In the Eye of the Storm


In the Eye of the Storm


Oh, the terror of blue skies

with open windows

That let in silent storms

Leaves no longer dancing

quiet fills the air

birds have gone in hiding

we hold our breath and stare

It feels like the world is in pause

God’s thumb is on the remote

The calm before the storm

Time to shutter the windows

against wailing sirens

…this is not a test


The crisis we find ourselves in today, is not a “New Normal”. This viral pandemic that we are experiencing is a domestic wartime crisis. A war for the first time on our soil where all American are feeling hostage in their own homes. We find it happening across the nation; felt in the heart of every American citizen regardless of age, race,color or creed.

There is a plague sweeping across our country and it is murdering us in our homes, our business, our schools, churches and our villages. It seems there is not much more that we can do other that wearing proper P.P.E. and to practice the recommended social distancing. When in the eye of the storm we know there is no going back; we wait for the wind to pick up that will bring in the foreboding clouds gathering on the horizon…and we pray.

Circa 1994 a manmade plague swept through a small country in Africa that wiped out one million citizens in three months’ time. No one saw it coming, no one was prepared, their windows were wide open. There was no immunity, there was no local or world assistance to stop the plague which ran its course in 99 days killing over 1,000,000 innocents which was 70% of one vulnerable population. It profoundly changed their country and neighboring countries. The Country is Rwanda.  The virus was genocide.

A population unprepared for the storm, a government unprepared to halt it, and a live media broadcast that only fanned more mounting deaths. Chaos, mayhem, unfiltered aggression and the brutal knife murders of men, women and children ensued. Peasants, teachers, doctors, neighbors, relatives and friends murdered in while in mid step in the light of day. Sound familiar?  This virus is a great equalizer. We are in the eye of the storm; the other edge is coming. COVID-19 is literally in the air. Microscopic Hutu killers armed with machetes are coming to your village. Close your windows. Turn off Fox news and stay inside. Paint lamb’s blood on the lintel and doorposts of your home if you must but remain at home. Survive.

One year ago, I was in Amsterdam with my wife for the trip of a lifetime. While there we were urged to see The Resistance Museum which was dedicated the Dutch resistance during WWII.    The theme that was concurrent throughout the tour were the words used by the resistance in their efforts to stave off the murderous activities of the invading Nazis.



A lethal virus had arrived slowly from Germany and soon enveloped all the Netherlands. The city of Rotterdam lost 1,000 residents in one day. Amsterdam immediately started to prepare, started to resist the rapidly spreading virus that was already present in their city. Three things happened in Amsterdam.

  1. People COMPLIED with all government recommendations issued for the invading virus without question. They by majority were the middle class and the educated masses. This is our “new normal” they said, this too will pass. It can’t be as bad as they say, many other countries have the virus and are complying. Our leaders know what they are doing.
  2. People COLLABORATED with the virus itself. Many did not heed the public recommendations; many communities actually inviting the virus into their homes. They fed it, they introduced it to their family, close friends and with people that they worked with; most of whom also thought that life will go on as usual; this isn’t so bad; nothing wrong here; I’m healthy, I’m happy. We may lose many of the old, the sick, the infirm, the helpless and the homeless but they are acceptable losses for the good of the nation. The majority will survive and be stronger for it.
  3. People RESISTED the virus. They knew it was coming; saw that it was threatening to destroy their city, their country, Europe and the world. They stayed at home, they went into hiding, they practiced social distancing, they armed themselves with intellect to survive, they help create change to help others survive. It was impossible to kill the man-made virus, but they empowered themselves to resist its damage and ultimately its mortality. They sacrificed and resisted with all they had until the virus was defeated.

COVID-19 is that invading Nazi soldier, it is that marauding Hutu madman, it is that reckless collaborator. How are your reacting to this malicious attack in your community?  Think carefully.  Are you Complying, Collaborating or Resisting?

