Día de los Muertos, widely observed in Mexico where it originated, is traditionally celebrated on 1st and 2nd of November, though in some places it extends from 31st October to 6th November. The multi-day holiday brings together family and friends to honour and remember loved ones who have died. The celebrations often include humour and joy, as people share fond and funny memories of those they miss.
On Friday, 31st October, TCFV held its own Día de los Muertos gathering. Members brought photos of their loved ones to hang from colourful banners, and they shared plates of their favourite foods. Each person was invited to introduce their loved one and tell a story about them. It was a warm, heartfelt evening — filled with both tears and laughter.
We hope you enjoy the photos for the Day of the Dead event opposite.
EDITORS LETTER
Dear Friends
Welcome to the Summer 2025–26 edition of Compassionate Connections. As the days grow longer and the evenings lighter, we hope the sunshine brings a small lift to your spirit. Yet we also know that with the warmth of summer comes the approach of the festive season — a time that can be especially difficult for many of us.
In this issue, you’ll find several articles that may offer comfort and support during this period, whether you mark Christmas or other seasonal celebrations. For my family and I, this will be our tenth Christmas
INDEX
Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead)
Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), Editors Letter & Index
4-5 President’s Report
6-7 Centre News
8-9 Sibling Grief at Christmas
10-11 Why I Don’t Say My Son “Committed Suicide”
12-13 A Journey of Strength
14-15 Grief at New Year
16 Rhys Harmer Winners + Telephone Responder Dinner
17 AGM,
without Joseph. Even now, the plans for how and where we will spend the day are still being made, a gentle reminder that there is no “right” way to navigate this season after loss.
My heartfelt thanks go to Joanna Durst, one of TCFV’s dedicated volunteers, for her ongoing help with proofreading and for the thoughtful articles she has suggested throughout the year.
However you spend the weeks ahead, I wish you moments of peace, comfort, and love.
Jane Moschetti
Bereaved Mother of Joseph (18)
Cover Competition Winner
Ballarat’s Blue Tree was submitted by TCFV Member Robyn Reeve, the tree was established at Ballarat Cemeteries in 2025 and is dedicated to the memory of those in the community who have lost their lives to suicide.
PRESIDENT’S REPORT
It’s an honour and a privilege to step into the role of President of The Compassionate Friends Victoria. I came to TCFV after the loss of my son, Aaron, and I know how isolating grief can feel. What drew me here, and what continues to inspire me every day, is the way this community offers understanding, compassion, and continuing connection. At TCFV, no one has to walk alone. Being able to reach out to someone who has lived a similar loss can bring comfort, hope, and healing that is hard to find anywhere else.
To our members, volunteers, and community - thank you. Each of you plays an important part in creating the safe spaces and supportive networks that define who we are. Whether you’ve been walking this path for years or have only recently found your way to us, your presence, courage, and compassion continue to shape TCFV’s heart and purpose.
Each year we see some changes to our Board. I’d like to extend a very warm welcome to Amanda Bond (VP), Anne Smith, Sonia Aberl, Gaurav Gulati, and Claire Kuhnell, who continue their valuable work with the Board. We’re also delighted to welcome Debbie Siviour, our new Regional Representative from Warrnambool. Debbie has been a dedicated Group Leader and now steps into the regional role, taking over from Robyn Reeve. We’re also delighted to welcome Christian Numa, who joins us as a new Board member, bringing a wealth of experience to our team.
I also want to acknowledge with deep gratitude those who have recently stepped down. Bruce Houghton returned to the board in 2022 and has served with great dedication, contributing significantly to the strength and direction of TCFV. Robyn Reeve, our former Regional Coordinator, has played a vital role in supporting regional groups and leaders, ensuring families across Victoria feel connected. And a heartfelt thank you to Kevin Purvis, who has led the Board with compassion and commitment over the past six years as President. Kevin’s steady leadership - both behind the scenes and in the community - has shaped much of who we are today. We are sincerely grateful for all that Bruce, Robyn, and Kevin have given and look forward to continuing to work alongside them in new ways.
As a Board, we’re also proud to have supported the decision to waive membership fees for our community. This change reflects our deep commitment to accessibility and compassion, ensuring that every bereaved parent, sibling, and grandparent can access support without barriers. It’s a meaningful step toward keeping TCFV a place where everyone feels welcome, and supported, regardless of circumstance.
Looking ahead, we’re excited about the next chapter - TCFV’s Strategic Direction 2026–2030: “Pathways of Connection.” Our vision is for a community where peer-led grief support is universally recognised, readily accessible, and deeply valued, ensuring every bereaved family can find meaningful connection in the aftermath of loss.
At the heart of this strategy are seven key pillars that will continue to guide our path forward:
7.
Each pillar is grounded in one central principle - Connection - the thread that weaves together healing, community, and resilience for bereaved families.
To continue strengthening our support services and reach, we are actively pursuing new funding avenues, including our “500 Hearts Campaign.” This initiative invites individuals and businesses to become part of a compassionate network of supporters helping ensure that no grieving family ever has to face loss alone.
We are currently recruiting for one vacancy on the Board and seeking a new Secretary. If you’re passionate about contributing to our mission, I’d love to hear from you - please email me at ChristyR@tcfv.org.au to begin the conversation.
I’m deeply grateful to everyone - our board, staff, volunteers, and members, who continue to walk beside others in grief, offering understanding and hope. Together, we’ll ensure that no grieving parent, sibling, or grandparent ever walks alone.
With warmth and gratitude, Christy Roberts President, The Compassionate Friends Victoria
In memory of my son Aaron (forever 18). Planting a gladiolus bulb in the Springvale Cemetery Grief Retreat garden - love continues to grow.
CENTRE NEWS
Iris Lawley, the last surviving founding TCF parent, passed away peacefully on 29 October, the day after her 94th birthday.
Following the death of her son Kenneth Lawley in May 1968, she sent flowers to the Henderson family after the loss of their son Billy — a simple act of compassion that became the first step in the creation of The Compassionate Friends (TCF).
Now a worldwide organisation.
Ann Smith
Ann & Henry Fajerman
Anonymous Donor
Hucker Family
Fiona Smith
Crowne Plaza Geelong
Garry Johnson
Glenys Coates
George Younan – Crown Property Services
Hiten Somaia
As always, a thank you to all the TCFV volunteers, phone support people, group leaders, centre volunteers, anniversary card writers, guest speakers and the magazine mail-out team.
Le Pine Camberwell
Paul Wheelton x 4
Philip Bayley
Thank You 500 Hearts Honour Roll
James Michael Pirotta, 1/7/1985 to 31/10/2009
Rick Jamieson – Harry the Hirer
WD Rose – Brighton
White Lady - Kew
A message to TCFV members… NOT RECEIVING EMAILS FROM TCFV? PLEASE CHECK YOUR JUNK FOLDER
Because we send out emails to a large volume of accounts, some email servers will identify our communication as “junk” and place it in an individual’s Junk email folder.
If you find TCFV emails are being placed in your Junk folder, you can mark just one TCFV email as safe, and this will ensure TCFV emails will appear in your inbox in the future.
