|
|
|
ARTICLES
Grandparents
Other > A Conference Like No Other
I just returned from a conference. That in itself is not unusual. I attend many conferences each year. I often present a workshop, and I come home with a renewed commitment to the work I do. I can’t wait to share what I’ve learned, to tell others about my experience, knowing they will understand and appreciate. This conference, though, was profoundly different. Although the impact on me is immeasurable, it will be difficult to explain this particular conference. Most likely, people will not want to hear about the workshops I attended, nor will they be eager to read the literature I gathered. As both a presenter and attendee, I was at the annual MISS Foundation conference, When a Child Dies: The Vow to Remember, The Call to Comfort. When my granddaughter was born still in 2003, I became a member of the club nobody wants to join. A club whose membership fee is astronomical, yet once joined, you are a permanent member. A club defined not by gender, ethnicity, religion, profession or political beliefs, but by a singular immutable fact- the death of a child. A club whose membership pin isn’t proudly displayed on a collar or lapel, for the jagged pieces of a broken heart aren’t readily visible. In the days after Maddy’s stillbirth, I searched desperately for validation of my grief. The raw, wrenching pain I felt was like no other I had ever experienced. I had no familiar context in which to place my loss. I felt isolated by an experience none of my friends could relate to. I have frequently felt like an outsider, but never as strongly as I did when I became a grieving grandmother. Eventually, I found understanding and communion through an online support group, but still I yearned to gaze into the eyes of somebody walking the same path. I longed to speak with someone who didn’t flinch at the word died, who didn’t turn away in horror and pity at the word stillbirth, who knew better than to offer empty platitudes. I found what I was searching for when I attended the MISS conference. Founded in 1996 by Joanne Cacciatore following the death of her daughter, the MISS Foundation is a non-profit corporation committed to providing crisis support and ongoing services to families after the death of a child. From the opening plenary to the closing session, I belonged. I joined a community of like-minded people, united by a powerful common thread. I walked among men and women who welcomed me with their heart as well as their words. Many of the greetings were a silent acknowledgement- a smile, a nod of the head, a hand gently resting on my shoulder for a brief moment-time and time again, the grief and love I felt reflected back through a stranger’s eyes. It was empowering to be with people who understand that I am as overwhelmed by the continuing love I feel for my granddaughter as I am by my grief. Surrounded by people who truly know how I feel, I discovered a safe place for my grief. A place where I was able to freely express what I was thinking and feeling, secure in the knowledge that I would find acceptance and understanding. The conference center, located on reservation land outside of Phoenix, was conveniently isolated from the distractions of the city. Encircled by the harsh reality of the southwestern desert, the location offered ample opportunity for quiet reflection as well as conversation. And so, I reluctantly return home, uncertain how to make the transition back to an environment in which I no longer fit. I return emotionally drained yet spiritually fulfilled. As transformed as I’ve been by my granddaughter’s death, I find my life altered yet again, the connections made indelibly stamped on my soul. As with other conferences, I return with a renewed commitment, a determination to perpetuate my granddaughter’s legacy. It occurs to me that a slogan from the early days of AIDS activism is appropriate-Silence Equals Death. To remain silent ensures that the only thing remembered of Maddy is the fact of her death. Through my writing and speaking engagements, I will continue to tell her story and say her name, which guarantees that her legacy lives on. Thank you, Joanne Cacciatore and MISS, for giving me the opportunity to belong. Editor's Note: After Nina sent the article above, she sent along a little note and poem that follows. Let me just say it was an honor to meet Nina in person finally at this conference, and I'm so grateful for all she contributes here to KotaPress. From Nina: Tuesday morning (in Phoenix) I treated myself to breakfast at the hotel restaurant. It was pleasant so I sat outside. As I was drinking coffee and thinking about leaving, I had this conversation with Maddy. Until your workshop (at the MISS Conference), I have never actually had a conversation with her. I've written about her, I've written to her, but this was very different. It came out of nowhere. LEAVING PHOENIXby Nina Bennett ok Maddy it's time to go About the AuthorNina is the author of Forgotten Tears: A Grandmother's Journey Through Grief, |
