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Redwood Falls, Minn. —
“This is the club you don’t want to join. The dues are too high.”
– Joni Nieland
On the third Thursday of every month, an average of 12-15 parents meet at Gilwood Haven to talk about a shared experience.
They are all parents of children who have died.
“We meet here at Gilwood Haven because it’s a neutral place, not at a church or hospital, which could be kind of threatening,” said Alice Goelz last week.
The group is loosely organized around four “telephone friend” couples available to talk at any time: John and Alice Goelz, Tom and Char Ellig, Phil and Ag Johanneck, and Jim and Joni Nieland, all of whom have lost a child.
“The first year after your child dies, you don’t have a clue,” said Char Ellig. “You need family that understands if you don’t show up for holidays, and you need friends who just show up.”
“In a small community, the church is full for the funeral, but two weeks later no one will talk to you in the grocery store,” said Alice Goelz. “No one knows what to say. Compassionate Friends was created for parents to come together who know what the others are going through.”
“When you lose your child, you lose your future,” said John Goelz. “It’s the worst thing in the world.”
“It’s like getting kicked in the shins every thirty seconds,” said Phil Johanneck. “Then, after a couple years, it’s like getting kicked in the shins every two minutes. But it never goes away.”
“‘Normal’ isn’t easy after your child dies,” said Char Ellig. “You have to redefine everything, but while we’re struggling, everyone else just wants for us to be normal. No one wants us to cry.”
“People don’t want to mention the dead child’s name. They’re afraid it will make us sad,” said Alice Goelz. “We’re already sad.”
The parents agreed the alternative is worse: pretending the child didn’t exist.
In Compassionate Friends, the definition of “child” is flexible.
“If I’m 70, and my child dies at 50, I’m still a parent, and it still hurts,” Alice Goelz said.
“When you lose a child, it’s for the rest of your life,” said John Goelz. “You might know a woman in a nursing home who’s 85 years old. You could ask her how she’s feeling that day, and she’ll say, ‘Terrible. I lost my son 50 years ago today.’”
“This is the club you don’t want to join. The dues are too high.”
– Joni Nieland
On the third Thursday of every month, an average of 12-15 parents meet at Gilwood Haven to talk about a shared experience.
They are all parents of children who have died.
“We meet here at Gilwood Haven because it’s a neutral place, not at a church or hospital, which could be kind of threatening,” said Alice Goelz last week.
The group is loosely organized around four “telephone friend” couples available to talk at any time: John and Alice Goelz, Tom and Char Ellig, Phil and Ag Johanneck, and Jim and Joni Nieland, all of whom have lost a child.
“The first year after your child dies, you don’t have a clue,” said Char Ellig. “You need family that understands if you don’t show up for holidays, and you need friends who just show up.”
“In a small community, the church is full for the funeral, but two weeks later no one will talk to you in the grocery store,” said Alice Goelz. “No one knows what to say. Compassionate Friends was created for parents to come together who know what the others are going through.”
“When you lose your child, you lose your future,” said John Goelz. “It’s the worst thing in the world.”
“It’s like getting kicked in the shins every thirty seconds,” said Phil Johanneck. “Then, after a couple years, it’s like getting kicked in the shins every two minutes. But it never goes away.”
“‘Normal’ isn’t easy after your child dies,” said Char Ellig. “You have to redefine everything, but while we’re struggling, everyone else just wants for us to be normal. No one wants us to cry.”
“People don’t want to mention the dead child’s name. They’re afraid it will make us sad,” said Alice Goelz. “We’re already sad.”
The parents agreed the alternative is worse: pretending the child didn’t exist.
In Compassionate Friends, the definition of “child” is flexible.
“If I’m 70, and my child dies at 50, I’m still a parent, and it still hurts,” Alice Goelz said.
“When you lose a child, it’s for the rest of your life,” said John Goelz. “You might know a woman in a nursing home who’s 85 years old. You could ask her how she’s feeling that day, and she’ll say, ‘Terrible. I lost my son 50 years ago today.’”
Compassionate Friends is an international organization, since the experience that inspired it is international.
A Compassionate Friends chapter has been meeting in Redwood Falls since 1989, when four couples began meeting.
Because of its nature, Compassionate Friends doesn’t try to recruit new members. When parents decide to join, it’s usually because of word of mouth. Often, friends of the grieving parents will refer them to the group, or will contact a member.
“In a small community, you can do that,” said Alice Goelz.
Currently, the Redwood Falls chapter has a mailing list of about 80 families who get the locally-produced newsletter, which includes tips on how to survive the day to day strain of losing a child.
“For some people it’s too painful to be here, but they still want the newsletter to get ideas on how to survive,” said Tom Ellig.
The monthly meetings are fairly unorganized, by design.
“Mostly at the meetings, we wing it,” said John Goelz. “There’s no agenda. If new people come, we mostly just introduce ourselves and tell our stories.”
“Some parents just come to listen,” said Phil Johanneck.
There are no dues or other membership requirements. Parents attend or don’t attend depending on where they’re emotions are at right then.
Occasionally only one parent attends the meetings; it’s too difficult for the other one.
“Husbands and wives are never at the same place in grieving,” said John Goelz.
“Some parents might not attend for months, then if it’s the child’s birthday or a holiday, they’ll come back to touch base,” said Tom Ellig.
“They want to get ideas on how to survive it, and our door is always open. The meetings are all confidential, so parents can show their emotions, and say what they really feel.”
“We still learn from each other,” said Tom Ellig. “Older couples learn from the newer ones, and the younger couples see us older ones, and get some hope that they can survive.”
“It’s never a contest about whose child’s death was harder,” said Alice Goelz. “We don’t usually talk about the age of the child, or the cause of death. Every child’s death is unique.”
“Every death of a child is sudden, even if they’ve been ill for a long time,” said Joni Nieland. “Until it actually happens, you still think there’s going to be a miracle. You still have hope.”
On Sunday, Dec. 12, at 7 p.m., the Redwood Falls Compassionate Friends takes part in a worldwide candle lighting ceremony in memory of their children, with a wave of bereaved parents in every time zone across the Earth creating a wave of light when 7 p.m. arrives.
The Redwood Falls Compassionate Friends invite all bereaved parents in the area to join in the observance at Gilwood Haven, and to bring along a candle and a picture or memento of the child.
