CHAPTER EIGHT

From: Where is Our Hope for Peace? A resource for Latter-day Saints Coping with Suicide, By Jaynann M. Payne and Dr. Rick. (2001)

"What I gained from losing Brian"

BRIAN

By Margie Holmes

        Brian was our firstborn child. I vividly remember driving home very slowly and carefully from the hospital, my husband at the wheel, Brian cradled in my arms. We were filled with the desire to protect this child from harm and raise him well. I was surprised at how overwhelming the responsibility of a completely dependent child was to me. Still, I was confident that my strong desire to be a good parent and our love would be enough to sustain his healthy development.
        Brian was a strong-willed, brilliant, creative, affectionate boy whose interests and temperament were different enough from those around him to make it difficult for him to be accepted. Age sixteen was a turning point in his young life. He seemed to reject most of the values we held dear. He stopped attending church, his grades dropped, and his appearance changed as he found new friends. He was angry much of the time, and there was a great deal of conflict in our home. We knew he had some involvement with alcohol, tobacco, drugs, and the occult. To this day we're not sure how deep that involvement was or to what degree he suffered from depression or other emotional illnesses that went undiagnosed and untreated. 
        A month after Brian's eighteenth birthday, The police called me at work to say that he was dead. After drinking late into the night with friends, he had taken some sleeping pills and had finally gone to bed at about 5:00 a.m. Early the next afternoon, the people he was staying with had tried to wake him and had found him dead. I don't know if Brian intended to die and knew exactly what amounts in combination would kill him or if he wasn't thinking very clearly and made a fatal mistake. There is evidence to support either conclusion. All of the uncertainty surrounding his behavior and his death made coming to terms with the situation very difficult.
        I had always hoped that time and experience would soften Brian's heart and help him return to productive and happy living. I had always kept a prayer in my heart that his father and I--or the bishop, or someone, anyone--would be inspired to know how to help him. There was much about Brian to love--our last words to each other were 'I love you'--and I felt that his goodness would eventually quiet the rebellion in his soul. Never had I thought that he would not have the chance to turn his life around. Now it was all over here, and the phrase "everlastingly too late" (Helaman 13:38) pulsed through my brain again and again. 
        My reaction to his death involved a complex interplay of feelings. At first there was a kind of numbness, shock, bewilderment, and disbelief. There was a sense of unreality, of watching myself go through the motions of making funeral arrangements, dealing with the police, and letting friends and family know what had happened. This numbness was interspersed with intense feelings of anguish. My chest and stomach would fill with a dark purple, tight pain and I would sob and groan, especially in the shower where the warm water on my body helped release emotion. I also felt a great deal of shame, an overwhelming sense of failure at not providing Brian with what he needed to survive. A few days after his death, as I was sorting dirty laundry I saw his face for a few moments at the end of the hall. He was smiling softly and looked very clean. Many times during the following years I returned to that vision for reassurance. On the day of his funeral the music, prayers, and gentle words of friends filled me with peace, calmness, and comfort and I felt sustained by the Spirit of the Lord. 
        As time went on and the reality of death became clearer, feelings of longing became very strong. I would have given anything to see Brian again, to touch him, to talk to him. I was filled with regrets about our conflicts and our inability to get the help he needed. I could remember clearly every mistake I had made with him but I couldn't give myself credit for the years of devotion I had lavished on him--the stories read, the costumes made, the chauffeuring, the hugs, the praise, the birthday parties. I carried a lot of guilt and although I wasn't angry at the woman who gave him the pills or the acquaintances who encouraged his destructive choices, I couldn't forgive myself or my husband for what we saw as our failures. We had a tremendous drive to make sense of all of this, to understand it, to find out what had happened and why. Placing blame and feeling guilt were a part of trying to make sense of a senseless act.
        As the months and years passed, I had a lot of concern about Brian's well-being. It's hard being a mother when there's nothing you can do for your child and you can't even get a letter to let you know how he's doing. I wondered if he was suffering, if he had been healed, if he was experiencing joy, if he was in the company of those who loved him. I worried about his spiritual well being. I alternated between thinking that he was suffering for his sins, that he was in Satan's clutches and would never be free on the one hand, and on the other hand that he wouldn't be punished for his choices because he had suffered enough in this life to pay for them, and that perhaps I and others were largely responsible for his problems anyway. My grieving was prolonged by my desires to take upon myself any suffering owed by my son, so that he wouldn't have to endure it.
        In my guilt and grief, I sought comfort from God. My need to understand life and death, justice and mercy, was desperate. My prayers were anguished, and my worship at church and at the temple was exceedingly sorrowful. I felt that I had failed in a monumental way in the most important task of my life and that God had abandoned me at the time of my greatest need. I'd followed the rules to the best of my ability, but it just hadn't worked out the way I'd been led to expect. Deep down I'd really thought that Mormons were special. If we tried hard enough to do what was right, terrible things wouldn't happen to us.
        I directed much of my energy to reaching God, seeking comfort and understanding. I wanted to know what Brian's death meant to my relationship with God, my son, and my fellow human beings. Scripture study was one of the means through which I sought solace and insight. Rather than finding solace, however, I found judgment and condemnation. I needed a forgiving Father who loved me regardless of my failure and who responded to my pleas for healing and mercy. Although I tried to focus on the numerous passages that portray God in this way, my guilt would not allow me to transcend the condemnatory messages with which they were interspersed. I read, for example, that he who "remaineth and dieth in his sins . . . receiveth . . . an everlasting punishment" (Mosiah 2:33) which "doth fill his breast with guilt, and pain, and anguish, which is like an unquenchable fire" (Mosiah 2:38). My mind filled with pictures of Brian suffering eternally, and my own contribution to that suffering seemed unforgivable. In spite of the pain it caused me, I continued reading the scriptures hoping to receive revelation. Eventually I learned to find comfort and spiritual guidance in the scriptures, but it took several years (for an account of this process, see Margie Holmes "With Great Mercies Will I Gather Thee," Ensign, January 1992) 