  1. Are you complying with all local, state and federal law? Are you complying with common-sense hygiene rules to mitigate the spread of the virus for the greater good? Are you staying home?
  2. Are you collaborating by hindering mitigation efforts with arrogant disregard for containment recommendations ?  Are you denying data and allowing your selfish and ignorant behaviors to contribute to the reckless  spread of the virus?
  3. Are you resisting the temptation to break the rules? Are you taking this pandemic drop dead serious? Pun intended. Are you protecting yourself and your family to the best of your ability? Are you reaching out to others in creative ways other than proximity contact? Are you one of those heroes who is resisting this invasion on the front line? Are you a physician, hospital employee, police officer, fire fighter, paramedic, national guard or volunteer who looks the virus straight in the eye every single day? You are the resistance, saying back off…you do not win?

You decide.

We are in the eye of storm at this writing the first day of April 2020, but this is no joke. It is time to batten the hatches, lower the sail, latch the portals and hunker down and ride this storm out.  Even the madmen, psychotic shooters, and suicide terrorists are staying the fuck at home. Comply. Resist. Do not collaborate.

Do your part for your Body. Eat healthy foods with lots of probiotics/prebiotics to boost your immune system, try to maintain regular walking indoors or out, and get some sun on your face at least once a day if possible. Drink lots of water (best warm). Gargle with antiseptic mouthwash or heavily salted warm water often for a full minute. The virus incubates in the back of the throat, it dies in the stomach but thrives in the lungs. Cold liquids encourage cell replication.

Do your part for your Mind. Read and self-educate about the virus, how it works, protection, mitigation, vaccines, routes of infection, activities and medication/supplements that may help. Question, compare, research; empower yourself with tools to best defend and or cope with the virus.

Do your part for your Spirit. Practice mindfulness, self-introspection, listen to music, create, write, sing, play, volunteer, practice peace, compassion for others, pray for others and consult your higher power or you greatest good. Depend on it.

Do your part for your Soul. Practice self-compassion, carefully weigh decisions, compare, compromise and re-create your life to survive.  Do the research. Resist impulse: make well informed choices, draw to your strong suit, be your assets.

The “New Normal” is a term was spawned from the 2008 financial crisis not our current pandemic. Grief from a loss is not a new normal either but has been applied in that context. A shortage of a mediocre commodity like toilet paper is not a new normal. Bars & restaurants closed nationwide is not a new normal. Not being able to hug your children/grandchildren is not a new normal.  This is all out war. Wars end. Life will return to a semblance of what it was. If it does not, we are in trouble.

When there is war at anytime, anywhere as in grief we will have collateral damage and collateral blessings.  From this war with COVID-19 there will be extreme fallout after it has run its course. There will be many casualties. Many unsuspecting individuals will get sick and die leaving the dance floor in the middle of song; no more today and no tomorrow; so much unsaid, unfinished, uncreated, unfulfilled; a life undone.

So many families will be inheriting grief and loss instantly. Something that they never imagined. Life will never be the same and they will have to reimagine their altered path to survive. The whole world will have to reimagine its altered path to survive and for our children to survive, as well as the sustainability of our planet.

This is not a new normal but a new challenge.  The collateral blessing from this virulent pandemic is that just maybe, just maybe,  that in combating this common global enemy together…we may stop killing each other.

Be your best, be prepared. Use this time in the eye of storm wisely and expeditiously, it may just save your life or that of someone you love. Self-Isolate to protect and to inhibit the spread.

This is not a drill, it is not a hoax or conspiracy theory, there will be over a million dead worldwide by summer’s end, and the true journey will begin for each one of us.  Are you be prepared for the coming storm that will follow this calm? Will you be prepared for another storm next year?

Be your best asset. Gather tools, educate your mind.

Practice wise nutrition for your body.

Connect with your higher power to empower your spirit.

Make informed decisions from the seat of your soul. Embrace your uniqueness.

Not being in-sync with our own natural balance is our only weakness.

Make a ripple and ride it like a leaf on a stream. Take your mulligan; be your phoenix; the world is changing; be the change you want to see in the world. Be here now, but for now, do it at home for the greater good.   



