Mother Earth still Whispers

    My son carved eight Mother Earth Icons in yellow cedar which he and his wife set around their float home and employed as fertility symbols: cute, intimate, loving, longing, welcoming.  

     Soon, he and his wife were celebrating the long waited pregnancy.  He gave those icons to friends, one to me.
     Six week after their daughter was born, David climbed to repair a friend's roof-top solar collector, to charge another friends' boat battery.  The rope securing the 'permanent ladder' failed.  Surprise, strong, agile, safety conscious David fell three stories and hit his head on a big beach rock below.  He didn't die instantly, a friend on a beach walk found him and just held him.  His wife and a friend carried him by small boat to the nearest hospital.  They all knew he was gone though his strong body still lived.
     We will all fall, fall in some way or other and meet our end.  David fell while helping friends, friends were so important to him.  I believe helping friends is a good way to end, being with and for friends is a good way to live.  I and his friends miss him so much.  We all should be so fortunate to fall while helping friends!

     In my shock, grief, anger and depression following my sons loss and following the B.C. organ donation fiasco, I samples a variety of bereavement activities, including carving soapstone Mother Earth icons.  I employed one icon to mark his ashes which we scattered around an ancient cedar tree near his 'Floating House', along the Canadian B.C. coast.

     Soapstone is made of windblown dust from glaciers grinding rocks against mountain. Dust carried by  streams, to settle into beds of lake sediment, which time fuses into seams of soapstone, later broken into rocks by earth forces and road building.  People pick up these soft sedimentary rocks, carve them making more dust to blow in the wind who knows, maybe to return to sedimentary rock.

     Carving is a soothing and meditative activity. I carved many imperfect Mother Earth icons and found myself healing.  
     Now I see the milk engorged, ever pregnant, faceless Mother Earth is also an inspiration to adapt, to continue the purposes of nurturing life. 
     Big fat Mother Earth is too encumbered to attend to all her needs, she also needs care and nurture from partner, family and community. She is strong and giving but also fragile; one fall can send her back to dust.

     I found carving Mother Earth figures eroded some of my grief as I started to listen to her quiet messages about dust, ashes, life, friends, form, adaptation and nurture.
     Many imperfect, faceless pregnant women standing together become a potent spectacle for me. I placed my  sculptures in a semi-circle facing an incense holding soapstone rock. In dim light the spectacle suggests a stone gge campfire. A little candle burns quickly and then sets flame to the incense cone. The burning cone absorbs some candle wax and the flame goes high for a few minutes, then out, but continues to smoke. The soapstone base insulates against flame and heat.

     Perhaps the Mother Earth Icon from our Stone Age heritage is just an ancient fertility symbol from our prehistoric past that I simply used to meditate.  But my experience is she whispered to me about faceless ongoing, timeless, parent and social purposes.  

     A little like the Velveteen Rabbit, Mother Earth represents the beauty of the well used, worn, tested, loved and loving.  Mother Earth is timeless, wise, giving parent, Venus is the apprentice.
     Find a piece of soapstone, set it on a shelf to wait as as a potential healing activity.  Perhaps you will carve  something you can hear whisper.

How does a parent deal with their child's death?

My answer: Probably Badly

This is my first draft.

Who anticipates such a thing?
Even though I had been in a very bad car accident years previously and thought I would die and believed I had come to terms with death, maybe my eventual death, I never really anticipated one of my children dieing before me.

Where are the handbooks, articles, letters, and quotes?
My experience with my parents deaths and Church Ministers and funerals was dismal, no comfort, mostly an opportunity for ministers to recruit and people to feel awkward.

What would qualify someone to author such a handbook?
Which author, who has had a child die, feels they have some insight? And why do they think they have insight.
Here is an short article on death of a child.
http://www.griefworksbc.com/inc/DeathofaChild.asp
A short article on male grief.
http://www.griefworksbc.com/inc/FathersGrief.asp
A very short article on accidental, murder or sucide grief.
http://www.griefworksbc.com/inc/ComplicatedGrief.asp


Around 1982 I wrote an article about how to comfort a hurt child. See my article at http://www.ehow.com/how_2027316_comfort-hurt-child.html .
I made no claim to know how to comfort a parent about the loss of their child, nor how to cope day to day with such a loss.

Some things that seem important to me now, four years later, in no particular order.
1. Talk about it. If you cannot find a partner, relative, friend who you can talk about it with, find a counselor.
2. Cry when you will and can, stop crying when you need to. Loosing your composure is OK, good thing to loose now and then. Too much composure stuffs your brain.
3. Find or create ceremonies of remembrance that mean something to you.
4. Sample, be open to various bereavement activities that people do or have done.
5. Accept condolences as given to you. They are doing the best they can.
6. Take time to work through your feelings. Be with your self. Write about it.
7. Don't make major decisions for a long time.
8. You are vulnerable and there are people who will take advantage of you.
9. Learning some of the worse things that happen to our children.
10.Accepting and honoring the gift of my child's life.

