DENVER — Every image, every frame hanging inside 1741 Gaylord Street in Denver tells a story of a life lost, another regained and purpose renewed. Built in 1900, the near-6,700-square-foot brick mansion houses the memories of some 10,000 children and caregivers who have come through its doors to grieve the loss of loved ones.
Advertisement
The walls have become canvasses for remembrance, every inch of beige plaster covered more and more each year. Handmade quilts that hang from floor to ceiling bear the likenesses of mothers and brothers, fathers and daughters gone too soon.
But two rooms sitting on opposite sides of the main foyer paint the original picture that has since generated a museum of memories.
Above the white-brick fireplace in the waiting room to the right is a framed image of Judith Ann Griese, a mother, a wife and a nurse who lost her battle with breast cancer in 1988 at age 44.
Over a stone fireplace across the hall hangs a framed navy blue Denver Broncos jersey with more than a dozen signatures scrolled inside the white number 14. Encased in the bottom corner of the frame is a photo of nearly a dozen boys and girls standing along the staircase of 1600 St. Paul Street, a “Denver Square” home a half-mile away.
These children, pictured in 2002, were the first group to receive the help and counseling provided at Judi’s House, the only free-standing child bereavement center in the Denver metro area. The framed jersey is that of Brian Griese, the former Broncos quarterback who spent the first five of his 11 NFL seasons in Denver, the city he has since called home.
“We have that picture up because I was a volunteer in that group, and at the end of their session they gave me that jersey,” he says. “The signatures are each one of those kids. To this day, that’s the only jersey I have behind glass.”
And that photo across the hall is of his mother — his reason, his purpose, his inspiration. Judi Griese, the heart of her household, has since become the heart of this house, as Brian and his wife, Brook, a clinical psychologist, have turned his tale of tragedy and lonesomeness into one of triumph and unity.
Advertisement
Since Judi’s House opened its doors in 2002 as primarily a grassroots organization, the Grieses have held to their mission of ensuring no child grieves alone. But they’ve also transformed the house into a Denver mainstay, affecting the lives of thousands of families, and providing research and hope to many other communities in need of similar services.
Along the way, Brian Griese, the quarterback turned football analyst and philanthropist, might have found his own way, while building a legacy unmatched.
“It’s an opportunity to take a tragedy in a kid’s life, support them, build these skills inside of them and potentially turn it into a positive, with a kid wanting to do something in honor of the memory of someone who died,” he says. “Just like I did with my mother.”
The early makings of Judi’s House were formed while Brian Griese was at the University of Michigan, where he went from walk-on to Rose Bowl MVP. He attended a leadership conference and, after years of living with the loss of his mother — Brian was 7 when his mother was first diagnosed and 12 when he saw her for the final time at the hospital — decided he wanted to honor her in some way. Some big way.
The idea stayed in the back of his mind when the Broncos drafted him in 1998, and it remained there as he endured a roller-coaster start to his NFL career.
But it was on a first date with a Ph.D. student at the University of Colorado when Judi’s House became more than a mere pipe dream.
It was 2001 and Brook McClintic was working to become a clinical psychologist while Griese was working to evade the media and, often, prying Broncos fans. The friendship became something more when Griese invited her to his house and offered to make dinner — not necessarily out of romance, but more to escape the questioning and the picture requests of those who may or may not have been happy with his performance on the field.
Advertisement
That evening, Griese asked his date a pointed question that changed everything: If she could do anything in the world for kids, what would she do? (“It’s a pretty good first-date question, right?!” Brook says.)
She responded by saying she wanted to help children who have dealt with trauma build resiliency and work through the troublesome emotions at a critical time in their lives.
“She said she’d like to open a home or create a space where children who have experienced trauma could get myriad different services,” Brian Griese says. “I thought that was really cool. Then she flipped the question on me and I said I wanted to do something for kids that had lost a loved one, whether that was a father, a mother, a brother, a sister.
“We kind of hit it off at that moment. So the researcher that she is, she started to do research on child bereavement and what services exist, what research exists, what kids are at risk. She found that there wasn’t a whole lot of research at all. And that’s when we kind of joined forces.”
A little more than a year after that first date, Griese and McClintic opened Judi’s House on St. Paul Street. Relying mostly on volunteers and a small staff, Judi’s House quickly became a haven for those like Brian, who suffered through the death of a family member and felt lost.
It’s been 30 years since Judi’s death, and Griese’s memories of her remain vivid. She played golf and tennis. She was the glue of the family. She was his everything.
Also vivid are the memories of life without her. The first Christmas after she passed, Brian remembers his family didn’t want to be in the house without Judi’s traditions and presence.
“I didn’t feel like I had anybody to talk to about it,” he says. “I didn’t know any other 12-year-old boys that were going through what I was going through and lost a parent. I didn’t really talk about it with a whole lot of people.”
