March 2008

Sean Laskey was only eleven when he contracted meningococcemia. He was rushed from his home in Gagetown, NB to Fredericton but the pediatrician knew Sean needed to be airlifted to Halifax. The air ambulance arrived full of medics and airlifted the unconscious boy to Halifax. But there was no room on board for his parents, Gerry and Siobhan. They now faced a six-hour drive and feared he would die alone. Another priest who hardly knew the Laskeys at the time chartered a private plane to fly them to Halifax. There the Laskey family (Sean had three sisters) was embraced by caring friends who all kept vigil over the young boy. Surrounded by love and prayer Sean Laskey died on St. George’s Day, April 23, 1998. Now ten years later his parents, the Rev. Gerry and Siobhan Laskey, share with Sue Careless how their family has carried on. 

TAP: What was Sean like? What did he enjoy? 

Siobhan:  Sean was an easy baby and a gentle child. He was extremely compassionate and empathetic--and very inquisitive. He was always building – didn’t matter where he was he would find something to build with. Lego was a constant activity. He always loved music. The first time he saw the Nutcracker on TV he was only two but he sat transfixed. And was devoted to his sisters. Jessica was 14, Joanna,16 and Teresa was 20 when he died.

He was meticulously wonderful with children younger than himself.  We always said that he would be the best father and uncle.  That is one of our greatest regrets – that he did not live long enough to experience that joy.  I always marveled at how he would bend right down to look a younger child in the eye when he was speaking with them – and never in a condescending way.

Gerry: Even in Grade 5 he always gave you hugs and kisses, and often said, “I love you,” even at school in front of others. That was very precious. Sean was very affectionate with ‘my girls’--his sisters as he called them--and so proud of them. He was so proud of their accomplishments and was the loudest one to cheer them on at everything they did.

He loved to play in the snow and had a love for basketball and soccer. He loved computers and helped Siobhan with a web-based assignment the night before he got sick. He had told her, when he was hugging her goodnight for the last time ever, “It’s pretty pathetic Mom, when an 11-year old has to help his mom with her university homework!”

TAP: What did you enjoy doing together as a family?

Siobhan: 

Our children have eclectic tastes like we do and it was always wonderful to see what books and music they would select. We would have the most wonderful debates. Even when the children were very, very young we would hold parliamentary-style debates on car trips.  When I think of it now it seems strange, but we had a ball and learned a lot about each other.

Gerry worked hard to make sure all of our children followed the Toronto Maple Leafs with him. They had their game rituals – including light and dark Maple Leaf shirts which were worn according to whether the game was at home or away. They would all love roaring at the game with Dad! During the playoffs their antics were most amusing – including gathering upstairs and keeping me awake with their cheers, stomping and riding the waves of agony and ecstasy--sometimes into the wee hours of the night.

TAP:  Did he know what he wanted to study or become?

Gerry: Sean was a very good all-around student. He was a very good reader. He was gifted in math and science and often thought he would have a career as a scientist or engineer. He would tell us that paleontology and astro-physics were always possible career choices.

He had started penning his own fairly elaborate comic book super-hero series and was quite artistic. His hero was Lightningman and he traveled with the Weather Squad.  Their superpowers allowed them to control the weather. We still have the detailed comic books he had made. He had great compassion for others too, so who knows where he might have ended up? A computer savvy paleontologist/social worker doing comics and music on the side?

TAP:  You are both very outgoing. Was he?

Gerry: Sean made a good friend, but he was quite reserved.

Siobhan: He was devious in the nicest of ways – just so clever and sprite-like. His laugh was contagious. Once we got talking about the difference between laughing with somebody and laughing at somebody. He had a great maturity of insight into the difference between the two.

TAP:  When did you first notice Sean was ill?

