The day of reawakening

There comes a day every year when everything starts over.  That perfect, one in 365 day, when you know the winter is behind you and spring is coming and life is good. 

Let me tell you about my day.  First today is Sunday, so I got to sleep in a little bit and actually did for a change.  Rolled out of bed about 8:30.  Booted up the computer, read my email, checked FB, read PostSecret (a Sunday morning ritual since Michaela died...something I do for her), did some picking up around the house and other small light chores, listened to the hubby fussing around in the kitchen, ate blueberry pancakes and bacon (yum), had multiple miscommunications with said hubby (he was mumbling, can't be my hearing), loaded up our bikes and headed out.



It's safe...really.

 Yesterday Karen and I had scouted out a new bike path to try.  Today, the three of us took off with the bikes for the first time since Thanksgiving morning.  Apparently I, alone among us, is in much worse shape than I was in November.  Admittedly, Bill has been working out 4 or 5 days a week and Karen has lost some weight (due to stress, sadly) since that time, while I am the same weight, only fatter.  But anyway, we put ourselves right in the middle of Redneck/Cracker country (depending on where you're from, you should be familiar with those terms) on bikes in the middle of Wild Boar hunting season.  Perhaps not the best choice, but since most of the hunters seemed to be on bikes or in Airboats, it was probably fairly safe.



Weird Green Water

 As is usually the case, Karen and I set off in tandem in the front, with Bill riding a good distance behind, like a movie star's body guard.  And that is mostly how we rode for the next 16 miles, with Karen and I chatting quietly and Bill making sure we survived yet another ill advised adventure.  There were a few exceptions, when we approached unknown people, Bill seemed to find his way closer to us and occasionally even in front of us.  And when I went off road and climbed off my bike, I just got a hollar from behind...ok, we ain't saving your ass now! ....that was from Karen, although I should point out that 2 minutes later she was right beside me checking out the green water; there is a reason she is my chosen sister, something that I won't have to explain to anyone who has one.  P.S....you have to adopt the language of the culture you immerse yourself in, and we were fully in character today!  The only scary part was when 3 big gators, who apparently didn't see us, suddenly saw us and jumped into action...I almost peed my pants, but of course they just turned and got in the water to hide from us.


We Ain't Saving Your Ass

 At the 8.5 mile mark we had to turn around, a fact I knew, but apparently forgot to share.  We found a different trail back, one that was seriously in hunter country, but also was through the middle of what had obviously been a recent wildfire.  It was ravished, but oddly beautiful.  7 miles back on a grass trail before we hit the gravel again.  Along the way we did encounter hunters.  Mostly young boys on bikes with dogs.  One group had their Boar and were just sitting in the shade enjoying the day.  We joked as we approached, before we saw the Pig, that we hoped it was a BBQ stand because we were starving.  But once we saw the Pig, it clearly wasn't open for business yet, so we pedalled on. 

At the end of the trail, sore and hot and tired, we loaded up our bikes and took off to get some lunch.  Yesterday we had also found a Fish Camp (this is common in FL, although not something I had ever seen anywhere else much).  So we, Karen and I, wanted to got there, despite Bill's reluctance (there will be a future blog about Fish Camp Etiquette).  


The cops.

 At the fish camp we ordered a beer and one to be kept in the fridge for us, fried gator, fried chicken, and burgers then took our order that showed 'paid' outside to the little trailer where they actually cooked the food.  Found a picnic table in the sun and waited for the cook with the very big voice to call our names.  When the first beer was done, I went to get the second, but the lady who had put them in the fridge for us was nowhere in sight.  I just held up my empties and said, 'she was holding two of these in the fridge for us.'  No questions asked...its that kind of place. We sat and watched the airboats come and go, including a Brevard Country Sheriff's department air boat!  We soaked up some sun and some beer, complained about our aching legs, and just relaxed together and it was all good. 


Life.

 But of course, life is never all good.  This little break for us came while we have a friend recently out of the hospital after nearly dying recuperating at Karen's house and Karen's brother seriously ill in Texas.  Much of our talk today was about when she would leave for Texas and how we were going to do it, but of course, as life goes, we just don't know yet.  There isn't enough information to make those decisions.  So we put them aside and just relaxed for a few hours. 

When we got home, I was greeted with the happy news that my son is ranked in his college conference for the triple jump.  Don't know what that is?  No worries, neither did I, but apparently David is quite good at it.  He started his senior year in HS and got a scholarship for it. 