        Attending Church and working in the temple gradually became less difficult as well and soothing spiritual experiences occurred there. I was in Relief Society and Primary presidencies continuously for more than six years after Brian's death. Serving in this way helped me regain feelings of worthiness. I couldn't be a complete failure if the Lord saw fit to use me in his Church. Being Relief Society president also allowed me to find some meaning in my suffering. The increased capacity to love and understand others I had gained because of it was called upon frequently.
        Kind friends and neighbors listened to me sort through my confused feelings, wept with me, gave me blessings, and showered me with food, cards, gifts, and love. One friend in particular helped me discover the nature of my deepest fears: that Brian was in Satan's power because of his involvement in the occult. I also met periodically with a therapist whose insight and sensitivity eased my way through the process of facing those fears, searching once more through all of the sources available to me for information about what had happened and why, and finally letting the unanswerable questions go. After six years of resisting, I also began taking antidepressant medication. For me it was the final step towards recovery and experiencing joy in living once again.
        In the months after Brian's death, I also experienced a loss of ambition. The professional identity that I had clung to so fiercely to prevent being devoured by my roles as wife and mother became much less important. My work was helpful as a means of respite from grieving, but for several years my efforts were channeled primarily into restoring my sense of myself as a decent human being. Mostly that meant allowing myself time with good friends who loved me and time to read and think. The value of meaningful work gradually returned and my accomplishments became an additional source of healing.
        An emotion that surprised me was a deadening of feeling toward my other five children. So much of my energy was tied up in mourning Brian's loss, even wanting to join him, that enjoying my other children was difficult. Ironically, the events that taught me with great clarity the worth of a soul, even a troubled, difficult soul, were blunting my feelings toward other precious souls. For a long time, I felt like I had a foot in both worlds, this one and the next. Eventually this phase ended, however, and I was left with the exquisite awareness of the goodness of my children, an appreciation for the very ordinary things that they did, and the ability to love them for who they are, rather than what I had hoped they would be. That is Brian's legacy to his younger siblings--wiser, more patient, appreciative parents, and enhanced gratitude for ordinary things. Small things that had annoyed us before seemed very insignificant now. A missed piano lesson, an imperfect household chore, a B instead of an A grade--what did they matter? Our children were alive and learning and growing. They were good citizens and would grow up to marry, have children, and hold down a job. Mundane things that we had assumed happened to everyone now seemed like great blessings. 
        One of the most difficult aspects of Brian's death for me was the wedge it drove between my husband and me. Our wounds were so deep and our vulnerability so great that we were unable to be sources of strength for one another. Our paths of grieving and healing were separate. The support I felt from friends was not as readily available to him and he was not as willing to seek therapy or explore some of the spiritual ideas from which I found solace. For him, writing in his journal and listening to classical music were beneficial. Part of our difficulty was the blame I placed on him for Brian's difficulties. I had to learn to forgive him and myself for immaturity, lack of wisdom and all of the other weaknesses that are overcome only through experience. 
        In the end, I learned that none of us can do everything right. All of us sin and fall short of the glory of God. When Ethiopian children were starving to death and Jews by the millions had died in the gas chambers, why did I think I should be spared suffering? God loves the Muslim woman pregnant through rape just as much as he loves me. I developed a kinship with suffering people everywhere. The prisoner serving time for dealing drugs has a mother who weeps for him too. The homeless, the mentally ill, the criminal are not from a different race. They're someone's sons and daughters. They are my brothers and my sisters and we are all wounded by life. We are all in need of God's grace, His love and his mercy.
        Eventually I came to understand that Christ's atonement applies to me, to my son, to my husband--not just to others. I did everything I knew how, and it wasn't enough. That's why we have our Savior. What a relief that has been to me. I don't have to do it by myself. I can love others because I am so grateful for the love that has been extended to me and I want to return it. I can hold the hands of my fellow-sufferers. Most of the time I can't fix anything. But I can love, I can accept, I can understand, I can withhold judgment, I can cry with my friends. I can offer my heart, which truly is broken and softened, and my spirit, which truly is contrite. I don't worry about my image any more. When I failed at the most important task of my life and found myself acceptable before God and loved by my friends, it freed me up to be more authentically who I am.
        I don't worry much about Brian now. I trust that my Father and Mother in Heaven love Brian much more than I am capable of loving him. Surely they will provide him with the experiences he needs to become the righteous, magnificent Son of God that is his potential. If he is in prison, surely those who love him have taught him and he will be able to choose the light, if he has not already done so. For me, this life is not so much a test as a school where we learn the good from the evil by our own experience. The suffering we endure here serves to turn our hearts to God and to one another, to prepare us for further growth in the life to come where Jesus Christ waits with open arms to embrace us, heal us, and lead us to the next stage of our growth. 