Siobhan: Sean had been struggling with a bad cold. Gerry had taken him to the emergency room after hours because he was having such a hard time with it the week before. He had asthma and we wanted to make sure it hadn't "settled on his lungs." He soon began to rally. On Sunday, April 19 he said he wanted to get back to school (he was in Grade Five) but still felt a little out of sorts. He thought one more day's rest would be good. His sister, Joanna, 16, was going to be home from school and Sean thought it would be good brother/sister time for them. Gerry had a meeting in Fredericton and I was taking the day to complete an essay for a course I was taking. So Monday morning we drove together into Fredericton for the day. 

When I phoned in the morning Jo said they were fine and had eaten breakfast and were just hanging out. I had lunch with Teresa, our oldest daughter who was studying at UNB, then went back to the library. I called home in the early afternoon and Joanna said they were having a great time together. They had had lunch and were now curled up in our bed watching movies and talking.

We learned later that Sean fell asleep but woke up complaining that his legs were very sore. Joanna found that he was burning up with fever. She took him upstairs to the bathroom--which was a struggle. She said he kept saying the strangest things and then apologizing to her for them. Just then Joanna heard Jessica's bus pulling up the driveway. She yelled out the bathroom window for Jessica to come quickly. Jessica tore up the stairs. Joanna was drawing a tepid bath and taking Sean's clothes off. They noticed he was covered in strange bruises.

Jessica ran and called Anne Geddes, who is a nurse and a dear friend and asked her to come to the house. Anne came and immediately called 911 and the local doctor, Greg Haines. Anne and Greg have only told us bits and pieces, but we understand that Sean was unconscious. The ambulance had to come from Oromocto (a half hour away). When it arrived it sank in the mud that surrounded the house in the spring. Neighbours from far and wide arrived to help get it out, but it took some time. Later the ambulance had to stop at the Oromocto hospital on the way to Fredericton, because Sean’s heart had stopped and Greg needed to get him stable enough there to continue on to Fredericton.

Meanwhile Gerry had just arrived at the library to pick me up and Teresa had dropped by after class to see us for a minute. Suddenly I was paged to the front desk to take a call telling me Sean had been brought to Fredericton by ambulance. The three of us rushed over to the hospital. Anne Geddes drove Joanna to the hospital but Jessica had not wanted to leave the house in case we came home. We had a couple, the Norwoods who had been like surrogate grandparents to our children, drive Jessica to the hospital.  

TAP: What was the prognosis?  

Siobhan: The pediatrician in Fredericton told us that Sean was very ill. He said that the minute that he saw Sean’s bruising he knew he had meningococcal septicemia. He teared up. He told us it was an insidious disease and that Sean was in for a long ride. We were taken to see Sean. His fingers and toes were already turning black and he was unconscious. He never regained consciousness. They took him to ICU to try to get him stable enough to be air-lifted to Halifax. 

God's grace was so powerfully felt during his sudden illness and his death. Several priests arrived: Tom Smith, David Titus, John Hall, Jon Lownds and then John Matheson. They were a buzz of activity all around us making arrangements for us. Some of our family came. Nobody wanted us to leave Sean's side. Then word came that another priest, Chris VanBuskirk whom we hardly knew, was trying to get in touch with the McCains to see if their private plane could be readied to take us to Halifax if he was airlifted. The plane was out of province. Next thing we heard was that they had a chartered plane on standby. We were dazed, but our focus was with Sean. The clergy team again went to work getting us to the airport. 

We desperately did not want Sean to arrive in Halifax and die without someone there with him. We called Gordon and Nellie Neish, whom we only knew slightly through St Michael’s Youth Conference, a camp our girls attended. Gordon was the priest at New Ross and he left immediately to be there when Sean arrived at the hospital.

We were rushed up to the pediatric ICU and taken in to Sean who was in isolation. The staff told us how serious it was. They never minced their words, but guided us through the process. They realized we did not want to leave Sean alone and gave us two extra rooms. 

