A Letter from Laney
Last year was the most horrible year of my life. My mother died from complications following a heart attack and then five months later my beautiful sister died after brain surgery. I was in an absolute tailspin of grief. My sister left two sons behind and their well being was the only thing that kept me going…on sheer adrenalin. My faith and heart were truly broken. Even after surviving breast cancer and experiencing the death of my father ten years earlier, nothing could prepare me for this kind of grief. Coincidently a dear friend of mine had lost her mother around the same time of my sister's death. The two of us were psychologically minded enough to realize we needed help. Everyday acquaintances wanted us to "move on," but where could we take this sadness? We shopped for a support group at hospitals, churches, and hospice groups and were very disappointed. Personally I was shocked. Having come from a family of six doctors and six nurses, I was completely unaware of how hospitals were so ill equipped for handling the aftermath of death. Through my friend we finally found the safe refuge of OUR HOUSE.
OUR HOUSE is an extraordinary place. It was and continues to be a haven of hope for me. The dedication and thought put into the program is quite amazing, there's nothing quite like it! The commitment from volunteer group leaders and staff was just what was needed. A safe place to go through all the phases of grief. My group even had another woman who had lost a mother and sister within a six-month period. It was as if OUR HOUSE offered me a personally designed program to manage my grief. If "Mary" could get through it, so could I. From the moment I walked in the door I could sense that OUR HOUSE was a sacred place. The cozy and loving atmosphere is so comforting with pillows and blankets in abundance. Each room represents a family member that is being memorialized in the best of ways by housing the healing hearts of the bereft. Even today my group remains in touch.
OUR HOUSE has become a home of sorts for me, a place I will continue to be involved with for the rest of my life. They gave to me when I needed it the most, and I want to give back. OUR HOUSE offers continued healing by affording us the opportunity to help others. A dear friend of mine always says, "service is the only antidote to depression" and part of my healing is happening now that I am a volunteer. In the OUR HOUSE Medical Professional Education Program I tell my story to medical students from UCLA and USC in hopes of relaying to them the importance of dealing with death and dying in a humane and sensitive way.
I am continuously amazed at the outreach that OUR HOUSE offers. After serving on the House of Hope Event Committee and attending the event, I learned even more about the School Program and was so impressed that I will soon go through training and volunteer to lead a group of children who have experienced the death of a loved one.
No one is exempt from death - it touches all of us at sometime or another, and I want OUR HOUSE to be there for others as well. Please remember that OUR HOUSE is a nonprofit organization that relies on private funding and needs our support.
Thank you,
Laney Fichera, a Grateful Alumna & Volunteer
Last year was the most horrible year of my life. My mother died from complications following a heart attack and then five months later my beautiful sister died after brain surgery. I was in an absolute tailspin of grief. My sister left two sons behind and their well being was the only thing that kept me going…on sheer adrenalin. My faith and heart were truly broken. Even after surviving breast cancer and experiencing the death of my father ten years earlier, nothing could prepare me for this kind of grief. Coincidently a dear friend of mine had lost her mother around the same time of my sister's death. The two of us were psychologically minded enough to realize we needed help. Everyday acquaintances wanted us to "move on," but where could we take this sadness? We shopped for a support group at hospitals, churches, and hospice groups and were very disappointed. Personally I was shocked. Having come from a family of six doctors and six nurses, I was completely unaware of how hospitals were so ill equipped for handling the aftermath of death. Through my friend we finally found the safe refuge of OUR HOUSE.
OUR HOUSE is an extraordinary place. It was and continues to be a haven of hope for me. The dedication and thought put into the program is quite amazing, there's nothing quite like it! The commitment from volunteer group leaders and staff was just what was needed. A safe place to go through all the phases of grief. My group even had another woman who had lost a mother and sister within a six-month period. It was as if OUR HOUSE offered me a personally designed program to manage my grief. If "Mary" could get through it, so could I. From the moment I walked in the door I could sense that OUR HOUSE was a sacred place. The cozy and loving atmosphere is so comforting with pillows and blankets in abundance. Each room represents a family member that is being memorialized in the best of ways by housing the healing hearts of the bereft. Even today my group remains in touch.
OUR HOUSE has become a home of sorts for me, a place I will continue to be involved with for the rest of my life. They gave to me when I needed it the most, and I want to give back. OUR HOUSE offers continued healing by affording us the opportunity to help others. A dear friend of mine always says, "service is the only antidote to depression" and part of my healing is happening now that I am a volunteer. In the OUR HOUSE Medical Professional Education Program I tell my story to medical students from UCLA and USC in hopes of relaying to them the importance of dealing with death and dying in a humane and sensitive way.
