4 Things I Learned About Grief, Loss, and Healing After My Dad’s Death

By Susie Moore

Give time, time.” —Martha Beck

 
[M]y dad died when I was 19, when he was almost 60. He was a writer like me. He was also an addict. It was expected (he had a bad heart and no plans to surrender his vices), but it was still a shock when it actually happened. Sometimes it feels like 14 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it all happened so recently—especially when he visits me in dreams.

When I reflect upon my what I’ve learned about loss, grief, and life in the years since, these are four truths I know for sure:

1. Love is stronger than death.

I still have a father. He lives within me and my sister and in our memories. When I make an English roast dinner, drive a car (he taught me how), play Scrabble or cards, read the classics, watch English television, and even sit down to write, I feel his presence. The first time I held the book I’d authored in my hands, I felt him say, “I told you so! You did it.”

When someone leaves your life, all that’s gone is his or her physical form. That notion has been tremendously comforting to me.

2. Spending real time with loved ones is important.

I visit my mum in the U.K. twice per year. Life is busy, yes. But making time for the people you love matters. Spend time with your parents (and everyone who’s important to you). And try not to spend all the time you’re with them on your phone.

Ask them questions. What did they think about the world when they were your age? What were they doing? What year were they the happiest? What are their favorite memories of you? Write it down too! You’ll revisit those stories many times in your life.

3. Just because someone looks OK doesn’t mean they are OK.

After losing her husband suddenly last year, Sheryl Sandberg said, “Don’t ask someone who’s grieving, ‘How are you?’ Ask, ‘How are you today?’”

Emotions for someone who’s grieving are a roller coaster—they can go from laughter to tears in seconds. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, and we should never judge anyone who is experiencing grief. The process is deeply personal. I don’t talk about my father unless it’s with my family or I’m speaking to someone going through a similar experience. I don’t want sympathy or questions. This is my way of handling things, and that’s OK.

4. Death can inspire you to live life to its fullest.

If I live to my dad’s age (and I hope to live much longer than that), my life is already more than halfway through. This sounds scary, but to me, it’s motivating. Death gives life meaning. When I contemplate my own imminent death one day, I feel courageous, fearless, and powerful. You’re allowed to feel this way too. The hardest lessons bring the greatest freedoms.

I think of my dad every day—especially when something funny happens. And I talk to him every time I achieve a significant milestone. I admit: I’m jealous when I see other people with their dads. And that’s OK too. I practice compassion for my own emotions, which I consider the highest form of self-care.

My grief has changed shape over the years, but it’s true what they say about time. My physical pangs of suffering are fewer now. And in moments of questioning, the most healing thing I can think to do is live a life he would be proud of. Because we’ll always be in it together.

Meaningful Planning for Final Arrangements

By Melanie Ball

[S]ome people wait to reach a certain age or receive a serious diagnosis before they start planning their final wishes.

Luckily, when we lost Dad to mesothelioma, we didn’t have much planning to do. Ever the family overseer, my father preplanned his memorial services.

He prepared for everything, including financial planning.

I am only now realizing the gracefulness of Dad’s consideration of our family during our time of grief. We were all a mess when he passed, and his prior decisions relieved some of the stress at a time when his guidance was most needed.

Exploring final arrangements ahead of time can relieve families of unnecessary anxiety during a time of emotional need. Preplanning also presents an opportunity for a person to make their own choices regarding their final wishes.

Dad found peace of mind by guiding our family through the difficult process of saying goodbye.

Developing a Plan Early Reduces Stress Later

Most folks don’t know much about the funeral process until they face the loss of a loved one.

Lack of planning often leads distraught family members toward emotion-based final arrangement decisions. The shock of loss can cloud one’s judgment.

Exploring aspects of final services in advance is a helpful step toward developing a solid plan.

For many, the most alarming part of final arrangement planning is the cost. Financial concerns may guide much of the decision-making process.