Family and friends--many of them clergy friends-- all took turns being constantly at Sean's beside. He was unconscious but we talked and sang to him all the time and took turns reading the only thing I could find in the gift shop--Silver Surfer--a novelized version of the comic book. Each of his sisters took their turns with him. We did this around the clock while our clergy friends kept vigil in the waiting room. We wanted to play some music he loved. I can remember going into the waiting room and asking, “Which one of you has some Vivaldi in the car?” All the hands shot up. Sean loved Vivaldi. 

By Wednesday morning we were told that if he survived he would have to have his arms and legs amputated. They were black. We were told that his major organs had been attacked and that he would more than likely be severely brain damaged--but they still held out hope that he would live.

Very early Thursday we were told that there was little brain activity. The pediatrician and the staff that met with us were all crying with us. We had gotten the girls up from their sleep to be there with us. Joanna had been spending a lot of time in the chapel. We were

always so worried about her because she had seen and heard things that we still can't imagine. One of the hospital staff was particularly wonderful with her. 

TAP:  How did he die?

Siobhan: Later Thursday morning we were told that there was no brain activity. The doctors asked us if we wanted them to continue to keep him on the respirator. That was one of the hardest decisions we ever had to make. We asked for time. As God would have it, several of our priest friends all seemed to arrive that morning at the same time--Sean Taylor, Gary Thorne, Gordon Neish, Michael Hawkins and Michael Oulton. We made arrangements with the pediatrician for them to remove the respirator. Several of the ICU staff and the mother of another child we had come to know asked if they could join us. We all just encircled his bed, some of us on our knees praying Sean into God's gracious keeping. We asked them to play a copy of Billy Bragg's version of “Jersualem.” It was on a tape that we had been playing as a family in the car and Sean had loved it. After it ended we just all continued singing Sean's favourite hymns. “Come Down, O Love Divine” was one of them. Ever since Sean was an infant he always cried at that hymn.

Gary Thorne led the prayers of Commendation [BCP p. 590]. It was such a powerful, Spirit-filled experience. For us it was as if time stood still. We have all said it was one of the most powerful experiences of our lives. I have no idea how long we were there--it seemed on one hand like a blink of an eye and on the other like an eternity. There just aren't words to describe the Grace we all felt. The pediatrician had turned off the monitors in the room and was watching Sean's vital signs from the nursing station. He came into the room and told us that Sean had died. There were hugs and tears and a million things said, but all in silence.

TAP:  What did you do then?

Siobhan: We stayed with the body--all of the immediate family. We asked to be allowed to wash his body. The girls all helped and we prayed for Sean's repose as we washed his body and brushed his hair for the last time.

The girls knew hymns they wanted. We wanted John Matheson to conduct the funeral and we asked Richard Harris to preach….John came to our home to make arrangements with us. We will never, ever forget how heartbroken he was. It was so powerful for us to know that Sean was loved by our friends as much as we loved him. We will never forget one friend David Titus, who went to the funeral home with us, losing it as we filled out the paperwork and read aloud our answers—“never married,” “no children….”

Close cousins of Gerry’s insisted on being allowed to buy an authentic Toronto Maple Leafs jersey for Sean to be buried in. They are all Montreal fans, but they knew that Gerry and the kids all rooted for Toronto.

We had wanted a very simple casket--just a rough box. Dear, dear friends of ours operate a custom cabinet making business. They shut down their operations and all of their staff worked for two days to make Sean's casket. They told us they poured their grief into making it.

TAP:  Do you remember anything of the funeral or were you in shock?

Siobhan: There were a number of our dear, dear friends involved in the service. We will be eternally grateful for their ministry to us. The clergy and their families form a special kind of family, I think because of their shared experiences and a faith that determines so much that is practical about their lives.

Gerry: Oh yes, we remember it practically verbatim and we were very much full participants in the Mass, processing in and out with the casket, praying throughout Communion. We were amazed as so many people went up and down past us to receive. It was tremendously moving. I remember leaning over to Siobhan, as we were on our knees during Communion and being overwhelmed by the love and support of the Mystical Body of Christ and very much aware of his abiding Presence with us, and saying, “I feel like we’re already in heaven.”

