This beautiful article was submitted to Share by Ginny Limer.
She is my most sensitive of six
children. My curly haired, nature-
loving, brilliant, eldest daughter just
entered the truck, and she is asking
many questions without any words.
At just 10, she is very keen at
deducing that something is wrong,
silently wondering why she has an
early dismissal from school. Why is
Aunt Jana in the car with us? She is
staring at me in disbelief, eyes
watering, mouth open, because the
words, “Cullin has gone to Heaven”
were just forced from my mouth and
ripped from my heart. Her baby
brother has gone to Heaven, taken
from us by Sudden Infant Death
Syndrome (SIDS). I’m thinking, “Yes,
my son has just passed away. Yes, I
am barely mobile, driving on sheer
fear and trauma induced adrenaline,
but Kili, and the other five sudden
siblings of loss, are now grieving and
in need of professional and parental
guidance.”
Our three sons, Ryan, Dalton, and
Aren (ages 13, 10 and 8 at the time)
are told about their little buddy, their
baby brother’s passing. Silence,
blank stares, and many tears follow
those heartbreaking and
unbelievably difficult conversations.
The fifth little piggy, Kindil June (4
years old then) witnesses and
experiences Cullin’s passing first
hand at our beloved baby sitter, Mrs.
Amy’s, house. My poor, sweet, innocent baby girl was there and,
along with another four year old girl
and a one year old boy, experienced a
very traumatic situation. Death has a
way of making children feel angry,
guilty, fearful, lonely, depressed,
which causes physical distress and a
loss of innocence.
Ours is a blended family, a “his,
mine, ours” family. Cullin was OURS,
all of ours, each of ours. The pain of
his absence is felt as a whole as well
as individuals, and leaves us all
wondering why. The loss of a child
leaves a family wondering why. We
wonder why, and we wonder what
actions to take now. Searching for
healthy ways to deal with Cullin’s
death, we read many books about
loss (such as “Dancing on the Moon,”
and “We were Going to have a Baby
but Had and Angel Instead”), and
have had many open (and open-
ended) discussions. We read for
answers. We searched for
understanding. There is a need for
both understanding and being
understood while grieving.
With broken hearts and idle hands,
Cullin’s siblings wrote messages to
their brother and sent them to the
sky during a balloon release that was
provided by thoughtful neighbors.
These ladies also brought chalk, lots
of chalk, for the kids to draw pictures
and messages “to Cullin” on the
driveway. Focused, creative activities
encourage the children to channel
their grief in a positive, healthy way.
Ryan, the oldest son, began to write
songs. The curly haired, sensitive big
sister began drawing pictures on paper. Dalton began
writing about memories and
times shared with his baby
brother. The oldest two
created a newsletter, calling
it Children with Difficulties
and Loss (C.D.L. their baby
brother’s initials) and include
submissions from other
siblings of loss that they have
connected with through our
non profit for families that
have endured the loss of a
child.
Scared Sidless was inspired by loving
neighbors, created for families and
siblings of loss, and helps others in
honor of Cullin Darden Limer. We
are here to help other families find
creative ways to channel grief at
home. If you would like to find out
more about Scared Sidless, Camp
Cullin (our annual “get away” for
siblings of grief), any of our
initiatives for families of loss, or to
have your children submit their
expressions of grief for the children’s
newsletter, please “Like” us at
www.facebook.com/sidlessnow or
visit www.scaredsidless.com . Scared
Sidless, “Turning the helplessness
into helpfulness.”
About the Author:
Ginny Limer, Wife, Teacher,
Photographer, CEO of
www.scaredsidless.com
Mother of 5 on Earth, 1 in Heaven.
Our six month old son, and the light
of all of our lives, passed away from
SIDS on October 1, 2012.
