Spring 2003, vol.5 Issue 2

The Journey of Hope Rocks! By The Rice Family 

Part I: Ellissa Rice, age 19

Almost three years ago my family began going to Journey of Hope. At first we were skeptical of exactly what it would be like: Would it be full of crying hopeless people? Would I relate to the “veterans”? All of our fears quickly subsided when we arrived our first night. The food was hot, the company was warm and everyone there shared a common bond, we all lost someone we loved. There were tears, there are always tears when your heart is broken, but the common theme and attitude was HOPE. Of course the veterans seemed more hopeful than we felt, but as time went on and we started to heal, we felt the same hope that they did. I don’t think that you can receive this kind of camaraderie and hope from professional therapy alone. People need to feel accepted, loved and to know that they are not alone. Journey of Hope helped to do that for my family in a safe environment.

This environment was particularly helpful for us because every week we had to tell the group who died, you can say as little or as much as you want, but you were supposed to tell who. Our loss was unusual and uncomfortable to talk about among our peers; our thirteen year old brother had died. He didn’t die of cancer, he didn’t die in a car accident, he died in an inexplicable accident in our home. The doctors decided on “accidental suicide”. As you can imagine, this is not coffee talk for anyone, particularly a seventeen year old senior in high school. At Journey of Hope it still wasn’t coffee talk by any means, but it was safe for me to talk about Warren without any stigma, uncomfortableness or staring (the staring was the worst). Also it was ok to cry, or NOT to cry, no one cared whether you reacted emotionally, or were just tired of crying.

It’s important for me to note that I am now a sophomore at the University of Oklahoma studying to be a music educator. When I think back on my senior year I see so many places where I could have gone astray.  I didn’t want to go back for my senior year, I wanted to stay home with my Mom, and at the point that Warren died I had no intention of leaving for college when I had Collin County Community College right there. But as time went on I went to Journey of Hope as well as visiting frequently with Mark Hundley (my high school counselor and co-founder of Journey of Hope) and I saw that leaving wouldn’t mean I was running away. Journey of Hope helped me to see that staying home and not making a life for myself would be running away from my problems instead of dealing with them. I know that I would have broken Warren’s heart if I didn’t decide to go away and major in music.

The first night we went, we immediately felt like we were among friends, when in reality we were with total strangers. After we split off into groups, my sister and I were starting to get a feel for the people there when a man came in with a big bag full of stuffed animals. Each person in the class who was there for the first time was invited to choose any stuffed animal they wanted. I still have mine; it’s a rather unorthodox looking pink teddy bear with a purple floral print beanie and scarf. I definitely would not buy this toy, but it’s one of my most special dolls because it carries the significance that it was given to me by someone who didn’t know anything about me except that I had lost an immediate family member. The man and everyone else at Journey of Hope, wanted me to feel better, to feel accepted and to feel hopeful . That is why I thought we should title this article “Journey of Hope Rocks”.

Part II: Sarah Rice, age 17

The water has always been a source of comfort in our family. When nothing else seems to be going well, we pile into our car and head out to our boat to sit among the waves and the sun. The sun reflects off of the water and warms our hearts. Such sunlight of hope can be found other places as well, including Journey of Hope.

When my best buddy and little brother Warren died, I could not imagine a world where the waves soothed your soul and the sunlight warmed your day. For me, Warren embodied the sun. We were what you would call “Children of the Summer”. Summer, for us, was all about happiness and warmth and love. If I was down, he always joked until a smile would creep across my face. Then, he would wrap his arms around me as if to give me a sweet hug. Instead he would squeeze me tighter than it was comfortable, as if to leave a happy feeling fit to last much longer than the mere moment a less violent embrace sustains. As Warren left this world, his warmth crept out of my life. I felt cold and numb and bewildered. No longer was summer a part of my life.

When we went to Journey of Hope, I shuddered at the thought of any place giving me solace in my grief. I wish I could say that I instantly felt welcomed at Journey of Hope. Unlike my sister, it took me several trips to finally settle into the process. What finally helped me begin to calm down were back to back discussions of a very personally symbolic nature. One week, we talked about waves: waves of change, waves of grief, waves of emotions, and how to calm the storm. The second week, we talked about riding in hot air balloons and how it brought you closer to the sun and warmth and happiness surrounding it. Suddenly, I related to these other people. What we all had in common was a desire to be back out on our lakes, bathing in the sun and being rocked to sleep by the water. That is what Journey of Hope is all about to me: the sun and the waves.

Part III: Kathleen Rice, mother

Our world shattered on June 16, 2000, when our son Warren did what he did. He was looking forward to leaving for camp. We drove down to Stephenville the day before to pick up a new trunk for camp. He spent the entire day packing for camp. We discussed what SPF sunscreen would be best for him and whether or not he should take insect repellant with DEET in it to camp. We bought two disposable cameras, some new underwear, deodorant, and shampoo. Then late that afternoon, packing almost finished, Warren accidentally hung himself in his bedroom. I resuscitated him and we began a six day ordeal that ultimately ended in his death.

I really did not know where to turn. Elissa was ready for her senior year in high school. Sarah was going to be a sophomore. We had to put our family and faith back together quickly so the girls could get back to a normal life as quickly as possible. We got the girls into counseling as soon as we could, but as great as the counselor was, the girls needed something more. One day, a teacher from the school where I worked sent me a pamphlet for Journey of Hope. Since I knew Nell Pearce as the principal of Wells elementary School, I knew that Journey of Hope would be a good place to start.

The first evening, my husband, Mark, was able to attend with us. We went in to the gathering, not knowing what to expect. Almost immediately, a facilitator joined us and began a conversation. It was the first time really that we could just sit and visit. We all knew why we were there. There were no hidden agendas or strange silences. We were comfortable again.

Mark’s job required a lot of travel and he threw himself back into work as an antidote for pain, so often the girls and I attended Journey of Hope without him. The best part was that everyone in our group understood those demands. So the girls and I could attend with or without him comfortably. There is no right way to grieve but many people still project expectations on you as a grieving family. We didn’t suffer from those expectations at Journey of Hope. It wasn’t long before the girls preferred their Journey of Hope group to all the other resources that were available.

We felt like we could have our family back, even Warren. Because we could talk about him, because we HAD to talk about him, the stigma we thought was attached to his death was no longer there. Here it is almost three years later. Elissa is a successful sophomore in college. Sarah is finishing her senior year in high school. Mark still travels in his job. I went back to teaching children Warren’s age and I always tell Warren’s stories to my students because I learned at Journey of Hope that life goes on and someone you love is never really lost to you as long as you can talk and remember and cry and laugh.