Siobhan: I do not take lightly my commitment to pray for others. I can’t tell you how much I felt sustained by knowing that so many were remembering us in their prayers. It really was literally uplifting – mystical and precious. Everything seemed…surreal, but that doesn’t do it justice because every emotion, every kindness, every gesture and word was very real. It is as if we were so intensely in the moments that the rest of time stood still. I know that experience was guided by God’s Grace – I truly feel as if in our deepest sorrow we were able to live in the fullness of that Grace and that we were transformed by it. I hurt for families of those who have died who do not know that Grace and who, because they feel they are honouring the deceased’s wishes, do not have a funeral – the community needs to gather in support, faith and love.

TAP:  Did you record the service?

Gerry: Never thought about it at the time. Definitely would watch it, at least annually, if someone had.

Siobhan: Never thought about it. But you know, the more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t need a recording. The funeral service in the BCP is so rich with Scripture – beautiful Scriptures – that I can stop and realize at any time that I am immersed in the words that were spoken, the prayers that were prayed. Having lived the terrible (and that word hardly seems strong enough) agony of our child’s death and yet been so blessed by God’s loving Grace through it all there are words of that service that now are burned into my heart: “I AM persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” I am persuaded! That wonderful prayer--“Make us, we beseech thee, deeply sensible of the shortness and uncertainty of human life”--that’s my daily prayer.

Now there is a tendency to have only a private family funeral or burial and later a celebration of the deceased’s life. Are these good moves?

Gerry: No! Part of the reality of who we are as creatures is the aspect of human, social solidarity. We can no more grieve just on our own than we can do anything important “all by ourselves.” For Christians, it is a real celebration of our participation in the Mystical Body and the visitations etc. are a real ‘foretaste’ of heaven. We were just constantly overwhelmed by visitors from every place or activity we’d ever been in! And it’s not just important for the directly bereaved, but for the community. They need to express their concern, love and sympathy and have no idea ‘what to do’ when the family keeps it all private.

TAP:  How many attended Sean’s funeral?

Siobhan:  The funeral home staff told us that they stopped counting the attendance when it was approaching nine hundred – that boggles my mind and is still so humbling.

TAP:  Was there a eulogy?

Siobhan: No. Gerry literally poured his heart and sorrow into writing a testimony to God’s gracious keeping of us and Sean. God stood with him while he read it at the funeral! Fr. Richard Harris delivered a sermon.

TAP:  Is the actual burial the toughest part? 

Siobhan:  No. We had discussed funeral plans with the girls. We all agreed that we wanted everything “honest;” we did not want to avoid the reality of death. We did not want him made up with make-up. We asked that the ground around the open grave not be covered with artificial grass. We asked that the casket be completely lowered – none of that leaving the gravesite without the body being truly committed to the ground. Those who honoured Sean and us by carrying his body to that open grave lowered it on ropes and then spontaneously started to fill in his grave. Each of us joined in taking our turn at doing for Sean’s body the last honour we could – committing it to God’s creation and keeping. It was extremely power-filled and many who took their turn pouring their sorrow into that last act of kindness have often told us how much it meant to them to be able to do that. There was something so wonderfully honest about it – nothing fake or “plastic.” We were able to pour our grief into burying our son.

TAP:  Do you feel strongly that those who were active in the church should have a church funeral rather than one in a funeral home?

Gerry:  Definitely! It is far too easy to be ‘insulated’ from both earthly and eternal realities in a funeral home. All the physical ‘pointers’ in a church are to the object of our Faith and ultimate Hope. It is hard enough to “keep it real” sometimes in the church, but there is an air of unreality and almost of being anesthetized in a funeral home. The wake should, if practical, be at church, church hall or family home too.

Siobhan:  We do ourselves a great disservice in running away from or sanitizing the reality of death. The industry that has built up around what is our natural course as humans does us no good if it masks the pain. It is strangely comforting to know that we can face the horror of our child’s death, the pain that our other children are living and know that with Christ accompanying us we can survive this. The words of the hymn, “O, Let him whose sorrow,” say it so wonderfully well. God walks with us, cries with us and sorrows with us. Why then, should we hide or mask our sorrow? And where better to mark the end of a Christian’s earthly journey than in the Church where it began in their baptism?