I am continuously amazed at the outreach that OUR HOUSE offers. After serving on the House of Hope Event Committee and attending the event, I learned even more about the School Program and was so impressed that I will soon go through training and volunteer to lead a group of children who have experienced the death of a loved one.
No one is exempt from death - it touches all of us at sometime or another, and I want OUR HOUSE to be there for others as well. Please remember that OUR HOUSE is a nonprofit organization that relies on private funding and needs our support.
Thank you,
Laney Fichera, a Grateful Alumna & Volunteer
In Memory of Dora
Meet Earl, Imani, and Jaryd Dorsey
…they know about love, family, & happiness
…they know about tragedy, loss, & grief
…they know about hope, healing & remembering Dora
On the morning of September 11, 2001 life was normal for the Dorsey family. Jaryd went to kindergarten, Earl went to work, and Imani (who attended the University of Portland) prepared for classes. They all looked forward to Dora returning that afternoon from her business trip in Washington, DC. By 9:00 am Pacific Time their lives changed forever. Dora was on the plane that went into the Pentagon.
The first several months were a blur. There were so many people around and the media attention was intense. They were a family torn between their own emotions about Dora's death and the public's need to know. Earl gave interviews to three different networks because he wanted to preserve thoughts & memories surrounding the event so that Jaryd (who was 5 at the time) would have an opportunity to learn what happened. Yet it wasn't long before being the focus of so much attention became overwhelming, and Earl felt that his responses to questions weren't sensational enough or that the media questions were inappropriate or insulting. Imani states that at first the "questions were helpful. They provided an opportunity to express emotions, to think and become clearer about what happened." However, before long it was difficult to get away from the constant reminder of what was both a "public loss" for our country and a very "private loss" for their family.
At OUR HOUSE, Earl and Jaryd found a place where there was no mention of the media and where only their group members and the staff knew about the circumstances surrounding Dora's death. It was a place where they could share their thoughts and feelings and learn that they weren't weird or different. OUR HOUSE was a place where others could understand how difficult it was dealing with comments like "It will get better in time" and where others validated that it's OK to "lose it". Earl states, "I couldn't talk about my feelings with anyone the way I did with my group. I don't think anyone could have understood the way my fellow group members did. I owe a great debt of gratitude to them. It was such a supportive environment and provided each of us with strength that came out of all of our individual experiences." Jaryd, now 7, loves his group and although it took him almost a year before he could express his feelings, his artwork (depicting fiery planes crashing into buildings and angels with big smiles) provided an outlet for his grief. For Imani, who was away at college, there was no environment where she felt comfortable talking about her mom and 9/11. "I wish I'd had the opportunity to be in a group like they were. It's a cool concept to have others with similar losses and similar in age come together to share their experiences and support one another. I see how much it's helped my Dad and Jaryd."
Today while it's still difficult to talk about the events of 9/11, it is easier to share memories and to honor Dora's life. Jaryd remembers cuddling up with his mom to sleep. Earl & Imani both remember their conversations, what a wonderful sounding board she was. And they remember one of Dora's biggest accomplishments, completing the LA Marathon 2000 and again in 2001. "My Mom was so proud of herself," Imani says. The 2004 Los Angeles Marathon continues a new tradition in Memory of Dora. Family and friends from across the country flew in to help celebrate her life and to cheer on Earl, Jaryd and Imani as they ran in her memory (and in support of OUR HOUSE!). It was also a day to celebrate personal accomplishments. Jaryd ran 4.2 miles and after going through the Finish Line turned to his Dad stating, "Never underestimate a kid!" He says the day was extra special because he knew Dora was looking down and smiling proudly.
Meet Earl, Imani, and Jaryd Dorsey
…they know about love, family, & happiness
…they know about tragedy, loss, & grief
…they know about hope, healing & remembering Dora
On the morning of September 11, 2001 life was normal for the Dorsey family. Jaryd went to kindergarten, Earl went to work, and Imani (who attended the University of Portland) prepared for classes. They all looked forward to Dora returning that afternoon from her business trip in Washington, DC. By 9:00 am Pacific Time their lives changed forever. Dora was on the plane that went into the Pentagon.
The first several months were a blur. There were so many people around and the media attention was intense. They were a family torn between their own emotions about Dora's death and the public's need to know. Earl gave interviews to three different networks because he wanted to preserve thoughts & memories surrounding the event so that Jaryd (who was 5 at the time) would have an opportunity to learn what happened. Yet it wasn't long before being the focus of so much attention became overwhelming, and Earl felt that his responses to questions weren't sensational enough or that the media questions were inappropriate or insulting. Imani states that at first the "questions were helpful. They provided an opportunity to express emotions, to think and become clearer about what happened." However, before long it was difficult to get away from the constant reminder of what was both a "public loss" for our country and a very "private loss" for their family.