The National Funeral Directors Association is a reputable organization of more than 10,000 funeral homes in 49 states. In 2014, the NFDA estimated the median cost of a traditional funeral with burial at more than $8000.

Such a price tag may surprise bereaved families.

An expensive funeral doesn’t necessarily equate to a meaningful service.

A thoughtful service is a reflection of the memorialized person. Preplanning ahead of time allows families to create a memorial that truly embodies the essence of a loved one’s life.

Remembering them with honor and dignity is the goal of most funeral planning.

Be Aware of Different Types of Services

Most families consider spiritual beliefs, family and cultural traditions, and of course, the costs when making their final decisions.

Knowing what types of memorial services are offered is a good starting point for most people. It is also important to understand legal and ethical elements that may influence final decision making.

Each state governs funeral practices differently, but the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) provides national regulations that guide funeral providers.

There are many options available, so it helps to have a clear, universal definition of services. The FTC has an important role in clarifying the options available for customers across the nation.

According to the FTC, there are several basic types of services provided in most states, including:

  • Traditional Full-Service: Traditional funeral services are the most expensive type of memorial. This type of funeral includes a viewing or “wake,” a formal funeral service, hearse transportation and a graveside memorial. Often services take place on two separate days.)
  • Direct Burial: Direct burials exclude a formal viewing, hearse transportation and certain services provided the funeral home. There are fewer necessary goods which brings the cost down significantly. This type of service usually shortens the time between passing and burial.)
  • Direct Cremation: Services that involve direct cremation generally omit the formal viewing. After processing, the remains are placed in a container called an urn which is usually present at a memorial service where families join together. Cremation is much more affordable than traditional services.

Planning final arrangements can be a bit overwhelming. Understanding the basic services available can ease the decision-making process.

Protections Provided by the Funeral Rule

Federal guidelines are designed to protect customers shopping for funeral products and services. The FTC’s Funeral Rule offers peace of mind to many shoppers.

While each state passes their own laws regarding legal funeral practices, the state laws coincide with these federal guidelines.

Among the many protections in the Funeral Rule:

  • Customers can shop with funeral homes and only pay for the goods and services they want to buy, rather than choosing from lavish packages that lump products together. Families can save money by only buying the goods they need.
  • When seeking a price quote, shoppers don’t have to show up at the establishment in person. Service providers must give customers a price quote over the phone, if they inquire. This is especially helpful for families planning under time constraints.
  • People who meet with funeral home professionals to discuss plans are provided with a General Price List. This document clearly states the prices of all goods and services available from the provider. Seeing the listed price can help people make cost-conscious choices.
  • Sometimes the cemetery or crematory has separate requirements which families should know before signing a funeral arrangement contract. The provider must inform the customer with a list of those requirements in advance of purchase.
  • With some services such as cremation, caskets are not necessary. The customer may choose to use an alternate or less elaborate container. Other shoppers may choose to order a casket from a different provider. Funeral homes must allow people to order them from other companies, rather than exclusively selling their own products.

Making final arrangements is a difficult process under the best of circumstances.

During times of emotional despair, discernment escapes most of us. I’m not sure my mother was capable of planning Dad’s services in the days immediately following his death.

It was a tough time for our family, and I learned from my father’s thoughtfulness. Taking care of my family in the future is just as important as taking care of them now.

Making arrangements for our final goodbyes is a way I can comfort them when they confront life without me.

Complete Article HERE!

Confronting Death and Dharma at Brooklyn’s Green-Wood Cemetery

Can we shift our perspective on the reality of loss?

By Lauren Krauze

[W]hen I arrived at the main gate of Brooklyn’s Green-Wood Cemetery, I was greeted by two talkative green birds hopping and flapping about in the grass. I was surprised; the birds seemed bright and exotic compared with the pigeons, jays, and sparrows I normally see. I later learned that these playful birds are monk parakeets—a very fitting name given that I was attending an event called Death and Dharma, a lecture and meditation series co-presented by the Brooklyn Zen Center and Green-Wood Cemetery.

