About the LostAParent Community
What is this site?
After the tragedies of September 11, 2001, we recognized an immediate need to help in some way. But what could we do? After we had pondered the matter for several long days and nights, we came up with an idea: we would help by doing things that we had been doing for a long time. For years, we have been telling our story to people, and talking to others about their stories. Because of our unique situation, we have the experience to deal with the problems that kids may be having as a result of the deaths of their parents. With the sudden passing of several thousand adults as a result of the attacks, hundreds (or thousands, according to some estimates) of children were left without one or more parents in the blink of an eye. All of these kids need someone to talk to. That's where we come in.
This site was created for you - our peers. You have undergone tragedy in your lives, survived, and now we want to help you the best way we know how: sharing. Not sharing a toy or sharing a piece of pie, but sharing a part of yourself.
You could say that we are like old soldiers, trading war stories. Or, you could say that we are like that person who always seems to know exactly how you are feeling - well, that is because we have been where you are.
We like to call this the "Chicken Soup Syndrome" (think of the popular series of books that contain inspirational stories). No matter how much something hurts, the only way to make it better (and this always works) is to talk about it. Once you do share, even with one person, an immense amount of pressure suddenly disappears. This may seem amazing, but it's a proven fact.
Even in survival there is pain, however. You may find that your mom or dad may want to remarry some guy or woman that you absolutely can't stand; or maybe you are living with one parent and a nanny; or maybe your family is having financial troubles after your loss. Whatever the problem may be, we can help. Remember that even though things may look bleak today, there is always a future, and it is a bright one.
This site was catalyzed by the tragedies, but by no means does it only cater to those who were affected by them. Everyone is welcome here. Please tell all your friends and acquaintances about us. We are here to help.
Please take time to tell us your story, ask us a question, or even help others through their grieving process.
Most of all, enjoy.
Our story starts on October 15, 1984.
That is the day I (Stu) was born. Life picked up quickly from there; I grew up in Boca Raton, FL - a town famous for its multiple retirement communities. You could say that I grew up too quickly. I don't really have too many memories from my childhood, and the things that I do remember are mostly meaningless little things: playing in artificial snow one winter with my preschool class, attending my first swim lesson, listening to my favorite Sesame Street tape. Tucked in comfortably with the rest of these memories are a couple memories of my mom.
My mom. I was robbed of her nurturing presence when I was only 6 years old. She was only 31. Most of the memories that I have of her are from when she was sick. I remember her breathing through an oxygen mask and lying in bed all the time. The only way I can see her smiling, see her having a good time, is to look at the dusty old pictures or old home videos in their respective boxes, because she isn't here anymore.
You see, my mom had a rare disorder called Primary Pulmonary Hypertension. I still don't fully understand this disease - the basic comprehension that I have of it is that it involves the heart and the lungs, and eventually leads to their destruction. But I do know that I didn't grow up the same way as other kids did. Most of them had two parents; even if their parents were separated, they could still hug them, kiss them, and maybe even see them once in a while.
I knew then that I was different from most of the kids around me. I only had one parent - my dad. After my mom passed away in 1991, he realized that my sister and I couldn't live with a nanny for the rest of our lives. So, we picked up all of our stuff and moved to Illinois, where the rest of our family lived.
Let's fast-forward a little bit through the last ten years. I have grown up a little bit since then - high school does that to you - but much of that 6-year-old boy still lives inside of me. I'm very curious, I'm still a bit afraid of heights, I can still feel the pain of the great loss that I have had to endure - the loss of my mom.
The key concept here is endurance. I have made it through my life so far. Just like a bone that has broken and healed, my tragedy, as much as it hurt, has made me stronger.
Rachel's Remembrances
I was born on January 22, 1985. It was a wonderful way for my parents to start the new year. They were thrilled to welcome their firstborn, healthy daughter into the world. My dad liked to call me "Ray Ray," but most of my parents' friends nicknamed me "Snow White" because of my jet-black hair, pale complexion, and rosy red cheeks.
1985 was also the season that the Chicago Bears won the Super Bowl. My dad was an avid Bears fan and could not have been happier. Little did my parents know how their life would soon change forever. You see, unlike Stu, whose mom became sick, after his fourth birthday, my dad found out that he had cancer six months after I was born.