At OUR HOUSE, Earl and Jaryd found a place where there was no mention of the media and where only their group members and the staff knew about the circumstances surrounding Dora's death. It was a place where they could share their thoughts and feelings and learn that they weren't weird or different. OUR HOUSE was a place where others could understand how difficult it was dealing with comments like "It will get better in time" and where others validated that it's OK to "lose it". Earl states, "I couldn't talk about my feelings with anyone the way I did with my group. I don't think anyone could have understood the way my fellow group members did. I owe a great debt of gratitude to them. It was such a supportive environment and provided each of us with strength that came out of all of our individual experiences." Jaryd, now 7, loves his group and although it took him almost a year before he could express his feelings, his artwork (depicting fiery planes crashing into buildings and angels with big smiles) provided an outlet for his grief. For Imani, who was away at college, there was no environment where she felt comfortable talking about her mom and 9/11. "I wish I'd had the opportunity to be in a group like they were. It's a cool concept to have others with similar losses and similar in age come together to share their experiences and support one another. I see how much it's helped my Dad and Jaryd."
Today while it's still difficult to talk about the events of 9/11, it is easier to share memories and to honor Dora's life. Jaryd remembers cuddling up with his mom to sleep. Earl & Imani both remember their conversations, what a wonderful sounding board she was. And they remember one of Dora's biggest accomplishments, completing the LA Marathon 2000 and again in 2001. "My Mom was so proud of herself," Imani says. The 2004 Los Angeles Marathon continues a new tradition in Memory of Dora. Family and friends from across the country flew in to help celebrate her life and to cheer on Earl, Jaryd and Imani as they ran in her memory (and in support of OUR HOUSE!). It was also a day to celebrate personal accomplishments. Jaryd ran 4.2 miles and after going through the Finish Line turned to his Dad stating, "Never underestimate a kid!" He says the day was extra special because he knew Dora was looking down and smiling proudly.
“Now You’re the Man of the Family”
Imagine being a 13-year-old boy still in shock from watching his father die after the family was in an automobile accident while returning from Mexico and having one of the police officers turn to you and say, "No time for tears son, now you're the man of the family. It's up to you to take care of your mom and little brother." The weight of responsibility is enormous and the guilt at not measuring up is intense. Then one day you have a chance to be in a group with other kids from school who know what it feels like to grieve the death of someone important. You're telling your story… about the trip, the accident, what it felt like to know in your heart that your Dad had died…and then you tell the group what the police officer said.
Imagine hearing other kids in the group say that is so unfair…how can a 13 year old be expected to be the "man" of the family. Imagine the relief of knowing that all that you had been afraid of and felt guilty about shouldn't be your responsibility. Imagine a release from the anger that had been driving you since the accident. Imagine feeling free to be a kid again.
You've just imagined what life was like for one of the kids in our school groups. The program provides "on-site" grief support groups at schools throughout Los Angeles where students often have limited resources for support and have limited access to groups like ours. It's amazing to see the difference in the group members after only one or two sessions. Even the first session offers such relief for the participants because they begin to recognize they are not "different" from everyone else at school. There are others who can understand their feelings and fears, and they're not alone. While both students and school staff tell us how valuable our groups are, perhaps the program's success is best measured by the changes observed by our Group Leaders. Over the course of the 10-week program, the tears and anger and sense of isolation transition to smiles and laughter at fond memories, an appreciation that their feelings are normal, and a camaraderie develops among students who often did not know one another prior to the group.
The value is recognized through the small things…
• hearing a child say how much "lighter" she feels after writing a letter to the person who died, attaching it to a balloon, and letting it go
• seeing a "troublemaker at school" smile for the first time after popping an "anger bag"
• watching the "tough guy" cry as he finally admits his grief because he knows the group is a safe place and no one will judge him
• having an entire group of middle schoolers ask to do "closing circle" even though it requires that the boys hold hands too
• knowing that one hour a week for 10 weeks really can make a huge difference in a child's life
For the past three school years we've helped between 200 and 300 students annually through our School Program. Their stories touch our hearts and their healing reminds us of how much we're needed!.
Imagine being a 13-year-old boy still in shock from watching his father die after the family was in an automobile accident while returning from Mexico and having one of the police officers turn to you and say, "No time for tears son, now you're the man of the family. It's up to you to take care of your mom and little brother." The weight of responsibility is enormous and the guilt at not measuring up is intense. Then one day you have a chance to be in a group with other kids from school who know what it feels like to grieve the death of someone important. You're telling your story… about the trip, the accident, what it felt like to know in your heart that your Dad had died…and then you tell the group what the police officer said.