Green-Wood’s high, rolling hills and shady lawns offered a cool and quiet respite from the heat and hum of downtown Brooklyn. A group of about 40 people gathered on the grass near the cemetery’s Modern Chapel, a serene space for meditating and contemplating death and dying.

“Death is a fundamental question. It’s sometimes called ‘the big question,’” said Rev. Francisco (Paco) Genkoji Lugoviña, the founder and guiding teacher at the Hudson River Peacemaker Center. “There are lots of questions, actually, and no real answers. However, at age 78, I try to live each day with as much involvement and obedience to what emerges and go with it.”

Joining Lugoviña was Rev. Daiken Nelson, the founder and guiding teacher at the Pamsula Zen Center in Harlem. Nelson and Lugoviña are both teachers and priests in the White Plum Lineage of Taizan Maezumi Roshi and the Zen Peacemaker Order. As a pair that often teaches together, they were invited to share their insights with the Brooklyn Zen Center community.

“In the West, and particularly in the U.S., people don’t deal with death until they have to,” Nelson said. “They don’t think about it until someone they know passes away. I think it’s important to at least think about it before that happens and try to realize that it’s everyone’s fate.”

While the discussion was rich with teachings, stories, and koans from the Zen tradition, Nelson and Lugoviña also created space for people to briefly talk about their own relationships with death and dying. At the start of the discussion, they asked individuals to share one or two words that reflected their thoughts on the topic. While many people expressed a cautious wonder and curiosity about the topic, others shared words like “fear,” “uncertainty,” and “dark.”

Lugoviña didn’t seem very surprised. As a Zen teacher, he said that he often ventures into this very territory, especially in his conversations with people struggling with anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts. He also relayed a poignant story about his grandson, who passed away at age 23 after a methadone overdose. That experience taught him to reevaluate his intellectual understanding about death and shift toward a deep experience of gratitude.

“A friend of mine once told me she that she used to count her life by the number of summers she had left,” he said. “I think that’s a very poetic way to look at what we value in our lives and cherish what’s important to us.”

In a short work titled “Vulnerability,” acclaimed poet David Whyte writes, “The only choice we have as we mature is how we inhabit our vulnerability, how we become larger and more courageous and more compassionate through our intimacy with disappearance.” Nelson echoed this by imparting a teaching about impermanence and what can come of embracing the transient nature of experience.

“What I’ve been working with in my own practice is accepting whatever is arising,” he said. “We can learn to accept our inevitable passing, the passing of others, and the passing of this moment. Realizing something is just how it is—that it’s ‘just this,’ without it having to be any different—can give rise to freedom.”

At Green-Wood, humble gravestones and elaborate mausoleums dot the landscape, crowding some of the hills and valleys. The root of the word monument is the Latin word monere, which means “to remind.” These markers remind the living of the deceased’s name, life, and family, but for Nelson, the monuments reflect a more complicated reality that attempts to honor both the teachings of impermanence and the reality of human connection and loss.

“Once we are born, we exist, and then we spend our lives going to great lengths to express that in the world,” he said. “We spend a great deal of time and energy thinking about this self, or the ideas we have about awareness, consciousness, our connections with others, acceptance, and impermanence. Then people die, and afterwards, we want to live in the memory of them, whether it’s through their accomplishments, their stories, or things we build to honor them.”

He then introduced a teaching from Bankei, a 9th century Chinese Zen master. While recovering from a serious illness as a young man, Bankei realized his existence was nothing more than a moment-by-moment experience. He framed his realization about life as “the unborn.”

“He taught us that nothing is ever born and nothing ever dies,” Nelson said. “Life is a moment-by-moment arising and falling away. So, he said, don’t get born. Don’t fall into identification as me or you, as young or old, as a woman or a man. Even our habits are not part of our original being. Everything is unborn. Why not abide in that?”

