Grappling with grief

PeaceHealth Southwest Medical Center Hope Bereavement Services

• Where: 5400 MacArthur Blvd., Vancouver.

• Contact: 360-696-5120.

• Serves: Clark, Skamania and Cowlitz counties.

• Cost: Free.

Did you know?

Counselors at PeaceHealth Southwest’s bereavement center offered support to students at Reynolds High School in Troutdale, Ore., after a boy shot and killed another student before killing himself last year. They also helped out local police officers grappling with the death of Clark County sheriff’s Sgt. Brad Crawford, who was killed by a fleeing driver in 2004.

Jaci Thomas’ husband died unexpectedly of a heart attack at age 35 on Father’s Day, just before their 12th wedding anniversary. When she returned home from the hospital early in the morning, hours after his death, her three children were still asleep. They didn’t know yet their dad was gone.

“It was so intense, so all-encompassing,” Thomas said. “There’s really no relief. It’s been five years, and I just miss him every day. … That’s the price you pay when you have a good relationship — the deep pain.”

The 41-year-old stay-at-home mom said she was unsure of her next step, so she called a counselor she knew. First, the counselor told her that her children would grieve differently than she would. They may be sad and then go play for a while, and that’s completely normal. Next, the counselor advised Thomas to sign up as soon as possible for Stepping Stones, a family grief support group at PeaceHealth Southwest Medical Center’s bereavement center.

Two weeks after her husband’s death, Thomas attended her first support group designed for people who’d experienced a traumatic or sudden loss. Her kids, ages 3, 8 and 11 at the time, attended different classes, separated by age group. A week later, the family attended a bereavement camp in Oregon. The services were free, despite Thomas running out of health insurance a month after her husband’s death.

“I would think to myself, ‘I don’t know any other 35-year-old widows,’ ” Thomas said. But the people in her group reminded her that she’s not alone.

With three kids to care for, she found that having activities and a routine helped stabilize her family. Since completing the two-year program, she volunteers at the center and hopes to someday work as a trauma nurse.

The center on MacArthur Boulevard, which is on the lower floor beneath the hospice, was recently expanded. The space doubled in size to 7,412 square feet, filling a vacated space that once housed financial services. There’s more space for art therapy, play rooms and quiet reflection spaces. With more room, bereavement manager Jodi Wicks plans to add services such as mind-body healing through massage, acupuncture and yoga.

Besides the support groups and counseling that address clients’ emotional needs, she wants to help people with issues such as estate and financial planning, learning to cook for one, dealing with yard work and errands, and stress management. There are various types of classes that can help people learn to live without the one they lost, she said. She aims to roll out classes sometime this summer.

‘He was my soulmate’

Before Robert Clemans reached the summit of Mount St. Helens, he texted his wife: “It’s beautiful up here. We’re above the clouds. I love you more.”

The 44-year-old and his wife, Jacquie Clemans, constantly teased each other about who loved the other more.

On his way down, about 500 feet from the summit, Robert Clemans died of a heart attack. He had told a fellow hiker to continue without him, that he was tired and needed to rest for a moment.

“It was devastating,” Jacquie Clemans said. “He was my best friend. He was my soulmate.”

They had been together 24 years, married for 22 years. There’s some consolation in knowing her husband, an athlete and avid outdoorsman, died doing what he loved. Jacquie Clemans is about halfway done with the Stepping Stones program.

She got information about PeaceHealth Southwest’s bereavement services through the Washougal School District, where she works as a substitute secretary and paraeducator. Her youngest daughter, now 17, is going through the program with her.

“We were so nervous the first night we came,” Clemans said. Back then, they worried about crying in front of others, but now they cry freely — without shame — knowing they’re surrounded by people going through the same thing. Clemans goes out to dinner with people in her support group before meetings, and texts them when she’s had a particularly bad day.

Clemans’ two other daughters are too old for the Stepping Stones program and too young for the adult program, called Pathways. There wasn’t really a good fit for them.

Wicks hopes to add a young adult program to the bereavement center’s offerings, as well as find something for infants. She aims to better accommodate people’s needs by adding specialized groups, such as an all-men group, another focused on those who lost someone to suicide, and one for people who lost a beloved pet.

For Clemans, being where she is now would have seemed impossible when the death of her husband was still new and terrifying. She’s forged some strong friendships in her support group and gotten closer to her daughter.

“I think we’re doing well,” Clemans said. “I think there’s no way to go but ahead.”