If You Build It…He Will Come

Hello friends, light carriers, hope mongers and those who grieve. I want to share with you a providential story of continuing connections that has just blessed my life. On this last Halloween night 2019 we stayed at the Shalom Spiritually Center in Dubuque Iowa. It is a very old Gothic religious structure built between two graveyards. Our room overlooked one of them.  It once was a Catholic school for girls/convent/chapel built in the last century.  We held a 3-day Proactive Grieving conference with fellow author/grief influence Mary Potter Kenyon with support from the center and sponsorship from Kramer funeral home. A small intimate delightful venue that is going on its 5th year helping to heal broken hearts that we look forward to every year.

Following the end of the conference we decided to stay another day in the area. We stumbled on a very old purportedly haunted hotel built in the 1800’s called The Decker in Maquoketa Iowa. It was not  not too far from “The Field of Dreams” movie/tourist site which we had been wanted to visit and they had vacancies. Freel, it was something right out of the movie the “Shining”! The room with strange “activity” noted was across from ours, and we were the only ones staying there; creepy cool, we dug it. We noted no nocturnal bumps in the night in our stay there, but the clock  in our room clock kept blinking 9:08 and did so continually.  We would change it over, and over again; it would always come back blinking 9:08, even after we unplugged it several times. We finally just left it unplugged. A few days later for kicks I looked up the angel number, thinking it may have some message for me, and I thought it was on spot where I am at. I paraphrase part of it below the photos:

  IMG-0136  IMG-0134                                        

 ANGENUMBER  908 is a compilation of the energies. The number 9 is the number of lightworking and service to humanity, philanthropy and benevolence, duty and calling, leading by positive example, sensitivity and strength of character, non-conformity and idealism. Number 0 represents potential and/or choice, a spiritual journey, developing your spiritual aspects, listening to your intuition and higher-self, eternity and infinity, oneness and wholeness, continuing cycles and flow, and the beginning point. Number 8 resonates with giving and receiving, manifesting abundance, monetary and business acumen, mastery, management, self-confidence and personal authority, discernment and good judgement, insight and intelligence, the concept of karma, the Universal Spiritual Law of Cause and Effect.  Lovingly lifted from

The next day we left the Decker Hotel early to drive back home and we stopped by the Field of Dreams movie site. It was a Sunday and unfortunately it was not open until noon. We walk around anyway and soon some cars showed up and a bunch of old guys in traditional uniforms of the day got out of the cars and headed onto the field.  Our mouths dropped as they walked out to the corn. We asked one player what’s up ? He said they let us old farts use the field on Sunday mornings when its closed. Smile.

The site was built for the movie filmed there that was released in 1989, 18 months following the death of our 9-year-old son Kelly. Seeing the film touched me deeply as it spoke of seeing, feeling, listening and following advice from spirit. The main character in the movie, Ray (Kevin Costner) accidentally “engaged with spirit” in the film. He was convinced it was a real experience and despite the many raised eyebrows of the community he followed advice from spirit: If you build it, he will come. He razed the corn field in front of his farmhouse and built a baseball field as directed.

Fod good1-iowa 2016

Once it was built, long dead baseball players walked out of the corn and played once again played ball on this newly created field. Only visible to the protagonist and eventually his family, it eventually took to the community and to the country at large. In the plot it appears the field was built for the ballplayers in spirit; if you build it, they will come. In truth the statement was “If you build it, he will come” meaning if Ray built the field, his father would come. His father had died when he was young, and he had longed to play ball with him again. At the end of film his father shows up in spirit and they play ball. A dream come true, hence the name a field of dreams.

My father died when I was 15 years old, I know that longing. My son died when he was only 9 years old, I know that longing. If you build it, he will come resounded in my head like an impossible siren of hope, but it was hope none the less. Can this work for me? Can I connect with my father and my son again? What can I build?

