How Stories Help You Bring Comfort to Your Children During Scary Times.

My Dad was dying. 

I was devastated and I knew my children aged 3 and 5, would be too. 

I realized I needed to tell them what was happening and give them opportunities to ask questions. But I didn't feel I had the language  to explain to them in a way that would be meaningful, honest and age appropriate. 

As a matter of course, when my boys were small, we read together every night and this was a familiar ritual and a comforting time at the end of the day.

I love books and as a parent and educator, I know that appropriate stories are a great vehicle for introducing new ideas to children  and for calming their fears.

How to Talk to Your Kids About Violent Death & Terrorism

The murders of three innocent teenage boys, captured at a bus stop in Israel, have brought the country to a standstill. Jewish people around the world are united in grief. 

 We are at a loss for words that this is the outcome. Many of us, together with our children, have kept vigil for 18 days, hoping and praying Eyal, Gilad and Naftali would come home alive. 

Now our fears have been realized, what do we do with all that pain, fear, anger and confusion? 

We have so many questions.

These are legitimate feelings and they need to be validated.
There are no bad or inappropriate feelings.

As we process our grief, we also need to consider our children, who are watching and learning from our responses. 

They will be listening to our conversations with other adults and learning about how we respond to bad news. 

Here are some things to remember:-

Remembering Debra 1964-2014

(You can listen to this post by clicking the arrow above)

A childhood friend died today, in London.

Debra had beautiful chestnut hair that always smelled FLEX-shampoo fresh, a lovely smile and a wicked sense of humor.

She had been fighting breast cancer for 18 years and she was only 49. She leaves behind, her husband and two children, her parents and sisters, their families and many, many friends.

The crowd of us who met up every weekend as teenagers, are scattered across the globe as adults. 

We may not have seen Debra recently or kept in touch, but Debra was part of the fabric of our social life then and her untimely passing, rips a hole in us now.

On Friendship, Death and Bear Hugs

Due to a sick son and work-away husband, I have spent a lot of time at home over  the last few days and have been able to catch up on 7 episodes of Grey's Anatomy, back to back.

There is something delicious about watching one of your favorite shows, episode after episode, wrapped in a warm blanket, steaming hot tea in hand, skipping the ads and not having to wait a week to know what happens next. It's even better watching with a friend!

I don't just watch it for McDreamy. I'm very fond of many of the characters, having been a lifer since the series began (10 years ago!) and I have to admit I shed a few tears over my 7 episode marathon. 

I was not looking for deep messages whilst I was watching, but there is one theme that resonates over and over, through the seasons.

Comforting Without Words:The Power of Touch

In 1998 when my father was dying in a hospital in London, we all tiptoed round him, sat close, but not too close and observed him drifting in and out of sleep. 

Benjy, my first-born, who was five years old at the time, came into my father's room to say goodbye. He walked to the end of my father's bed  and in a clear voice asked him very simply, 

The Guide to Thriving Beyond the Crises in your Life: 4 Effective Steps

It's not just tea that revives you

As a spouse, parent and caregiver I have been on hyper-alert for 5 years.

Why?

It’s because my family is very good at having serious medical conditions with unpronounceable names.

My husband was first diagnosed with trigeminal neuralgia in 2008. And if trigeminal neuralgia wasn’t difficult enough to say and remember, in 2009, our oldest son Benjy won the prize. 

He was diagnosed with a heart condition called Wolff Parkinson White with supraventricular tachycardia. (Try saying that a few times, very quickly.) This condition is sometimes connected with sudden death. Benjy's version of this syndrome meant that he needed two heart surgeries, between January and April  2010. 

My husband had invasive brain surgery ( MVD) for his trigeminal neuralgia in 2011. You can see why I might live on high alert!

Living on hyper-alert puts you in survival mode. You are either waiting for a symptom to show itself, in the midst of an attack, or recovering from the fallout:

Why Routine Brings Comfort

We had a particularly challenging week, a few years ago when my husband's parents were staying with us. 

My mother-in-law knocked on our door at 3.00 am because a pipe that had burst from the basement toilet, emitted tens of gallons of water directly into the basement bedroom where my parents-in-law were sleeping. My father-in-law in trying to wade into the bathroom and turn off the water, slipped and hurt his arm and the basement was floating in debris. 

5 Ways to Bring Comfort in Times of Illness or Distress.

  

Aida

We all want to help people in times of illness or distress. Often it is very difficult to know WHAT to do in these situations, even though we would love to bring comfort to people we care about.

Twelve years ago when we came from Hong Kong to live in the USA, we were very lucky that Aida our Filipino housekeeper came with us.

Memories Not For Sale

My friend’s father died 6 months ago. Sara* and her husband came back from Paris where they were living and working, to spend his last few months with him and have lived in his large rambling house ever since. It was a hard decision to sell the property and all its eclectic belongings and now she is in the midst of a huge estate sale with the house itself having sold in just a few days.

I went to visit Sara yesterday and her emotions were palpable. She stood alone, surrounded by strangers who were poking and shuffling through her father’s shoes and shirts, opening up his closets and sitting on his peach leather couch.