Then we poured a drink, got out books and headed out for some backyard (almost) naked sunning.  Yes, I know, sun causes skin cancer.  I doubt I'll get it, nobody in my sun loving family ever has.  But the health benefit of letting that sun soak into your bones can't possibly be denied.  Not the hot summer sun, but the warm spring sun that you can just enjoy for hours without overheating.  It soaks every care out of your body. 

There are a lot of people who think Florida doesn't have seasons and that is just not true.  We have seasons just like most of the rest of the world.  We are blessed that our winters are short (and mild) and our summers are short (and hot) and the between time is very, very beautiful (most years).  But we winter, just like the rest of you do.  We get cold and frosty and we have to change our habits and our wardrobes. 

But every year, usually in February, but sometimes earlier and sometimes later, comes that day.  That day of reawakening. I think it comes for everyone.  Today was that day for me.  I am blessed.

25 things about Michaela, by Michaela

Now that FB has restored parts of Michaela's page I have access to so many things that she wrote and thought about.  In Feb 2009, a FB quiz thing went around where you were supposed to write 25 things about yourself that other people didn't know. This is what Michaela wrote:

OKay so I guess I'll do this thing.

1. I love self deprecating humor but I HATE it when I say something mean about myself and people are like, "Oh, no you're not...." and I 'm just thinking to myself, "I don't really think that, it is all in the name of humor, I can say it because I'm confident."

2. I'm technologically challenged. In a big way.

3. I'm scared that when I'm out on my own and my Mom isn't helping me with stuff, I'm not going to know how to do anything on my own.

4. I am a compulsive list maker.

5. I have a lot of clothing, way too much, but I wear every single thing I own. :-)

6. Sometimes I believe in God, sometimes I don't, but I pick my default answer as I don't because it just seems wrong to say that I do when sometimes....I don't.

7. I witnessed a really bad motorcycle accident and watched a woman die and felt nothing.

8. I have stinky feet. :-)

9. I can make a 3 leaf clover with my tongue.

10. I enjoy cleaning things (car, room, dishes) It's an instant gratification fix.

11. I think I do too many things to please my Mom. But I don't feel too bad about it because she did birth me. I owe her something. ;-)

12. I fear what others think of me, but don't let that fear control me, and definitely don't care once I do know what they think of me.

13. I definitely feel socially awkward around lots of people.

14. I don't feel sexy or feminine in any way.

15. I love deep and controversial conversation especially when it's littered with humor.

16. I have a lot more friends outside of Florida than I do in Florida.

17. I feel more like a complete person with one great friend than with 20 okay friends.

18. I'm a homebody.

19. The thing I'm most excited for in my future is to adopt 3 black boys. I seriously can not wait and think about it all the time. I can not wait. But I mean, I have too.

20. I thought I wanted to, but I will never live outside of the United States if I don't have too. I love it here, it's beautiful and spacious and people are so nice.

21. My brother is going to be so successful and content in his life and I like to think that I contributed a little bit to this wonderful man that he has become, but fear that I can not take any of the credit.

22. My brother has shaped the person I have become. I do everything with him in mind. Pretty much always have. It's my job as big sister. My brother is my favorite person alive.

23. My Mom is, always has been and always will be my inspiration.

24. I hate my legs, but not enough to do something about it.

25. I miss doing art. I have no time for it and it makes me really sad.

 I love that I don't have to try to explain Michaela; that she can do it herself, still. 

A Charlie Brown Life?

Charlie Brown is pretty smart, I think.



A Life of Turtledom.

 On Thanksgiving morning, I went for a 15 mile bike ride.  That is the last time my bike left the garage.  In the meantime, I haven't run, walked, or taken the stairs at work.  I haven't kayaked (been too cold anyway).  I have even avoided leaving the house to do fun things (no movies, very little shopping, no parks, no picture-taking outings).  Sure the weather hasn't been perfect, but that really isn't the reason.  The reason is:  the less you move, the less you want to move; the less you do, the less you want to do.  It is a vicious cycle.  Sure, we need to rest sometimes, but once resting becomes a habit, it is hard to stop.



Sweaty is good.

 So what has sitting around for two months gotten me?  A couple extra pounds.  A very soft middle.  A severe lack of energy that is seeping into everything I do (or don't do).  A messy house.  A hungry family.  A lethargic attitude towards life.  A bit of depression.  A loss of contact with many of my friends and support network.  A lot of Facebook status updates.  And an organized music library. 



