awkward moments of people showing up to give a hug or advice. The first time you see someone after they’ve heard what happened is the single most awkward thing. No matter how close they are to you, they look at you like your a blind three legged puppy.

I became withdrawn after the funeral. After meeting with the D.A, Corners office, investigators, detectives, lawyer, his friends, and family, and finally the murderer. It all sunk in, the fear sunk in. The loss sunk in. The numb. Sunk in.

The advice kept coming and some felt so forced, as if they just wanted to be recognized for being ‘supportive’. None of my 14 year old friends knew how to act around me, after all, none had experienced death,. We all heard about it, saw it in the movies, but never thought it would happen to us or someone close to us. I didn’t know how to socialize anymore, I felt awkward and boring. I lost just about all of my childhood friends. I still have extreme trouble socializing to this day.

Now heres what I wish I knew HOW to say back then:

Why is it, everyone first thinks to tell a child how to grieve instead of asking the child what they need or how they feel. Children NEED to learn to label their OWN emotions, especially during a traumatic event such as this. From experience, it took me YEARS to understand and recognize what emotions I felt around my fathers death due to everyone’s advice or thoughts on how I should feel. It clouded alot of my initial emotions as I attached their label to it, instead of mine.

“ You must be lost without him”, “You must be strong and move on”, “You are instable because of this” …..

NOT ONCE did anyone ask me what I WANTED for healing. Not once.

A plea from my angry grieving inner-child:

PLEASE! take the time to let us children process our emotions. Realize we do not know how to ask for this time. We do need the aid of our elders through tough times. Equally, we need to teach ourselves how to grief, and identify emotions, and your assistance with this. We need to find our own comfort in our grief and trauma for healing to begin. Ask us questions, don’t just tell us what to do or feel. Weather its a fight with a sibling, divorce, or death; please, ask more questions. Teach us to be secure with our emotions, and asking for support. We are wiser then you think.