Coincidentally on the same day of very year that The Field of Dreams was released (April 21st 1989) another film of continuing connections was also released. Stephen King’s Pet Semetary was opened on the exact same day! This film was a dark horror movie involving reanimating the dead body of a couple’s young son using ancient indigenous burial grounds. It was fraught with the horrific negative impact of subscribing to meddling with fate and all its dark implications. Creepy.

I saw both movies that spring of 1989, less than 2 years out after my son had died; I cried many tears through both films… all the while asking myself the question: I have had both of those losses in my life, what would I have done given the same opportunity?  Would I reanimate my son’s cancer emaciated & radiated young body?  No, of course I would not. I do understand although the cognitive dissonance that was in that bereaved father’s brain. I understand the lure of possibility. I also understand the deep dark thoughts to take my own life to be with my son and the lure of that possibility…anything to find freedom from the continual pain.  People jumped from the trade towers on 911 because the pain of the flames was greater than the fear of the fall. We make choices, because we must; some choices are better than others; sometimes it’s a crap-shoot or a dart thrown in the dark.

We cannot reanimate bodies after burial, that is not a choice. We can although listen. Listen to body, mind, and to spirit unilaterally to achieve and nurture manifestation of our intention. If you build it, he will come resonated with me, and I wrote my first book “Letters to My Son, a journey through” a small soft covered self-published book whose publication changed my life. My grief became 3 dimensional, something I could literally share with the world, and I have. If you build it, he will come. My book eventually turned to more books, videos, films, articles, workshops, lectures on proactive grieving, continuing connections and autonomic resilience in grief and trauma.  I now speak across the nation and the world with my own radio show on grief. If you build it, he will come.

Following our time in Dubuque, my wife and I traveled to Parkland Florida where I was honored to share the stage with the drama club and their “Shine Choir” from Marjory Stoneman Douglas Parkland School.  I performed interpretive sign with them to the song “Shine” that they had written for the survivors of the school shooting at on School Valentine’s Day 2017.

The event was held at the Bobby Resciniti Healing Hearts angel walk in Fort Lauderdale who has been working with the students/faculty, families and community since the shooting. Over 700 walkers with hundreds of angel signs honoring loved ones who have passed dotted the route of the path. An awesome day and we got to spend time with many dear friends and angel parents from many previous walks.

While we were already in warm southern Florida my wife and I also gambled on staying at an unseen Airbnb near Lake Okeechobee for two days to chill before returning home. We soon found out it was not near the lake at all, but behind a Publix/strip mall just off the main drag and the Federal Highway! Little did we know what a magical place it was going to be…

Rob the owner was gentle giant of a man with an equally large smile. He greeted us as we drove up his on his sea-shell chipped driveway. He lumbered up energetically equipped with a prosthetic leg that he seemed to use very well. It shined in the Florida sun with a deep shiny candy apple blue painted with powder blue flames that just happen to match his mint shiny blue S-10 pick-up that was parked proudly in his front circular drive.

A 70ish-year-old artist who never went past the 9th grade, bought this rundown old acreage with huts on a jungle lot over 20 years ago. He lived in the main house out front, a small tin roofed old military captain quarters house with several sheds. As an artist he created his own metal work/stained glass which were scattered throughout the property and in every building on site. His wife Carol from Japan has dementia and he with their granddaughter help care for her. Pictures on the wall show where she once played tennis with Chris Evert. Now retired to be with his wife, he rents out the “tiny house” cabin in the back yard among his studios for extra income. Lucky for us.

Rob showed me all his studios and he left them wide open and said anytime I wanted to look around, no locks anywhere. We had a hook-n-eye latch on our door!! and yet he said local bobcats would prowl at night so keep it locked! His studio was stocked with cold Rolling Rock beer that we were welcome to.  He struggled to get around the landscape of the yard with his Pogo-stick type prosthetic leg, but it did not slow him down. Originally from Pennsylvania (why the Rolling Rock) 🙂 he had an accent of sorts and rather humbly he said he had won a contest for the World Trade Centers Memorial for a work of art which is now displayed there. Cool dude. We both even remembered our Vietnam lottery numbers and watching the news; both peace advocates we recollected the thoughts of moving to Canada or becoming a Quaker; we laughed, but were both relieved we were not called. Barb said yikes you guys are like artist soul twins.  I was in heaven to be here. It felt ordained. We were simpatico.