Ok, it isn't a record breaking pace.



I know.  You know.  Everybody knows.  Exercise makes you feel better.  It gets the endorphins flowing in your body.  It boosts your mood and your mental capacity as well as your physical health.  We all know this.  So why is it so damn hard to get off the couch?

Like Smokey Bear says:  Only you.  Only you can prevent forest fires.  Only you (or in this case, only me) can get myself out of this funk and back out into the world.  I started this morning.  I took a 1 mile walk with my dog.  Not a big step, but a step.  I already feel better.  I already feel like I can do this.  Stick with me, I'll let you know how it goes.  For now my dog and I are going to have a good day!

Civil Rights

Yesterday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day in the United States.  Did you notice?  Did you have the day off work?  Did you go to a parade? 

Yea, me neither.  What a shame.  I had to work.  Almost everyone I know had to work.  My husband is a government employee, so he didn't have to work.  He would have golfed if the weather had been good.  I'm sure he didn't spend any of his day off thinking about civil rights and the accomplishments of Martin Luther King, Jr.

He isn't a racist.  Neither am I.  Quite the opposite.  It is simply so far from our day to day existence, in the world of white privilege that we live in, that it barely made a blip on the radar of our lives.  And, not to get off the subject, but when exactly did companies decide that holidays that the United States government took the time and effort to vote into existence, should not be acknowledged?  My company, like so many others, doesn't recognize Veterans Day, Columbus Day or Presidents Day either.  How long until Christmas is optional?

Anyway, back to the point.  Other than a few of my friends who posted MLK quotes on their facebook page, the day would have been completely unnoticed by me, I am ashamed to say. 

After all of this unnoticing though, something a bit strange happened.  I dreamed last night.  This isn't unusual.  I have the craziest, most vivid dreams of any adult person I know.  And I often remember them in detail.  I may have mentioned this before.  It is a crazy, little known fact about me.  You could make a Stephen Spielberg action/adventure out of some of my dreams.  But my dreams last night were unique, even for me. 

These dreams seemed very, very real.  Either it was very short snippets of dreams, or one long dream that kept changing, but it happened all night long.  In each snippet, I was transported to a time in the past.  All different eras.  And in each snippet I was accompanied by one or more African Americans; in a few of them, in the slippery way that dreams can change about, I was actually African American myself.  And in all of them, something bad happened.  Nothing earth shattering.  These weren't Stephen Spielberg dreams.  In each of them, some perfectly normal everyday activity was marred by racism.  And I truly felt that I was sent to a place and time that it actually happened to witness it; they were just that real.  What do I remember now, specifically, half a day later?  Not as much as I had tried to commit to memory, but here are some.

Standing in a cafeteria food line with a black family (era perhaps late 1960s).  The server turned and walked away, refusing to serve them. 
Being spit on outside a movie theater (apparently for daring to want to see the movie) (again late 60s or early 70s). 
Watching a white student turn up a tray of food into a black students chest while calling him a stupid 'N' (recent).
Hiding in a hay wagon, terrified, with several other people (I don't remember why, era previous century).
Going to a restaurant (era 1950s) with a very nicely dressed black couple and being pulled aside at the door to be told that we couldn't eat there.
Standing in a soup kitchen line (era 1930s), getting served my food and having the serving person dump a full ladle of soup onto the feet of the black man behind me instead of on his plate, then tell him sorry too bad, only one scoop per person. 
Being told as a child that I couldn't play with my friend any more because now that we were older it was inappropriate to play with 'colored' children.

This is just a few that I can remember, imperfectly, now.  This went on all night long in my sleep, there were probably 50 or more like these, some were much more violent.  If I didn't know it was impossible, I would say they were memories.  I certainly can't place them to any movie or book, but it is possible they are scenes my mind created based on those.  I don't know. 

I don't know why I dreamed these things.  I wasn't pondering racism or even MLK when I went to bed.  I hadn't watched anything on TV.  I didn't eat anything strange.  The last email I read/wrote had everything to do with Michaela and nothing to do with racism. 

As I thought about my dreams this morning, I remembered this quote: 

‎'In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.' Martin Luther King, Jr.

To the author of my dreams:  I got a lesson in empathy last night.  I won't forget.  Thank you.

Death is part of Life.

