In this first part of a two-part interview, I speak with Jane Harris. She and her husband, Jimmy Edmonds, lost their 22 year-old-son, Josh when he died in a road accident in Vietnam in 2011. In the wake of his death, they created the charity, The Good Grief Project, which they use to make films, put on retreats, and give live presentations that share their experience, open up the conversation, and help other bereaved parents and siblings find an active and creative response to the expression of their grief. Jane and Jimmy live in the UK, where Jane works as a therapist and Jimmy as a filmmaker. They recently released their newest film, A Love That Never Dies (which we will be reviewing on February 22nd).
Editor’s note: This interview has been edited for length and readability.
Colleen Ferguson: Hi Jane, lovely to meet you. Do you mind starting by explaining the purpose of The Good Grief Project?
Jane Harris: The Good Grief Project is about opening up conversations and breaking the silence around death, especially the death of one’s child. I suppose we started this charity because we found that after the funeral is over, people’s lives carry on, but for the bereaved, life takes on a very different trajectory. It’s a very different experience, and you’re kind of left behind for a while. People expect you to return to “who you were.” But, of course, you are not “who you were” — you are inevitably changed by the death of your child.
Colleen: There seems to be a common theme in many of the stories you share of other bereaved parents in your film, “A Love That Never Dies” — the feeling of isolation and alienation from others they feel once their child has died, and the expectation that they should “move on” or “find closure.”
Jane: Yes. The grief that comes after the death of your child brings many openings, but it never brings closure. We really don’t like the word closure. If your child dies, you never stop loving them; you never stop missing them. Why would you?
And that’s what we’re trying to say with our films and our retreats: That’s not madness, that’s not an illness. That’s what mothers and fathers and siblings do. They carry on loving the child forever. And that’s not something that should be translated into, “Oh, this person isn’t well — there’s no closure.” People who say that may be well-intentioned, but, of course, you don’t move on in that way. You never find closure. But you do learn to live with that jagged edge that the death of a child brings. And it does get less jagged over time, as we’ve learned in our own experience and talking to other bereaved parents.
So, what we’re trying to do is open up those conversations and say, “Let’s talk about it. Let’s share stories; let’s normalize it. Let’s look at the usefulness of tradition, the usefulness of ritual, the usefulness of diversity and cultural approaches to death and grief, and see what we can learn and share.” Those conversations help us and seem to help a lot of other people as well.
And that’s what “A Love That Never Dies” is about. Life after loss. We wanted to listen to people’s stories and get an idea of life and grief, and what helps and what doesn’t.
Colleen: Why do you think most people don’t want to have conversations with bereaved parents about the death of their child?
Jane Harris: I suppose we represent people’s worst nightmare, and they don’t want to get close to that. I think at an unconscious level, they think, “What if that happens to me?” But I believe the primary reason that stops people from talking to bereaved parents is that they feel helpless. They can’t “fix” it, nor can they say anything to “fix” it.
But it’s not for fixing. Josh is dead. I’m getting used to it, and I’d like others to get more comfortable with their anxiety about being around me or other bereaved parents. We might cry, but that could be because you mentioned our child’s name and it made us happy that you had the courage to say, “You must miss Josh.” When that happens, I think, “How nice that someone has actually said his name.”
Colleen: And was that experience and perspective the inspiration for your film “Say Their Name”?
Jane Harris: Yes. We made that film for Compassionate Friends in the UK. We were helped very early on by them when we were feeling particularly isolated in our grief and there was this huge silence about Josh and his death. I went on one of their retreats and the first thing that happened was someone came up to me and said, “So, who are you here to remember?” I said “Josh,” and I remember thinking, “Wow, that’s the first time someone had asked me that.”
So we made this film as a way of giving back to Compassionate Friends in the UK and tackling that subject. They’re a wonderful organization with support groups all over the UK and a helpline that is open every day of the year — which isn’t what we offer. They’re a unique charity, and the peer-to-per support they offer is invaluable for bereaved parents.
This concludes part one of our interview with Jane Harris. Please come back next week to read part two, when we discuss the concept of continuing bonds and how understanding grief as a creative and active process can help bereaved parents and others.
Having lost my son Alex last week and so my younger son Hugh llosing his brother ….this post says it all.
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So glad you found it helpful.
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Two years ago November 13, 2016 my 55 y.o son died. I spent an inordinate amount of time searching for people sharing the loss and grief of their adult child. Surprisingly there wasn’t a lot to be found. So what I did find I saved, cataloged and have shared with family friends, pastors and counselors. I also found very little for adult- children with the loss of a parent. I shared my findings, especially with my grandchildren for our loss was (my son) their dad. We found some closure together with family and friends with a celebration of his life. And so we all got back to the day to day, working at living with the loss.
My goal being to be strong for my other son and daughter, my 4 grandchildren and my dtrs-in -law.
Somehow life does go on. I knew that I had to be strong – I also knew that strength came from my faith. So we all reached a new normal, I guess?
Aug 2018 my daughter (53)had a very bad fall – complex injuries- and still isn’t back to work full time.
At about the same time my second son(56) was experiencing some GI discomfort. He had a business to run but, for me, he did go to the doctor. He was being treated for an ulcer and hiatal hernia. Different doctors, different meds, a lot of pain, weight loss. Finally in Nov just before T-Day he ended up in the hospital and was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer stage 4 with mets to the liver. Later we found out his so-called stomach ulcer was malignant. He died Jan 25 2019.
I have my faith and I have a daughter, grandchildren (all 4 with no dad) I have to be strong for as well as my dtrs-in-law.
I didn’t seek out Compassionate Friends when my first son died but I am thinking this time I may.
If for no other reason to help others. 1because without my faith and of course all the support of friends and family I don’t see how I could go on. Perhaps my story can help some parent/parents somewhere know there is a reason to go on – there is life to live. The joy that memories of my sons; and having their beautiful children and my daughter in my life, makes living worthwhile.
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Liz your post is very inspiring and is indeed helpful. A week on from having found Alex, myself, my son Hugh and his partner Lydia have been greatly comforted by the outpouring of thoughts , phone calls , text messages, cards , and in our case street art created by the ‘graf’ community….a true “chosen “family in every sense of the word. It helps no end . I hope conversations will continue long after the dust has settled . Being a parent and losing an adult child goes against the natural order of things. Alex was 35. He didn’t have children but I will always think about the babies he might of had. Our children never cease to be our babies , toddlers , school children, teens, young adults etc.
Reading your post Liz , has inspired me to open up my own conversation and I hope that continues.
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I lost my beautiful Daughter Cary’s in a tragic car accident on 17th April 2017 (Easter Monday) she was 18. There was an accident at the same spot 2 months before, if only the police or fire rescue service had reported the damage to the Highways Team she might still be here….I will never know and that is extremely difficult to deal with. We approaching our second year without Cary’s, it’s fair to say me and my son Connor are finding it incredibly hard to deal with.
I try not to get too upset in front of people now I do my crying on my own away from everyone, I have that feeling that people feel I should be getting back to normal now and carrying on with everyday life. My normal life stopped on the 17th my normal is very different now….I miss her so much. 😢💔🌻
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