Advertisement
Although Brian was close to his father, former Miami Dolphins quarterback Bob Griese, Bob was dealing with his own grief over the loss of his wife and closest friend. Brian’s two older brothers, Scott and Jeff, would soon be off to college, and quickly the family of five dwindled to two. Two grieving alone.
“So it was a very difficult time to deal with grief and the loss of your attachment figure at any stage in life, but at the stage in life for me personally where you’re really forming who you are,” Brian Griese says. “It affected me for my entire life.”
Over the years, Brian Griese has opened up about just how much it impacted him and his football career. After picking up a Super Bowl ring as a third-string quarterback his rookie season, Griese took the reins the following season, posted a passing efficiency rating of 102.9 in 2000, earned a Pro Bowl nod that year and then realized just how fleeting fans’ patience can be.
Some at the time described him as smart but aloof. Talented but extremely private. Football was his outlet, but the accompanying media often appeared to be his nemesis.
The son of a Hall of Famer was pegged to succeed a Hall of Famer, but the plan never worked out in Denver. In his four years as a starter, the Broncos went 27-24 and made the playoffs only once. His breakout season was sandwiched between mediocre ones. Griese was cut by the Broncos in 2003 for salary-cap savings, and he continued on for a journeyman’s career in Miami and Tampa Bay and Chicago and back to Tampa.
Still, near the end of his tenure in Denver, teammates reported a change in Griese — in his demeanor, his leadership, his dealings with the media. Laughed a little more. Was a bit warmer.
Away from the game and the locker room, the private guy was also one of the most generous.
Advertisement
“There was something missing in his life and this was a way to fill the void, by helping others get through the grief he suffered when he lost his mother in 1988,” Bob Griese says. “I think he’s still filling the void. I’m more proud of him for what he’s done at Judi’s House than anything he did at the University of Michigan — winning a national championship, getting inducted into the Rose Bowl Hall of Fame — and all the success he had in the NFL.”
The day after he was arrested for DUI in 2000, Brian Griese addressed the media and spoke for nearly 30 minutes “to take full responsibility.” He told reporters that he believed he’d be labeled and, worse, his work to raise awareness and funds for charities would become more difficult. All the while, Griese had been quietly contributing large sums of his own money to ensure Judi’s House thrived.
According to ESPN, when a local radio station offered to pay him to be a regular guest, he declined the money and instead agreed to do it if the station arranged meetings with its sponsors so he could raise more money for his charities.
Coincidence or not, the change in Griese came around that time he met his future wife and their dream for Judi’s House became reality.
He denies a direct correlation.
“I don’t know. It did help to ground you,” Brook Griese counters, looking over at her husband. “I think you had something outside of football that was a greater purpose. Football allowed you to have this platform and it gave it more meaning.”
“That was used against me in the court of law too,” he says with a smile.
“She clearly hasn’t dealt with the media.”
The milestones in the life of Brian and Brook Griese have a way of spurring action. A year after that memorable first date, Judi’s House was up and running. The year they married, in 2004, Judi’s House helped to form the National Alliance for Grieving Children, a national network of grief centers around the country.
Advertisement
The year after that, the growth of Judi’s House prompted a move to its current location, a house double the size with a basement converted into playrooms, a full kitchen, a garden out back, and therapy rooms for parents and children of various age groups.
It’s a house converted into a business designed to feel like a home.
“It was very important to us that it was a safe, comfortable environment,” Brook Griese says. “Like going to a friends house and not a sterile clinical environment, so that kids didn’t get the message that there was something wrong with them.”
Counseling is tailored, but at the crux of Judi’s House is its 10-week Pathfinders program that helps children and their caregivers navigate the trauma of grief together.
“It’s sort of our like our introductory, core program that gives that cognitive language and opens up these topics so when they’re riding home from group or sitting at the dinner table they’ve all talked about it,” Brook Griese says. “And they’re practicing the same coping skills, so they’re modeling it for each other. We tell the kids, ‘Can you teach mom how to do some deep breathing? She’s having some trouble remembering to take a breath,’ and really empower them each to take care of themselves and support each other as a family system.”
The Connections groups meet every other week and are offered as long as patients need the service. Every bit comes free of charge, as Judi’s House relies on donors and fundraising events scattered throughout the year.
But over the past decade or so the center has morphed into much more than a place of comfort and therapy.
“When I say this, people react to it, but it’s no longer a charity,” Brian Griese says. “This is not a charity. It’s a critical public health service. People in this community have learned to stop writing checks for donation. They’re investing in the outcomes.”
Advertisement
In 2006, Judi’s House collaborated with researchers at CU to initiate a large-scale initiative to help track the prevalence of grief, to evaluate clients’ different needs and to monitor the effect of their services.
Eight years later, JAG Institute — named, of course, for Judith Ann Griese — opened in a tan brick home across the street. The Grieses decided long ago that they didn’t want to open multiple Judi’s Houses around the area. There would be one hub for their services, but through research, training and an extensive “grief network” they would expand their reach to truly ensure no child would be alone in grieving.