When a person is born we rejoice, and when they're married we jubilate, but when they die we try to pretend nothing has happened ~ Margaret Mead



Kathleen with Sophie and Lucie

 Death is a part of life.  It is just as much a part of life as birth is. Pretty much everything else is optional.  Birth and death are universal.  They happen to every single person (and animal) on earth.  No exceptions.  So why do we pretend that death doesn't?  Why is it so hard to face?  Why can't we talk about it?  Birth is beautiful.  Why can't death be beautiful too?  Maybe it is.  How would we know?  Maybe it is the most beautiful thing that can happen to us, yet we live in so much fear of the unknown that we practically deny it exists. 

I am reading a book by Alice Sebold in which she is discussing being raped while a college student.  She discusses how in her church and in her home nobody would use the word 'rape'.  They talked about her incident, what happened to her, her assault, etc., but nobody would use the word 'rape'.  Yet she needed to use the word.  She couldn't accept and move forward from what happened without acknowledging exactly what happened.  It is an ugly word for an ugly thing.  But it exists and I can understand her need to use it, to acknowledge it, to not hide from it.

Most of us are taught manners as children.  We learn to say 'please' and 'thank you'.  We learn not to interrupt and how to eat at a communal table.  We learn how to congratulate.  Why, then, do most of us not learn how to console?  What to say if someone is crying?  I suppose it is because our parents don't know, in fact, when we cry the first thing they do is try to get us to stop.  Big girls don't cry, right?  They don't know because they weren't taught either.  It is a shame, because death is the one sure thing that we will all encounter in life.



The earth cries too.

 And since we don't know how to act when someone else cries, we also try not to cry in front of other people.  We don't want to make anyone else uncomfortable.  So we work very hard in our most difficult times not to offend someone else.  Not to make someone else uncomfortable.  How does this make any sense? 

I notice that among the people I know whose child has died (and there are more than you would imagine), nobody cringes from using or hearing the word.  Death is death.  She died.  After she died.  Before she died.  When she died.  These are common phrases.  Using the word doesn't remind us that they died.  It isn't like we forgot and then hear the word and think, oh yeah, she died, it hurts, I miss her.  It hurts anyway, but having to hide our own pain to spare the rest of the world a little bit of discomfort hurts too.




Too Immense to Understand.




It is ok to cry
It is ok to mourn
It is ok to die
Everyone does

It is ok to hope
It is ok to believe
It is ok to accept miracles
Everyone should


It makes me sad when I hear that someone won't share their hopes and stories of their miracles with others.  The reason, I'm told, is because the cynical and the doubters are compelled to pity rather than awestruck and thankful when they hear these tiny stories of faith.  The 'you-poor-pitiful-thing' look that greets a story of faith and belief in the unknown is so very sad.  


Believe.

 
Sad. 

Not for the person with hope.  Not for the grieving mother who receives the miracle, the sign, the little push from the universe, but for the doubters.  The poor, cynical disbelievers.   They are the ones who deserve pity.

For how will they receive comfort when death touches their lives?

Empirical Evidence

Warning.  This blog contains opinions.  They are mine and mine alone.  If you don't like them, or they don't at least give you something to think about, don't read my blog :). 


Dave and his Saturn



My son drives a Saturn.  My son got occasional spankings when he was growing up.  What do these things have in common?  Well, for starters, they were both things that I had conversations with my son about in the past few weeks.  The second commonality is that both involve research and experts and the tendency of modern day experts to make claims when all of the evidence isn't in yet.  How so?  Well, let me tell you. 

When I was working on my Master's degree, I took a lot of Organizational development and Management Theory classes.  In these classes, Saturn was often used as an example of why a certain management style was 'better' than the old 'I'm the manager and you are the worker' style.  It was all about teams and how teams could make better decisions than individuals and save money and be more efficient and so forth.  That was the paradigm Saturn was based around.  In case you weren't aware, Saturn has gone out of business.  Saturn started in 1985 and was out of business by 2009.  But in the 1990's it was the star example of how to run a business the 'right' way.  For comparison, Ford Motor Company was founded in 1903, last I checked they were still in business.

Now, on to spanking my son.  Before everyone gets all upset, let me clarify that I am talking about disciplining, not beating, a child.  I am also talking about the exceptional occasion, not the first response to every situation.  Most children of my generation and previous generations got the occasional 'whipping' and guess what?  Most of us are not serial killers or spouse abusers.  In fact, we are generations of Americans who have modernized the entire industrial world, gone to space, and invented medical miracles that baffle the imagination.  Most of us were optimistic as young people that the world was a good place and would only get better (which it has regardless of what the media may make you think).