Compassionate Employee Honour Roll
• Anam Cara House (Geelong). Nominated by Catherine Moloughney O’Sullivan – March 2025
• Melba support services. Nominated by Kate Beattie – May 2025
• Barwon Water. Nominated by Elizabeth MacDonald – May 2025
• ResourceCo Pty Ltd. Nominated by Vicki Reid – June 2025
• Caladenia. Nominated by Honor Cuthbertson – July 2025
If your employer or a business has shown extraordinary kindness and care during your bereavement, we invite you to nominate them for this special recognition. Nominations are open year-round. Please visit the website www.tcfv.org.au/supportus
COMPETITION
Create the next Compassionate Connections front cover! Draw, paint take a photo of something for upcoming magazines along the theme of Winter, Spring, Summer & Autumn. Deadline for the AUTUMN magazine is 1 February.
Staff First Aid Training
Navigating Grief During Christmas After Losing a Sibling
The holidays are often described as “the most wonderful time of the year,” filled with family traditions, joy, and togetherness. But for those grieving the loss of a sibling, Christmas can feel heavy, lonely, and overwhelming. The sights and sounds of the season can bring back painful reminders of what’s missing, making it difficult to find comfort in celebrations that once felt magical.
If you’re facing Christmas without your sibling, you’re not alone. Grief during the holidays is a journey many walk quietly. Here are some gentle ways to navigate the season with compassion for yourself and love for the sibling you’ve lost.
Recognize the Unique Weight of Sibling Grief
Siblings often share our earliest memories, inside jokes, and family traditions. Their absence at the Christmas table or during gift exchanges can make the loss feel especially raw. Yet sibling grief can sometimes be overlooked by others. Remember that your pain is valid and deserves space, even if it isn’t always acknowledged.
Give Yourself Permission to Feel
The holiday season can bring pressure to be cheerful, but grief doesn’t follow the calendar. You may feel sadness, anger, guilt, or even fleeting joy; all of which are normal. Allowing yourself to feel what you feel, without judgment, is one of the most healing steps you can take.
Honour Your Sibling’s Memory
Finding small ways to include your sibling in Christmas can create comfort and connection:
• Light a candle in their memory on Christmas Eve or morning.
• Share stories about your favourite holiday moments together.
• Add a ritual such as hanging an ornament that represents them or playing their favourite Christmas song or even watching their favourite Christmas movie.
• Give back by donating or volunteering in their honour.
These gestures can bring your sibling’s spirit into the season and remind you that love continues, even after loss.
Be Gentle with Family Gatherings
Family celebrations may stir a mix of emotions. It’s okay to:
• Communicate openly with loved ones about what feels supportive for you.
• Take breaks when the emotions feel overwhelming.
• Set boundaries - you don’t have to attend every event if it feels too painful.
Your well-being matters, and it’s okay to adjust traditions to honour your needs.
Why I Don’t Say My Son “Committed Suicide”
by Desiree Wood. Reproduced from TCF East London Chapter, Ontario, Canada.
The news spread quickly. 2 youths from the local high school had died over the weekend. “They committed suicide” were the words I heard to explain the tragic loss of two young people, who had their entire lives ahead of them. It is common to hear the use of those two words together - commit and suicide. I cringe when I hear it. They didn’t commit a crime. They died by suicide.
I am a survivor of suicide loss. After my son’s death, I was helpless to respond to the painful words that were spoken in hushed tones around me. “It was a selfish act”. “Didn’t you see the signs?” “Are they in heaven? ” I wonder what went wrong in the family?” I was unable to formulate responses to these false beliefs. I didn’t even know they were false. I just knew they held me hostage under a grief so powerful I could hardly breathe.
“Schizophrenia with delusional behaviours,” the doctor had said. Ryan was diagnosed with mental illness 9 months before he died. In hindsight, I had seen signs, but I didn’t know they were signs of mental illness. I never even considered mental illness was real. I just hoped he’d outgrow the anxiety, fear and worry that
had insinuated themselves into his psyche. Sleeping too much, not wanting to go to school, avoiding social situations, becoming more isolated and failing grades were what I had dismissed as “normal” adolescence.
I am not alone. Sadly, I hear stories of other parents who thought their child would outgrow these behaviours, too. When behaviours such as these change someone’s personality, it could signal a growing mental illness.
I stopped really seeing my son because I thought I knew him by heart, dismissed his complaints and his tears. I didn’t reach out to help him find his way because I was lost too.
Parents cannot look inside a child’s head to see what dark thoughts may be present, thoughts of worthless-ness, of being a burden or thoughts of death.
These thoughts they can’t shake. Too ashamed to speak them aloud, our children suffer. To share these with others they fear judgment, advice giving and not being taken seriously, or worse, feeling weak and powerless.
Without knowledge of mental illness as an actual brain illness, they languish. Without treatment, the illness can worsen over time and become a full-blown chronic illness that is more difficult to treat or results in suicide. 90 percent of people who die by suicide had a diagnosable mental illness.
All too often the “s-word” strikes fear in our hearts — fear of the act itself, fear of the unknown or fear of getting too close because suicide might be contagious.
We must remove the shame and stigma from mental illness and suicide, as well as the judgment youth often fear from talking about their feelings and seeking help. We must do a better job to help them share the darkness in their emotions so that parents, teachers and others can support the one in five who will be diagnosed with mental illness at some point in their lives. We must listen with our hearts even if we quake with inadequacy when we hear the pain of our child or student. We need to know of their suffering to move toward evaluation and treatment, if need be. Talking is only the first step.
With understanding comes a responsibility to educate others to effect change in the words we use when refer-ring to someone with depression, anxiety or any other mental illness. We can increase our understanding of mental illness, suicide and open the dialogue. We can stop blaming the families or blaming the ones who took their lives. There is no blame in suicide.
Those students did not commit a crime. My son did not commit a crime. They believed the only way to end the pain was to end their lives. They died because they didn’t have the words to express the deep psychological/biological pain, which was not a sign of weakness but of brain illness. I didn’t understand then, but I do now.
These truths eluded me for a long time. Sometimes truth has to hold the darkness before it can shine the light.
Copied from the TCF UK Magazine Compassion – Winter Edition
A Journey of Strength
In September 2005, after undergoing a left lower lobectomy to treat bronchiectasis, and having suffered recurrent bouts of pneumonia for 5 years, the pathology showed something far more sinister. ‘We think we’ve caught it at station one,’ stated the surgeon, likening Matthew’s plight to a railway journey.
However, just 4 weeks later, whilst ambling along a creek side track on a perfect, sundrenched spring day, hearing only the chirping of birds and the rustling of trees in the breeze, we were interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone bearing the worst possible news. ‘I’m so sorry, the cancer in the right lung is the same. You will need to see an oncologist.’
I stood in front of my beloved son as tears trickled quietly from his now saddened green-brown eyes. I felt an instant nausea come over me I automatically hugged my boy. How did HE feel? We walked the return journey home along the beach in stunned silence. At worst, Matthew had feared chemotherapy and losing his hair. He never imagined it would mean losing his life.
Four days later we were informed that the cancer was both end stage and terminal. In a state of shock and utter disbelief, Matthew asked a question he would later regret. - ‘How long do I have?’ - ‘One year with no treatment, possibly two with chemotherapy.’
Can you begin to imagine how much mental strength it must take to accept a diagnosis of a terminal cancer at the tender age of 30? How could a healthy fitness fanatic and lifelong never-smoker be sentenced to death by lung cancer?
