Finding Healing After My Father’s Murder: A Journey Through Grief and Community
My dad has always and will always be my first best friend. He was the person who helped me discover my love for board games, cards, and puzzles. He also introduced me to the greatest movie of all time, The Goonies. All these memories I have of my dad are from having almost 7 years with him, and every day I wish I could have had more.
I remember the day that I was told he had died and knowing that something was wrong when my mom didn’t pick me up from school that day. I was greeted by my auntie who took me to my school’s office where I saw some of my family and my mom. We walked to the school’s church together where I sat down and was told the news. It felt like my world stopped.
My dad was murdered, and I remember my mom being completely honest with me about this.
I knew it as “someone took dad’s life.” It still amazes me to this day how a girl almost 7 could understand not only death but something as complex as homicide. I’ve been aware for almost my whole life how cruel a person can be, cruel enough to take the life of another person, a person with a family that included a girl who adored her dad. I remember going to my dad’s funeral and being brave enough to look at him one more time, and I also remember a flower arrangement in the shape of a Pac-Man (he was always called Pac-Man because he would gobble up balls playing baseball).
After his funeral, I know I was in a lot of therapy and support groups, but it really did feel like my life stopped for a moment. I don’t have memories of how it felt going back to school, but I do know everything changed when my mom found Comfort Zone. I was able to be a kid again and have fun without worrying about being different from other kids. It was the craziest thing to be put in a place where something that made me different instead made me the same as everyone else.
I never liked talking about not having a dad when I was younger, and if people would ask about him, I would lie, pretending he was still alive. I didn’t want anyone to know.
At camp, I was okay with talking about him because I knew everyone would understand. I found out recently that when I was first sent to camp, I was able to communicate to my mom that I wanted a big buddy who had experienced a homicide loss because any other person “would not understand.” Camp did this for me, and I was able to find comfort in a mentor who knew what it was like to have experienced a loss not related to natural causes or an accident.
Once I went to camp for the first time, I was always there year after year.
It was something I looked forward to until the last time I went at about 15, where it hit me that I felt as if I had gotten everything I needed out of camp. I had my coping skills, my dad’s memories, my story, and I knew after my last camp I was ready to go back as a volunteer. My first role was a junior counselor, and I was actually able to volunteer with another person whom I had previously gone to camp with as a little buddy. This was really special to me and also helped calm my nerves about volunteering for the first time.
This weekend truly changed my life, and afterwards, all I could think about was becoming a big buddy once I turned 18. I became a big buddy 3 years later, and it was such a great weekend. I was surprised with not one but two little buddies once I arrived at camp, and it really felt like a full-circle moment for me. I was able to be the person that little buddies could rely on, and to be able to have the opportunity to do this has been so impactful on my life. Anyone who knows me knows I can talk on and on about camp, and it not only helps me share about an amazing organization but allows me the opportunity to share my story of being a grieving child.
Experiencing grief as a child means that I was pretty little when I realized that I had lived more years without my dad than with him.
I had been aware that grief wasn’t linear but didn’t truly know what this felt like until big life events started happening in high school and continued to happen. I had a Quinceañera, got my license, became a Lakewood co-athlete of the year, committed to play collegiate softball out of state, graduated high school, got my first job, moved into college.
The list goes on and on. It was hard experiencing all of these things not having my best friend there looking at me with our identical smiles. It’s also hard to feel completely happy knowing that someone is missing from the celebrations. For me, it was just a part of my life not having my dad there, but these moments definitely triggered my grief in ways I had not experienced before.
Another thing that comes with getting older is learning more about my dad and who he was.
Not all of it is good, and sometimes it’s hard not to feel angry or feel like his death could have been prevented. This feeling of anger was new for me and uncomfortable because I didn’t want my love for my dad or my perspective of him to change. I knew that when I started experiencing this new chapter in my grief, it was time to look into the Young Adult Camp that CZC offers. I wanted to go so badly that I flew into New York from California this past summer just to be there, and to my surprise, I found three people who did the exact same thing. Traveling so far for camp is truly worth it.
Once again, I was greeted with community and people my age who were experiencing similar feelings as I was.
I felt reassured in what I was going through and amazed at how everyone I met during that weekend was choosing to turn their pain into purpose in different ways. This weekend was everything I had needed and more, and I could never imagine a more perfect healing circle or healing circle leader. I was truly meant to be there and be with this set of people. I am who I am today because of this amazing community of people who share the same goal of changing grieving children’s lives.
My inner child heals every time I show up to camp, even at 20 years old, and I will forever be grateful for having the opportunity to be part of the camp magic.
Every time I have a new little buddy, my mom reminds me to comfort the parent because she remembers being so scared leaving me at camp for the first time. If you’re this parent, your child is going to take what they need from the weekend, and our volunteers are truly amazing people inside and out (I guess I’m a little biased). We always acknowledge the safe risks that our little buddies choose to take during the weekend, but the first risk truly chosen is you allowing your child to experience a weekend with us. It’s a big one, but we understand how hard it is and are here for you.
One last thing that I’ll share that helps me get through the rough days is that grief will always have a place in my heart, but one thing I take with me everywhere is that it’s okay to remember, and sometimes you just need someone to lean on.
By: Ari Jalomo