TAP:  Was your extended family there for you? Was the parish?

Siobhan:  Oh, yes. It was amazing as a parent to see what great friends our children have and how at such young ages they enveloped us all with such compassion and care. There was something so candid about their concern and grief. Our Church family was such a comfort – I don’t know that there are words that can express what it meant to us. It’s been ten years and I am still moved to tears that we should be so well cared for and Sean so well ushered into God’s tender keeping. There was one family who had suffered the death – both very tragic and untimely – of two of their three children…. I have often said that our family, with Sean’s death, became members of a club no family wants to join, but one that is so supportive if we allow ourselves to speak freely.

TAP:  Is it hard to look at photos of Sean or to see boys who look like him?

Gerry:  Sometimes, especially in the first few years, but ‘hard and good’ at the same time. Bitter-sweet is a very useful term, isn’t it? During my first year on staff at SMYC [St Michael’s Youth Conference] there were young fellows near Sean’s age and with similar personalities. It’s also been great to be involved with them and watch them grow up….The ‘triggers’ (sights, sounds etc) that ‘get you’ are often surprising and unpredictable.

Siobhan:  It’s not hard – it’s challenging. Does it hurt? If I let myself dwell in the “what if’s” or the “if only’s” it not only hurts, it deadens me. I have learned not to. That is the evil of the world’s view of death, that somehow we can claim back what life has taken from us. It doesn’t honour Sean or God to do that. I feel I owe them both nothing less than to feel the bitter-sweetness and to ride its waves.

TAP:  Did people avoid you after Sean died? Did they avoid mentioning him in conversations?

Gerry:  Some. I think after the first month, many assumed it was ‘easier’ on us to not bring him up. Any parent who says to me, "I can't imagine what you're going through" I reply, "You're a parent. It's pretty much exactly as you would imagine it." And I believe that.

Siobhan:  There were many [we felt] that were uncomfortable when we talked about Sean, but then there are those who give us that permission and help us heal day by day. We met a fellow the other day…who said that he could never have managed if others hadn’t let him talk about his son’s death at the time of the accident and for always. Isn’t it strange that something so natural as death makes us uncomfortable! Perhaps it’s because we don’t talk about it. But too, we honour Sean’s memory by celebrating his life and death and how it shaped us. 

TAP:  Are cards and casseroles important? What was particularly helpful?

Gerry: Oh, very important! Very thoughtful. We moved into a new rectory (same parish) just a few months after Sean’s death (very hard to pack up his stuff from his only home). One of our neighbours provided the entire meal for our first Mother’s Day without Sean. We had lots of kind expressions like that. One friend writes us every year near the anniversary and a priest friend remembers Sean at the altar in Eastertide every year. These are special blessings. 

Siobhan: Those who contact us on significant anniversaries, birthdays, etc: a young woman who hugged me at what would have been Sean’s graduation and told me how important it was to her that we were there. Someone who for many years gifted me with tokens of faith and friendship anonymously every Christmas. Those who comforted and still comfort our daughters! Those who let us cry and laugh about what we remember of Sean are people we are grateful to.

TAP:  Have you done something specific to memorialize Sean?

Siobhan: Once Jessica and Sean were playing law office. Jessica was the lawyer and Sean her client and they had drawn up Sean's will. In it he made a few bequests to his sisters, but he had left all of his money to the IWK Health Centre in Halifax because they had taken care of a little girl in his kindergarten class when she died of a brain tumour and because they had cared for [the baby of family friends]. Sean had only a savings bond from his grandfather--$100. But a few days after his funeral we received a letter. His teacher was always looking for reasons for her students to write. She had offered them the opportunity to enter an essay contest the Nurses' Union was having. The letter informed us that Sean had won. We took that money and the $100 (which our Credit Union matched) and the will to the IWK where he had died. The money was donated as he wished.