Although so very hard to comprehend, like others, he eventually accepted the diagnosis, but never the prognosis. Matthew would need to muster every ounce of strength within him, both physically and emotionally. ‘I will not succumb without a fight,’ he told my close friend.
His physical appearance remained robust, with broad shoulders and an expanded chest which until recently had proudly boasted a lung capacity of 6 litres. Here was a young man who enjoyed free diving, descending the depths of vast oceans, snorkelling with tropical fish off reefs, holding his breath for minutes at a time. A cyclist who would challenge himself to ride that little bit faster and go that extra distance.
He never owned a car or even possessed a driving licence, yet his passion in life was travelling. He was not your everyday tourist. To Matthew it was necessary to go ‘off the beaten track’, to befriend the locals, share their homes, and taste their culture.
After the devastating initial shock of his diagnosis, and refusal to accept traditional chemotherapy, given his particular type of lung cancer was supposedly a slow-growing type, Matthew began the daunting task of ‘living with cancer’.
He made goals and worked towards them. He aimed to visit no less than 20 more countries, to achieve a goal of 50 in all during his short lifetime. Given the fatigue experienced by cancer sufferers, Matthew determined never to work again, but to live life to the full, an insurance policy containing a terminal illness clause enabling him to do this.
Between oncology appointments, blood tests, CT scans, eventual chemotherapy, mainly human trials of new, direct, targeted drugs, he achieved his goal plus more. Fifty-three countries in all he travelled. What courage it took! A doctor’s letter and 2 courses of antibiotics were travel essentials, plus other cancer and pain-relieving drugs. I always felt happy for him whilst he was travelling because it gave him some normality in a life now controlled by the progression of the disease. Whilst away he was just Matthew, another tourist, not Matthew with cancer. It gave him some reprieve and freedom to be the person he truly was.
Meditation and Pranayama yoga became a regular part of his daily routine. The vision of him standing on his head with his body in a straight, still line for minutes was inspiring.
After a close shave with death in January 2008, when the oxygen levels in his blood plunged to frightening depths, eyes rolling back in his head from the deprivation of precious breath and even being asked where he would feel more comfortable dying, he miraculously rebounded. He returned to his home labelled as ‘Palliative care’, requiring home oxygen especially during the night, but he had not done with living just yet.
Matthew had always loved the cinema and if unable to travel, he would seek out other pastimes closer to home. So he walked to the movies as often as possible, not always taking the portable oxygen bottle. He could be very stubborn and had always been fiercely independent. Photography became another passion he pursued. Being a lover of medieval history, English castles, knights in armour and having a deep interest in the longbow, the possibility of archery became a thought. Would he have the strength to draw back the bow? Determined to do so, he purchased a longbow in March 2008. With his body battered by cancer and huge weight loss from his once muscular frame, somehow he did summon up the strength to shoot hundreds of arrows during our three-hour weekly sessions at the archery club. When Matthew drew his longbow, he used his meditation skills to envisage the targets as his tumour-stricken lungs, which he would then pierce and totally obliterate. What strength of character and mind!
He had become a staunch advocate for other lung cancer patients through his own journey. Even on his last day of life, Matthew acquired an interview with a newspaper journalist, such was his desire to create national awareness of the urgent need for more research and funding for lung cancer, the forgotten cancer, and to dispel the myth that only smokers suffered from it.
Ironically, overnight as the article went to press for the following morning, at 12:40am on 16th November 2008, Matthew’s train reached its destination.
Sue Pusey TCFV member Bereaved Mother of Matthew (cancer, 33) and Warren (suicide, 48)
Afterword: This short story was originally written for the 2012 Cancer Council Awards. Matthew would have turned 50 in July 2025, so I thought this was one way I could commemorate him.
This book is available from the TCFV library
Jai paints a vivid, honest portrait of a vital, challenging relationship between two strong people who faced a grim prognosis and the self-sacrificing decisions it often required. As she faced life without the husband she called her “magic man,” Jai learned to make herself a priority to create a new life of hope and happiness—as she puts it, to “feel a spark of my own magic beginning to flicker.”
Grieving During “Happy New Year” Days
When You’re Not Feeling the “Happy New Year” Spirit
Time can stand still when you’re grieving. Days turn into nights and weeks, and you find you’re still grieving. Maybe you have optimistic times, thwarted by pessimistic ones. Maybe you are so confused as to what and how you’re supposed to be doing that you’re just stuck.
Then, here comes the BIG NEW YEAR’S HOLIDAY that seemingly everyone prepares for and celebrates. All this, while you still want to crawl under the covers.
A New Year — A New You?
So, what can you do when you find the world around you filled with exclamations of Happy New Year and suggestions offering up the possibility of a new and happy year and a “new” you?
You may want to shout back, “No. It’s a NEW YEAR, SAME ME” and tell them to just leave you alone.
You’re not in the mood right now to plan exotic adventures, get impressive new jobs or find the love of your life. For grievers, it can be daunting to see a whole new year stretching out in front of them. It’s scary to think that the new year may not feel much better than the previous one.
If you’re feeling gloomy and isolated, you may not be alone with those feelings this year
Even those who are not grieving the death of a loved one, are living with the losses and isolation as the aftermath of the pandemic, and the loss of community and togetherness.
A New Year Can Bring New Feelings
No matter where you are in your grief process, the arrival of a new year may feel very charged and emotional for you. Consider the following thoughts.
• If your loss was recent, sudden, or unexpected, you might experience it as a shock, as if you’re living a bad dream or someone else’s life, trying desperately to get back to your old life. The last thing on your mind might be the challenge of a new year.
• As your grief moves in time, you’ll at some point, believe that it’s necessary to look at the new year with interest and wonderment about what it could be like. You may actually be open to change in the new year.
• Give yourself a mental rest. Acknowledge that you had a really hard year. Take a little time out for yourself to do even something small that makes you feel alive.
• Consider starting the year off by getting the support you deserve as you grieve. Find a bereavement support group or a grief counsellor, and start to do the work of healing and recovery.
• Don’t make a New Year’s resolution to be less sad. People often think they want to quit grieving at the beginning of the year. And then they are more upset when the resolution is broken. And “sad” isn’t really something you can turn off with the flip of switch, after a loved one dies.
• It’s normal to feel even more alone on New Year’s as you watch others celebrating and making plans for the new year with great gusto. When you’re grieving, there is a poignancy to the notion of time, and New Year’s can be a cold reminder of its passage. Allow yourself some alone time to grieve. Let grief be a part of your new year. You can return to celebrations another year, when you are more ready.
• Don’t worry yourself with the typical resolutions to eat right, exercise more, start journalling, be more organised, or whatever you may have done in the past. Resolve this year to honour your feelings and allow grief to be one of them. So, handle yourself and your grief with gentle care.
• This could be your year of letting go of all the expectations you’ve put upon yourself. You won’t ever let go of your love for the deceased, but to begin to heal, you need to let go of the idea that your life can remain the same as it was prior to the death of your loved one. When you start judging your grieving process (too much, too little, too mad, too sad, etc), let go and understand that whatever you are feeling at that time is normal and natural. You will feel different ways until at some point, you adjust to your new “normal”.