Surprises that helped!
1. Friends who looked after immediate funeral, memorial, personal arrangements.
The Year Later Rememberence Activities at the 'Bay'.
a. Viking funeral, old kayak burned with the outgoing tide at night, sitting beside the boat for hours before with some ashes, photos, mementos.
The children's honour guard on the beach holding ballon swords, the kind of thing David would have made and played with them with.
b. Aboriginal ceremony of Burning food and saying some words in a group of friends.
c. Placing my son's ashes under a big cedar tree where each mourner took a turn placing a spoon of ashes and shared a moment of silence.
d. The breakfast morning with a friend who shared his cabin with my son and I before the Year Later ceremony.
3. An Korean ESL student of mine who took my hand in both of hers, looked me in the eyes and said "I so sorry,
4. A weekly men's berievment group.
5. Carving soapstone images of my sons 'Mother Earth' design.
6. Talking and writing about my feelings.
7. Taking as much time as I need to accept things will never be the same.

Diary details re David's organ donation

Our family donated our son's organs, David Casey Undem, who died July 21, 2004.

I have added some details. I needed to find and keep all the details, it has taken me years to learn the details, I need to know the details, as hard as they have been for some people to talk about them. Some of this letter is posted at
Http://www.griefworksbc.com/DavidUndem/asp I have also edited the letter for clarity, something the Web site would not allow me to do.

My son, David Undem, was left brain dead from a fall off a roof on July 21, 2004. The rope attaching the permanent roof ladder he was climbing on failed. He and the ladder fell two and a half stories. He hit the back of his head on a beach boulder at Storm Bay, Seashelt Inlet, BC. Two Medical Doctors visiting nearby cabins attended almost immediately. David was found by a friend who told me he picked David up and cradeled his friend David in his arms, it was apparent to him that David would not recover.

Airlift evacuation to hospital was not available. David’s wife and a friend took David took David by small boat to the Seashelt Hospital. She said it was also apparent to her that David would never recover. Seashelt hospital placed David on life support and flew him to Vancouver General Hospital which deals with organ donation.

After coming home from Positively Speaking Toastmasters Club meeting I got a phone call from Davids mother say that there had been a very bad accident and David was being flown into Vancouver General Hospital, come. Mother, father, wife and six week old daughter and several friends met at the hospital Emergency Ward. One friend worked part time at the hospital as a counselor.

Just after midnight July 22, 2004, Vancouver neurologist, Dr. Ho, confirmed his prognosis with the results of a brain scan. Operating to relieve the pressure would be useless. David would never recover from the brain injury as a result of concussion, swelling and bleeding within the skull. Dr. Ho speculated that my son would have been brain dead within minutes of his fall and there was nothing any doctor could have done to save him, even if the accident happened outside the Vancouver General Hospital. Dr. Ho said David would likely never open his eyes again or understand anything. Dr. Ho then asked the family to consider organ donation. Dr. Ho posed the choice between harvesting David's healthy organs for transplant or having the brain dead body linger and eventually die but the organs would have deteriorated and consequently not usable for transplant. My son Mike ran out of the Emergency ward howling and I followed to be with him on the curb of a street in a residential apartment zone.

In previous years, David and I had talked about organ donation. I have been the victim of a life threatening car accident. I am a driver's license registered organ donor. I knew my son's undocumented personal opinion: "Yes." David would want to have his organs used to help others live a better life as was my wish for myself. He would want to receive an organ if he needed such a transplant himself. Contributing organs is not a gift, it is the responsibility of a pact, a two-way street, not just to receive but also to contribute. Recieving an organ should not be like winning a lottery prize you do not have to buy a ticket for. You pay for the chance of using someone elses organ by paying for the lottery ticket, by being willing to donate the organs you do not need if you die.

I led our family's discussion in recommending his organs be harvested. I also knew my son's "No" opinion about continuing life support to a brain dead body: "No" to the lingering suffering for the body; "No" to the lingering emotional suffering for the family; "No" to the pointless expense to our BC Medical system. Hospital beds and staff are in great need of people who can recover. I have a long-suffering friend whose partner lingered for years. Recently another friend died in a BC emergency ward. His wife claimed his heart attack received inadequate attention from the overburdened staff. My son's wife, brother, mother and my self chose to have his healthy organs "harvested" to fill a great need in six or seven people's lives.

The doctors took his organs later that evening, around 11pm, July 22, which I suppose is his official date of his death. The last I saw my warm breathing son was in the early morning hours of July 22, 2004, around 4 am. I got to sit with him for about 15 minuites. The intensive care ward staff wanted us out. There was confussion that a monitor recorded a brain revival and a male nurse made some strange comments which were revoked. My wife and I had a teenage girl alone at home and we needed to drive back and look after her.

