Suppose someone important to you died...

...and you were left to process it by yourself.

That was a comment on this morning's edition of WHYY radio's The Pulse, discussing the effects of Katrina, especially on children.  When do I get to hear The Pulse?  Never!  At 10:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning, I've got my hands full getting a grannie client ready & out the door to church.  Except today.  John & I listened as we heading up Rt 152 toward Bethlehem, to a reception honoring a friend.  Hearing that choice nugget, just as we entered Silverdale, I almost veered off the road.

That was my experience when Ian died in 1959.   Does Ian rank as "someone important" in my life?  In ways I can't begin to fathom.   He was only 11, I was his 7-year old younger sister.  My next older sibling was Mim, at 15.

And I was left alone to process all that came with his passing.  My family didn't talk.  Not about things that mattered.  

The only time we - as a family - discussed Ian's death was in the very late 1990s, at a group session with Mom's psychologist.  And that was limited to our mutually agreeing that we never talked about the impact of Ian's death!

Imagine being a 7-year old who craved understanding, however difficult the facts, being left to process your closest sibling's accidental shooting death on your own.

It wasn't that my parents were negligent or uncaring.  Stepping back, processing what happened, seeing the lesson in even pain - that would have been weird for Dad, downright dangerous for Mom.  

The question that does beg asking is how was it possible that I actually DID (more or less) process Ian's death?   

Let's say that a drive for getting a sense of balanced perspective - welcoming even opposing views - as a tool was part of my original equipment.  Seems to me, I would have been tempted to toss it out long ago, since no one else seemed to give it any value.  Yet, I didn't.  Good on me!


Today, it was clear how I was left to process my personal Katrina - Ian's death - on my own.  Not just me.  We all were.  Each member in the family.  My experience was the same as the other survivors.  What seemed different was that I sought considering what they fought feeling.  How many other families are the same?  My guess is more than most would think.  

Thank you, The Pulse, for the timely comment.  Thank you, UUCLV, for this morning's delightful reception honoring Richard.  And to whichever supernatural force is responsible for my inclination toward detachment inquiry investigation -  thanks, thanks, & more thanks!