He then looked around and chuckled.

“What better place to talk about the unborn than a cemetery?”

Many of us laughed, too. Later, during meditation, I tried to focus on the sounds and sensations I was experiencing: the gentle breeze rolling off the back of my neck, the cool grass under my feet, the soft breathing of my friends around me. At one point several birds cried out, asserting their place in the world before settling in for the evening.

I began to realize that it is possible to sit in a cemetery—a place so deeply associated with death and loss—and feel very much alive. I also understood this as something I can practice on a regular basis; when I find myself sinking into mental, physical, or emotional places of decay, I can work to more directly experience my own vitality as I honor the complicated thoughts of fear and doubt swirling within me.

By the end of meditation, the sun had dipped below the Upper New York Bay. In the lingering warmth of the afternoon, I found myself wondering how many more summers I have left. In that same moment, however, I was able to shift my perspective and realize: I am here, right now, breath-filled and conscious and capable of so much. As my friends and I walked out of the cemetery, I took comfort in their singsong voices echoing in the open twilight sky. I also noticed a pigeon’s glowing red feet, the cemetery security guard’s half-smile, and the first fireflies brave enough to shine their lanterns and welcome the night.

Complete Article HERE!

Despite advance directive, Oregon dementia patient denied last wish, says spouse

Nora Harris, 64, a former librarian, signed an advance directive after her diagnosis to prevent her life from being prolonged when her disease got worse. Now, her husband said, she’s being kept alive with assisted eating and drinking against her stated wishes.

Bill Harris walks with his wife, Nora, at the Fern Gardens memory care center in Medford, Oregon. Nora Harris, 64, has late-stage Alzheimer’s disease. A former librarian and world traveler, she had signed an advance directive stipulating no care to prolong her life. Controversy has arisen over her husband’s claim that state law is forcing her to be spoon-fed against her stated wishes.

By

[B]ill Harris is blunt: For more than a year, he has been trying to help his wife die.

The 75-year-old retired tech worker says it’s his duty to Nora Harris, his spouse of nearly four decades, who was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease in 2009.

“Let me be honest: Yes. It’s what she wanted,” he said. “I want her to pass. I want her to end her suffering.”

Nora Harris, 64, a former librarian, signed an advance directive after her diagnosis to prevent her life from being prolonged when her disease got worse. Now, her husband said, she’s being kept alive with assisted eating and drinking against her stated wishes.

The onetime Virginia Woolf scholar and world traveler can no longer communicate, recognize family members or feed herself. She’s being spoon-fed at Fern Gardens, an assisted-living center in southern Oregon, after a local judge ruled against Bill Harris last summer, concluding that state law mandates that she continue to receive help.

“She did not want to be in a position where somebody had to totally take care of her,” Bill Harris said. “When nature, through the disease, basically said, ‘I can’t feed myself,’ Nora’s position was, that’s it. Let nature take its course.”

In recent weeks, Nora Harris has been gaining weight, climbing from less than 100 pounds to 102 or 103 — just enough to keep her stable. Bill Harris learned that, in addition to three state-required daily meals, staffers have been feeding Nora optional snacks, too.

Now he’s considering going back to court to try to stop the snacks in an effort to let Nora Harris lose enough weight to end her life. Twice before, in 2015 and 2016, she fell to 90 pounds and was enrolled in hospice, with six months or less to live, only to rebound, he said, when staffers coaxed her to eat.

“You’re denying Nora the right to die on her terms,” Bill Harris said. “It’s not a right-to-life issue, it’s a right-to-die issue.”

The southern Oregon case underscores the complexity surrounding the use of advance directives for people with Alzheimer’s disease and other dementias.

Bill and Nora Harris met at the San Francisco War Memorial Opera House in the early 1970s and launched a four-decade marriage that included world travel. Nora Harris was a librarian and a Virginia Woolf scholar who told family and friends she never wanted to be utterly dependent on others for care.