Our library has a book called “Remembering you: a practical guide for bereaved parents” by Andrea Notman. It contains short entries on remembering your loved one in different ways, on different occasions. Not just for parents!
The Rhys Harmer Memorial Award Winners 2025
Presented in recognition of outstanding contributions to TCFV.
DOROTHY (DOT) ZEUSCHNER
Pre-COVID, if you’d ever called or dropped by our office, and you’d been greeted with a cheerful voice and a warm smile, chances are you would have met Dorothy (Dot) Zeuschner. She has brought energy, warmth and positivity to every shift — and we have felt privileged to have her as part of the TCFV team.
Dot commenced centre volunteering in 2009, two years after the loss of her dear 31-year-old daughter, Jodie. She commenced phone volunteering in 2013.
During holiday seasons, when many were busy with family gatherings and travel plans, Dot generously stepped up, taking on extra phone shifts around such times as Christmas and New Year’s. Thanks to her dedication, our operations continued smoothly through some of the most difficult times of year for our members — and she did it with her trademark enthusiasm and kindness.
Whether answering phones, assisting with office tasks, or simply brightening the room with her warmth and energy, Dot has been a great team player. She has brought not just reliability, but also heart — reminding us all what the spirit of giving looks like in action.
Thank you, Dot, for all your work. We have been so grateful for everything you do!
PAT MORROW
Within any organisation, there are people who help ensure the structure of an organisation remains strong and dependable. And they do so, not with grand gestures, but with consistency, kindness, and an unfailing willingness to help.
One such person is TCFV phone responder, Pat Morrow.
When someone has had to drop out of a scheduled shift on the phone, Pat has been our go-to person. “No worries,” she would say. Those two words have become something of a trademark. Simple. Reassuring. Just a cheerful, steady reply. And how deeply we can appreciate that steadiness and cheer when we also know that person is carrying such huge grief. Pat’s 29-year-old daughter Kerrie died in Africa in 2003. In 2023, Pat wrote:
I was often told that I needed help during the first months [following Kerrie’s death]. Who could help me, who could possibly know what I felt, this is my grief. I did get counselling with a grief counsellor, who gave me a leaflet with the emblem of TCFV. Not that any of it registered at that time. I would get into my car and go for a drive during this time, not going anywhere, just somewhere. On one of these drives I was coming down Canterbury Road and spotted the emblem on the side of a building. It was something I’d seen somewhere, so I went back to take a second look. The light bulb went on, so I called in, and all I can say is it became a big part of my scrambled life. This was a place I felt I belonged, where people understood me, gave me comfort and support. I even laughed at times, although there were more tears than I could think possible.
Like Dot, Pat started as a Centre volunteer two years following her daughter’s death. Then, as she settled into the TCFV fold, she trained to be a phone volunteer. She – and we – haven’t looked back. Sometimes, it’s the quiet, dependable actions that leave the biggest impact. The moments when someone simply says, “I’ve got it—no worries.”
That’s what Pat has given us, time and time again. And we’re deeply grateful.
Andrew McNess Operations Manager
Phone Responder Dinner
To celebrate and thank our wonderful Phone Responders for their time, compassion, and commitment throughout the year, we gathered for a lovely dinner at The Auburn Hotel in Hawthorn, Monday 27th October. It was a warm and relaxed evening shared by Lyn Strickland, Kevin Purvis, Geeti Persson, Leneve Jamieson, Kerry King, Ann Smith, Nat Ballingall, and Phil Jones, who kindly supports the team by keeping our Police Checks up to date. The evening was filled with good food, great conversation, and lots of laughter- a wonderful opportunity for everyone to connect beyond the phones and celebrate the meaningful work they share. A heartfelt thank you to all our Phone Responders for your ongoing care, time, and dedication. We hope you can join us at the next gathering.
In September 2025, I was honoured to receive an OAM, an Order of Australia Medal for Service to the Community with Social Welfare Organisations.
Over the past forty years in Melbourne, I have had the privilege to work for many community organisations, in both a paid and voluntary capacity.
In 1979 I arrived in Melbourne with my husband David and our three sons. Three years later David had a heart attack and died. The boys were 14, 12 and 9. We had no family members in Australia, and it took us about five years to resume our lives.
I qualified as a Family Therapist and over the years I have worked in a number of grief, loss and trauma positions. My volunteer work started with a telephone support service, the Personal Emergency Service, similar to Lifeline. Following that, I was a facilitator for a younger bereaved widows and widowers support group, with St Vincent’s Sisters of Charity, and a volunteer coordinator and co-group facilitator for the Jewish organisation Chesed, a widow and widowers support group.
Nine years later tragedy struck again: my eldest son Gavin, who was twenty-three, was killed in a car crash. I contacted The Compassionate Friends Victoria (TCFV) and attended a support group. I became a volunteer with TCFV answering phones and writing bereavement cards. A while later, I returned to volunteer at CamCare in Camberwell where I was a pro bono counsellor/family therapist. I worked for the Road Trauma Support Team and volunteered with a Jewish group, B’nai B’rith Courage to Care Vic. My role there was a group facilitator and educator with Secondary school groups, raising awareness of the detrimental effects of racism and bullying.
Ten years later, my middle son Michael who was living in Japan, died from a heart attack and two years after that my youngest, Jeremy died by suicide. TCFV were there for me again and I honestly don’t know how I would have survived the trauma and grief without them.
Experiencing the trauma of my husband’s death, trying to support my boys, being a new immigrant with no family in Australia, I believe has given me a deep understanding of trauma, grief and loss and has made me more able to support others in similar situations.
Since retiring, I still volunteer with TCFV as a one-on-one support person, and hope to join their Guest Speaker Program.
It has been and is my greatest privilege to be of support for those who are going through their own trauma and grief.
Barbara Kessel OAM
In memory of my family: David, Gavin, Michael and Jeremy
MY HEARTSTRINGS A Journal for Bereaved Parents
By Susan Meyerink (Bereaved Mother of Chance)
Loss and Grief Counsellor and Grief Informed Supervisor.
As a bereaved parent, I understand how devastating the loss of a child is and how consuming grief can feel. When my child died, I struggled to find the right supports, so I worked hard to become a loss and grief counsellor, in order to help others. My personal experience fuels my passion for helping other bereaved parents to navigate their unique grief journeys. I have created a Grief Journal for parents like us, who have experienced the unthinkable loss of a child/ children. I chose the title “My Heartstrings” because it captures how my grief continues to pull gently but powerfully at my heart.
I have carefully designed the journal to support you on your healing journey, it includes prompts to gently guide you, helping you honour your unique experience and nurture a continuing bond with your child. Scattered throughout the journal are prompts, comforting quotes, simple strategies, and information about grief, all intended to inspire moments of peace, gentle reflection, and self-care. There are also plenty of blank pages where you can write freely whenever you feel ready, along with spaces to draw or doodle, which can be equally therapeutic. Just as grief can feel overwhelming and unpredictable at times, and we don’t always know how we will feel, the Journal has no particular order, so you can flip through and choose what speaks to you on any given day.