I took photos everywhere all around the property and then sat blissfully on the front porch with a cold Rolling Rock and saw the sun shining through a stained-glass piece of artwork that was hanging in the window. We had made the right choice. The universe is incredible if you allow it. Take risks for joy.

IMG-07621-kelly reaching new jpeg

Meanwhile my wife was in the kitchenette admiring a stained-glass piece that was hanging there above the tiny stainless mini-sink and judging by the amount of dust on its surface, it hand been there quite a while. It was a photo of the artist’s father-in-law in Japan walking into the woods and it was infused into the glass. It was beautiful and to me it looked like the reverse image of an artwork I that I had created in pencil commercially for The Grief Toolbox.  It was called “walking through grief”. For me it bespoke of meeting in the middle light, that space between the darkness of both worlds coming and going. We both said we wanted to inquire about purchasing it. She then heard me scream.

Cloudy most of the day, the sun came out momentary and was shining directly through the stained-glass which illuminated the vase I was glancing at.  I stared in awe and screamed out loud: holy shit, Barb come here now!!!  Look at the vase in this stained-glass, do you see what I see? She said rather hesitantly “a lions face maybe? “I said look again at the top of the vase, can you not see your son’s eyes? Her turn to scream; she then said, OMG it is Kelly!!! Wow he is truly in that glass.

We held our book up to the glass, once you see it you cannot un-see it.   We called for Rob, he came out and we showed him; his jaw dropped, and he said he thought he could always see sort of an eye in there before…but said this is truly unreal it is just random molded glass I had on hand. I asked to buy it, he gave me a great deal because of the kismet of it all 😊. If you build it, he will come.

stained glass collage

.We are blessed to be Kelly’s parents. He only realized 9 birthdays on earth yet has celebrated 31 as an angel across a veil that we share. When you lose a child, it is like being sent to purgatory, a place between heaven and hell being separated from that angel that we love so much. It’s not a real place of course, but when you lose a child you find that purgatory & the land of misfit toys are very real places; a holding-pen for the hopeless.

Through continuing connection, we find hope, which is comparable to holding on to a rope on a slippery slope…waiting for the rain to stop. Eventually the prayers and compassion for one another helps to stop the rain. That slope was a long time ago for me. Today many calendar days that that once dropped me to my knees into a hopeless wreck, now drops me to my knees in adoration of the alchemy that makes our continuing bond possible.

Today is my son’s birthday, which for us is a holy day of obligation, a sacred day not for doing the mundane but one to honor our lives together the whole day. Today we honor his birthday in celebration; it may bring moist eyes and a tremulous smile, but that smile turns now to a grin knowing that death does not win.

The only alchemy we need is love.

11/16/19 MC

We Need Not Walk Alone; The Phoenix Rises


Lately in my life I have had felt this pervasive warm current of subtle gratitude that seems to be basting my very being almost every day. To sound very glib, rainy days and Mondays don’t get me down; I love every day that I can steal. When you are retired every day is Saturday and it seems nothing can piss me off.

My 9-year-old son died over 30 years ago; just waking up in the morning pissed me off. Like a scene from Bill Murray’s Groundhog’s Day movie, every morning when my eyes opened, I said OMG my son is dead, and I started another foray into a day of pain and disbelief, finishing off the evening with a case of beer to numb the grief. The next day the same cycle again. Every day seemed like Monday morning with a hangover and a huge backlog of deadlines…with no days off ever.

Is now being so happy somehow wrong? Am I in la la land?  It is difficult to articulate into words but from after so many years of waiting for the other shoe to drop and this time it does not…puts my soul in pause.  I have now pressed the FW button again, and I feel a delightful soul inertia surge forward, like that sudden jolt forward you experience when the train is leaving the station. A shift happens and it’s my shift; a new one and I am literally on board. I feel the movement.