"OH DANNY BOY"

DANNY

By Jane Ann Bradford Olsen, 

        When Danny was a baby, I would listen with joy to the soothing voice of my husband singing the Irish ballad, Oh Danny Boy, as he rocked our Danny to sleep. Twenty-three years later, the song held a haunting sadness for me as I listened to it at Danny's funeral. How could Danny be gone? What had happened to this once sensitive and happy child who had found such joy in bringing me flowers and was so reluctant to stray very far from the warmth and safety of his family and home? Why was there no comfort in the flowers that surrounded his casket?
        It was during a dark Saturday morning hour that Danny shot himself through the heart. Later that morning, my husband, Paul, found him lying on his bed and called me to his bedroom. The shock, pain and grief I felt as I embraced my son's body cannot be written.
        How do a mother and a father survive such a loss? How do you face the feelings of guilt and failure? How do you deal with the reality that it is now everlastingly too late to help this child work through his earthly struggles? What did the Destroyer have to do with the act? Did Danny's use of alcohol bring about his death? What role did depression play? How do you find answers to all the desperate questions that pound through your heart and head?
        During Danny's first year in college, he began drinking alcohol. His lifelong plans to serve a mission for the Church were 
set aside. He left college and joined the Navy, but a medical disability sent him home. That fateful Saturday morning Danny 
ultimately gave up on the challenges of this life. The note beside his bed spoke of wanting to be a better person, of being emotionally torn apart, of coming to the end of what he could bear in this life, of going to a higher judge; the highest judge Himself, Jesus Christ.
        It has been more than a year since Danny's death and I can now look back on the process of grieving and healing and attempt to share some of the things I have experienced. It is the hope and prayer of my heart that I can describe the workings of the Spirit in my life. I know that the Holy Ghost walked me through this time.
        When I was a young mother with six young children, I recognized the blessings that surrounded me. Everything in my life seemed almost too perfect. I learned from the whisperings of the Spirit that this was a time to build a strong relationship with my Heavenly Father, my Savior Jesus Christ, my husband, and my children. I devoted the majority of my time and talents to being a wife, a mother, and a homemaker. I was continually educating myself to succeed in this role. Above all, I wanted to center everything we did on Jesus Christ and make Him the foundation of our lives. This time in my life was a season of growing. I could never have comprehended then what my season of testing would be like. I will be forever grateful for the reservoir of strength that was filled during those growing years.
        During that time I learned how the Spirit was teaching me. Often I recognized the influence of the Spirit only after it had moved me in a certain direction. I would look back with an "ah?hah" understanding as I realized how I had been led. Soon I came to pray for this divine influence. My spiritual eyes were opened and I began to recognize the guiding influence of the Lord in my life. I took time to stop, to listen, to be in tune, and to realize that my prayers were being answered.
        After the initial shock of Danny's death, I turned to prayer. I never doubted that my Father in Heaven and my Savior loved me. I never cried out in sorrow or anger against them. More than any other time in my life I wanted to be spiritually in tune to their influence.
        The day Danny died, my husband, Paul, phoned our other five children. They were spread out from California to Missouri. Before Saturday night all had arrived at our home in Utah. I recognized the strength they brought with them and welcomed it as the beginning of divine help. As we knelt in our bedroom, the circle included our five children and the eternal companions of the three that were married. Through the years we had "circled up" many times to search for divine guidance. Two years before Danny's death, I had drawn on this combined strength to help me undergo a liver transplant.
        Each person in the circle felt safe to openly and honestly share their feelings. There were many expressions of anguish, anger, and tears along with the unanswerable questions of why Danny had chosen to do this. These feelings of sadness and confusion began to yield to the comforting influence of the Holy Ghost, who brought peace and the beginning of understanding. That night ended with expressions of love, prayers and priesthood blessings.
        Through the years we have been able to establish an atmosphere of trust and open communication in our family. It is my testimony that this, along with our commitment to the Savior and the Gospel, played a key role in the healing process. The warmth of the Spirit of our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son wrapped around us. Their divine presence was stronger than I had ever experienced before. I not only felt an outpouring of peace, but also of knowledge.
        The things the Spirit taught us are precious and sacred. During the time before the funeral, the veil was very thin. We came to know that Danny's spirit was near. We shared our impressions and experiences and were drawn together in a spirit of oneness. From this point on I never felt that I was facing my pain alone. The combined strength and testimony of our family helped me stay tuned to the divine guidance of the Spirit. The anger that some of the family had felt toward Satan was replaced by a desire to know the Lord's will for us. Shortly after my oldest son, Randy, was told that Danny had died, he heard the Spirit of the Lord whisper these words to his mind: "Vengeance is mine alone." As one who recognized the work of opposition in Danny's life, Randy wrote the following words: 

        The equation of what happened to Danny is very complicated. Some of these factors were: a deep, recurring frustration that he could not permanently break his habits and change his life, the influence of alcohol and the cloud that it casts on a person's reasoning, and being ashamed of his failures especially after making a new start. 
        Danny felt all these influences and others in the hours before he decided he was going to leave mortality. One of the other influences that he felt that night was that of spirits who follow Satan. They desperately wanted him to do what he did. Danny will have to overcome the habits that left him vulnerable to those influences, but he is not responsible for the portion of his act that resulted from those evil influences.

