About a year ago I was perusing my company’s staff volunteer webpage and saw a listing for an opportunity with the Experience Camps, described as one-week camps for boys and girls who have experienced the death of a parent, sibling or primary caregiver- a place where those kids can feel “normal,” because everyone there has been through something similar.
I immediately applied to be a volunteer counselor for the following summer, even though it was a year away (so pretty much FOREVER away in my myopic world) and I was placed as a boys camp counselor in the California location, CalEx. August of 2017 seemed so far away at the time but before I knew it I was packing my bags to head to the west coast…I couldn’t resist tossing in this hat, not realizing it was a premonition of things to come:
On the plane I watched a mandatory training webinar called “Bereavement 101,” focused on children’s grieving process. It was heavy stuff. I realized it could be a heavy and emotional week. And, for a moment I wondered why I’d signed up for this…
I think I was initially drawn to the camp because of my own death-stuff. A handful of people I was close with died when I was little, most notably my Aunt Katie who passed away at age 17 from Cystic Fibrosis. I was an inquisitive little kiddo and had a LOT of questions about what death was, where my Aunt Katie had gone, when she would be back, etc. I had also seen her fighting the disease and was terrified that myself and other loved ones had “caught” it. It got to the point that I was afraid to go to sleep at night and would lay awake for hours. My parents took me to a child psychologist (his name was Jeff) who diagnosed me with PTSD and I started regular therapy sessions. I remember those sessions and expressing my fears through lots of talking, writing stories, coloring pictures… and especially that time we walked to get ice cream. Gradually things improved and then I was back to being a kid, and sleeping like one too.
I vividly recall the day Jeff asked if I wanted to come back and see him again or “see how it goes,” and I felt a little bad when I chose the latter option. While I liked hanging out with Jeff, I was late for Brownies on those days and I remember asking my mom what to tell my friends as an explanation for my tardiness (I followed her advice, yet saying “I had a meeting” seemed to only evoke more questions from my 8-year-old peers). I hugged Jeff before leaving his office for the last time. Less than a month later my parents were saddened and horrified when they received a call from Jeff’s office telling them that Jeff had died from a massive heart attack. He was in his 40s. Yes, it is true. My death therapist died. This really happened. I’m sure my parents were freaking out that my death fears would re-emerge and intensify. Thankfully, that did not happen. While I was very sad to hear the news about Jeff, I felt pretty at peace with it. I suspect this is because I had spent so much time talking with Jeff about this very subject- I knew his thoughts on death and knew that he was genuinely at peace.
When I first heard about the Experience Camps, I reflected on my past and how fortunate I was that my parents had given me the tools (mostly Jeff) to process my fears and confusion around the d-word. I now know that many children go through much more and do not have this type of support. My obligation to pay it forward seemed obvious and has only been validated by the amazing kid-courage I observed this week.
All of the campers at the Experience Camps have experienced the death of sibling(s) or parent(s) and sometimes, unconscionably, both. The losses they have endured in their short lives and the grief they have struggled to process exceeds what most adults will have to deal with over the course of their lifetimes. Many campers come to camp every summer and say they look forward to it for 51 weeks a year (I can’t even tell you how many times I heard CalEx referred to as “The Best Week of the Year,” by campers and counselors alike). Many counselors are also veterans (some were even former campers!) who happily “give up” a week of their summer every year. Now I see why it’s not so much of a sacrifice.
I was responsible for bunk number three (the best bunk) that included seven amazing little guys who came to camp with open hearts and minds.
The campers arrived in buses and were greeted by a mass of cheering counselors with crazy costume props. It was easy to tell which campers had been before and which were newbies. The veterans bounded off the bus, smiling and waving, excitedly greeting the staff and friends they knew from previous summers. The new campers emerged from the buses slowly, clutching their pillows and looking like a combination of stunned, intrigued, and shell-shocked. Like they’d been dropped into an alternate universe. Now I’m certain they will be the ones bounding off the bus next year.
The week was one of the most physically and emotionally exhausting ones I’ve had in my lifetime. And it was hands-down the most rewarding. I sit here now, having been home for over 24 hours, and I still struggle with how to put it into words. The thing is, the Experience Camps are mostly just a camp. A place where kids can be kids. A place where they run (lots of running), jump, laugh, yell, sing at the top of their lungs, dance like no one is watching (but loving it if they are), climb trees, throw balls, throw sticks, throw rocks (not allowed but we’re talking about little boys here), and wreak havoc in the mess hall. Sometimes just wreak havoc in general. Like normal kids, right? That’s the thing I learned this week- while this is what most kids their age would be doing during the summer months, many of these kids are not. They don’t feel like “normal kids” in their daily lives. They feel different than their peers, and like nobody understands. At CalEx, they say, it’s different. At camp they can let themselves be themselves, their whole selves, with no fear of being judged or pitied (their worst fear is to be pitied). At CalEx, how they feel and what they’ve been through is the norm. It’s a safe place where they can openly talk about their loss when they want to, or not when they don’t want to. Most importantly, at camp they can just be a kid. Some for the first time in their lives.
My week included 6 am hikes up a nearby mountain with a reward of stunning Malibu ocean views during sunrise. At first it was just a crew of counselors but gradually campers got wind and the last day we had a crew of 30+ campers making the early morning trek (mostly leaving the counselors in the dust). These kids need capes as there’s really nothing they can’t do.
I was especially impressed with the support the campers gave each other- it seemed to be part of an unspoken contract that goes along with understanding each others unique and tragic circumstances. Strong bonds were formed almost instantly- the kind of bonds “normal kids” probably won’t experience for years. Yes, there were also some tears. As well as sadness, anger, frustration…and some emotions that are kind of indescribable, and they were letting themselves feel for the first time. There were also a lot of hugs, high fives, fist bumps, chest bumps, and numerous other ways little guys exhibit camaraderie.
Each bunk has a series of “circle discussions” focused on the deaths the campers’ have experienced, as well as grief activities, led by a social worker assigned to our bunk. During these sessions, I was SO impressed with the boys’ abilities to open up and tell their stories. Most of them had never talked openly about their losses and one camper hadn’t even told his friends at school that his father had died the year before. Despite this, they bravely followed the lead of the veteran campers and opened themselves up to a group of people who had been strangers just a day before. These little boys might be the bravest people I know.
Of course, every camp needs a healthy dose of competition and ours was through the “College League” (Experience Camps’ version of Color Wars) and our college teams were Clemson and the University of Pittsburgh, each led by a “Dean.” The events tested the brawn and brains of the campers (okay, the counselors got a little into it too) and included tug-o-war, a scavenger hunt, a talent show, etc. I was a part of Team Clemson and having attended a rival ACC school, cheering for the Tigers took some getting used to. The neck-in-neck competition culminated in a dodgeball tourney to decide the winner. Things looked bleak for the purple and orange at first and soon one of my campers and his 9-year old brother were the only ones left, two of the smallest campers. I wasn’t that surprised when CalEx “magic” kicked in and the two scrappy brothers singlehandedly took down 13 members of the Pitt team to lead us to victory! I’m told it was “THE GREATEST DODGEBALL COMEBACK OF ALL-TIME,” and both teams seemed equally excited to witness it.
Now I’m experiencing what I’m told is an unavoidable reentry process, back into the real world, following a surprisingly emotional “see you later” to my new camper and counselor friends alike. I can’t believe CalEx is over! Only 51 weeks to go….
