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Rating: 
Summary: One in Heaven; one in Deptford
Review: Book by Linda Hurcombe
Review by Andy Vickery "I have longed for madness, but an
incurable sanity afflicts me" Judge Richard Rives was a legal leviathan. He was one of "The Four." The four Southern appellate judges who implemented the mandate of Brown v. Board of Education and who really desegregated the South. A "liberal." But like the others, he had suffered shunning and estrangement from his "own" people. As a young lawyer, fresh out of law school and working on the court, I relished the few minutes that I had with him. He was in his `80's, and, if ever I was to mine this oral history, the time was now. "What was the worst part?" I asked. With but a moment's hesitation, he answered, "when they desecrated my son's grave." Thirty years later my friend Jim Fitzgerald and I were meeting with a couple who had lost their only son to Paxil-induced suicide. Although there was no way that we could fully appreciate everything that they had been through, to do our jobs properly we had to try "wearing their shoes even if they pinch, and then writing [or telling] their story." But first we had to tune in to their suffering in a way which would help them to believe that we at least had some inkling of its nature and its magnitude. So Jim began our meeting with a story of his own. He told how his 17 year old father lied about his age and joined the Marine Corps at the start of WWII; how he was captured when the US Embassy he was guarding was overrun by the Japanese; and how he then was forced to perform slave labor as a POW for the rest of the War. After the War, Jim's father was married and had two sons. One bleak cold morning, Jim's brother had a fatal accident with water and an electric toaster. Fifty years later a friend was interviewing Mr. Fitzgerald about the trials and tribulations of his long and distinguished life. "What was the worst part?" she asked. With no hesitation at all, he answered, "when I lost my son." When he learned that his rebellious son had been killed, King David wailed: "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son! (II Sam. 18:33) These three stories and countless others bespeak an unalterable truth of Nature. Children should bury their parents; not vice versa. The loss of a child is perhaps the most devastating loss a person can endure. And, if you are holding Linda's book or reading this Review, chances are that you or someone you love has experienced it. "No one can understand," you say. And, in truth, most cannot. Linda Hurcombe can. On April 6, 1998, Linda lost her 19 year old daughter Caitlin to the unspeakable tragedy of Prozac-induced suicide. Like every other parent that I have counseled or represented in similar circumstances, she immediately "felt sucked back into a vortex of incomprehensible evil." After that, came the loneliness. "I was alone, . . . a dancing shadow without my partner." Guilt, too, had its turn at her: "We re-run the tape of `what ifs' and `if onlys' on an endless mental loop." Linda's book defies categorization. Chocked full of helpful hints, some might call it a "how to" book. But, with respect, I submit that it is more of a personal meditation and emotional catharsis. Linda excels, not in providing pat answers to unanswerable questions, but rather in giving voice to the doubts, the fears, the loneliness, the guilt, and, perhaps most importantly, in knowing which questions to ask in the first place. But, tragic as it is, Linda's book is neither maudlin nor devoid of hope. "A background in biblical scholarship leads me to certain iconic bereaved parents - King David; Job; Mary, the mother of Jesus." From this background Linda writes through the eyes of faith. But it is not a simplistic faith of the maddening "it was God's will" variety. Rather, it is more akin to the faith of Jesus the Christ, who, even in his moment of greatest despair on the Cross, had enough faith in God to turn to Him and to ask, "my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me." Like Jesus, Linda is a woman "of sorrow, and acquainted with grief." Yet, even in her grief, she still recognizes that faith, hope, and love are enshrined as the `big three' graces" . Losing a Child is one of the most beautifully written books you will ever read, on any topic. How you react will, of course, depend on you. "The pattern of our grief is as unique as our fingerprints, shaped by our very specific life circumstances and unique personalities." It is impossible to distill all of the teachings of this book into a simple formula. For me, however, two key lessons stand out from the rest. The first is that, at some point in the grieving cycle, the bereaved parent must make a choice. "The choice is stark; choose life after your child's death, or curl up and die because of the loss." The second is more profound, and, for me, is the central gift of Linda's tome: "Death ends a life;
it doesn't end a relationship." For that reason, if you ask Linda Hurcombe whether she has children, she will readily answer, "Yes, I've two children. One in Heaven and one in Deptford." If you have a child in Heaven, then Losing a Child will be a blessing for you. Losing a Child may be ordered on-line from www.amazon.com.