        Danny's experiences with evil spirits were frightening to him and to me. One night he quietly shook me awake. I got out of bed and went with him so we could talk. His face was drained of color. He had parked his truck on a hill overlooking our property. There in the darkness he had seen several evil spirits. He rolled up the windows, turned on the key, but by the time he started the engine, they were on the hood of his truck. He was able to drive home, but the experience left him pale and shaken and he wanted a priesthood blessing. I returned to the bedroom and awakened his father. After the blessing, my husband went with Danny to his bedroom and slept on the floor next to his bed. On another occasion, Danny asked his brother, Stephen, to use his priesthood to command the evil spirits he felt in his bedroom to leave. 
        As we prepared for Danny's funeral every member of our family expressed a desire to be as involved as possible in the funeral arrangements and to delegate only a few things to others. Three brothers and two sisters prepared to speak at Danny's funeral. Two sisters-in-law and a brother-in-law would offer the prayers. Danny's father would dedicate the grave. The pallbearers would be Danny's brothers, his two sisters, and two close childhood friends. All of us gathered at the mortuary. Danny's body was dressed by his brothers and again we had family prayer. There was a healing catharsis in all these actions.
        Along the way there were many "little hugs" from Heavenly Father that I recognized and was thankful for. I will mention just a few: Our Bishop knelt with us in Danny's room for prayer before the sheriff and mortician came. He was very sensitive in waiting until I was ready for these men to be called in. Ward members, family, and friends came without hesitation. A sweet daughter-in-law spent hours producing a combination of music and slides of Danny's life. A dear young friend from Mexico put herself in charge of the well being of the grandchildren. Another friend came to the mortuary to comb my hair. Throughout the entire viewing at the mortuary, a brother stayed in the background lending me silent strength. A friend came to the funeral with his video camera to film Danny's services for later viewing.
        I will be eternally grateful for these arms that reached out to hold me. It reminded me of the quote from President Spencer W. Kimball that I love so much:

"God does notice us, and He watches over us. But it is usually through another person that He meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other." ("The Abundant Life," Ensign, Oct. 1985, p.3) 

        Early in this experience the Spirit focused my attention back to the April 1992 General Conference. As Elder Boyd K. Packer was speaking, the Spirit was teaching me. After the conference I discussed Elder Packer's words in depth with my husband and my children. I carefully read his words in the Ensign and listened to them over and over when I received the Conference tapes. I knew his message applied to us and to Danny's struggle. He had said:

        It is a great challenge to raise a family in the darkening mists of our moral environment. We emphasize that the greatest work you will ever do will be within the walls of your own home. The measure of our success as parents, however, will not rest solely on how our children turn out. That judgment would be just only if we could raise our families in a perfectly moral environment, and that now is not possible. It is not uncommon for responsible parents to lose one of their children, for a time, to influences over which they have no control. They agonize over rebellious sons or daughters. They are puzzled over why they are so helpless when they have tried so hard to do what they should. It is my conviction that those wicked influences one day will be overruled.

        The Prophet Joseph Smith declared--and he never taught a more comforting doctrine-that the eternal sealings of faithful parents and the divine promises made to them for valiant service in the Cause of Truth, would save not only themselves, but likewise their posterity. Though some of the sheep may wander, the eye of the Shepherd is upon them, and sooner or later they will feel the tentacles of Divine Providence reaching out after them and drawing them back to the fold. Either in this life or the life to come, they will return. They will have to pay their debt to justice; they will suffer for their sins; and may tread a thorny path; but if it leads them at last, like the penitent Prodigal, to a loving and forgiving Father's heart and home, the painful experience will not have been in vain. Pray for your careless and disobedient children; hold on to them with your faith. Hope on, trust on. 

And from Brigham Young:

Let the father and mother, who are members of this Church and Kingdom, take a righteous course, and strive with all their might never to do a wrong, but to do good all their lives; if they have one child or one hundred children, if they conduct themselves towards them as they should, binding them to the Lord by their faith and prayers, I care not where those children go, they are bound up to their parents by an everlasting tie, and no power of earth or hell can separate them from their parents in eternity; they will return again to the fountain from whence they sprang. (Discourses of Brigham Young, p. 208)

(Elder Boyd K. Packer, Ensign, May, 1992, Conference Report © 2000 Intellectual Reserve Inc.)

        Our son, Ronny, quoted all of these words in his funeral address. Then Ronny said:

        And with that doctrine and that feeling, I wish to declare to all within the sound of my voice and let it be known throughout all the expanses of eternity that Daniel Bradford Olsen belongs to Paul R. and Jane Ann Olsen and it is our intent that we will fulfill the promises and the requirements of this law and we will have our brother!
        And so how is it possible? Because of the suffering of Jesus Christ. Because He entered the Garden of Gethsemane. Because He went lower than we can comprehend. Because in His agony in His lying on the ground in the blood which came from every pore, there was a place of suffering for us in our family. I don't understand, but I have faith, and the Spirit comforts me. I thank my Savior this day for His love and His mercy.

