Our Son Nick
Nick was our cherished son. He was a very special young man. His heart was genuine, gentle, caring and selfless. His life was full of passion and purpose...yet so simple. To love and be loved was Nick's greatest desire. He was compassionate, soft-spoken, gentle and kind. He was passionate in maintaining his convictions. He displayed the courage of a lion. His sense of humor and lightheartedness was absolutely adorable, and his smile was always beaming. Others were drawn to his free and gentle spirit, upbeat attitude, and sensitivity toward the needs of others. He was determined and committed to his beliefs, and to those that he loved in this life. Nick was a competitive soccer player, and he loved to dance "like no one was watching." He was a fitness enthusiast, and loved to express himself through his many tattoos. He was always quick to forgive, and wore his heart on his sleeve. His hope was to become a physiotherapist and work at Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto, Ontario. He loved kids....he always maintained a childlike way about him, which so many found endearing.
On June 18, 2012, Nick was tragically killed in a vehicular accident....caused by a distracted driver.
Our lives were instantly and forever changed. We miss him deeply, but maintain our hope and faith that we will see him again.
Judy Micieli
Since 2008, I have acted as a volunteer companion for hospices in the Niagara area...spending time with terminally ill clients and their families in Niagara area homes and hospices. I have undertaken some training in preparation for this role...and it continues. After my son's death, I reached out to my hospice peers for bereavement care and support. This time, I was on the receiving end. My husband and I were both confronted with this new, raw, extremely painful grief. The depth of our grief was yet compounded by future losses, as well....no wedding day, no grandchildren, no sharing in the joy of Nick achieving and living out his hopes and dreams. My world was shattered, my joy was gone. As difficult as I knew it would be, I needed time to fully embrace my grief and trudge through it. I struggled through and along this deeply personal journey... finding solace, comfort, and empathy in those with whom I chose to share my story. It was those who were enduring the same loss...the loss of a beloved child...in whom I found the deepest, most genuine and compassionate care. I attended a support group for moms, which helped me immensely. In time, my heart and my spirit have been lifted...and my hope renewed. Though I fully believe that I will never be the same person I was before Nick's death....I'm ok with that. It is who I am now. Yet, once again, I'm back at it...I have resumed my volunteer work...this time, companioning with other moms (and dads) who have lost a precious child. I continue to search for meaning and hope. In serving other moms and dads who have experienced the same type of loss, the joy that had been lost through the death of my son has gradually begun to find its way back into my heart. Shared grief truly is hope renewed. In allowing myself to experience such a deep and profound grief...and in seeking, reaching out, and finding a "safe place" to share my story, I have begun to move forward towards a "reconciliation." I invite you to join me at that 'safe place.'
Joe Micieli
On November 22, 2011 my son, Nick, treated me to a Boston Bruins hockey game in Buffalo. He was 21. For a few earlier years leading up to that event, Nick and I didn't always agree on things; but you know, we had a great time as father and son at that hockey game! We had just begun to develop a closer relationship....one which I treasured. My son had become a man...one in whom I was very proud! When I lost him to that horrible accident, a piece of my heart died, too. I felt so lost, so empty...my joy was gone. I was just existing day to day. I was confronted with witnessing my wife's pain...a pain no parent should ever have to bear. I was devastated.....my spirit was broken. My hopes and dreams were no longer important to me, because Nick's own hopes and dreams would never be realized. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt. I found myself avoiding people, and feeling isolated. It was too tough to watch other parents with their kids. It was also difficult to see Nick's friends grieve. My life completely changed because of that dreadful day.
My wife was able to find some support in a group for bereaved mothers; but I couldn't find any such program for dads. I was desperate for someone to acknowledge, listen, and understand where I was at. There is a stereotypical belief by some that men should be strong, remain strong, and hold back their feelings in enduring difficult circumstances. However, dads hurt and feel the depth of grief in the loss of their child, too...and they need to express their grief in whatever manner they find helpful and comfortable. It is true that, if someone walks past us in a cast or on crutches, we can see that he or she is hurting; but, the pain and hurt of someone who is grieving cannot be seen on the surface...for it is within. No one can truly understand this anguish unless he or she has walked in the same shoes. There is no "fix" for grief. It must be expressed. I am willing to share my story, and I'd like to encourage other dads to join me.
My wife was able to find some support in a group for bereaved mothers; but I couldn't find any such program for dads. I was desperate for someone to acknowledge, listen, and understand where I was at. There is a stereotypical belief by some that men should be strong, remain strong, and hold back their feelings in enduring difficult circumstances. However, dads hurt and feel the depth of grief in the loss of their child, too...and they need to express their grief in whatever manner they find helpful and comfortable. It is true that, if someone walks past us in a cast or on crutches, we can see that he or she is hurting; but, the pain and hurt of someone who is grieving cannot be seen on the surface...for it is within. No one can truly understand this anguish unless he or she has walked in the same shoes. There is no "fix" for grief. It must be expressed. I am willing to share my story, and I'd like to encourage other dads to join me.