Advance directives are legal documents that spell out a person’s end-of-life wishes if they are unable to make their own decisions.

These directives generally allow named agents the power to withdraw artificial hydration and nutrition in the form of feeding tubes, for instance. But when that same nourishment is offered by hand, several states, including Oregon, draw a line, said Thaddeus Mason Pope, director of the Health Law Institute at Hamline University in St. Paul, Minnesota, and an expert on end-of-life law.

Across the U.S., the more than 5 million people living with dementia are typically encouraged to put their end-of-life wishes into writing early and to pick a trusted person to carry them out, said Beth Kallmyer, vice president of constituent services for the Alzheimer’s Association.

That’s no guarantee, however, that those requests can — or will — be honored. In Nora Harris’ court case, her advance directive and testimony from her husband, her daughter and two close friends all indicated that she wouldn’t want anything to prolong her life.

“That court decision basically condemned Nora to the full extent of the Alzheimer’s disease,” Bill Harris said. “They gave her no exit out of this situation.”

But Eric Foster, the court-appointed lawyer who represented Nora Harris, argued that her directive doesn’t specifically mention food and drink presented by hand. Because she now opens her mouth and swallows when food is offered, she has, in essence, changed her mind, he said in a court document.

Bill Harris said that opening her mouth is a reflex, an automatic response to six decades of habit.

Kallmyer, with the Alzheimer’s Association, said it’s hard to tell whether someone with dementia is acting out of reflex or desire. The association recommends against tube-feeding for patients with dementia, while also advising what they call “careful hand-feeding.”

“If they’re eating and they’re opening their mouth, it’s difficult to say they didn’t want it,” she said.

Foster’s stance was backed by a judge who sympathized with Bill Harris’ plight, but sided with Fred Steele, Oregon’s ombudsman on long-term care. Steele said Nora Harris’ advance directive wasn’t specific enough to advise Fern Gardens staff to withhold food and water.

“Our concern was just focused on the administrative rule,” he said. “If the rule exists to prevent a facility from committing elder abuse, our focus was on what the rule required. The rule requires the resident be cued with food and they have the choice of eating or not eating.”

Lynn Rawlins, the center’s administrator, said her hands are tied.

“We have to feed them until they stop opening their mouths,” she said before a tour of the center last month. “Unless feeding them causes more harm from aspirational pneumonia or a choking factor. We still have to feed them, even if they choke.”

Nora Harris is a small woman with graying brown hair and dark, confused eyes. On a recent 88-degree summer afternoon, she wore a maroon fleece sweater, gray sweatpants and mismatched socks.

She spoke in urgent whispers, syllables spilling out, unlinked from words.

Bill Harris put an arm around her shoulders reassuringly.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Of course.”

But he added later: “It’s difficult visiting her, especially when you know what Nora was like before.”

That’s the thorny issue at the heart of advance directives for people who lose the capacity to make their own decisions, said Pope.

If Nora Harris were aware enough to refuse food, instead of passively accepting it, there would be no question.

“Do we listen to the previous Nora or to the current Nora?” Pope said. “That is, unfortunately, not legally or ethically answered well.”

A bill introduced in the Oregon Legislature last year would have allowed an appointed committee to amend the state’s advance-directive form. Critics, including Oregon Right to Life, an advocacy group, opposed the effort, arguing that it paved the way for mistreatment of vulnerable people, including dementia patients like Nora Harris.

“OR legislators move to allow starving, dehydrating the mentally ill,” one headline read. The bill passed the state Senate, but failed to advance.

Nora Harris’ situation also raises issues surrounding a controversial method of hastening death for seriously ill people known as “voluntarily stopping eating and drinking,” or VSED. It causes death through dehydration, usually in seven to 14 days.

VSED is being used by a small but growing number of determined patients with the help of their families, Pope said.