        Danny's funeral was a witness to me, to my husband, and to our family (including Danny) that all was not lost. Our son, Randy, bore testimony that all of our efforts on Danny's part were not wasted. He said:

Danny needs and he will use all of the training that he received in our home in what he is doing now. Everything that Mama and Daddy did counts. It counts now and he will use it in this life he is living now. Mama and Daddy, you equipped Danny well for this last camp-out!

        Every person spoke with conviction and witness that our family would be eternal. This was the greatest healing message that I received, and I knew it was from the Lord.
        After the funeral our family continued to huddle together. We wanted to keep ourselves in tune with the outpouring of the Spirit and the light of personal revelation. No one allowed any distractions; no television, no news, no shopping. Just as I was inquiring heavenward: "Is this all, dear Father?" He sent us a very real witness of Danny's well being. This personal revelation came to our family through my visiting teacher, who had been one of Danny's adult friends. She saw a vision of Danny with his paternal grandfather, which remains very sacred to each family member. I believe it is within the realm of each family who goes through this experience to receive their own personal witness of the well being of their loved one.
        The time arrived when we had to part. We faced it reluctantly. We were filled with a desire to keep the strength we had received. We met together one last time to voice our commitment to fortify each other as we went forward without Danny. We understood Satan's subtle weapons, especially his wedge of discouragement and despair. Because we knew that Satan is a powerful opponent, we talked about putting on the whole armor of God. 
        As our family said farewell and my husband went back to work, I knew my time of testing had arrived. I wondered if I would be O.K. During that first year I talked a great deal about my feelings. My therapists were the Spirit of the Holy Ghost, my dear husband, and my family. I continued to feel cradled, but still it was a yo-yo year of hurting and healing.
        There were heart-wrenching moments of unbelief and sadness as I relived Danny's death. When I got shingles, I took a serious look at the stress I was feeling and the Spirit urged me to hold on to my health. I returned to my morning walks and making fresh juice. I realized that I needed both exercise and energy to heal. I approached the problem of restless nights by turning to the taped voice of an inspired teacher. His message about the Prophet Joseph Smith and his voice helped me to listen, to relax, to forget, and to sleep. I didn't resist grieving, but when my son, Stephen, said: "Mama, don't grieve too much or Danny's progress will be slowed", I promised myself not to keep reviewing the "If onlys", such as, "If only we had gotten professional counseling for Danny..."
        One day my daughter, Kristine, came to have prayer with me because she had a spiritual prompting that Danny was missing his family. Praying and pondering that day about Danny missing us brought forgiveness. I whispered over and over to him: "It's all right. It's all right. Everything will be all right."
        My children called and wrote letters. I looked forward to my son?in?law's "How are you doing" interviews and my mother's cheerful visits. I remembered a theme from a Life Management seminar my family had participated in over a year ago: "The only way out is through." I knew I was making progress.
        In the beginning, I wondered how I could ever return to "dressing up" and "going out", but going shopping, going to the hair dresser, planning meals and keeping house all got me going again. Slowly I began to go through the routine of such simple chores as doing laundry and shopping without shedding tears. My grocery list had always had a section of Danny's special requests.
        The decision to return right away to Church and to my calling to teach the Gospel Doctrine class was important. I was met with loving eyes, warm hands, and healing hugs. After nine months had gone by, I accepted an additional calling to serve on a curriculum writing committee for the Church. All these things helped with the healing process.
        My husband built a wonderful memorial in a grove of oaks on our property. It was a place where Danny went when he wanted to be outside with nature, a place where Danny had built warm fires and coaxed us outside to laugh and be ourselves. Now it is a place of memory with a plaque that reads: DANNY'S PLACE. It has become a place for happy family gatherings around a permanent fire pit surrounded by beautiful trees and benches.
        I was prompted by the Spirit to compile a book on Danny's life for each of us. Working on this Danny Book was a healing experience. Page after page captured Danny the baby and his innocence, Danny the boy and his flowers, Danny the youth and his searching, and finally Danny the man and the masks. The book was a sad project, but it helped me look at the whole of Danny's life. Slowly the tragic end ceased to swallow up everything else. Now the book is a treasure for us all.
        My youngest daughter, Laura Ann, made plans to go on a mission. While she was in the Missionary Training Center, she became aware of Danny's presence as she fasted and prayed for a stronger testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Danny always loved to read and listen to stories about Joseph Smith. Now he was allowed to share his testimony with Laura Ann that Joseph Smith is indeed a prophet of God.
        The experience of death was new to our grandchildren. The loss of Uncle Danny caused them to worry that other family members might also die. These young concerns prompted us to plan a summer family reunion. As we pondered how to help each child feel protected and safe, we were inspired to involve both children and adults in an Armor of God Ceremony. The grandchildren were fascinated with the idea of building a castle, wearing armor, coming to the ceremony on a horse, and being knighted. Grandpa supervised the building of a castle from a large pile of rocks that had been left on our property. Each grandchild helped and, wonder of wonders, the dream became a reality.
        The moment of gathering was solemn and exciting. The children learned about the war in heaven and the protection we need on this earth from Satan. They memorized the spiritual meaning of the armor of God from Doctrine and Covenants 27 and Ephesians 6. They were clothed with armor and knighted a Saturday's Warrior by Grandpa Olsen with a sword that had belonged to Danny. We all felt the safety and protection of our Father in Heaven as we held hands in a family circle and thanked Him for His armor.
        We began to look forward to the opportunity to do Danny's endowment in the temple. Again a blessing came from heaven. My husband, Paul, was called to be a veil worker at the Provo Temple. We decided that Danny's closest brother, Stephen, would do the endowment. Stephen prepared all of the records and documents for Danny's endowment. All of us were present on that sacred occasion when my husband was at the veil of the temple when Stephen went through for Danny. I cried tears of joy.
        I humbly testify that challenges and afflictions in my life have brought me closer to Jesus Christ. For this reason, I consider them to be a blessing. I also know that the Savior strengthened me for those challenges that were meant to be an instrument for my growth. I have been guided through my trials and have received a greater vision and deeper appreciation for the suffering and sacrifice of my Savior, Jesus Christ, and a greater desire to be more sensitive and aware of the suffering of others.
        One day, a framed quote arrived from my cousin, who was inspired to send it. It is a favorite of Elder Marion D. Hanks. It reads:

"To believe in God is to know that all the rules are fair and that there will be wonderful surprises."

        I am filled with gratitude for the scriptures, for prayer, for the temple ceremony and for the promises to Danny, my husband and me, because of our temple sealing. Two scriptures speak to my heart and soul with new meaning. One is Doctrine and Covenants, Section 138:57-59:

I beheld that the faithful elders of this dispensation, when they depart from mortal life, continue their labors in the preaching of the gospel of repentance and redemption, through the sacrifice of the Only Begotten Son of God, among those who are in darkness and under the bondage of sin in the great World of the spirits of the dead. The dead who repent will be redeemed, through obedience to the ordinances of the house of God. And after they have paid the penalty of their transgressions, and are washed clean, shall receive a reward according to their works, for they are heirs of salvation.

        One of the Lord's great apostles who teaches these doctrines with hope and with promise is President Boyd K. Packer. In his October 1995 General Conference address, President Packer spoke to those who have made tragic mistakes and to parents who suffer unbearably because of the mistakes of wayward children. His address was entitled "The Brilliant Morning of Forgiveness". Surviving family members confront the question: "Can my loved one ever be forgiven?" To this question President Packer answered: "Yes!" He explained that relief from anguish and guilt could be earned through sincere repentance. That except for those who are guilty of perdition no offence is exempted from the promise of complete forgiveness. He reminded us that to earn forgiveness, restitution must be made. But there are some things that simply cannot be undone or restored, which is the very purpose of Christ's Atonement. He promised that when the desire to pay the "uttermost farthing" is firm, then the law of restitution is suspended and that obligation is transferred to the Lord. The Savior will settle those accounts.
        Then President Packer repeated the promise wrought by the Atonement of Jesus Christ that complete forgiveness covers all addictions, all rebellions, all transgression, all apostasy, all crime, except for perdition.
        No one knows how this will be accomplished, but we learn from Section 138 of the Doctrine & Covenants that the Lord's servants continue His work of redemption beyond the veil. (see Doctrine & Covenants 138 )
        President Packer quoted President Joseph F. Smith who commented on the mission of the Savior:

"Jesus had not finished his work when his body was slain, neither did he finish it after his resurrection from the dead; although he had accomplished the purpose for which he then came to the earth, he had not fulfilled all his work. And when will he? Not until he has redeemed and saved every son and daughter of our father Adam that have been or ever will be born upon this earth to the end of time, except the sons of perdition. That is his mission." (Joseph F. Smith, Gospel Doctrine 5th ed., 1939. p. 442)

        President Packer also quoted the Prophet Joseph Smith: "There is never a time when the spirit is too old to approach God. All are within the reach of pardoning mercy, who have not committed the unpardonable sin." (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, page 191.)
(President Boyd K. Packer, Ensign, November 1995, pages 18-21© 1995 by Intellectual Reserve Incorporated.) 
        Another scripture which comforts us is 1 Nephi 21:15?16 (also Isaiah 49:15?16). The words from this passage are now engraved on Danny's headstone.

"I will not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands."

        One day after I completed the Danny books, I walked beneath the majestic snow capped peaks of Mount Loafer and sang the words to the song, Oh Danny Boy:

Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling 
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side, 
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling, 
It's you, it's you must go, and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, 
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,
It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow, 
Oh, Danny Boy, oh, Danny Boy, I love you so!

        I thought of Ronny's words at Danny's funeral: "Danny found heavenly bastions of security with his family, good friends, and at times in his temple…the mountains." I knew that heavenly bastions of security surrounded Danny with his family and friends in the Spirit World. I knew that temples and mountains continued to bless his life." When I returned home I penned the following words to him:

Dear Danny,
Eternal horizons beckon to me,
Since you stepped forth into eternity.

I now stand on earth's narrow shore,
Straining to see beyond the veil's thin door.

But I have mountains yet to climb,
Before the whisper: "It's your time."

And I have commitments yet to keep,
Before I close my eyes in sleep.

And so I pray for you and me,
And for everyone in our eternal family.

May each of us anxiously prepare!
Our family circle must have no empty chair!

I love you, Mama 

        Danny is still very much a part of our family. We continue to pray for him now just as fervently as we did when he was here. I know he is aware of our prayers. I know that the prayers of every member of our family are a great strength to him now.