Part of this new shift in awareness for me personally is taking a sabbatical from my ministry in serving the bereaved; fulfilling contracts that I have in place; still planning for more presentations but on a lesser scale. I have also wanted to take a sabbatical from life in general. This has been a long-term intention set when I wore a younger man’s clothes; to hermitage by myself for a few weeks in self introspection and isolation. Almost a vision quest if you will.

This summer afforded me that opportunity. A dear friend in the Bay area of San Francisco asked me to dog-sit for them while they were abroad for a month. I had plans to attend two national grief conferences during that same time period which I had to cancel. My day planner was now led more by the spirit of synchronicity and serendipity than by my google calendar. It was an opportunity I could not turn down and contributed to my absence from The Compassionate Friends 2019 National Conference. This was the first TCF conference that I missed in 17 years.

To rewind time a bit. I first connected with The Compassionate Friends when I applied to a be a presenter at their national conference back at the turn of the  century, some 13 years following the loss of my 9-year-old son in 1987. I had no idea that there was so many of us bereaved parents out there, that they gathered once a year and had chapters in most major cities. Information you never wanted to seek comes to you. I connected and the rest is history; finding TCF helped me find myself; a soul that was lost for many years.

I started with a few presentations about a book that I had written about the bereaved parent’s journey. It resonated well with many attendees and I presented every year thereafter. It took me several years before TCF would allow me to do a 2nd workshop on “signs” at the conference. In my previous workshops I had mentioned in detail about the signs that I had received from my son in those dark early days of my grief. They were part of the journey that for me provided the most hope that my son survived death in some manner and that I too could survive and able to feel his presence.

The TCF conference committee finally acquiesced and allowed me to present “Whispers of Love” workshop in Nashville in 2008 by introducing the concept of continual connections through, signs and visitations.

The reticence of TCF to approve boogie-woogie stuff was well founded in the spirit of protecting the vulnerable by not promoting unfounded, unrecognized paths of healing.  They finally did agree provided I did not us the term ADC (after death communication) as it inferred the use of psychic mediums.   I agreed and was gingerly allowed to present the workshop.

Up to that time my workshops had been the elementary beginnings of Proactive Grieving and I was excited to present a second workshop devoted to signs from our children…and the horse was out of the barn.

Much of what I spoke off in the presentation was with slides that I had created to validate the experience/phenomenon for the viewer. In those days I did not know what a PowerPoint was, nor did I even have a laptop computer on which to play it. I brought along my overhead projector from my art studio, and it fit perfectly into the overhead storage on the plane (of course it did). Armed with a slew of transparencies, my experiences, and those of others I was excited to share and validate for grievers that they are not crazy, this shit happens, and it happens a lot. With some trepidation I entered unknown territory on a trial basis.

Dressed in a blue custodian’s shirt sporting an embossed face of Disney’s Goofy with the stitched circular name badge to match. I introduced myself: Hi my name is Mitch Carmody, but you can call me Goofy, many already have because of what I believe. I believe my son survived death with the signs he has given me.

The beginning of the presentation had to be delayed as they needed to take down the walls on either side of the workshop room and bring in hundreds of more chairs; over 400 people filled the room, standing along the walls and sitting on the floor. I was awestruck at the response and even more awestruck by the amount of people apparently hungry for some sort of validation of their own experiences.  I was asked to repeat the workshop again the next day and once more the room was filled to capacity. The rest is history and I presented Whispers of Love for 10 years straight.

In these almost 20 years of dedicated summers, as well as the months in between I have devoted as much time as possible with chapters, regionals, candle lightings, and memorial celebrations, fund raisers, and more all across the country including Puerto Rico. In more recent years I have contributed with many online chat rooms for TCF grievers, Open to Hope TV interviews, shows and podcast, as well as the many guests on my radio show Grief Chat Live.

