Rosalyn Rourke, MSW: A Testimonial to A Different Kind of Grief

Adam Campbell, the illustrator, and I talked through the deeper meaning behind every image. We worked on each one until it conveyed what I most wanted readers to feel and understand. For example, the illustration on page thirty-five shows Gem at different ages, with different abilities—but always Gem. When she saw that she was still herself at every age, she got excited to realize she was more than her thoughts, feelings, or behavior in any one moment.

As adults, we need that same understanding, so we’re not limited by who we once were or by what was happening at any particular time in our lives.

Of course, I would give anything to have Melissa back. But that’s exactly the kind of place I don’t let my mind go—otherwise, I’d stay stuck in grief. I let all the feelings rip for months; after all, wasn’t I entitled?

In the book, I describe a moment when I was physically shaken, yet no one was there. I awoke to an inner voice that said, “You’re okay.” My first response was, How can I be okay when Melissa is dead? Then came silence—and with it, a deep understanding: How does my suffering help Melissa or give her death meaning?

What arose was a desire to live and speak for my second-born daughter, dear Melissa. This is the book she would have loved to read—our rough mother–daughter journey that ended in a love fest.

Lorna’s effect on my husband and me was to stop judging Melissa’s weight. If a thought occurred to me, I stopped following it up with more judgments, and we stopped conversations that included worry about Melissa’s weight. Melissa felt the judgment and worry lift, and it opened up our relationship.

I wanted to stop for years and couldn’t—and then suddenly, the motivation to stop was there. Melissa was deeply affected by Lorna and began having her own mystical experiences, which made her feel extraordinarily loved in this world.

I do believe that had our relationship not resolved, my grief would have become more complex because of unfinished business between us. Before Melissa died, she said, “I won the lottery when I got you for my mom.” I promise you, years earlier, that would not be what she felt!

The Q&A explores why and how we can experience more peace and freedom by recognizing when our thoughts are hurtful. When we bring awareness to the pain in a particular thought, we begin what I call the “Stop” process—not adding on. In the book, I don’t name it a program, but research shows that thoughts not reinforced by repetition fade as quickly as they appear.

Many of us think we should never have a negative or hurtful thought, but it’s not the thought itself that harms us—it’s holding that thought as truth and repeating it. That repetition leads to worry, obsession, and painful self-images in both children and adults. The Q&A also answers questions like, Don’t we need to practice? Shouldn’t we reframe the negative into the positive? Readers tell me they love the honest, surprising answers in the Q&A back section of the book.

Actually I was asked to write a chapter in the best selling book, Become Empowered: Echoes of Grace and Strength by Sabine Kvenberg with 12 contributing authors. My chapter is called: Quantum Belonging: Embracing Life Beyond Limitations

We imagine that other people have the power to make us feel like we belong. Yes, they can keep us out of clubs and certain places, but without inner belonging, we won’t feel true acceptance—even when we gain admission. Imagined unworthiness creates imagined barriers to belonging. Does that make sense to you?

In my chapter in Kvenberg’s book, I share examples that point to a simple truth: belonging begins when we know our worthiness isn’t up for debate. Looking at our past behavior, thoughts, and feelings, could all of us uplevel? Of course. But when worthiness is not debatable, life becomes easier—and it’s surprising how many places we suddenly belong.

These days, I’m focused on shifting our collective view of aging and death. I began writing a TEDx talk titled “Dead Wrong About Death,” but I found the TEDx format too restrictive. Moving to YouTube has allowed me to join a broader conversation about living fuller, more satisfying lives by acknowledging death as the completion of life—rather than trying to defy or ignore its impermanence. Along the way, I discovered that before we can embrace death differently, many of us need to see old age in new ways.

At seventy-eight, and as a mother whose daughter died young, I’m in a unique position to open this dialogue. My daughter’s death revealed possibilities for connection and belonging in life that I had never imagined. And because my inner sense of belonging and worthiness is no longer up for debate, life feels more adventurous than ever.