But somewhere along the line, about the time my kids were being kids, psychologists and sociologists and other such experts decided that spanking was bad.  Corporal punishment in any form, for any reason was bad.  Having winners and losers in games was bad.  Time outs were good :). Apparently drugging kids into a stupor is good too.   I have to question, now that I am seeing the results of the 'new' style of child rearing, what type of evidence these 'experts' could have had.  After all, very few children had been raised in that style, and I would have to guess that the children who were 'never spanked' back in those days, were probably the kind that didn't need it, they were compliant.  So what long term evidence could they have based this research on, really? 

What I see now is a generation of young adults who often feel entitled to a free ride.  Who don't understand that actions have consequences and that in life there are winners and losers...not everyone gets a trophy.  Kids who are shocked by the reality of a workplace where you actually have to follow the rules or, believe it or not, they will fire you!  Who think that cheating in school is ok, because they didn't get caught and after all the information was right there on the Internet.  Who talk to their parents like they are their junior high friends and have no concept of respect.  Who are pessimistic about the future of our country and our world and even critical of their own generation. 

Certainly not all of them, there are some amazing young people today, just as there have been in every generation (and the older generation is always grumbling about them).  But back in the day when parents were parents and children were children and the parent was the boss, and 'wait until your father gets home' was a common phrase, there was less childhood depression, obesity, suicide, cutting and attention disorders (critics would say it was just as frequent, but we didn't recognize it then.  To the critics I say BS, or better yet, prove it).  Moreover, teachers weren't afraid to go into their classrooms.  Teachers, too, were allowed to be the boss over the children, it wasn't a democracy!

In my humble opinion a child is not able to understand natural consequences or long term effects of their decisions.  Sometimes the natural consequence is simply too severe.  For example, do you let the child stick their hand in boiling water to learn that it is a bad idea?  Similarly a teenager may not understand the consequences of things they post on the Internet, or shoplifting, or drinking and driving, but they certainly understand the consequence of you taking that car or that computer or that allowance away.  In other words, the best way to learn self-discipline, that little thing that all adults should have to be successful, is by receiving external discipline first.  It is better to get that discipline from a parent as a child than to learn the hard way as an adult from the employer or, worse, the police.

Parenting styles should be based on the parent and the child.  And every situation is different.  My daughter seldom needed any type of discipline at all.  Just a stern word or a disapproving look broke her heart.  My son on the other hand....well, to say my son had behavioral issues as a pre-schooler is like saying Ted Bundy had an eating disorder.  And so the parenting style had to be different, even within my own family.  Discipline is critical and spanking can be a tool of discipline along with many other tools.  It is all about using the right tool for the right problem.  I suspect someday when ALL of the research is in, the experts may agree.

Those two examples aside...how many other things do we believe simply because someone with the title of expert did a study.  Do we ever question the study?  Some examples...we are eating cloned meat because the FDA says it is safe.  How do they know?  It hasn't been around long enough to have done a real study.  In fact, we are the study.  Same with genetically altered foods.  How many things are we told to eat or not eat for health benefits?  Have you ever checked the source of the study?  Eating chocolate is healthy, found in a study sponsored by Hershey's (true statement).  Florida is likely to be hit by hundreds of hurricanes in the next 10 years, more than ever before, determined in a study sponsored by the insurance industry.  Just a couple of examples....so I ask you people, please, think for yourself!  Do your own research before you jump on a bandwagon.  Experts can be wrong too.

Oh, and that conversation I had with my son about the spankings?  He was thanking me for caring enough about him to make sure he grew up 'right'.

Moving Forward

I follow a  grief support group on Facebook called The Compassionate Friends (TCF).  I often find the discussions interesting and pertinent to what may be going on in my mind.  Other times, I can't relate at all.  It is hit or miss, which makes sense, because grief is not one size fits all.  



Vietnam Wall Memorial

 A topic that comes up frequently I really cannot relate to is about people saying that the grieving parent should "move on".  Everytime I see this topic, I read the comments, not because it has happened to me, but because it hasn't.  I can't conceive of the possibility that it ever would.  In reading, I am looking, primarily, for the difference.  Why would someone tell a grieving parent to 'move on'?  It sounds ridiculously callous and unfeeling to me. 