How bereaved parents can benefit from writing in a grief journal
Grief after the loss of a loved one is unlike any other pain: it can be consuming, isolating, and difficult to share aloud. A journal becomes a safe place to pour out the emotions, memories, and thoughts that sit beneath the surface. Journalling can help you become more aware of your emotions, allowing you to recognise and understand what you feel. Writing about your child can help to preserve your precious memories, capturing moments, thoughts, and details about your child. Journalling gives bereaved parents permission to honour both the love and the pain, and to find moments of stillness and meaning within the heartbreak. Over time, the journal becomes a personal record of love and growth, a reminder that while grief changes, the connection between parent and child endures, and helps us to notice small moments of healing.
Writing your way
It’s important to note, when writing in a journal, it is your thoughts - you don’t need to worry about spelling or grammar: some people just use dot points. Be honest in your writing. Let your words come without judgment or censorship. Some days, what you write may be raw or painful; other days, it may hold moments of peace or love. Each page is part of your healing journey.
Looking back
Over time, looking back on what you’ve written can help you notice changes in your grief and see how your emotions gently shift and soften. If your reactions are different each time, that’s perfectly natural - grief evolves, just as we do.
A gentle reminder
Journalling isn’t about finding answers or making sense of the unimaginable. It’s about giving voice to your heart, honouring your child, and creating a space for your emotions to rest. Write as often as you wish, whenever you feel moved to. Whether it’s a few lines or many pages, every word is an act of love and remembrance. This journal will offer support and reassurance, reminding bereaved parents their feelings are normal, and they are not alone.
Copies of My Heartstrings are available from the TCFV website at the discounted rate of $24, plus postage and handling (or you can collect at TCFV Centre, if you’d prefer). Please visit: www.tcfv.org.au/myheartstrings
A Chat with SOREN TAE SMITH
Soren’s recently published memoir, HONEY FROM THE GROUND, provides a personal account of grief and the loss of a beloved child.
What prompted you to start writing about your grief? Was there a specific moment when you knew you had to share your story?
I think I realised how fragile our lives were. The working title of the book was While We’re Here. I had a few things to say but I couldn’t get out of bed or converse, so I wrote. We’re a bit unusual and I never saw families like ours on the TV or in books. Writing was a way to bear witness to what happened, and to show what was so sweet and beautiful in our lives as well. We lost a whole world when we lost Woody.
Did writing about your grief help you process it—or was it sometimes too painful? It helped me, and reading and listening to other people’s stories helped as well. Forgetting would be more painful. I was working through not knowing the cause. Many memoirs start from a cause, but we didn’t know. Now when people ask, ‘What happened?’ (the dreaded question) I can say that it takes a book to answer that. And maybe the rest of my life as well. Writing helped me to stay present. You can see that in the book. I am often writing about the plants outside the window and what’s around me as well as delving into memories.
Were there parts of your personal story that were especially difficult to put into words?
Yes! My sentences became short and there are a lot of gaps where silence has to be. There are moments that are sacred, private and very hard to expose to the light of public scrutiny. But I know that others have been there, in similar moments, and we’re not alone. I couldn’t be alone with it. I don’t think anyone should be. But there are things in the book I’ve never said out loud and maybe never will.
Has sharing your story helped you keep the memory of Woody alive in a new way?
It’s strange but in my book I haven’t mentioned his name, except in the dedication. It was as if we all lost our names. Meanwhile, I saw the letter W in everything, clouds, snail trails, scribbles when I was testing a pen, and it always gave me courage and made me smile. Sharing the story is like inviting people over to our house. That’s his spirit, not mine. When I went to his house to check on him that evening, his door was unlocked. Woody’s such a generous, open soul. So while I can’t tell his story for him, sharing it is his spirit of openness in the world.
How do you carry your grief with you today—has it changed shape over time?
At first the idea of intense grief getting ‘easier to bear’ was appalling! I thought that would mean leaving him behind and leaving ‘us’ in the past. I’m glad that doesn’t happen. I’ll never make sense of time passing though. Sometimes I feel that I’ve lost both of us, and that this person here is a different me.
HONEY FROM THE GROUND is available at major bookstores. More information can be found at Melbourne University Publishing: https://www.mup.com.au/books/honey-from-the-ground/9780522881813
Life After Life – My Daughter Is Still Alive
(continued from the Spring edition of Compassionate Connections)
At just a moment past 12 pm on the morning of the 14th of April 1999, (exactly six months to the day of Chione’s death) I woke up abruptly hearing an odd, loud noise downstairs. It sounded like an animal in distress. Startled and half asleep, I stumbled down the stairs. I was astonished to hear that the sound was coming from the bookcase in the lounge room. I started searching through the books on the top shelf, when the screeching noise suddenly stopped. The strange sound had occurred over ten times. Bewildered, I stopped looking for the source of the noise. I sat down in a chair wondering what it was and what to do. I sat there thinking for a few minutes feeling confused, but a bit more awake. Realising I would not be able to go back to sleep, I put the TV on. There was a sort of religious movie on about some men painting a church. Apparently, in the film one of the painters came in during the night and painted scenes of Angels on the ceiling and walls. The next morning the man in charge asked him why he did the unauthorized paintings. He said that voices from the other side, the spirit world had told him to do it. The men then talked about the afterlife. After watching it for some time I got sleepy again and went off to bed. My wife Laurie slept through this event.
Next morning I woke up early. I told Laurie what had happened and then went downstairs and put the jug on to make a coffee. While I waited for the jug to boil, I stood at the kitchen window looking outside. I remember distinctly saying in my head, “Was that you last night Chione?” At that moment, the sound started happening again, three or four times it made the noise. I ran into the lounge room and again began searching through the bookshelf, this time the second shelf. Eventually, amongst the books I found a book with buttons to press to make different noises. It was a children’s storybook given to Chione by a friend of our family. It’s a story about African elephants: a baby elephant gets separated from its mother, the mother calls to it and in the end, they are re-united. One of these buttons makes the piercing sound of the mother elephant calling to its baby. When you press the button, the noise sounds once. This book was sitting among other books on the bookshelf and yet made that sound many times. A short time later Laurie came downstairs and told me she had heard the noise that time. This was for me a wonderfully heartening experience.
Later that day, we were sitting together at the dining table having afternoon tea. We were all feeling really miserable, as it was around the time of day that Chione had died. I then noticed that the light of a large toy ring belonging to Andreas that was lying on the kitchen bench opposite us had suddenly come on. It had to be pushed to make it light up, yet it had come on without anyone touching the button to put it on. It was a moving moment for all of us.
After this period of fairly frequent contact, these incidents diminished for a while. I was happy that these incidents had taken place and felt like Chione had gotten in touch with her family and me. But I still felt very fragile and the months ahead were still extremely difficult as we struggled to hold on and get our lives back to some sort of normalcy. Laurie and I focused on caring for the children, and I kept busy in the garden. Among other things I made an area around the girls’ cubby house into a lovely flower garden in memory of Chione. I put an Angel figurine that I found in the ground in another part of the garden after a dream where Chione told me to dig. One morning in August, I found the Angel figurine had been moved from the Chione Garden onto the pathway. I put it back in its spot in the garden. I asked the children if they had moved it, and they said they hadn’t. Then I again found the Angel figurine on the pathway. The same thing kept happening over and over again after that for some weeks. The woman Joan, who I had seen about Chione, had mentioned that Chione still played in the yard. I took this as a sign of her presence there.
