WBEZ | grief http://www.wbez.org/tags/grief Latest from WBEZ Chicago Public Radio en Grief knows no native tongue — but we must listen, wherever it speaks http://www.wbez.org/news/grief-knows-no-native-tongue-%E2%80%94-we-must-listen-wherever-it-speaks-113802 <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://llnw.wbez.org//main-images/gettyimages-497265372-d37a8aa964b7c0f33d54c26cf798a76d07a2524b-s800-c85.jpg" alt="" /><p><div id="res456123411" previewtitle="People gather outside of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, ahead of a ceremony for the victims of Friday's terrorist attacks. Even as we mourn for those lost in the violence, NPR's Michel Martin says, we should not forget the many who have died in similar attacks the world over."><div data-crop-type=""><img alt="People gather outside of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, ahead of a ceremony for the victims of Friday's terrorist attacks. Even as we mourn for those lost in the violence, NPR's Michel Martin says, we should not forget the many who have died in similar attacks the world over." src="http://media.npr.org/assets/img/2015/11/15/gettyimages-497265372-d37a8aa964b7c0f33d54c26cf798a76d07a2524b-s800-c85.jpg" style="height: 464px; width: 620px;" title="People gather outside of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, ahead of a ceremony for the victims of Friday's terrorist attacks. (David Ramos/Getty Images)" /></div><div><div><p>Today I was thinking about a friend of mine &mdash; a teacher, a neighbor &mdash; who passed away earlier this week. Out of respect for her family&#39;s privacy, I won&#39;t call her by her name. But believe me when I say she will be missed &mdash; by her family, of course, but also by me and other neighbors, by my children and the many, many other children (and adults) she taught over the years. There was so much to cherish: her generous spirit, her quiet, consistent encouragement, her appreciation of all the different personalities that came into her life.</p></div></div></div><p>Of course, I mourn her because I know her and appreciate her, but I also mourn her because the grieving of one merges into the grieving of others. Can I just tell you? I think both kinds of grief are important.</p><p>On Friday &mdash; the same day that Paris was attacked &mdash; a bomb exploded during midday prayers at a mosque in northwestern Yemen, according to Reuters, killing several worshipers and injuring others. Also on Friday, ISIS claimed responsibility for a suicide attack at a funeral in Baghdad, which killed at least 18 people and wounded more than 40. The funeral was for a Muslim man who had been part of a militia trying to get ISIS out of the country&#39;s north and west.</p><div id="res456123416"><div>&nbsp;</div></div><p>There&#39;s more: On Thursday ISIS also took responsibility for a double attack in southern Beirut, one that killed at least 45 people and wounded 200 others. The group said in a statement on Twitter posted by its supporters that their members blew up a bicycle loaded with explosives on a busy street. And when people rushed to help, a second suicide bomber&#39;s explosives went off, killing and wounding yet more people. Eyewitnesses say there would have been even greater carnage if a Beirut man, out on a stroll with his little girl, had not tackled the second suicide bomber, pushing the attacker away and taking much of the impact of the second bomb onto himself.</p><p>And on Wednesday, nine people were killed in a terrorist attack in Egypt&#39;s north Sinai. According to news reports, a group opened fire at a family home and then blew up a car bomb near it. Most of the victims were members of a single family, including two children under 3 years old.</p><p>There&#39;s more I could add to this terrible list &mdash; an alleged attack on a village in Niger by the Nigerian terrorist group Boko Haram on Wednesday, the murder of three Turkish police officers in a bomb attack on Tuesday &mdash; but you get the point.</p><p>Paris calls out to us because many of us have been there or wish to go. For many of us, it is the city of our dreams. But there is terrible violence being perpetrated all over the world, in places many of us will never visit, by some of the same people and the same ideology that led to the massacres in Paris.</p><p>But their lives matter. They matter because when we draw the line between those near and far, and those who look like us and those who don&#39;t, those whose names we can easily pronounce and those which we cannot, we participate in the same kind of dehumanizing that allows people to do such awful things to each other in the first place.</p><p>Getting back to my neighbor, I&#39;m not sharing her name. But later, I&#39;m going to drop off a card, and some food, and my best wishes for her family. And when I do, I will try to remember another name: the name of the man who is credited with saving unknown numbers of lives in Beirut last week by tackling a suicide bomber. His is Adel Termos. I will try to remember it.