Friends of Aine offers help for grieving families
May 11—They were the two hardest moments of her life, Christine Phillips remembers: "When Aine died — and when I had to tell Bella."
Her daughter Aine (pronounced Ahn-ya) was 8 years old when she died unexpectedly in 2010 from a rare lung disease. Bella was Aine's little sister, her playmate and her best friend.
Phillips said she and her husband, David, knew they couldn't lose themselves to their overwhelming grief. "We had Bella," she said. "We had to get up every day."
The couple has since created something extraordinary that honors both their daughters: the Friends of Aine Center for Grieving Children & Families in Manchester.
Aine was an empathetic child, Phillips said. "She was always concerned for others, making sure everybody else was OK," she said.
Phillips remembers a time that she scolded Bella, which upset Aine. "She stood with her hands on her hips, and she just said, 'Mommy, you can't talk to her like that. She's only little. You have to help her.'"
That's what she and David thought about as they looked for ways to help Bella after her sister's death, Phillips said. They found comfort through Compassionate Friends, a support group for bereaved parents, but nothing similar existed for children in New Hampshire.
So they worked with Home Health & Hospice Care in Merrimack to create what became Friends of Aine, a nonprofit organization that provides free peer support for youngsters 4 to 18 and for their caregivers.
In eight-week sessions, caring volunteers help these grieving families navigate the unimaginable through books, art activities, games and conversation, all geared toward creating a safe place for kids to express their grief.
"We're here just to be the conduit for them," Phillips said. "They're the ones doing the work."
'I get sad'
Friends of Aine is founded on four core values: kindness, compassion, courage and connection. "That was Aine," Phillips said. "We built it on who she was, and is."
The children meet in a beautiful Victorian home on Manchester's West Side, decorated with shades of purple (Aine's favorite color) and children's artwork. About 70 kids are participating in the current session, divided into groups by age — littles (4 to 6), middles (7-11), tweens (12-14) and teens (high school age).
On a recent evening, the theme was exploring the many emotions of grief through colors.
Let the kids know that all their feelings are valid, Caryn Butts, a program assistant, reminded the volunteers before the session. "It's OK to have your birthday, to celebrate something, and it's also OK to cry yourself to sleep at night," she said.
Volunteers Diana St. Hilaire and Ari Kelly work with the youngest kids in a room with cozy bean bag chairs and colorful pictures of jungle animals. Butts stopped by to suggest closing the blinds — a service was being held at the funeral home across the street and it might be upsetting for some of the kids, she said.
A little boy hung in the doorway, clinging to his older sister. With some coaxing, he came into the room and was soon happily nestled on the floor with the others as St. Hilaire read "The Color Monster," in which each color represents a different emotion.
Red represents anger, and St. Hilaire asked, "Do we ever get angry because our special person is not with us?"
"I get sad," one child said solemnly.
Upstairs in a "middles" group, a whiteboard posed the question: "How are you feeling?" It's something adults often ask kids, who usually answer "fine," even when they're not, volunteer Sarah Gordon told them.
"Let's put some other words up," Gordon suggested.
"Sad," "angry," "happy," and "anxious" all made the list. Nine-year-old Shultz added "depressed" in green marker.
'Very brave people'
Another "middles" group was playing Jenga, some of the wooden blocks labeled with different emotions. When they pulled a block with a word, the kids were encouraged to talk about a time when they felt that way.
In the "tweens" group, three kids were creating sand art in bottles, the mix of colors symbolizing the swirl of emotions that accompanies the death of a loved one: orange for helpless, red for anger, blue for sadness, yellow for optimistic, green for frustration and purple for hope.
The teens were doing the same project, but only two girls were participating. A boy, new to the group, said he didn't want to make one. But he watched closely as the girls poured layers of colored sand into their bottles.
"If you were to assign feelings to the colors you chose, what feeling would the blue be? What's the one that rises to the top?" volunteer Amanda MacLellan asked.
"Mixed emotions. How about that?" replied Taylor, who is 14.
Taylor started coming to Friends of Aine after her brother died. She said she was upset when a teacher at her school told all her classmates what had happened. "It sucked," she said. "I just got a bunch of pity when I came, which I didn't want."
What's a better approach? "Just say sorry and leave," she said.
MacLellan said these kids all have different stories, but they have something in common: "They're very brave people."
Founder Phillips said she is constantly amazed by the kids who come to Friends of Aine. "How helpful they are and how kind they are to each other," she said. "Because they get it."
Aine was "just starting to show us who she was" when she died, Phillips said.
"They're special kids, the ones that die early," she said. "There's something different about them, I swear.
"It's almost as if they have a sense of knowing that their time is shorter. It's as if they know whatever time they have here, they've got to do the best they can while they're here."
'Now we laugh'
As the kids meet, their parents gather in the house next door. They share their struggles and coping strategies, the books that have helped, the comments that hurt. And they talk about milestones — the birthdays, anniversaries, graduations and weddings that bring the loss closer and deeper still.
There are tears in the room, yes. Broken voices and broken hearts.
But there's also laughter, the kind that feels like recognition, acceptance, and grace.
One of the facilitators is Maureen Lessard, who retired after 40 years as an elementary school teacher. At a recent session, she told the parents how, years ago, on the first anniversary of her husband's death, she took her children to the beach. On the way back, she decided to take them to a movie. "I thought I was doing a good thing," she said.
"I took my kids to 'The Lion King,'" she said, eliciting groans of sympathy and peals of laughter from those who know what she did not back then. "The father dies," she said ruefully. "We were a mess.
"Now we laugh."
The parents tell each other hard truths.
When her younger daughter got married, Lessard walked her down the aisle, as she had always promised, and was unexpectedly overwhelmed with emotion. "I really had to work hard to not make a mess of her wedding day," she said. "I remember thinking, 'This is not my job. This is your job. Where are you?'"
They also take care of each other. Near the end of the session, one dad reached out to the man sitting next to him, who had been silent the entire time. "Are you OK?" he asked him.
"I feel like I've been shrinking," the grieving father said slowly.
It's getting harder, not easier, he said. "Every time I come home ... he always went in my arms..."
He tries to focus on his wife and other children, but it's been tough. He admires those who push through, he said.
"You're pushing through," Lessard told him gently. "You're here."
'Holding life together'
In addition to the peer support groups, Friends of Aine provides resources to schools to help teachers and counselors better understand and support children who are grieving. The group recently was awarded a nearly $500,000 contract from the state Department of Health and Human Services to expand its services.
By the age of 18, one in 12 kids in New Hampshire will have experienced bereavement, the loss of a sibling or parent, Phillips said. That means that "every classroom has a grieving kid," she said.
If these kids don't learn ways to cope, she worries for their future well-being. "This is preventative mental health work," she said.
Grief and joy can exist in the same space, Phillips has learned. So what brings her joy these days?
"First and foremost, it's Bella," she said. Her younger daughter is now in college, studying abroad.
But it's also "the little people that come in these doors," Phillips said.
"This is how I still raise my daughter," she said, her smile both sad and brave.
Just as their children do next door, the parents finish each session with three deep breaths.
One "for the person that you loved and lost," Lessard guided them. The second, "for the supports you have in your life to help you deal with your grief."
And the last one, for yourself: "Because you matter. You're holding life together for your little ones," she said.
"Take a deep breath, and let it out."
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The next session of Friends of Aine will begin in mid-September. For more, visit friendsofaine.com.