Imagine hearing other kids in the group say that is so unfair…how can a 13 year old be expected to be the "man" of the family. Imagine the relief of knowing that all that you had been afraid of and felt guilty about shouldn't be your responsibility. Imagine a release from the anger that had been driving you since the accident. Imagine feeling free to be a kid again.
You've just imagined what life was like for one of the kids in our school groups. The program provides "on-site" grief support groups at schools throughout Los Angeles where students often have limited resources for support and have limited access to groups like ours. It's amazing to see the difference in the group members after only one or two sessions. Even the first session offers such relief for the participants because they begin to recognize they are not "different" from everyone else at school. There are others who can understand their feelings and fears, and they're not alone. While both students and school staff tell us how valuable our groups are, perhaps the program's success is best measured by the changes observed by our Group Leaders. Over the course of the 10-week program, the tears and anger and sense of isolation transition to smiles and laughter at fond memories, an appreciation that their feelings are normal, and a camaraderie develops among students who often did not know one another prior to the group.
The value is recognized through the small things…
• hearing a child say how much "lighter" she feels after writing a letter to the person who died, attaching it to a balloon, and letting it go
• seeing a "troublemaker at school" smile for the first time after popping an "anger bag"
• watching the "tough guy" cry as he finally admits his grief because he knows the group is a safe place and no one will judge him
• having an entire group of middle schoolers ask to do "closing circle" even though it requires that the boys hold hands too
• knowing that one hour a week for 10 weeks really can make a huge difference in a child's life
For the past three school years we've helped between 200 and 300 students annually through our School Program. Their stories touch our hearts and their healing reminds us of how much we're needed!.
Gertie’s Room…
a place for memories… a place for healing Carol April is a tall, striking woman. When you meet her you're immediately charmed by her radiant smile. She's happily married to Rand April, and they have two beautiful children. The April family is the picture of happiness. No one would know the sadness Carol suffered as a child.
Carol was only four when her mother, Gertrude (Gertie), died from breast cancer. Her sister, Susan, was nine. Carol has no memory of being told her mother died nor does she have any memories of her mother. "I think maybe I remember her sitting propped up against some pillows." Her father rarely spoke about her mother. "It was too painful. People just didn't talk about the subject in the fifties." By the time Carol entered kindergarten she instinctively knew she wasn't like other children. "I didn't want anyone to know my mother died. I was very aware I was different and desperately wanted to be like the other kids who had both a Mom and Dad." When her school had a special weeklong 'hot lunch' program for children with working mothers, she begged her father to write a note saying her mother was also at work. "I felt so guilty for making my father lie that I ended up home sick most of the week. I only got to eat one hot lunch."
When Carol was eight her father remarried and the family moved from New York to Long Island. People assumed her stepmother was Carol's natural mother. No one corrected them. "I very much wanted a mother, yet there was a part of me that also resented that she wasn't my real mother. With time we grew very close. Sadly, she too died before I married." After college, Carol moved to Manhattan, enjoyed a successful career in the book publishing business, married Rand and together they moved to Los Angeles. Through all of life's changes she thought of her mother. On momentous occasions like her wedding day, the birth of her children, and even with their recent b'nai mitzvah, her heart aches.
About 10 years ago Carol's father showed her photographs she never knew existed. She'd always wondered (because of her mother's illness) how much nurturing she'd received. Finally seeing pictures of her mom holding and cherishing her was like finding the missing piece of the puzzle. Carol broke down crying. "It was so important to visually see me being mothered." Years earlier her father had given her an exquisite broach that belonged to her mother. In one photo she saw her mother wearing the broach she treasured, "It became even more valuable."
In 1998 Carol was looking for a nonprofit where she could focus her energies and passion. A friend told her about OUR HOUSE. After touring the agency, Carol knew she'd found a perfect fit. She quickly became active, joining the Board of Directors and leading grief support groups at Venice High. Several years ago when helping produce an agency video, her eyes filled with tears and her heart broke in two. "Hearing children the same age as I was when my mother died sharing their sorrow helped me realize what an extraordinary place OUR HOUSE really is." "The death of a parent can cause issues with abandonment and trust that also affect your self-esteem and self-confidence. I wish I had known I wasn't alone. There was no OUR HOUSE when I was growing up. I know first hand the value; I know the enormous benefit. At OUR HOUSE you feel the healing when you walk through the door. It heals because children can come and feel safe enough to share their deepest pain."