</p></p> Mon, 16 Nov 2015 11:31:00 -0600 http://www.wbez.org/news/grief-knows-no-native-tongue-%E2%80%94-we-must-listen-wherever-it-speaks-113802 Once a Catholic priest, now a father of two http://www.wbez.org/series/storycorps/once-catholic-priest-now-father-two-112313 <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://llnw.wbez.org//main-images/StoryCorps Francis Alicia Riley bh.jpg" alt="" /><p><p>Francis Riley was a Catholic priest during the late 1960s. Riley later left the priesthood and became a husband and father. He came to the Chicago StoryCorps booth in May with his wife Margaret and their daughter Alicia. Alicia asked her dad about the ways his time in the priesthood changed him.</p><p><em>StoryCorps&rsquo; mission is to provide Americans of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to share, record and preserve their stories. These excerpts, edited by WBEZ, present some of our favorites from the current visit, as well as from previous trips.</em></p></p> Fri, 03 Jul 2015 15:14:00 -0500 http://www.wbez.org/series/storycorps/once-catholic-priest-now-father-two-112313 Friends bond over grief http://www.wbez.org/series/storycorps/friends-bond-over-grief-110224 <p><p><img alt="" class="image-original_image" src="http://www.wbez.org/system/files/styles/original_image/llo/insert-images/140523%20StoryCorps%20Julie%20Karen.JPG" style="float: left; height: 233px; width: 350px; margin: 5px;" title="Friends Julie Knausenberger and Karen Williams interviewed each other at the Chicago StoryCorps Booth. (Photo courtesy of StoryCorps)" />Julie Knausenberger was ten when her dad died as a by-stander in a drive-by shooting. Years later, her sister died of a heroin overdose.</p><p>Karen Williams&rsquo; dad died of a heart attack just before she turned ten. And her sister died in a car accident.</p><p>The two friends recently interviewed each other at the Chicago StoryCorps Booth and talked about how those deaths allowed them to forge a lasting friendship.</p><p>The first time they met was at a gathering for students of their graduate school in Washington, DC. The night they met, Karen told Julie she was going to meet her deceased sister&rsquo;s best friend. Karen said, &ldquo;Usually when someone&rsquo;s genuinely being friendly and asking questions to get to know your family, I tend to do this apologetic thing where I&rsquo;m like: You&rsquo;re going to ask me these really kind questions and I&rsquo;m going to have to say yep, my father also died&hellip;&rdquo;</p><p>And instead, Julie said, &ldquo;Oh my God! Your sister died too!? Your dad died too?!&rdquo;</p><p>Her sister had recently died and she wanted to know the details of what had happened to Karen&rsquo;s sister and dad. Was it sudden? Were they sick? Was it traumatic?</p><p>Karen was taken aback by the conversation. It was the first time that she could talk to someone openly about their deaths without feeling guilty about bringing the other person down.</p><p>And with that, the two began a friendship that has stood the test of time. They have helped each other along the way with a healthy doses of humor and honesty.<br />&ldquo;You were the first friend I made that really took me as I was and reminded me that I have a lot of cool things to offer to other people,&rdquo; Julie said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m really glad that we found each other.&rdquo;</p><p>&ldquo;Yeah, I feel really glad that we ended up in the same place at the same time.&rdquo;</p><p><iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Fplaylists%2F6250422" width="100%"></iframe></p></p> Fri, 23 May 2014 08:05:00 -0500 http://www.wbez.org/series/storycorps/friends-bond-over-grief-110224 A sister's love in a time of loss http://www.wbez.org/episode-segments/2011-09-12/sisters-love-time-loss-91842 <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://llnw.wbez.org//segment/photo/2011-September/2011-09-12/Sister Essay Photo Allison - Alene-1.jpg" alt="" /><p><p>Death and loss may unite people with their loved ones as they rely on their support to get through rough moments. When death struck close to home, writer Alene Frost went into protective mode:</p><p>I don’t recall having a vote in the events that took place that resulted in my becoming a big sister. And so three weeks prior to my fourth birthday, when Allison arrived fresh from Edgewater Hospital, I took notice, swung my pigtails and returned to my grape jelly sandwich and Channel 9’s Lunchtime Little Theater. My parents told me that I was their helper in keeping Allison safe, but it seemed they did just fine without me.</p><p>We lived in a yellow-sided ranch home, just past the corner mailbox at the top of the hill on Krenn Avenue in Highland Park. Allison grew to be precocious and witty; and eventually, I took notice of her. She and I walked to Wayne Thomas School, wore pleated skirts, bobby socks and polished saddle shoes. And we kept score at Wrigley Field while we ate Ron Santo pizzas and frosty malts.</p><p>I only remembered one instance of needing to protect Allison during those growing up years. We were at Sunny Acres day camp and she was on a swing.&nbsp; A six-year-old North Shore ruffian wanted the swing and suggested that he might punch Allison in the stomach.</p><p>“Go get her big sister,” someone yelled; and I arrived, PF Flyers and all. I blocked him from Allison, bellowing, “Don’t touch my sister!” And I stared him down with my smudged, powder-blue eyeglasses—lenses as thick as the bottom of a milk bottle. He muttered something about needing to eat his lunch and walked away.