My son David just looked as if he were just sleeping on a hospital bed. How do you say, "Good bye Forever," to your sleeping son while he waits for the organ harvest? You must have full belief that your doctors are competent and have told you the truth. I did. I found only meek courage because bravery has fled. I moved slowly along this painful path drawing from the depths of exhausted self control. Along my path of saying good bye, I had to learn how to hospital-scrub my hands before I could touch my son. Then I held one warm, strong, hairy knee with one hospital-clean hand and my son's warm, capable hand with my other hand.

Together, we struggled with disbelief to say, "good bye," and part of me still would not believe it. I could say the words well by knowing we had talked together about so many things, organ donation included. I found some comfort reviewing with my son that some of his organs will give life to other people. How do you leave your son's side before he is wheeled to the organ harvester?

I left a little further along my path of shock, acceptance, disbelief and grief. I left the room in need of the care of the grieving people around me and the hospital staff and hospital system. Can a parent really believe their son is suddenly brain dead or comprehend what is happening? A few hours ago he was a strong man, a new father, a good neighbor helping a neighbor. Part of me could and part of me could not believe, often still cannot believe it.

Later the next day our family and friends were told David's organs were harvested and would be used to help maybe seven people on the organ transplant waiting list. We were told his heart had deteriorated as a result of the severe brain injury and could not be transplanted.

I did the responsible thing but the BC Cornor, Medical system andVGH did not allowing me to view my son's remains. I needed to see my dead son's body, I was in part denying my son was dead. But the coroner's office said No and I was not able to deal with the situation with the burocracy. I needed to spend some time with my son's dead body. I asked to see my dead son's remains.

Hours earlier he just seemed asleep on a hospital bed. I needed to know he was dead. Does this sound unusual, weird, untoward or unfamiliar to hospital management, apparently to the Coroner's Office? A family friend who grieved with us that night asked VGH on my behalf, that I be allowed to see my son's remains. She also happened to work as a counseling psychologist at VGH. She knew who and how to ask. She returned with the message that the VGH Morgue would not let me view my son's remains - something about a lack of staff. (I now have a letter from VGH patient relations saying the Coroner declined my request).

I was in too much shock to demand, bargain or fight for what I needed. I would have to wait five days until the body was received at the Funeral Home before I could cry over my son's body.What does it take for a parent to spend the time he needs with his child's dead body? I needed to cry, to talk to him and that is not crazy or unusual. Maybe I should have sounded crazy and threatened to stop the organ donation.

Maybe threatening to withhold one eyeball would have let me see my dead son. I needed to grieve over my son's dead body. That is not strange. What is almost unspeakably strange is the Coroner denying a parent viewing their child's last remains. I told my family doctor about this incident. He phoned VGH and was told it was not VGH policy to deny such visits. For me, our BC Medicare organ donation system is broken. I can no longer recommend anyone be part of donating organs until the system is fixed. The Coroner and VGH did not allow me to grieve over my dead son's body after his organs were harvested.

I am a driver's license, registered organ donor who led our family's decision to have David Undem's organs donated, but the organ donation system is seriously flawed and needs to be fixed or potential donors advised of the ramifications of their decision. It is my further responsibility to get this system fixed or advise potential organ donors of the consequences of their "gift".
Submitted by: Sterling Grant Undem

I went into depression and I sought both client centered and psychriatic counselling. As a result of that counselling I understand that I needed to spend time with my brain dead son before he went to the organ harvesters. The hospital system steered me away from doing that. I was never offered the opportunity and I can understand dealing with a shocked grief striken parent may be difficult and involve a specially trained staff member the hospital system does not have. There were many hours my son lay alone before his organs were taken near midnight on July 22. How I regret my decision to donate his organs, I wish I had said No and I had stayed with him until he died.

I understand current hospital policy is the next of kin or designate has to take away life support for a brain dead person. I got to spend some of those hours symbolically a year latter during a home grown ceremoney his wife Kim created, David had told her he wanted a viking burial ceremony if he should ever die first. She patched up an old plywood kyack, filled it with rock and firewood, set the bones from his askes in a jar, arranged the old dreadlocks he had cut off a few years ago, added some of his art and tools and in the evening it was waiting for the outgoing tide at 11 pm. I sat with the kyack on the beach waiting for the tide, I sat for hours. Around 11 pm the tide started going out, an honour guard of children holding viking balloon swords led the farewell honours. Three canoes accompanied the burning viking burial kyack and followed its drift across the bay. The fames died out an hour later, my son Micheal told me they had to sink the boat that wouldn't sink. After these ceremonies my depression lifted significantly. I got to spend the time I needed to say goodby. Oh other ceremonies too, I want to tell you about. Please overlook my mis-spelling, spelling in a creative dyslixic way has been a lifelong passion and art form for me.