Meet Laurel
Laurel
Laurel was a citizen of the world in deep compassion for other people. She is remembered by her family and friends for being a reader, writer, artist, and creator. She had a magnanimous heart and was always giving to anyone in need in anyway she could. She had incredible compassion for her young age for the human condition. She wanted to comfort those who were struggling, from unhoused individuals she came across in her daily activities to injured birds and bunnies.
The Amazing Story of Rustlefrank and his Dragon Smackenshrapps©
Graphic Novel uncompleted by Laurel
Mauri and Laurel
Founder, Mauri, with her daughter, Laurel
A Message from Mauri
On October 20, 2018 the unimaginable, the unthinkable, the unacceptable occurred; my smart, artistic, magnanimous, beautiful, charismatic only child Laurel bought pills she thought were pain killers for her aching jaw after a tooth extraction earlier in the day. The two tablets she purchased from a roadside dealer were killers alright. They were pure fentanyl and killed her that night.
Laurel was 23. She’d struggled with substance abuse disease which have roots in my family and my husbands family. There is a definite genetic pre-disposition to this disease.
When my husband gently informed me early in the dawn of that morning saying words no mother ever wants to hear, "Laurel is gone. Laurel accidentally overdosed, she’s gone.” I couldn’t process it. No! No! This can’t be!! How can this be that after 2 miscarriages, a stillborn daughter the universe or powers that be would take my “keeper", my angel on earth!!??
My heart felt like it was exploding. Sitting on the bed with my husband I knew my old life the life I’d been living with hopes for Laurel’s future, hopes for her wedding to her wonderful partner Rachel under the cherry trees; the hope for grandchildren, all the hopes and wishes a parent has for a child were gone. Evaporated. We would never be the same people we were.
So many people poured into the funeral home for her funeral. People I’d never met came and shared stories about Laurel’s compassion and kindness and how she had touched them in some positive way. We thought her world was small because of her anxiety and depression but she left a positive impression on many with her acts of simple kindness.
A week later the doorbell stopped ringing, we’d eaten all the casseroles and pumpkin breads (my fiends know how I love pumpkin) and everyone’s lives went back to “normal.” Not for John my husband and me. Who were we now? We were no longer parents? Our hearts had exploded in the worst pain. The Sanskrit word vilhoma is the word for this particular kind of grief when you experience the death of a child. “Vilhoma”, pain beyond describing.
I was offered antidepressants. I declined explaining, “I’m not depressed I’m grieving.” When you lose a child it goes against our primordial nature. Our children live beyond us - that is how the system works. The first weeks and months were horrible. I was in such a painful and surreal place where there was no comfort. Friends were wonderful sending cards, composing texts, checking in on John and I. But grief is lonely work and I discovered John and I had very different grieving styles and needs. Each person grieves differently. John and I began attending group support meetings for parents who had lost a child. There was a meeting we could attend at some point during the week. Rachel, at 23, who had lost the love of her life, Laurel, and tragically several other high school friends to overdoses, could not find a young adult group to attend. She also was in what I call lonely grief. Humans are social beings we want to talk about our grief and loss but we live in a culture that is death phobic.
The pain of my loss was so great there was a short moment when I was so overcome with the horrific reality of it and what seemed unrelenting pain of grief I briefly thought, "I can’t take this pain anymore. I could kill myself and then it would go away.” Luckily, a friend called I told her my thoughts and I did go on medication for a short while and got counseling help. But now I know what it feels like “to be in the depths of despair.” What can I do to help me make sense of my loss, help me to find comfort, and grieve in a way that will help heal my broken and scabby heart?
For me I turned to writing. I wrote through many notebooks pouring out all my emotions not holding back. I wrote in a stream of consciousness just pouring my anger, hurt, confusion from my head and heart onto paper. It helped. I painted. It helped. I moved my body- dancing to a loved song or musical piece. It helped. I prayed I went to uplifting church/temple programs. It helped. I did crystal bowl sound work. It helped. I began doing some yoga stretches. I rode my bike. I swam. It helped. I started in therapy. It helped. I attended group support meetings with other parents. It helped. I had developed my own personal “tool kit” to help me navigate the ongoing sadness and pain of my grief. All these activities were there if I needed them. I knew I’d be using my tool kit the rest of my life.
I was so concerned for Rachel and Laurel’s friends who had lost others in their age group but seemed to have no place to go to meet and get help. I started researching in WNY. I found nothing that fit her needs. In my searching I also noticed there were no grief groups for elementary and school age children. There were a few church related groups but what if you aren’t Christian? What if you’re Jewish, Sikh, Hindu, Ba-Hai? Where can you go to get comfort and help to navigate the pain of loss in your grief journey? That’s when I found The Dougy Center: The international and National Center for Grief and loss in Portland, Oregon. They use peer facilitated groups to compassionately support children and families in their grief journey. I flew out to Portland and attended a summer institute which gave me the mission to be the founder, a catalyst to start a Dougy Center inspired grief support center here in Buffalo. I am even more committed to this as Buffalo has suffered through loses due to Covid-19, deaths due to the ongoing opioid epidemic, and the deaths and traumas after the heinous targeting of the African-American community by a white supremacist terrorist and his deliberate killing of Black shoppers at a supermarket in May of 2022. We have known that trauma and grief stay in or bodies, in our “soma" therefore along with talking about our grief studies now support using movement -somatic movement- yoga, walking, dancing, exercise to help the body cope with trauma. Studies also show that “writing through your grief” is therapeutic. Children will play and act out what they are feeling with toys, sand tables, kicking balls, or drawing.
At Laurel’s Love Center for Grief and Hope our mission is to offer you, the grieving person a safe, welcoming, supportive, compassionate place where you can transform the suffering you are experiencing into a grief experience that helps your heart to heal, helps you to develop your own “tool kit” to support you in your grief journey, and affirms that grief is a normal part of living we all go through. We are here to listen and sit next to you and walk by your side. You don’t have to grieve alone. I am sorry for your loss or losses. Grief is painful. Grief is a journey. You don’t have to suffer alone.
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