        There is hope! Hold on! Trust on! Remember your sons and your daughters are also the sons and daughters of Heavenly Father. He loves them too. He will join with you in a partnership to hold on to them. "For with God nothing shall be impossible." (Luke 1:37)

        Finally I know that when I see Danny again, there will be wonderful surprises awaiting me. I am at peace. In the name of Jesus Christ, AMEN.

UNDERSTANDING THE HEALING PROCESS: ACCEPTANCE AND HOPE IN CHRIST

By Benjamin E. Payne and Heather T. Payne

        Grief does not always progress in an orderly fashion. It can be unpredictable and overwhelming, but the only way to resolve it is to face it and experience it. Paul wrote in Hebrews, "Let us run with patience the race that is set before us." (Hebrews 12:1) It is not uncommon to revisit previous phases of the healing process many times. Each time can bring new feelings, understanding and awareness. 
        Part of the challenge of going through this process is that it also causes us to take a look at our beliefs, beliefs about our self, about God, about life, about our loved one, about our faith in Jesus Christ. As we prayerfully seek answers to the conflict that we feel inside, this opens the way for Christ to teach us. When we are taught through the Spirit of the Lord, our reexamination helps us to accept and receive hope for the future. The two stories shared above illustrate this learning process.
        As you progress through the phases of healing you will begin to accept your loss and look to the future. You will still have periods of sadness and feel the loss of your loved one, but you will feel the ability to continue on with your life and experience moments of joy. You will begin to cherish again your other family relationships.
        The experiences and heartfelt testimonies shared in this book have touched on questions such as: Why me? Why this? Why now? What purpose does this serve? What about the future? Is there no other way? These are normal questions whenever we walk through the "valley of the shadow of death." (Psalm 23) 
        It can seem too difficult to face these questions and walk forward, but with faith in Jesus Christ and His love, hope in the plan of salvation and of a purpose in all things, the healing of emotional grief does happen. Don't give up. Grieving does lead to healing and understanding. The process may feel like going through a deep, dark tunnel, but know that there is light and hope at the end of the tunnel. To heal from this hurt, we must have the brightness of hope, that the Savior will help us to see the end and beyond. Moroni, his family killed, doomed to wander alone for years, was obviously comforted by these words on hope spoken by his father Mormon: 

And again, my beloved brethren, I would speak unto you concerning hope. How is it that ye can attain unto faith, save ye shall have hope? And what is it ye shall hope for? Behold I say unto you that he shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise. Wherefore, if a man have faith he must needs have hope; for without faith there cannot be any hope. And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart. (Moroni 7:40-43 emphasis added)

        When we approach the Lord with our sorrows He will not only comfort us and ease the burden, but He will teach us how to turn darkness to light; bitter to sweet; anger into love and compassion; doubt into confidence; blame into forgiveness; fear into faith; despair into hope and sadness into joy. The Savior has descended below all things and can understand our every thought and feeling. Like Christ, we can gain strength from what we suffer and come to know deep and abiding joy. (Isaiah 53:4, Mosiah 14:3)

        Healing requires that we be honest with ourselves. The tendency to deny our thoughts or feelings will delay or even prevent us from healing. Confide in the Lord. He understands the end from the beginning. He can teach us wonderful things that we had never supposed about ourselves, our loved one(s), about Him, and about life's meaning. One of the Savior's titles is Counselor. What a marvelous opportunity to have Him at our side. No matter what our trial may be, we will never have to walk alone. He, the Savior, will always be with us. We are counseled by the Lord: "Therefore, let your hearts be comforted...for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God." (Doctrine & Covenants 101:16) It is in that stillness that we can gain great insight and learning from God. The Lord further said:
        "Verily, verily, I say unto you, if you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things. Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?" (Doctrine & Covenants 6:22-23) This is how most of our answers will come.
        Act on the information you receive and you will soon recognize that there is greater purpose to going through this difficult experience "than you had supposed." Just like going through the tunnel, or traveling down the road at night, we have to have enough faith that the Lord will light our way to the next bend even though we can not see the end of the road. Scripture reading can also be a source of strength. 
        The Lord has power to help us grow and reach our divine potential. He is keenly aware of our trials and losses and he knows what experiences will bring about our greatest spiritual well being and what we can physically and emotionally endure. He knows the finished product. We are like clay on a potter's wheel and the Lord is the potter. He knows how to shape, prune and mold us in every way so that we will be " . . .vessels unto honour, sanctified, and meet for the master's use, and prepared unto every good work." (2 Timothy 2:21)
        Our trials open the way for Christ to teach each of us individually. May we each "press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope . . . and endure to the end." (2 Nephi 31:20) The gospel truly can bring peace and healing in a way that surpasses mortal understanding.

HELPS FOR HEALING

        As you seek to accept the death of your loved one and develop a hope in Christ you will recognize some healing has already occurred. Survivors have found it helps to keep a journal and record your thoughts, feelings and impressions. Putting words to the emotions that attend suicide can bring release and closure. A journal will help you to look back when your faith is tested and you will be strengthened by recognizing the answers you have already received. Otherwise, we have a tendency to forget the power of these past experiences. In keeping a journal, you will discover your worth, your talents, your mission, your progress in healing, and insights about suicide that may not be learned any other way. For example, you could keep a journal on the healing strategies suggested in this book. 
        Another helpful activity may be to make a personal history of your loved one's life including photos and accomplishments as one mother did in the previous story. 