Carol wanted to do something different for her 50th birthday… something special for OUR HOUSE. Carol, Rand, and Executive Director, Susan Galeas came up with the idea of naming the 'littles room' in memory of Carol's mother. In lieu of birthday presents, Carol asked her family and friends to donate to Gertie's Room. These gifts, along with a very generous donation by the Aprils, raised $25,000 to sponsor the room. "I'd waited my whole life to find a way to honor my mother's memory. This was very special." Carol's sister Susan, and her husband Alan, flew in from New York for the dedication. Susan, Carol, and her children helped get the room ready, making it a family endeavor. On the day of the dedication, LA had one of its worst rainstorms, how-ever that didn't stop the Aprils, their family or friends from attending the ribbon cutting ceremony and seeing first hand how their contributions help make a difference in the lives of grieving children. Thanks to Carol, Gertie's Room will live forever at OUR HOUSE so that "no child has to experience the death of a parent and feel as alone as I did with their grief.".
a place for memories… a place for healing Carol April is a tall, striking woman. When you meet her you're immediately charmed by her radiant smile. She's happily married to Rand April, and they have two beautiful children. The April family is the picture of happiness. No one would know the sadness Carol suffered as a child.
Carol was only four when her mother, Gertrude (Gertie), died from breast cancer. Her sister, Susan, was nine. Carol has no memory of being told her mother died nor does she have any memories of her mother. "I think maybe I remember her sitting propped up against some pillows." Her father rarely spoke about her mother. "It was too painful. People just didn't talk about the subject in the fifties." By the time Carol entered kindergarten she instinctively knew she wasn't like other children. "I didn't want anyone to know my mother died. I was very aware I was different and desperately wanted to be like the other kids who had both a Mom and Dad." When her school had a special weeklong 'hot lunch' program for children with working mothers, she begged her father to write a note saying her mother was also at work. "I felt so guilty for making my father lie that I ended up home sick most of the week. I only got to eat one hot lunch."
When Carol was eight her father remarried and the family moved from New York to Long Island. People assumed her stepmother was Carol's natural mother. No one corrected them. "I very much wanted a mother, yet there was a part of me that also resented that she wasn't my real mother. With time we grew very close. Sadly, she too died before I married." After college, Carol moved to Manhattan, enjoyed a successful career in the book publishing business, married Rand and together they moved to Los Angeles. Through all of life's changes she thought of her mother. On momentous occasions like her wedding day, the birth of her children, and even with their recent b'nai mitzvah, her heart aches.
About 10 years ago Carol's father showed her photographs she never knew existed. She'd always wondered (because of her mother's illness) how much nurturing she'd received. Finally seeing pictures of her mom holding and cherishing her was like finding the missing piece of the puzzle. Carol broke down crying. "It was so important to visually see me being mothered." Years earlier her father had given her an exquisite broach that belonged to her mother. In one photo she saw her mother wearing the broach she treasured, "It became even more valuable."
In 1998 Carol was looking for a nonprofit where she could focus her energies and passion. A friend told her about OUR HOUSE. After touring the agency, Carol knew she'd found a perfect fit. She quickly became active, joining the Board of Directors and leading grief support groups at Venice High. Several years ago when helping produce an agency video, her eyes filled with tears and her heart broke in two. "Hearing children the same age as I was when my mother died sharing their sorrow helped me realize what an extraordinary place OUR HOUSE really is." "The death of a parent can cause issues with abandonment and trust that also affect your self-esteem and self-confidence. I wish I had known I wasn't alone. There was no OUR HOUSE when I was growing up. I know first hand the value; I know the enormous benefit. At OUR HOUSE you feel the healing when you walk through the door. It heals because children can come and feel safe enough to share their deepest pain."
Carol wanted to do something different for her 50th birthday… something special for OUR HOUSE. Carol, Rand, and Executive Director, Susan Galeas came up with the idea of naming the 'littles room' in memory of Carol's mother. In lieu of birthday presents, Carol asked her family and friends to donate to Gertie's Room. These gifts, along with a very generous donation by the Aprils, raised $25,000 to sponsor the room. "I'd waited my whole life to find a way to honor my mother's memory. This was very special." Carol's sister Susan, and her husband Alan, flew in from New York for the dedication. Susan, Carol, and her children helped get the room ready, making it a family endeavor. On the day of the dedication, LA had one of its worst rainstorms, how-ever that didn't stop the Aprils, their family or friends from attending the ribbon cutting ceremony and seeing first hand how their contributions help make a difference in the lives of grieving children. Thanks to Carol, Gertie's Room will live forever at OUR HOUSE so that "no child has to experience the death of a parent and feel as alone as I did with their grief.".