In Washington state, board members at End of Life Washington, a nonprofit that supports medical aid-in-dying, created an advance directive focused on people with dementia. Soon the group plans to release a new form for people who want to leave instructions for stopping eating and drinking at the end of life.

Medical experts say VSED can be a relatively painless, peaceful death. In the absence of nutrition and hydration, the body produces opiate-like substances that blunt hunger and thirst. With additional painkillers, comfort can be ensured, they add.

An analysis of VSED research concluded that “terminally ill patients dying of dehydration or starvation do not suffer if adequate palliative care is provided.” A 2003 survey of nurses in Oregon who helped more than 100 patients with VSED deaths said they were “good” deaths, with a median score of eight on a nine-point scale.

Unlike aid-in-dying laws or rulings now in place in six states, VSED doesn’t require a government mandate or doctor’s authorization.

But the question of whether people with dementia can authorize a VSED death in advance, to be enacted later, when they’ve lost the capacity to choose, remains legally uncertain, Pope said.

“We don’t have statutes, we don’t have regulations, we don’t have a court case,” Pope said. “We have this thing where you’re allowed to refuse medical care. But this is basic care. Are you allowed to refuse basic care?”

For now, the answer in the case of Nora Harris is no.

That’s frustrating for Bill Harris, who says the emotional — and financial — toll of her illness has been enormous.

“The person you know, the person you married, who you love, is basically going away, fading away before your eyes,” he said.

He had planned to retire from his job at Wells Fargo Bank at age 67 but worked an extra eight years to pay for the costs of Nora’s care, which total more than $80,000 out-of-pocket each year. Because she fell ill at age 56, she didn’t qualify for Medicare or other government help.

Worse, though, is seeing his once “extremely bright” wife wandering the halls of the assisted-living center, “like a zombie,” he said.

“Nora was quite enamored of Virginia Woolf,” Bill Harris said, referencing the British author who drowned herself after years of mental illness.

“If she had known this would happen, she would have put rocks in her pockets and jumped in the river. This is absolutely where she never wanted to be.”

Complete Article HERE!

Dying a good death: How to prepare yourself and others for the end of your life

Like it or not, death is the inevitable conclusion of all our lives. Although it’s a normal, natural process, it isn’t an easy or straightforward thing to deal with.

[W]hile we can’t stop death, there are things we can do.

Talk about death

If you find it too difficult to talk to family and friends about death, you could always try talking to complete strangers over coffee and cake.

At a Death Café, people who’ve never met before come together to discuss the end of life.

The idea began with an art exhibition held by Swiss sociologist Bernard Crettaz in 2004, but became a global phenomenon when Jon Underwood began hosting events in London in 2011.

Dr Naomi Richards from the University of Glasgow is researching the phenomenon and has found that participants are able to sympathetically engage with each other’s thoughts and experiences on death and dying.

But Death Cafés are not the only option.

Some people hire a ‘death doula’ to assist them through this part of life. The assistance they provide varies greatly, from talking about death through to assisting them at their bedside.

Make decisions about treatment

Dr Euan Paterson, a retired GP and palliative care specialist, says improved medical technology has created an issue for doctors treating dying patients.

“It’s much harder not to do something than to try and do it. We’ve got generations of doctors, me included, who have been weaned on the idea that we can fix everything.”

“The desire to constantly offer things, constantly treat, constantly improve, constantly resurrect is very hard to let get go.”

But extension of life may come at cost of quality of life.

Linda Tierney was diagnosed with terminal cancer and told she wasn’t likely to live more than a year.

She decided not to have further treatment as she felt the side effects would be too great.

Another area where patients can make decisions ahead of time is about what to do in the event of our heart stopping.

In Scotland, a system called eKIS is used by hospitals, GPs and ambulance staff. Through this, we can record if we do not wish to be resuscitated.

In Cradle to Grave, Dr Dan Beckett explained the crucial difference between a cardiac arrest and natural dying.