The Healing Power of Music

        In the days following the September 11th Attack on America, music helped reignite America's spirit and comfort a mourning nation. As the scenes on TV became too difficult to watch, many of us turned to music to heal us from unimaginable wrong. When Denyce Graves, an international opera star, stepped forward to sing America the Beautiful at the National Cathedral in Washington, she inspired, and uplifted millions of mourning Americans. In the days following, a who's who of musicians performed on network television to summon a new sense of patriotism and raise money for victims and their families. Scientists now say that music may offer more power to mend than we ever imagined. New studies show that listening to and playing music actually can alter how our brains, and thus our bodies, function. Doctors believe music therapy in hospitals and nursing homes not only makes people feel better, but also makes them heal faster. "Whether or not people choose to recognize the power of music, it remains a spiritual experience, a healing experience," says opera star Denyce Graves, "It can save us." ("Healing Harmonies" by Tim Wendel, USA Weekend, Oct. 26-28, 2001) 
        The Lord said: "For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads." (Doctrine & Covenants, Section 25:12-13) Survivors have said that music gave comfort and help to them during the healing process. Music of any kind that inspires, uplifts, comforts, assuages grief, or brings peace can be manna to our souls. 
        Good music can provide enrichment, inspiration, consolation and aesthetic experiences throughout life. The communication of emotion and meaning through music expresses one's deepest self. 
        Michael Ballam, prominent LDS musician, relates his experience in the healing power of music:

        In an extraordinary state of despair in 1931, when J.C. Penney lost 40 million dollars from the depression, he determined to take his life at the age of 56. The story is told of him coming into a room at a sanitarium to seek a means to end his misery when he heard someone singing "God Will Take Care of You". It spoke deeply to his soul and gave him the resolve to recover from his deadly depression.
        George Frederick Handel, after suffering paralytic strokes, was set aside in a convalescent home and expected to die. He wheeled himself to a small organ in the building and stared at it for some time. His great desire to make music enabled him to use one finger to search out a melody. After days of pain and determination he was able to use his fingers, then his hands and feet. It was the beginning of musical therapy that would lift his spirits, heal his body and ultimately allow him to create his masterwork, The Messiah.
        I understand these stories well. Having suffered with depression a good deal of my life, and having sought various forms of help, I have discovered the surest therapy for me: I am a musical volunteer in hospitals, hospices, rest homes, jails and prisons. I'm not sure what it does for those for whom I sing, but it does wonderful things for me. It helps me to look beyond my own challenges and to feel that I am making a difference for someone. I believe that is a deep human desire. My gospel recipe is found in Matthew 25:35-36: "For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me." 
        Following the Savior's directive helps me through. Music has given me the courage and means to go into difficult situations and fulfill the Savior's admonitions, to be His hands here on earth. It has blessed me and I commend it to everyone. Those whom we serve in this way are not looking for a performance worthy of Carnegie Hall, but rather a warm heart and a willingness to serve. (Michael Ballam, personal communication)

        In addition to Where Can I Turn for Peace, page 129, there are hymns that are not as well known, which may console those who grieve. Some especially helpful ones are: Though Deepening Trials, page 122; Lean on My Ample Arm, page 120; Oh, May My Soul Commune with Thee, page 123; O Savior, Thou Who Wearest a Crown, page 197; Come Unto Him, page 114; Come, Ye Disconsolate, page 115; Be Still My Soul, page 124, a beautiful Hymn written to the music of Jean Sibelius; O Love That Glorifies the Son, page 295; Our Savior's Love, page 113; When Faith Endures, page 128; and Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, by John Wyeth, which is not in our current Hymn book, but is sung by the Tabernacle Choir.
        Several survivors mentioned that classical music helped them mend. Choral works such as How Lovely Is Thy Dwelling Place, from Brahms Requiem, Handel's Messiah, Faure's Requiem, Mozart's Requiem, Bach's Missa Solemnis, and Beethoven's Ninth Symphony are but a few of the musical masterpieces that continue to inspire and uplift men and women through the ages. 
        Did you know that Ludwig Van Beethoven began to go deaf in his early twenties? He wrote his famous Heiligenstadt Testament, a Last Will and Testament, to his brother Carl in 1802 when he was only 32 years old and almost completely deaf. He said being in the presence of friends who could hear a flute or shepherd singing while he heard nothing brought him close to despair, "and I came near to ending my own life-only my art held me back, as it seemed to me impossible to leave this world until I have produced every thing I feel it has been granted to me to achieve. So I continue this miserable existence . . . Oh, God, you look down on my inner soul, and know that it is filled with love of humanity and the desire to do good. . . [Carl] Urge your children to follow the path of virtue, as that alone can bring happiness-money cannot. I speak from experience, as virtue alone has sustained me in my misery, and it was thanks to virtue, together with my art, that I did not end my life by committing suicide. Farewell, and love one another." (Ludwig Van Beethoven, page 21, edited by Joseph Schmidt-Görg and Hans Schmidt. Beethoven-Archiv-Bonn) Often great masterpieces of music, art and literature are born from the trials and suffering of the composer, artist, or writer.