On Chione’s birthday (16th October), I was expecting, or at least hoping, something would happen. But by the afternoon there was no sign, nothing exceptional had occurred and I was rather depressed and upset. In the late afternoon we all sat together, Laurie, the children and I, feeling very sad and having our afternoon tea. Then one of the children’s picture books, Aladdin, which had buttons on it to play sounds in parts of the story, repeatedly made the sound that happens when Aladdin rubs the lamp at that moment. This occurrence uplifted our spirits very much.
Before her death, Chione had often said to Laurie and me that we should have another child, as she said she would like to have another sister. Chione said if we did, the child would be a girl, and we should call her Lara.
Lara Beach in western Cyprus was Chione’s and Sian’s favourite beach. After Chione died, Laurie got pregnant again and we did have another child. We had another girl, and we called her Lara, meaning cheerful in Latin. Looking back, I’m sure this was something Chione wanted us to do; on some level I believe she somehow knew her time with us in this world would be short.
Chione is a Greek name, which translated into English means, snow or snow white. To me she was just like that, an exquisite snowflake, a thing of wild beauty that is only with us for a short time. And though she was amongst us for only a brief period, she taught me and many other people so much about love, giving, forgiveness, simplicity and humility and living life to the full. I am so proud and privileged to have known such a wondrous, alive, beautiful child as Chione, to have been her father and been a part of her fulfilling life. Chione combined the exuberant vitality of youth with the knowledge of a wise old person. She really was like an old soul in a child’s body. Chione’s short life is a constant inspiration to my family and me
Losing your child is something you never get over, but the things my family and I experienced after Chione’s death gave us great comfort and were vital in helping us to keep on going. I don’t know why deceased loved ones contact particular people, while others aren’t contacted. And I don’t understand how these things happen, but I do know that they do and did happen to my family and me. The above occurrences are true and not something I made up. It’s fact, not fiction. And no one can explain away these real events as grief-affected figments of my imagination or delusions, as the tangible nature of the communications I have had show otherwise.
While there is still much I don’t understand about life and death, there are some things I do know. That between those we love there exists a strong spiritual interconnectedness that remains unbroken even after death. Sadness and death are an inescapable part of our lives. But there is a bond of love that lives on and death is not the end of life. One of Chione’s favorite TV shows was the French series about a little schoolgirl called Madeline. At dinner time Madeline and her classmates would sing, “We love our bread, we love our butter and most of all we love each other.” Chione would regularly sing this song before we ate our dinner. She believed love was the strongest emotion we possess. I also think it is, and that it is the reason that Chione was able to make contact with me and my family. And I believe that when we die there is an afterlife where we are reunited with our loved ones who are waiting for us in another place.
Without the love and support of my family, friends and this contact from Chione, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to go on after her death. That Chione was able to get in touch with me shed a light into the bleak darkness of life without her. The confirmation that Chione was still alive was the help I really needed and undeniably got. There is still so much I do not understand and so many unanswered questions I still have, but one thing I know with utter certainty is this: that there is indeed life after this life.
By: Steven Katsineris Bereaved Father of Chione
“After all, it is no more surprising to be born twice than it is to be born once.” Voltaire.
Ways to Remember and Celebrate Your Loved One Over the Christmas Period
The holiday season can be a deeply emotional time. While the world around us celebrates, our hearts often ache for the person who is missing.
Here are some gentle and meaningful ways you might choose to honour and include your loved one this season — in whatever way feels right for you.
�� Within Christmas Traditions
• Light a candle in their memory on Christmas Day or Christmas Eve.
• Hang a special ornament on the tree — perhaps one with their name, photo, or something that reminds you of them.
• Set a place at the table or include a candle or flower where they would have sat.
• Play their favourite Christmas song or carol during a quiet moment.
• Buy or make a gift in their honour and donate it to a child or person in need.
• Write them a letter or Christmas card, sharing your thoughts and memories, and place it under the tree or keep it in a memory box.
• Visit their resting place and decorate it with flowers, candles, or festive touches that reflect their personality.
• Cook or bake their favourite Christmas dish and share it with family or friends as a way of keeping their memory alive.
�� Personal and Reflective Ideas
• Create a memory jar – invite family members to write down memories, stories, or things they loved about them and read them together on Christmas Day.
• Display photos of them around your home or create a small “memory corner” with a candle and their picture.
• Make a new tradition in their honour — like a walk at sunrise, a visit to a special place, or a toast to them at dinner.
• Spend quiet time in nature — at the beach, in the garden, or at a park, reflecting on your love and connection.
• Listen to or make a playlist of songs that remind you of them — not only sad songs, but ones that capture their spirit and personality.
• Write their name on a star ornament or hang a paper star in your window to represent their continuing light in your life.
��️Across Faiths and Cultures
• For those marking Hanukkah: light an extra candle on the menorah in remembrance or share a favourite story about your loved one during one of the nights.
• For those observing Diwali (Festival of Lights): light a diya in their honour and let its glow symbolise the eternal light of their soul.
• For those observing Kwanzaa: dedicate one of the principles or the lighting of a candle to your loved one’s memory.
• For those of Buddhist or Hindu backgrounds: offer flowers, incense, or food at a home altar or temple.
• For those with no particular faith: light a candle at sunset, say their name aloud, and spend a few moments reflecting on how they continue to shape your life.
�� Connecting with Others
• Attend a remembrance service or candlelight gathering, either through TCFV or locally.
• Reach out to another bereaved family who may also be struggling — shared understanding can be healing.
• Share a post or photo online saying their name and something you loved about them — an act of remembrance and love.
• Volunteer or give back in their memory — supporting a cause that mattered to them or that helps others in need.
�� And Remember
There’s no right or wrong way to face the holidays. You might want to be surrounded by people, or you may need quiet time alone. You may continue old traditions, start new ones, or skip them altogether. Whatever you choose, be gentle with yourself and know that your loved one’s light lives on, always.
Pace Yourself
When the hardest days come, Get support and comfort where you can, And pace yourself,
As sometimes life is an endurance test,
And only patience and calm will let you find,
The way forward to the light, And help you get through.
Steven Katsineris 2020 TCFV Member Bereaved Father of Chione
Living With A Broken Heart A Journey to Healing Through Grief
Jordan was larger than life. A giver by nature, he loved his family fiercely and adored his two little boys, River and Hudson. At 38, he had a presence that filled every room—standing 6’5” with the biggest, brightest smile. His laughter was unforgettable, his energy magnetic. We miss him so much. Jordan died in a tragic car accident in January 2022, and our lives were forever changed.
It was in honour of Jordan’s life and spirit that Living With A Broken Heart – A Journey to Healing Through Grief was created. In the quiet town of Macedon, Victoria, a group of bereaved mothers gathered this spring to embark on a tender, transformative journey. Living With A Broken Heart – A Journey to Healing Through Grief was born from personal loss and community love. I developed the program as a way of offering what I couldn’t find—gentle, meaningful support for mothers navigating the heartbreak of child loss.
I was joined by my beautiful friend Sam Gardiner (local artist and bereaved sibling), who co-facilitated the sessions with warmth, creativity, and insight. Sam’s presence brought a richness to our circle—her artistic spirit and intuitive support helped create a space where grief could be held with dignity and care. Together, we welcomed participants into a program designed not to fix grief, but to honour it.