I have several special memories of time that my dad and I spent together that I will always treasure. There were those Indian Princess father-daughter outings and campouts. Also, I will always remember the Valentine's Dance that he somehow found the strength to take me to only a month before he died.
I remember some scary things, too, even though the good memories come to me much more often. I can still hear him vomiting in the bathroom after chemotherapy treatments and praying it would stop, I can see myself sitting at his bedside in the hospital and wishing he would come home, and I remember the time he spent at home hooked up to IVs and other equipment. I felt so sad for him.
On April 17, 1991, my world was shattered by the loss of my father. He died an untimely death at the young age of 35 to Non Hodgkins Lymphoma. My dad was my best friend and my inspiration. When he died, I could not possibly comprehend that I no longer had a father. I felt angry at him for leaving me, and I felt cheated that he would never be there for me again - not to watch me get my diploma at graduation, not to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, not to be with me anywhere. I felt different than all my other friends; they all had two parents and I didn't. I remember feeling very worried about my mom's condition, and having frightening thoughts that something terrible would happen to her, too.
The adversities that I endured throughout my childhood forever altered the path that my life would take. As time passed, I slowly learned to cope with my loss and to reach out to others for solace and support. The constant love, guidance, friendship, and support that I received from these individuals were the dominant force behind the positive way that I dealt with my grief. I want to give back the same precious gift that they gave to me - the gift of hope. I want to show others that life can and should be worth living again. I want to help others who have endured the horrific loss of a parent to understand that life is worth living.
Rayna's Reflections
I don't remember a whole lot about my mother, either - most of my memories come from watching old home videos, looking at pictures and hearing stories from the people who were closest to her. The strongest images I have of her come from a picture in which she lovingly splashed around in the pool with me while I wore a ruby-red intertube and from a cassette tape featuring my brother, Stu, and me singing made-up songs while she banged along on a pot in the background.
I constantly reflect on my childhood, which seems to have passed with the blink of an eye. When my dad decided to get remarried, I didn't really know what to think. How could anyone ever take the place of my mom?
As the years pass, I find that this doubt has been replaced by other burning questions: What would life be like if she was still alive? What was she really like? Is she proud of me? and what were her unfulfilled ambitions? It's hard for me to mourn somebody I barely knew, and it seems strange to me that I have so many questions about her. The videos and the tapes have such soothing faces and voices on them, and I find myself turning them on whenever I need some sort of answer.
I also have turned to my family with overwhelming curiosity, in search of some insight. I've asked questions of them, listened to their stories, shed some tears and even shared some laughs along the way. I have realized that so many others have suffered a great loss much like mine, which has had a similarly strong impact on their lives. As all the obstacles that I have overcome in my life have made me stronger, I have come to recognize that I am never alone.
Brian's Thoughts
When I was only three years old, I sadly lost my father to cancer. Unfortunately, I do not have any of my own memories of him. I can only hear about him from what my mom or sister tell me and through photographs or home movies. What I do remember was when my mother remarried. It was very difficult for me to accept this complete stranger into my life. I felt he was replacing my dad and it just didn't feel right. As years went by we began to blend as a family and today we have a great relationship, most days.
It is very comforting to know I have a father figure in my life who is always there for me, but at times I feel guilty that he is the only father I have ever known. The pain of never knowing my real father is always there.
Although I did not mourn the loss of my dad when I was younger, I find that as I have grown older I wonder what my dad was like, if I resemble him at all, whether in looks or in character, do I think the way he does, would we be good friends? Many family members and friends who knew my dad tell me I remind them of him. This makes me feel very honored that in some small way I keep his memory alive. I know my dad would be proud of our mission to help others.
Then what happened?
As we alluded to above, after living as single parents for a while, Stu and Rayna's dad, Barry, and Rachel and Brian's mom, Lanie, were set up by mutual friends. They hit it off immediately and after dating for two years, they decided to marry.
Now, this marriage was not intended as a way to escape from the past, but one to provide for the future. In other words, both Lanie and Barry knew that their children would be much better off with the support of two parents than the support of one, because one parent could not possibly provide both with the financial and the nurturing care that the kids were used to. So, in August of 1993, Barry and Lanie were married. It was a joyous occasion that our family will always remember.
We will also remember our parents. We will remember their hugs, their smiles, their laughs, their tears. Their memory lives on in our hearts and in our minds. It influences the way we act, the choices we make, and the people that we are.
We will not forget.
But we will survive.