Rating:
Summary: One in Heaven; one in Deptford
Review: Book by Linda Hurcombe
Review by Andy Vickery "I have longed for madness, but an
incurable sanity afflicts me" Judge Richard Rives was a legal leviathan. He was one of "The Four." The four Southern appellate judges who implemented the mandate of Brown v. Board of Education and who really desegregated the South. A "liberal." But like the others, he had suffered shunning and estrangement from his "own" people. As a young lawyer, fresh out of law school and working on the court, I relished the few minutes that I had with him. He was in his '80's, and, if ever I was to mine this oral history, the time was now. "What was the worst part?" I asked. With but a moment's hesitation, he answered, "when they desecrated my son's grave." Thirty years later my friend Jim Fitzgerald and I were meeting with a couple who had lost their only son to Paxil-induced suicide. Although there was no way that we could fully appreciate everything that they had been through, to do our jobs properly we had to try "wearing their shoes even if they pinch, and then writing [or telling] their story." But first we had to tune in to their suffering in a way which would help them to believe that we at least had some inkling of its nature and its magnitude. So Jim began our meeting with a story of his own. He told how his 17 year old father lied about his age and joined the Marine Corps at the start of WWII; how he was captured when the US Embassy he was guarding was overrun by the Japanese; and how he then was forced to perform slave labor as a POW for the rest of the War. After the War, Jim's father was married and had two sons. One bleak cold morning, Jim's brother had a fatal accident with water and an electric toaster. Fifty years later a friend was interviewing Mr. Fitzgerald about the trials and tribulations of his long and distinguished life. "What was the worst part?" she asked. With no hesitation at all, he answered, "when I lost my son." When he learned that his rebellious son had been killed, King David wailed: "O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son! (II Sam. 18:33) These three stories and countless others bespeak an unalterable truth of Nature. Children should bury their parents; not vice versa. The loss of a child is perhaps the most devastating loss a person can endure. And, if you are holding Linda's book or reading this Review, chances are that you or someone you love has experienced it. "No one can understand," you say. And, in truth, most cannot. Linda Hurcombe can. On April 6, 1998, Linda lost her 19 year old daughter Caitlin to the unspeakable tragedy of Prozac-induced suicide. Like every other parent that I have counseled or represented in similar circumstances, she immediately "felt sucked back into a vortex of incomprehensible evil." After that, came the loneliness. "I was alone, . . . a dancing shadow without my partner." Guilt, too, had its turn at her: "We re-run the tape of 'what ifs' and 'if onlys' on an endless mental loop." Linda's book defies categorization. Chocked full of helpful hints, some might call it a "how to" book. But, with respect, I submit that it is more of a personal meditation and emotional catharsis. Linda excels, not in providing pat answers to unanswerable questions, but rather in giving voice to the doubts, the fears, the loneliness, the guilt, and, perhaps most importantly, in knowing which questions to ask in the first place. But, tragic as it is, Linda's book is neither maudlin nor devoid of hope. "A background in biblical scholarship leads me to certain iconic bereaved parents - King David; Job; Mary, the mother of Jesus." From this background Linda writes through the eyes of faith. But it is not a simplistic faith of the maddening "it was God's will" variety. Rather, it is more akin to the faith of Jesus the Christ, who, even in his moment of greatest despair on the Cross, had enough faith in God to turn to Him and to ask, "my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me." Like Jesus, Linda is a woman "of sorrow, and acquainted with grief." Yet, even in her grief, she still recognizes that faith, hope, and love are enshrined as the 'big three' graces" . Losing a Child is one of the most beautifully written books you will ever read, on any topic. How you react will, of course, depend on you. "The pattern of our grief is as unique as our fingerprints, shaped by our very specific life circumstances and unique personalities." It is impossible to distill all of the teachings of this book into a simple formula. For me, however, two key lessons stand out from the rest. The first is that, at some point in the grieving cycle, the bereaved parent must make a choice. "The choice is stark; choose life after your child's death, or curl up and die because of the loss." The second is more profound, and, for me, is the central gift of Linda's tome: "Death ends a life;
it doesn't end a relationship." For that reason, if you ask Linda Hurcombe whether she has children, she will readily answer, "Yes, I've two children. One in Heaven and one in Deptford." If you have a child in Heaven, then Losing a Child will be a blessing for you. Losing a Child may be ordered on-line from www.amazon.com.
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