Grief camp helps children cope with loss
USA Today’s David Oliver visits the Wendt Center Grief Camp in Washington, D.C., where children work through loss through therapy, play and connection.
Grief affects us all, but not in the ways we always think. Yes, people die, but so do pets. We may feel sad about our dreams, our jobs, our health, and our past selves. Grief is not linear. A common misconception is that it doesn’t happen in stages. It is unique to the individual.
After embarking on a series documenting various grief journeys, we asked for your input. What kind of grief did you experience? Are you willing to share your story publicly?
We have over 700 responses and the number continues to grow. Here’s what some of you have shared. You can submit your own story here.
Astrid Oliver (56 years old) and Deanne Slaughter (57 years old)
“Both of our sons died of drug overdoses. We met in a support group. One of the things we talked about was that we couldn’t find anyone talking about what it was like to live life after this happened, and long after it happened. ‘Will things get better?’ ‘What is this experience like?’ “What would it be like for me?” These were some of the questions we had in the early days when everything was new and awful and we were trying to find something to connect with. So we started a podcast (Two Mothers with Two Dead Children) where we talk about what life is like three and eight years after the death of our children. Will it help someone? I don’t understand. But here we are.
In our experience, you feel like a failure when your child dies from a drug overdose. I feel like I’m responsible and I feel like I’m really the worst. You will lose your strength and confidence. You lose perspective on yourself and your parents. You feel completely defeated.
When you lose, you tend to get stiff and it’s not a very good feeling. When this happens, you feel like you can never move forward or heal. But maybe it can be cured. Maybe we can shift to a place of love rather than the loss of a child. Maybe you’ll be able to recognize who you used to be and who you are now. We began a year-long conversation to find out what that would look like and how to make it happen. ”
Carlos Olivas, 58 years old
“I am caring for my father who is battling Alzheimer’s disease. He is a successful artist and as a family we try to normalize life with dementia as much as possible. We don’t talk to him about my brother’s death because we want to protect him. So I grieve in silence.
As a caregiver, I struggle to hide my own mourning process while being present with love every day. Caregiver support groups and therapy were essential in helping me work through my grief. Long before my brother died of alcoholism in 2022, I was already living with anticipatory grief, an ambiguous sense of loss, and the cumulative sadness that comes with dementia. Having a safe space to speak up reminds me that I am not alone in this journey.
Our family was also selected to be featured in the 2025 PBS documentary, Matters of the Heart: My Alzheimer’s Disease. This documentary is a powerful and intimate look at three families, including ours, navigating the challenges and beauties of caregiving. ”
Charlotte Seehafer, 59 years old
“It’s been more than seven years since I found Justin dead in his condo. Some days I’m okay, some days I’m not. Over the years, I’ve tried many things to ease my grief, but most have failed spectacularly. His 36th birthday was last week, but he’s forever 28 years old. I still sometimes get random ‘grief storms’ that come out of nowhere and can last several days.” It took some time, but I started to pay more attention to my son’s birthday and death anniversary. Once you start spinning out to let people around you know what to do.
I was doing everything right. I sent him to Catholic school. We joined Cub Scouts and served as leaders for five years. We went on adventures as a family and went to Disneyland every year. We gave him a good life. I was a teacher and my husband was a police officer. We were involved in his life. I never expected something like this to happen. But it happened. I still feel like there’s a hole in my chest. It still hurts. Grief is hard. Living for your family is difficult. I still feel very alone and alone. ”