We have a cedar chest that my late father made and in it are things that we have of Sean’s. I haven’t gone through it in quite a while, but it’s there. We’ve done simple things like put Christmas ornaments on the tree that speak silently to the family about Sean.

TAP:  Do you celebrate his birthday or commemorate the anniversary of his death in any special way? 

Siobhan:  On his birthday, not every year now, but sometimes, we have tried to find some quiet way to give thanks for the gift of Sean. We have donated books in his memory to the local library or a school that was connected with our family. We tried to choose ones we knew he would want to read. For the first few years we traveled to Halifax, where Sean died, to attend the St. George’s Day Eucharist at the Round Church.  Fr. Gary Thorne had reached out to us when Sean was in the hospital and that congregation welcomed us by allowing us to worship with them.

TAP:  Do you grieve in different ways?

Siobhan:  I don’t know. We express it in different ways. I have found that taking a shower in the dark and crying my eyes out helps. There are things that are unique about a mother’s relationship with a child and a father’s relationship with a child – so we each grieve for the loss of that relationship with Sean. But we talk with each other and pray with each other – so we walk with each other through the grief.

TAP: Would you say there were certain stages to your grieving? Did you both pass through them at more or less the same time?

Siobhan:  We are certainly familiar with the “stages of grief,” but I don’t see them as linear as others do. I think grief is more circular and one learns with time that this too shall pass.

TAP: Did you return to work right away?

Gerry: Yes, the very next Sunday (after the funeral, a friend took the Sunday on the weekend of Sean’s death and we attended and greeted parishioners at a special parish Eucharist and coffee hour)--although my wardens were very good and told me to take as much time as I needed. I think it would have been considerably harder if I’d waited even another week or two. Regular pastoral work I eased back into more gradually. I had a funeral within a couple of weeks of Sean’s.

Siobhan:  I was off about ten days in total. One of our daughters had said that she felt it was important that people see us and that they know that we are o.k. – hurting and grief stricken, but o.k. She was right.

TAP:  There must have been considerable anger at God after Sean’s death. Where did you transfer that anger or depression?

Siobhan:  Anger at God – never. That may seem strange – but all I could feel toward God was a great sense of thankfulness – thankful for Sean’s life, thankful for the sorrow He shared with me, thankful for the witness of Christ’s own mother, thankful for my family.  I think about how God’s hand was somehow in the circumstances that [got us] to the hospital so quickly. How God’s hand guided Joanna and Jessica…when they were dealing with circumstances I can’t imagine. How God’s hand brought to Sean’s death bed so many that we would never expect to be there, but who in his final moments encircled him and prayed and hymned him into God’s gracious keeping. I wouldn’t hurt so much if I hadn’t lost so much – and I have to thank God that I knew that depth of love.

Yes, there are bouts of depression – nothing lasting, but moments when I feel the loss of Sean so deeply that it does rip my heart out. If anyone felt my anger – which was at the situation and not at God – it was my family. I think because deep down I trusted their love for me to be able to let me be angry knowing that it would pass. In the same way that God walks through that valley with me, so too did those who really love me.

TAP:  Did your personalities change?

Siobhan: I don’t think so. It has certainly made us more aware of the pain others have. I have learned the value of silence--which may surprise some people. There are times that I deliberately seek out silence so that I can truly sense God’s presence without the hubbub of the world.

TAP:  Did having three daughters who needed you help you pull through?

Gerry: Not as much as having them to also lean on and grieve with. Whenever we’d cry we just got hugs. And we with them.

Siobhan: Yes, immensely. I still wonder though, if we do enough to respect their loss.

TAP:  Did any of you receive grief counseling?

Siobhan: Nothing formal. The best therapy was the friends that let us talk about Sean and the experience of his death and who share their sorrows with us. It’s important to know that we’re not alone. Hearing other bereaved parents speak is very helpful.

