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Scott's Page 
Scott Mitchell Lysenko
June 22, 1996 - February 20, 2004
Journal
Thursday, March 11, 2010 10:04 AM CDT On December 13, 2009, our family participated in our sixth candle lighting ceremony with the Bridgewater, NJ chapter of The Compassionate Friends. My speech follows....
Remember, Laugh, Love – Life after the Death of a Child
Romelle Holmgren Lysenko, TCF Bridgewater
2009 Candle lighting ceremony 12/13/09
Hello and welcome. To begin, I’d like to acknowledge the courage of each and every person here. As parents, you have lived through the worst thing that can happen to a family. Tonight, you chose to come here and honor your children. I know it is not easy, being here picks at the scab of our grief, exposing feelings that we spend our daily lives trying to bury. Almost six years ago, my firstborn son Scott died five months after his diagnosis with an inoperable brain stem tumor. He was 7 ½ years old. I speak to you tonight in honor of my children, both Scott, and my surviving son Stan Michael, two people who have taught me so much about life, about death, about who I am and about what is possible. Stan Michael I thank you for your love, and the grace you have shown in sharing this journey with our family. You are a remarkable boy and I cannot imagine my life without you.
Tonight, I’d like to offer you a message of hope. Of what is possible for your future. In the first months after the death of my child, someone told me that I had already lived through the hardest thing I’d ever have to do. I had borne witness to my child’s death. As time has passed, I’ve come to believe that the hardest thing we do, as bereaved parents, is to learn how to live life again. Not just a life of getting up each day, going about the tasks of life, and marking the passage of time, but to live again with joy and laughter, along with the sorrow.
How do you this? I think you start by finding a support system. For those parents who are sharing this loss together, you cannot be each other’s main source of support. You are both hurting too much. I think one of the hardest things for a couple, who has previously relied on each other in times of trial, is the realization that the one person who you thought would always be there for you, can’t be there for you now. There are many sources of support. Groups like The Compassionate Friends, individual counseling, our church community, prayer, neighbors, friends, family, reading, music, and the online community, are just a few of the resources available to you. I found an online group of pediatric brain tumor moms, and being able to share our experiences was both profoundly painful, and at the same time, deeply healing.
At this time, I would like to share with you the powerful words of two parents, spoken at their child’s funeral; I think their message is one that every grieving parent should hear:
"We are trying hard to find hope in the face of this inexplicable and overwhelming loss. Somehow, we have to believe that the indomitable spirit with which our child led life will steadily erode the shattering despair of his death until one day, many months or years from now, it triumphs. For this to happen, we face a long battle involving a great deal more than simply marking the passage of time. Our enemy is not grief but fear—fear of pain and the unthinkable reality of losing a child. Surrendering to that fear by pushing the grief away and deceiving ourselves with the illusion of a return to normalcy is the surest way to extinguish hope. Rather, we must fight this battle with our children firmly by our sides. We must celebrate them, tell stories about them, look at their pictures, smile about them, talk to them and hold them tight to our hearts, even when doing so hurts to the point of being unbearable. Where this delivers us in the end, we cannot now know. With luck, we will be stronger and better as individuals, as a family and as a community, but we will never be the same.”
The title of my talk comes from an eleven-year-old boy, my son’s best friend Jonathan. On the fourth anniversary of my son’s death, I found a note, and a handmade plaque from Jonathan on my front porch. In the note, Jonathan told me what the plaque meant. He said, “we should remember the memories of Scott, we should love the memories of him, and we should laugh like we were in those memories.” As they say, out of the mouths of babes. I believe that there are people who want to help you, support you, and love you. In the midst of our grief it is sometimes difficult to let them in. I simply ask that you try. Some people may stumble, but others will surprise you.
It is a choice. We did not get to chose what happened to our families, our only choice is how we respond. I wish all of you peace in this journey, the caring and support of others, and the courage to embrace life again. Thank you.
It has been six years since Scott's death, and not a day passes that we don't think of him. Our family is so grateful to the people who have supported us throughout this journey.
Remember to pray for courage.
Love,
Romelle
Read Journal History
Hospital Information: No more hospitals, now he's in Heaven
Links: http://www.caringbridge.org/nj/stanlysenko My little brother's web page
http://www.lainiesangels.org A foundation which helps families through parent advocacy.
http://www.caringbridge.org/nj/ian We met Ian's family in our Bereavement Group
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