I did not attend the 2019 TCF national conference this year primarily because of my decision to take a spontaneous sabbatical, however my decision was also fueled by strong feelings about the regrettable circumstances surrounding the dismissal of the newly elected Executive Director Debbie Rambis. I penned an article “Where is the Compassion in The Compassionate Friends?  I wanted to articulate my anxiety and concerns about an organization that I loved, as I saw it crumbling before my very eyes. I saw a board gone rogue cutting off their nose to spite their face.

I publicly I posted my letter in a blog in February stating my concerns. I eventually removed the BLOG from public domain because of financial information that I provided may have been incorrect. However, read below a prophetic paragraph from that February 2019 post.

We are at a crossroads of sorts with The Compassionate Friends. We can no longer be effective with the old top-heavy model of a Non-Profit. The cost and use of a brick and mortar office building with paid salaries, benefits, BOD expenses and office operating close to 1.5 million a year is just not sustainable, it surely is not the best bang for our buck with our solicited donations.       -MC

The National Office in Oakbrook has now closed, and staff has been laid off.

Over the years I have seen much change, good and bad in the organization which is the bane of most non-profits who have to keep up with the needs of who they serve, yet still run a legal entity with its rules, regulations, all the while adhering to a firm mission statement.

Some of us seasoned grievers have become long-time fast friends within our TCF tribe and outside as social friends as well. I missed that part of the “reunion”. I also missed seeing the light replace some of the dark shadows on the faces of raw grievers as the weekend progresses. I missed the walk of remembrance, and the sibs doing back flips on stage and me singing and signing with them on Sibling Sunday

Part of the TCF bylaws that were originally published in circa 2000, I believe it was intended as a catch and release program for the bereaved. Once introduced to TCF and you join a chapter you are restricted from becoming chapter leader for 1-2 years to allow you own healing first. Once a chapter leader you could hold a 2-year term with option to opt out at 2 years or volunteer for another 2 years with a maximum of 4 years. Catch, heal, and release. Many chapter leaders I know have far exceeded that term limit but have continued to do wonderful things and continue to nurture a vibrant chapter. Some leaders choose to opt out on their time or continue in some other capacity. I don’t think the 4- year limit rule has ever been exercised; serve till it hurts then back off a bit and start again or resign. It is always a good thing to serve in any capacity. Some chapters close, thank God the need is not there, some grow because of the need and its dynamic leadership,

The intent was to not overburden existing leaders that are still processing their own long-term grief, as well as to provide the avenue for great healing that becoming a chapter leader can provide.  A thing looks good on paper at times…but reality sets up shop. Some leaders have served for over 20 years, some chapters have closed.

The same goes for any of the volunteers in the organization. Some workshop presenters have served for many years, some for a single conference, some continue to serve, some have died, many have gone a different direction, some have fulfilled what they needed to do for their child and for their life. We do it for our own healing as well as for others. In grief years I am now 31, in physical years my garment is 64, and both are just a wee bit tired. In not presenting I also wanted to provide workshop space for new presenters so it can benefit their life as it has mine.

Whispers of Love is now part of the modern lexicon of grief terms in use today for signs and for the most part is accepted and no longer dismissed as woo woo.  I am humbled and proud to have helped in bringing it mainstream and so excited that it is pretty much endorsed without compunction or even a raised eyebrow.

I will continue to be an active grief influencer with the Proactive Grieving model of grief processing that I have developed but on a limited basis. It is the legacy for my son. I will continue with a host of on-line chats, posts, blogs, websites, FB pages, Mr Heartlight YouTube videos and my radio show.  I will continue to offer professional weekend retreats and seminars on the Proactive Grieving Model wherever there is a need.

I do hope the 2020 TCF National Conference in Atlanta will still happen as the BOD moves forward without a working National Office. I have already made a commitment with my TCF family in Atlanta to attend and present. My wife and I are looking forward to again attending a national conference. We need not walk alone; we are the compassionate friends. We are many, we are resilient, we are love, we are legacy.

The Phoenix will rise from firm roots.

Hope to see you in Atlanta 2020                                        

Peace, love n light

Mitch Carmody                                                                                                                         8/29/19