Camp helps heal those left behind

Kids who have lost loved ones have time to reflect, talk and learn to deal with the pain.

By JEFFREY S. SOLOCHEK

© St. Petersburg Times, published May 8, 2000

BROOKSVILLE -- Jacquae Pedrosa wrapped herself in a red sleeping bag in search of rest, teardrops drizzling down her cheeks, teddy bear at her side.

The weight of grief had drained the 9-year-old, who had spent the past 45 minutes composing a letter to her father, Eric Pedrosa. Eric Pedrosa died Dec. 30 in a highly publicized shooting rampage at Tampa's Radisson Bay Harbor Hotel.

"I said that I miss him and I wish he never left," Jacquae recounted, adding that she found writing the words very difficult. "Every time I remember him, it makes me want to cry."

Katrease James, Jacquae's mother, wants her daughter and three sons -- Robert Simms Jr., 13, Davarias James, 11, and Tavarius James, 4 -- to better understand and cope with death. One of the best ways, she said, was to have the children interact with other youngsters who experienced similar situations.

"I want them to see others and say,"I can make it,' " James said.

So she sent Jacquae, Robert and Davarias to Camp Circle of Love, sponsored by LifePath Hospice. Tavarius could not attend because he is too young.

Now in its eighth year, the camp offers children counseling and companionship mixed with games and outdoor activities.

And each year, the number of children who lost a loved one because of violence, rather than illness, has grown. Of 150 youths attending the program, 20 were dealing with violent deaths, an exceptionally high number, camp director Laura Mosby said.

"Their emotions seem to be more intense," said Laura Frazier, a bereavement patient family counselor with LifePath. Violent deaths usually are more sudden, she said, "so they don't have the chance to say good-bye. They feel the world isn't safe and life is unfair."

Violent deaths can be more difficult to talk about than other types, Frazier said, and frequently children do not know how to express their feelings appropriately. The camp experience gives the kids a chance to play and vent, and then to express themselves more thoughtfully in counseling, group therapy and memorial services.

That dichotomy was evident Saturday, when a group of teens played tag less than 50 yards from a separate gathering of pre-teens who cried openly as they spoke of the loved ones who had died.

The point, LifePath chaplain Michael McCurdy said, is to teach the children they are not alone, and they can survive.

"You can never get over it, but you can get through it," McCurdy said. "We teach them in honor of their loved one, they can learn to live."

With the help of newfound friends, Jacquae said, that lesson was becoming clear.

Jacquae had become particularly close to Kristen Myers, 9, of Brandon, who had lost her grandfather to cancer less than a year ago. The girls talked about how they supported each other during down times, offering consolation and help.

"I think it's harder for (Jacquae) because when we were writing the messages, she cried," Kristen said. "I didn't. I was trying not to."

Kristen said she knew her grandfather might die, but not as soon as he did. Her sister still cries whenever they visit the hospital where their grandfather passed away, she said.

Talking about the death with peers, rather than counselors, makes it seem easier to cope, the girls agreed. Each offered advice that other children might use if they find themselves dealing with death.

"If they want, they can cry whenever they feel like it," Kristen said.

"They should go on with their life but still remember the person," Jacquae said. "They can still feel bad if they want to about the person."

That's how she lives with what happened to her dad. Her round cheeks lifting in a smile, she fondly remembers him lifting her atop his shoulders so she could see the white tigers at Busch Gardens.

Yet she also harbors horrible memories of the shooting replayed on television day after day. When the case goes to court, Jacquae said, she and her family will face the awful truth once again.

But she now believes things will work out.

"He's in a better place," Jacquae said of her father. "He still loves me, and I still love him."

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