Youth Advisory Council
Calla's Story
“My father passed away when I was 4; old enough to have spent time with him but young enough to not remember him. At that age I didn’t understand what death meant, but I felt it. I searched under the bed for my dad, called out his name hoping he’d come around the corner. But, the truth is he wasn’t going to and that is where this story begins.
To me, my grief looked like having a sense of protection over my mom and sister, ensuring the doors were locked, the alarm was set, I felt brave and strong but scared at my core. Being the oldest gave me the feeling of being in charge now that the person who I thought would protect us was gone. While many memories are faded and blurry, I remember the people that came immediately to our aid, especially our community of friends, neighbors, and family.
At four, grief felt confusing. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to feel, I truly just know I felt confused. Confused at why my dad was gone, confused why my mom tried to continue life like it was normal, even though it wasn’t. I didn’t fully understand anything, and to this day I still don’t. I know that while everyone will experience grief in their lifetime, everyone’s experience is totally unique. And, while the years have passed, it still shows up when I least expect it. But, back to where the story begins.
A few months after he passed, I joined the Healing Center, and we went weekly for several years. I remember the way it made me feel – warm, safe, and comforting. This was the perfect way for me to be a kid again. I remember playing with the doll house, creating odd sculptures with the kinetic sand, surrounding myself with kids my age going through the same thing, and having a kind counselor by my side talking me through my thoughts. I also remember sitting in a group with other parents and their kids, sharing photos of the people we lost, hearing their stories. They even had electric candles to place next to our photos that we hand decorated as a way to honor them, which made me feel proud.
Since then, any regular therapy session I’ve had just didn’t quite feel the same. There was something about that circle time together, time slowing down to make space to share. And the understanding that even if we didn’t say anything, we just knew and understood and felt seen. I still have the picture frame I decorated sitting on my desk, reminding me my dad is still with me, reminding me of the support from the Healing Center.
Twelve years have passed, and I still feel at a loss of words when people ask me about my dad, it’s always a bit awkward. However, I am slowly making progress about sharing my story. In High School, I joined Safe Crossings Foundation’s Youth Advisory Council, which is another grief support service that provides many types of resources to kids, including Camp Erin. Having a leadership role on the council has not only given me the courage to share my story and begin to give back in some small way but also has connected me with other teens my age who are thriving now, in large part due to the support we’ve had over the years. I’m so thankful to be part of the council.
It’s still hard to remember a person that’s not around anymore and it’s true that the memories do begin to fade, it’s just real. It’s okay and natural to forget their voice or to even forget their face aside from photos, I think that’s a common misconception people have about childhood loss is that your feelings and memories are suspended in time. Truthfully, they don’t and you don’t, and it’s okay to begin to forget them and that is just part of healing.”