</p><p>Allison and I are in our 50s now. My kid sister moved from our yellow ranch house on the top of the hill to Bucktown with a family and a vice presidency at a brokerage firm. I never again felt the need to protect her until a Sunday evening early this spring when I was eating a pizza dinner and waiting for the washing machine cycle to finish. The phone rang—Allison called to tell me that her husband David was dead after collapsing at the health club.&nbsp;&nbsp;</p><p>David was 48 years old, healthy, athletic, affable and magnetic. He cheered louder than any dad on the Welles Park little league bleachers, played the guitar and wrote music and worked hard. David fell in love with my sister the moment he saw her; and they were finalizing plans for a trip to California to celebrate their 20th anniversary.&nbsp;</p><p>I was no match for this horrific passage that pummeled my sister’s life into the pavement. Nevertheless, I imagined a scene of my grown sister on the old camp swing: The ruffian stands motionless and I block him from Allison.&nbsp;</p><p>“Stay away from my sister!” I command. He marches forward; I stare him down and he retreats. I move on and everything is the way it’s supposed to be.</p><p>But after I walk away, the ruffian sneaks in, and no matter how many times I redo the rescue scene, it ends the same way and Allison is on the pavement. And as the big sister, I am helpless to do anything other than to get down on the pavement with her.&nbsp;</p><p>In the days and weeks and months since David’s death I sat with Allison on the pavement; and I have rose with her and watched as she put one foot in front of the other.&nbsp;&nbsp;</p><p>She has strength, courage and wisdom that came too soon. And she has tolerated her big sister’s hovering, although she is the taller of the two of us.<br> &nbsp;</p><p><em>Music Button: Fall On Your Sword, "Rhoda's Theme," from the soundtrack to Another Earth (Milan Records)</em></p></p> Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:41:00 -0500 http://www.wbez.org/episode-segments/2011-09-12/sisters-love-time-loss-91842 Coping with grief in the wake of tragedy http://www.wbez.org/episode-segments/2011-09-12/coping-grief-wake-tragedy-91841 <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://llnw.wbez.org//segment/photo/2011-September/2011-09-12/249679658_27dc14443c_o.jpg" alt="" /><p><p>Sunday was the 10th anniversary of the September 11th attacks. But Monday, the weeks of remembrance and memorials commemorating the day largely came to an end. For many Americans, the events of 9/11 fade until the next year – or longer. But what about those people who lost someone that day? Or for that matter - any person who suffered the unexpected loss of a loved one? When others move on, how do people deal with grief? To discuss <em>Eight Forty-Eight</em> was joined by <a href="http://www.thecouncil-online.org/AU_DrCarlBell.htm" target="_blank">Dr. Carl Bell</a>, a psychiatrist at the University of Illinois at Chicago.</p><p><em>Music Button: Fall On Your Sword, "Naked On the Ice," from the soundtrack to Another Earth (Milan Records)</em><br> &nbsp;</p></p> Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:27:00 -0500 http://www.wbez.org/episode-segments/2011-09-12/coping-grief-wake-tragedy-91841 Global Notes: Remembering Facundo Cabral http://www.wbez.org/episode-segments/2011-07-20/global-notes-remembering-facundo-cabral-89411 <img typeof="foaf:Image" src="http://llnw.wbez.org//segment/photo/2011-July/2011-07-20/obit-facundo-cabraljpg-a5cb78257442749d.jpg" alt="" /><p><p>Facundo Cabral, the legendary populist Argentinean singer, was killed July 9 while on tour in Guatemala. He and his concert promoter were on the way to the airport when two vehicles opened fire on their car, bringing a shocking end to one of the most unique journeys in Latin American music. First, we'll hear two Chicagoans from Argentina, Claudia Freed and Marta Farion, reflect on Cabral's legacy. Then, Jerome and <em>Radio M </em>host Tony Sarabia talk with <a href="http://www.elbiobarilari.com/" target="_blank">Elbio Barilari</a>, a composer and professor of Latin Music Studies at the University of Illinois-Chicago, about Cabral’s career and legacy in folk music.</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p><strong>In the live radio version of this segment, it was erroneously stated that Facundo Cabral's promoter was also killed. The mistake is corrected in this online version.</strong></p><p>&nbsp;</p><p><strong>Track List</strong></p><p>1. No Soy de Aqui, Ni Soy de Alla</p><p>2. Manhatan Nocturno</p><p>3. Entre Pobres</p><p>4. Este es un Nuevo Día</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p><strong>Watch a live performance of Facundo Cabral's "No Soy de Aqui, Ni Soy de Alla"</strong></p><p><iframe allowfullscreen="" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xD3G6eM3tPI" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"></iframe></p></p> Wed, 20 Jul 2011 16:00:00 -0500 http://www.wbez.org/episode-segments/2011-07-20/global-notes-remembering-facundo-cabral-89411