I have come up with a few theories on why this might happen.  There is the obvious one:  The person saying it is simply a jerk who has no empathy or sympathy for other human beings.  I'll give that a 5% probability; I'm sure it happens, but it can't happen all that often.  Most people are just not that unfeeling.

Then there is the drama queen theory.  This is the one that will get me hate mail.  This is when the grieving parent is so very trapped in their own misery that they have to be the center of all things all the time and in turn, they have no empathy or sympathy for the rest of the world. Nobody could possibly hurt as bad as they do.  I also only give this a 5% probability.  Most grieving parents are just like everyone else; doing their best to get by.

Finally, there is what I believe (and hope) is the most prevalent reason.  It is misuse of the English language.  This could easily account for 90% of the cases I've read about.  Considering the way the average American tramples all over our native tongue (myself included), it is easy enough to imagine. 



Words, out of context, are easily
misconstrued.

 For this theory to apply, I would expect that the grieving parent isn't coping very well.  Coping, of course, is relative, but to the observer, the person about to say this callous sounding phrase, the parent appears stuck.  The grief process has slowed and to the observer no progress is apparent. They say these words with good intentions: "you need to move on" or "you need to get over it".  But to the grieving parent, those words sound like "let's all forget your child and get on with the party."



Moving on is sometimes
 impossible.



I believe what the person proably means to say is more kind.  In a perfect world they might say "What can I do to help you move forward?" Moving forward and moving on sound very similar, but the meaning is very different.  Moving forward simply means moving in a positive direction.  Moving on implies leaving something behind.  None of us want to leave our child behind.  We have to move forward with them.  We have to take them, their life, and their death with us into our future.  The poor, miscommunicating sap who said to 'move on' might be right to say 'move forward'.  There is no other option.  You cannot go back.  You cannot stay stagnant.  If you do, you will wither and die, and with you, also goes your child.



Elizabeth Edwards, in discussing the loss of her son, compared losing a child to losing a leg.  She said that you wouldn't ask someone if they had gotten over losing the leg. She is right, you wouldn't go to the hospital and tell someone to 'get over it' or to 'move on' from losing that leg.  But you would tell them to keep living.  To get up and learn to walk again.  And you would give them a shoulder to lean on while they learned to live without that leg--to move forward. 





Helping someone move forward
doesn't always need words.

  I posted the statement "Moving Forward is not the same as Moving On" on my FB.  A friend said, "It is like telling you to walk the plank."  At first that one threw me.  But then it made sense.  If you walk the plank you are Moving On.  You are leaving that boat and everything else behind you and moving into something completely new (I hope you are wearing scuba gear or can swim really well!).  But if you stay on the boat and hoist the sails, you are still moving forward.  You are moving into something new, but bringing the boat and all of its cargo with you.  That is how life should go.  You don't want to abandon the ship, but that doesn't mean you can't see new ports.




There is no road map

  If you are truly trying to help a grieving parent, be careful with your words.  They can hurt.  They can be misunderstood.  Even telling someone that they need to "move forward" (or "need" to do anything at all) is likely to be hurtful.  If the situation is so bad that you can't stop yourself from trying to help the person get their legs under them again, you might try:  "Your life will be changed forever, but it can still be a full life.  We will never forget *child's name* so let's think of a way to honor her and keep her memory as a source of strength."

Finding the right words can be difficult, but I can definitely clue you in to some wrong words:  Move on, You must, You need to, almost anything that starts with "You" and ends with something that person should or should not do,  get over it, try to forget, she would want, and most especially, no matter how well meaning, do not use ANY sentence that starts with the words "At least..." (at least you have more kids, at least you can try again, at least she didn't feel any pain).

No menu to choose from.

I can't give you the right words.  You have to find them yourself.  If you can't find them, try silence.  Or try "I remember when...", "I would like to...", "Can I help you (something specific)", "We should do (something) to remember her this coming (time)", "It must be very hard for you to...", "I thought of you today", "I thought of her today", or even, especially if you didn't know the child, "(name) is such a beautiful name, why did you choose it?", "You must miss (name) terribly during (time), can you share a memory with me?", "How are your other children coping?", "In our family we do (something) to remember our loved ones, would you mind if I did this in memory of your child?"

The right thing to say can be obvious if you remember the most important thing.  The parent does not want to forget or move on and she doesn't want the rest of the world to forget either.



You'll know when you got it right.