A DREAMLIKE FAMILY REUNION, By Alice Wisler 
From We Need Not Walk Alone®, Fall 2003

At my first Compassionate Friends Conference in Nashville, I was desperate. I sat on the edge of my chair in workshops, frantically writing in my Mickey Mouse notepad. With my husband next to me, surely between the two of us we wouldn’t miss anything of value spoken within the hotel. And by the end of the weekend, we would have what we came for–answers, wisdom, courage, and, of course, our son back again. 
     Now, five years from the time of that conference, and six years since the death of my four-year-old Daniel, I don’t expect miracles–not even at TCF. But I do expect warmth, smiles, hugs, and nuggets of hope and inspiration.  
     I came to Atlanta to see bereaved people–you know, family members.  Some of them were old friends, and others were, up until this conference, only e-mail correspondents. Seeing them all was like having a dream come true. We shared our new lives over breakfast, cried together at lunch, laughed late into the night, and admired pictures on photo boards–all the while wondering why these cherub faces are no longer with us each day.
     TCF conferences are rich in the variety of workshops and sharing sessions offered, as well as the dynamic ceremony and banquet speakers, but what keeps many, including myself, coming back are the friendships.
     Friendship keeps my two friends Paula and Joyce coming back as well.  Six years ago they met on-line. Since then they’ve made it a point to attend conferences so that although they live miles apart during the year–Paula in New York and Joyce in Alabama–they know they will see each other at national conferences. In the in-between times, they e-mail each other every day. 
     Lisa, of Texas, has reunited with her mother at the past three conferences. They room together and attend the same workshops. This year Lisa’s nine year-old daughter joined them and was able to be part of a healing week-end, in memory of her older brother.
     In Atlanta, I couldn’t help but think of the 2001 D.C. Conference where Rich Edler approached me as I sat at one of the empty tables in the hall. He gave me a smile and a warm hug. He had no idea who I was, except for reading my name tag, and yet he made me feel welcomed and important. He even laughed at my jokes. His acceptance of me was key.
     I wanted to give that legacy of acceptance to others. So when I found a newly bereaved couple on their way to the ballroom to hear Tom Golden on Friday night, I started to talk with them. There was no fear of not knowing them or of wondering whether they would want me to be with them. I remembered how wonderful it had been at my first conference when “oldtimers” reached out to my husband and me. I asked this couple about their child, and the rest just flowed. Perhaps I gave them a ray of hope; they certainly added a spark to my heart.
     At the closing ceremony, as Charlie Walton gave tips for carrying on in our journey, I knew that his words could be believed. In Nashville, as I listened and took notes at the closing ceremony, I held the feeling of “will it really work?” Years of journey have proved, yes, it does.
     Summing up the conference in a tangible way was the memorial stone the Hyatt Hotel allowed us to place in their front garden–an inscribed stone dedicated to the memory of our children. At the closing ceremony, we were given fresh daisies to place beside the stone. This is how I see TCF–all of us, with different losses, at separate dates, yet with the same white daisies to place at a memorial stone in honor of all our children. The bright flowers and “tribute” surrounded by loving friends, all on a summer’s day in historic Atlanta, showed the real beauty and strength of an organization of support and friendship.
     My first conference was about survival. I still plan on surviving, but for me, Atlanta was about thriving in the midst of sorrow and loss. Because of the family that has accepted me. 

Alice J. Wisler of Durham, NC, is mom to Rachel, Daniel (August 25, 1992– February 2, 1997), Benjamin and Elizabeth. Alice is the founder of Daniel’s House Publications, editor of LARGO and the free e-zine Tributes, and author of two bereavement cookbooks–Slices of Sunlight and Down the Cereal Aisle–both available at her “Writing the Heartache” Web site: http://www.geocities.com/griefhope/index.html.