Supported by The Compassionate Friends Victoria (TCFV) and auspiced by Macedon & Mount Macedon Community House, the four-week program invited participants to explore grief through emotional reflection, spiritual connection, creative expression, and self-care. Each session became a doorway—an invitation to breathe, to feel, and to begin healing in community.
Our first gathering was tender, raw, and deeply grounding. Led by Kevin Purvis, bereaved father and President of TCFV, the session opened space for honest reflection on how grief shapes daily life. There was profound comfort in simply being together—in the quiet nods of recognition, the shared tears, and the courage it took to speak aloud the names of our children. One participant reflected, “I didn’t know how much I needed to be in a room where grief wasn’t hidden. It was like exhaling for the first time in months.” Kevin’s presence, grounded in lived experience and gentle wisdom, helped set the tone for the program: one of compassion, connection, and deep listening.
The following week, we were joined by Christy Roberts (TCFV President) and Simone de Hass (psychic medium and healing therapist), who shared openly and generously from their personal and professional experience. Christy, a grief and trauma specialist, and Simone, a psychic medium, healing therapist and bereaved mother, helped us explore spirituality not as doctrine, but as a source of meaning, ritual, and connection. It was profoundly beautiful to witness the photos of participants’ precious loved ones. There was something quietly sacred in that gesture—so powerful to see their smiling faces and feel their presence in the room.
Afterward, we offered gentle self-care invitations: light a candle beside a photo, take a walk in nature, pause with a warm drink, or reach out to a trusted friend. These small acts became ways to honour what surfaced.
The third session was a beautiful invitation to reconnect with the parts of ourselves that still shimmer, even in grief. Sam led us through a creative exploration that reminded us how loss and creativity are both essential parts of the human experience. Whether through painting, journalling, or simply imagining new ways of seeing, creativity became a bridge between pain and possibility. Sam’s energetic, gentle presence brought warmth and insight to the circle. As I
shared with the group, “Maybe the silver lining isn’t about ‘moving on,’ but about learning to carry both love and loss with us.”
Our final gathering was a soft landing. Alex Hamilton, CEO of TCFV, introduced a concept many of us hadn’t considered before: glimmers in grief. She invited us to notice the small moments of light in our day—the smile from a stranger, the warmth of a cup of tea, the quiet comfort of a familiar song. These glimmers don’t erase the pain, but they soften its edges. Her handout, filled with gentle prompts and reflections, offered a toolkit for continuing the journey with tenderness and intention.
Participants were invited to bring a self-care item, image, or practice that felt meaningful. Together, we explored ways to nurture ourselves in the midst of grief, to listen to what our bodies and hearts need, and to honour the rhythms of healing that are uniquely ours.
As we close the final chapter of Living With A Broken Heart, I want to thank each of you for the courage, presence, and tenderness you brought to our shared space. Connection, laughter, tears, stories, and glimmers of light—these were the threads that held us. We journeyed through grief supported by community, spirituality, creativity, and selfcare. Along the way, we were reminded to look for the glimmers: those tiny moments of comfort and beauty that soften the edges of pain and reflect our deepest love.
We created a community—a bubble—where we were protected for a short while each week. In that space, grief was not something to hide or fix, but something to honour together. It was a place to breathe, to feel, and to be held. The response to the program has been deeply affirming. Participants described it as “life-changing,” “gentle but powerful,” and “a space where grief was honoured, not hidden.”
To Samantha Gardiner—thank you for being my partner in this journey. Your creativity, insight, and heart added a richness to this experience that I’ll always carry with me.
To everyone who joined us: thank you for showing up each week with honesty and heart. The journey continues—in every breath, every glimmer, and every act of self-care.
By Jill Barham Bereaved mother of Jordan #Forever38
Remembering Mowgli
Maggie Somerville, a member of the bereaved by suicide support group, has launched an album/CD in memory of her son Julian. Titled “Remembering Mowgli”, in honour of Julian’s skateboarding nickname, it is a group of songs written by Maggie about Julian. Some are from a time before his death, and some are Maggie’s reflections as she processes the grief she now lives with.
The launch was a lovely afternoon at the TCFV centre with over 30 people present, some from TCFV and others from Maggie’s wider friendship circle. The audience was deeply moved by Maggie’s songs. The song selection began with some songs about his childhood love of dinosaurs and care of wildlife, captured in a song titled “The Snake”.
Among the quotes heard on the afternoon were:
“The lyrics - my gosh, so many people could relate to it all.”
“The song about regret - my tears just started to flow.”
One bereaved mother was inspired to go home and begin writing herself.
A beautiful way to remember a much-loved son, as his spirit lives on in the songs.
Thank you, Maggie.
Maggie’s album is available by contacting her through: maggiesomerville.com.au
The Compassionate Friends Victoria is part of a worldwide organisation, which was founded in England in 1969 and established in Victoria in 1978. It is a mutual assistance, self-help organisation offering friendship and understanding to families following the death of a child, sibling, or grandchild of any age and from any cause. The primary purpose is to assist them in the rebuilding of their lives after the death of their child, sibling, or grandchild and to support their efforts to achieve emotional and mental health.
TCFV Staff
CEO: Alex Hamilton
Operations Manager: Andrew McNess
Community Education & Communications Coordinator: Jane Moschetti
The Compassionate Friends Victoria Patron: Rhonda Galbally AC
Grief support – available on 03 9888 4944 / 1300 064 068 Bereaved drop-in Centre, Hours 9.30am – 4.30pm Monday to Friday
Disclaimer: Unless expressly stated, the views expressed in articles, poetry etc. in this magazine are not necessarily the views of TCFV Board, Staff or the editorial team. The editor reserves the right to edit any contribution. Permission is given to Editors & Chapter Leaders of The Compassionate Friends to reprint material from the magazine. We request that credit be given to the author & their TCF Chapter.
Seeking Serendipity.
Into the stunning beauty of the wilderness I go, Weaving my way back along a steep track, To a special hidden place I know.
Searching for solace and solitude, The splendid sights, sounds and smells, The spectacular skies, sunrises and sunsets, The simplicity, stillness, serenity and silence, It stirs all my senses, makes my heart soar, And profoundly touches my soul. This sanctuary is the closest I’ve come to, Finding my very own superb serendipity.
Steven Katsineris. June 2021
Bereaved father of Chione (6)
TCFV SUPPORT GROUPS & SOCIAL SUPPORT GROUPS
Note 1: Unless stated otherwise all groups are open to bereaved parents, siblings and grandparents – 18 years and above – who are bereaved through any means.
Note 2: Sometimes, group meeting details need to be updated between when the magazine goes to print and when it is delivered to your letterbox or Inbox. For the most up-to-date listing of meetings, please visit: www.tcfv.org.au/support-groups
Support Group Meetings provide bereaved parents, siblings and grandparents the opportunity to meet in a safe environment with others who have been there, who understand and care. Group attendees (18+ years) report that meetings are an essential part of their learning-to-live again journey.
Social Support Group Meetings are similarly led by group leaders. They are a lovely social opportunity for bereaved people, often held at a cafe. Discussion is more general, although can sometimes centre on griefrelated issues. If you are needing more substantial time to explore your grief-related issues (and this can particularly be the case when you’re newer in your grief), we recommend a formal support group.