Gerry: A book that did speak to me is Peter Kreeft’s Making Sense Out of Suffering.

TAP:  Gerry, do you preach and teach differently now?

Gerry: I don’t really think so. I may stress a few things a little more. I can now, just by suggesting suffering, perhaps, evoke a greater depth for others listening who know that I know what I’m talking about.

TAP:  Are you both more sensitive to those who are grieving the loss of a child?

Siobhan:  In our current parish we have met very quickly a number of parents who have had children die – any death at a young age is tragic. They have certainly comforted us with the comfort they have received.

TAP:  What biblical passages do you find particularly encouraging? Which prayers and hymns?

Gerry: Revelation 21 is tremendously hard to read and tremendously healing to read for so many reasons. The “wipe away all tears…” and the “he shall be my son” are powerfully hard and healing. Too many hymns to mention. We used so many best-loved ones at the funeral--and again at Teresa’s wedding!

TAP:  Is it comforting to know that God the Father endured the murder of his only child? Yet it was only for three days and you have to go on for thirty years or more without Sean.

Gerry: At the risk of sounding a little irreverent, I felt I could identify with the Father watching the Passion. I don’t [always] move easily over the words in the Prayer of Consecration, “our heavenly Father, who of thy tender mercy, didst give thy only Son…” It is comforting to know that our heavenly Father knows it better than we can know or imagine. And he is in the business of comforting us. Again, not wishing to sound irreverent, but we often have to cry like a baby and curl up in the father’s ‘lap’ and be comforted.

Siobhan: It is because of those three days that I can go on for thirty or more years without Sean. I know we both live in Christ. Still, at the breaking of the bread that crack represents to me not only the breaking of the body, but the sorrow of our Lord’s Father and Mother; I immediately sense great awe and wonder.

TAP:  Does heaven seem more real and inviting because Sean awaits you there?  

Gerry:  Perhaps, but it’s always been pretty real because of my faith in an incarnate Lord. I definitely look forward to the re-union! I said at the time of the wake, how much I missed Sean’s ‘love-pats’ and bear-hugs and that I might beg Jesus’ indulgence to get one of those from Sean first upon arrival.

Siobhan: I think that I can’t wait to be reunited with Sean and others who have also died, but then I quickly think it won’t really matter because the glory of God’s presence will not only wipe away all sorrow and suffering it will demand my all. I know I can’t comprehend it – nor do I think I’m supposed to.

TAP:  Does God wipe some of your tears away now?

Gerry: Yes. But he also receives them now, too -- gently, mercifully, lovingly. He understands better than anyone, after all, doesn’t he?

TAP:  Does God turn your mourning into dancing in this life? 

Gerry:  They are ‘co-mingled.’ Again, ‘bitter--sweet’ is a very useful word. One of my favourite Scriptures is placed in Eastertide in the BCP, “You will have sorrow; but your sorrow shall be turned into joy.” Not erased, not avoided, no less real, but transformed, transfigured.

TAP:  What advice would you give other grieving parents?

Siobhan: Love yourself the way your child loved you.  Forgive yourself – regrets offer us nothing. Honour your child’s memory by keeping them a part of your life and letting others know about them. Believe other grieving parents who tell you to call upon them day or night – anytime – they mean it! Believe that you will be ok, but know that you are riding waves that will rise and fall – give yourself permission to miss being with someone you love.

TAP:  Was there a time when you couldn’t laugh or even smile or you felt guilty if you did?

Gerry:  Not really. We even had laughs at the time of the illness and death. I told Sean (in his coma) that his sister Teresa must really love him to be reading the Silver Surfer to him, because she really hated it herself! I felt guilty -- and still do – when I can go all day to bedtime, without thinking about him. It doesn’t happen very often and I usually remember at bedtime. I have no such guilt about my deceased parents’ memory.

Siobhan: We don’t respect Sean’s memory if we stop living. We don’t forget him, but we live with him in mysterious ways. Such is the Communion of believers.