While a cardiac arrest might be reversible through cardiopulmonary resuscitation, better known as CPR, in the case of natural death the heart stops because the body itself is dying.

Plan your funeral

Linda has played an active role in organising her own funeral, with the help of her son and a Marie Curie nurse.

One of the first things I asked was who’s going to do my hair? Who’s going to do my make up? And the girl at the funeral home: she thought this was amazing.

“She said ‘I am. I’ve been doing this job for 17 years and I can assure you you’re going to look the best you’ve ever looked!’

“Everything is done. Music done. Ministers been told what songs are being played. What readings I want. Everything has been sorted.”

Sort out your will

Hilary Peppiette is a solicitor who is also training to become a death doula.

She says making a will is one of the best ways to make things easier for your family after your death.

“Primarily in your will you appoint executor to deal with your estate after your death, to make sure your wishes are carried out.”

“You decide who is going to benefit from your estate after your death. It is very important to put it down in writing to make sure that the people you want to be provided for are provided for.”

“It doesn’t always happen automatically the way that people sometimes think it sometimes it will. Even if you feel you have nothing to leave, you don’t have very much in the way of assets, it’s very important to write down what you want to happen.”

Complete Article HERE!

Why teens need to understand care plans for dying parents

By Lisa Rapaport

[W]hen children lose a parent during adolescence, their mental health as young adults may depend on how comfortable they were with the treatment and support provided at the end of their parents’ lives, a recent study suggests.

To understand the lasting psychological impact of the death of a parent during adolescence, researchers surveyed young adults who had lost a parent to cancer six to nine years earlier, when they were 13 to 16 years old.

Overall, 105 of the 593 young adults (18%) said they had little or no trust in the care provided during the final week of the parent’s life.

Compared to the participants who were satisfied with the final week of care, those who were unhappy were more than twice as likely to suffer from mental health issues like depression, anxiety and eating disorders, researchers report in the Journal of Clinical Oncology, online August 8.

“We already knew that children who have lost a parent are at risk for long-term psychological challenges including depression, risk of suicide, and risk of self-injury,” said Dr. Jennifer Mack, a researcher at Harvard Medical School and Dana-Farber/Boston Children’s Cancer and Blood Disorders Center.

“However, a link to trust in the medical providers of the parent was not previously understood,” Mack, who wasn’t involved in the study, said by email. “This is important because it offers a potential path forward to greater resilience and healing after a parent’s death for young people who experience this type of profound loss.”

The current study focuses not on how teens felt when their parent was dying, or immediately afterwards, noted lead study author Kim Beernaert of the End-of-Life Research Group at Vrije University Brussels and Ghent University.

Instead, it looks at how they feel after several years have passed, Beernaert said by email.

Young people who had little or no trust in the care parents received at the end of life were at least twice as likely to report still feeling bitter toward health providers for failing to make the correct initial diagnosis, stopping or never starting treatment, or not doing everything possible for the parent, the study found.

The mistrustful young adults were also more likely to still want more information about the parent’s disease, treatment decisions, and death.

The study wasn’t a controlled experiment designed to prove whether or how teens’ experiences during a dying parents’ final days influence mental health later in life.

Another limitation is the potential for factors not examined in the study to impact mental health for these young adults, as well as the potential for teens with psychological problems to be less trustful of medical providers than adolescents without mental health issues, the researchers note.

Still, the results highlight the importance of providing age-appropriate support and grief counseling to children and teens during a parents’ final weeks or months of life, said Dr. Amos Bailey, a palliative care researcher at University of Colorado Medicine in Aurora.

Resources tailored to young people are often lacking outside pediatric hospitals, Bailey, who wasn’t involved in the study, said by email.

“What is at stake for bereaved families is the potential for lifelong mental health problems that are probably more socially significant for a teenager (who) will live with this grief for 60 or more years as opposed to a widow who may outlive her husband by 3-5 years,” Bailey said.

Complete Article HERE!