I have baby-sitting problems. Would it be alright to bring my child with me? While we understand the difficulties of finding childcare, we must ask that out of respect for the needs of others, you do not bring children (under 18 years of age) to meetings.
Someone in my household has a respiratory illness but I don’t. Can I still attend a meeting? Meetings, by design, have people sitting in close proximity to one another. If someone in your household is sick, we would prefer that you not attend a face-to-face meeting in that month.
Bereavement support for under-18s. While TCFV’s services are for individuals 18 years and above, there are a number of other organisations that provide under-18 services, such as Grief Australia, Headspace and Jesuit Social Services. A listing of these services can be found at: www.tcfv.org.au/under-18s
I’m new to meetings. Should I speak with the leader/s first before attending a meeting? We highly recommend you speak with the group leader prior to your first meeting at any TCFV group. Call TCFV on 9888 4944 (Melbourne)/1300 064 068 (regional) and we can help arrange a chat. Speaking with the leader is a valuable introduction to the group and what it can offer you in your grief journey.
Do groups require registration to attend?
Unless specified otherwise, groups do not require registration.
However, as per above, if you are attending your first meeting of a group, we ask that you let us know –(03) 9888 4944 (Melbourne) / 1300 064 068 (Regional Victoria & Tasmania)
REGIONAL CONTACTS
We have TCFV volunteers in the townships / regional cities listed below who have some availability for a peer support phone chat or coffee catch-up:
NEW Geelong Siblings 1st Tuesday 6pm-7.30pm (Feb-Dec)
Menspace 3rd Wednesday 7pm-9pm (Feb-Dec)
Mildura 2nd Saturday 11am (Feb-Dec)
Portland 2nd Tuesday 7pm (Feb-Nov)
Rowville 1st Friday 1pm (Feb-Dec)
Somerville Bereaved Parents Group *Run by ProjexJ (projexj.org), with support from TCFV 4th Thursday 10am-1pm. (Jan-Nov)
Sunshine 3rd Tuesday 7pm (Feb-Dec)
Sunshine Bereaved Through Suicide 1st Tuesday 7pm (Feb-Dec)
Warrnambool
1st Wednesday 7:15pm (Feb-Dec)
Eltham Library Community Room, Panther Place, Eltham
Anam Cara House, Zone/4 Nicol Drive South, Waurn Ponds
Virginia Todd Hall, 9 Clarence St, Geelong West Registration requested. Please do so via: https:// events.humanitix.com/survivingsiblingsgeelonginpersonmeetings
TCFV Centre, 229 Canterbury Rd, Canterbury
MADEC Community College, 133-137 Madden Ave, Mildura
Please contact 1300 064 068 for venue details
Bridgewater Centre, 64 Bridgewater Way, Rowville
Somerville Community House, 2/21Worwong Avenue, Somerville
Salvation Army Drop-In Centre, 42 Devonshire Rd, Sunshine
Salvation Army Drop-In Centre, 42 Devonshire Rd, Sunshine
Archie Graham Community Centre, 118 Timor Street, Warrnambool
ONLINE SUPPORT GROUP Which day in the month is the meeting held? Where is meeting held?
Bereaved through any means 1st Tuesday monthly 7:30pm (Jan-Dec)
NEW Siblings-specific 3rd Tuesday: 6pm-7pm
Held via Zoom. To register to receive the Zoom link prior to each meeting, please visit: www.tcfv.org.au/online
Held via Zoom. To register to receive the Zoom link prior to each meeting, please visit: www.tcfv.org.au/online
Registration requested. Please do so via: https://events.humanitix.com/survivingsiblingsgeelongonlinemeetings
SOCIAL GROUP Which day in the month is the meeting held? Where is meeting held?
Box Hill
Geelong
Hawthorn East
2nd Thursday 7pm (Jan-Nov)
Bookings are essential. Please call 03 9888 4944.
2nd Tuesday 10am (Feb- Dec)
4th Tuesday 7pm (Feb-Nov)
Bookings are essential. Please call 03 9888 4944.
Southern Peninsula 1st Tuesday 12 noon (Feb-Dec)
Box Hill RSL, 26-28 Nelson Rd, Box Hill
Brioche Café, 175 West Fyans St, Newtown
Café Paradiso, 213-215 Camberwell Rd, Hawthorn East
Please contact 1300 064 068 for venue details
ART THERAPY GROUP Which day in the month is the meeting held? Where is meeting held?
Express Yourself Through Art at TCFV Centre
Online Express Yourself Through Art
3rd Monday of the month 7:30pm (Feb-Dec) Registration required: www.tcfv.org.au/events
1st Thursday of the month at 1.30pm (Feb-Nov) To register, please visit: www.tcfv.org.au/events
TCFV Centre, 229 Canterbury Rd, Canterbury
Held via Zoom.
Please note: Bereavement Peer Support in Hobart Bereaved parents, siblings and grandparents in Hobart meet informally at a café setting on a regular basis (often a weekend afternoon). For more information on this non-TCFV support network, including dates and times, please contact our telephone support line on 1300-064-068.
Join the 500 Hearts Campaign
One heart. One gift. A lifetime of impact.
At The Compassionate Friends Victoria (TCFV), we walk beside families shattered by the loss of a child, sibling, or grandchild, no matter the age, no matter the cause.
Every member of our team has faced the unimaginable and come through it with a deep commitment to helping others find their way.
But right now, we’re facing a 30% funding shortfall. That gap threatens the very services that thousands of grieving families rely on support groups, our grief line, and our drop-in centre, which together offer lifelines when everything else has fallen away.
In just one month, TCFV supported over 550 bereaved parents, proof that the need is growing. Yet, despite expanding from 24 to 35 support groups across Victoria, our core funding hasn’t increased in over a decade.
Introducing our 500 Hearts Initiative, a bold campaign calling on 500 people or businesses to give $500 each, raising $250,000 to protect and sustain our most vital services.
Join 500 Hearts One heart. One gift. A lifetime of impact
Your $500 gift will:
• Keep 35+ peer support groups open across Victoria
• Ensure our grief support line continues without interruption
• Provide free, lived-experience support to parents, siblings, and grandparents
• Sustain our drop-in centre—a sanctuary for those in raw grief
• Fund the dedicated lived experience team who walk this road with others, every day
�� What Our 500 Hearts Receive
• A personal thank you and welcome to the 500 Hearts community
• Recognition on our website and our 500 Hearts Wall at the centre
• A digital 500 Hearts badge to show your support to your clients, family and friends
• Invitations to exclusive events and behind-the-scenes updates
From our Board and CEO
• The chance to hear directly from bereaved families you’re helping
• The lasting impact of knowing your generosity means no one walks alone
TCF on the internet - United Kingdom www.tcf.org.uk – New Zealand (email) tcf.otago@xtra.co.nz USA www.compassionatefriends.org – SA www.compassionatefriends.co.za – Canada www.tcfcanada.net/
The Compassionate Friends Victoria 229 Canterbury Road, Canterbury VIC 3126
PO Box 171 Canterbury, Vic. 3126
Support Phone: (03) 9888 4944 Administration Phone: (03) 9888 4034