“To be able to take the research part and evaluation of our programs where we want, we wanted an internal staff that is dedicated solely to that,” Brook Griese says. “We have three core initiatives: direct service, training and education, and evaluation and research. JAG Institute, the intention there is really to continue to learn from our families and from our research and from on our clinicians and be able to share that more broadly with other clinicians, with other communities, with other grief centers around the country that are looking for that knowledge and research that most people don’t have the time or resources to invest in.”
Using the data collected over the years, Judi’s House has further shaped programs based on research, and has created the Adjustment to Trauma, Loss, and Adversity Scale (ATLAS) to track the impact of bereavement and monitor the effect of grief interventions.
“That was the genesis of Judi’s House and JAG, having more of a global view of how we can contribute. That’s part of the future for us,” Brian Griese says. “We’re still working toward that, creating a sustainable business model for expanding that we know works.”
Judi’s House also partners with the local Boys & Girls Clubs, is involved in faith-based organizations, and has embedded in 90 public schools in metro Denver that have little to no means to provide apt social and emotional services.
Judi’s House takes the Pathfinders program to them. Free of charge, of course. Always.
Advertisement
The staff of Judi’s House, once miniscule, has ballooned to 30, composed of licensed clinicians and the post-graduate interns who work some 20 hours a week.
“What a powerful concept,” says Denver Mayor Michael B. Hancock. “I had a niece and nephew when my sister was killed, this could have been a powerful tool for them. We were at a loss for what to do for them, other than to go through the insurance program and try to find a counselor that could help them. And it turned out not to be very helpful. But I can imagine Judi’s House in terms of the group thing and individual support systems would have been awfully powerful for them.”
May is Mental Health Awareness Month, but Brook and Brian Griese are quick to point out that grieving is not a mental health issue. Grieving is normal, they say. Grieving is a part of life. Death is unavoidable.
Losing a parent or sibling as a child, though, is different.
“I think one of our battles is people think death is a part of life, so time heals all wounds,” Brook Griese says. “I think that they forget that for a child it is not normal or expected that you would lose your parent, or that you would lose a brother or sister. It’s just not. Parents expect their children to outlive them, and it is really difficult for families to grapple with this. Even if there was some anticipation of a death, it’s still shocking to the family and still so hard for them.”
The model Judi’s House developed provides a staggering figure: More than 4 million children in the U.S. will experience the death of a parent or a sibling before age 18. Brian Griese labels the work of Judi’s House and JAG Institute a “preventative service,” as they help children and their families get back on track after loss instead of veering further off course and into alcohol or drug abuse, even suicide.
Brook Griese says her husband is a prime example of “what we call post-traumatic or, in this case, post-bereavement growth.” Often Brian wonders how his life would have been different had he had the services of a Judi’s House as a child.
Advertisement
“I would have probably dealt with it at the time and it would have affected my time in high school and college,” he says. “Even my time — it really affected the way I operated here playing for the Broncos.”
Now a college football analyst for ESPN and a commentator for Broncos preseason games, Griese is still very close to the game that provided a platform to honor his mother. (Griese recently auditioned for “Monday Night Football,” but ESPN went with retired Cowboys tight end Jason Witten instead.)
His “Quarterback Club,” a membership group of business executives that benefits Judi’s House, has attracted familiar speakers such as Elway, Gary Kubiak, Demaryius Thomas and John Fox. Case Keenum is on the docket for June.
The Judi’s House Speakers Series Luncheon, attended by nearly 1,000 people each year, has drawn the likes of Mitch Albom, Bob Costas and Tony Dungy.
Former Rockies shortstop Troy Tulowitzki once wrote a check for $50,000 to Judi’s House, and a grant from the NFL Foundation was received earlier this month.
“As much as I try for the organization from a fundraising standpoint not to be centered around me and my relationships, I also realize there’s an opportunity,” Griese says.
Not that he needs any more, but thousands of reminders are scattered around Judi’s House, including on the mantles on the main floor of the house. Because there are stories behind every image, every frame.
The photo of the children on the stairwell includes a young boy, who was probably 11 at the time it was taken. After his first group therapy session, he returned to Judi’s House later that evening.
“We were all sitting around on couches and that picture of Brian’s mom Judi that hangs over the fireplace was hanging in that first house too,” Brook Griese recalls. “I just remember looking at her picture and feeling, we got it started. It’s off and running.”
Advertisement
And then that boy stood at the door with his fists balled up asking for Mr. Griese, the volunteer in his group.
“He held out his little fists and he said, ‘This is for cancer research because I know your mom died of cancer, and this is for Judi’s House,’ and he handed him crumpled dollar bills,” Brook Griese says. “There was not a dry eye in the room.
“I think about him all the time, I do. Every time I see that picture.”
Top photo courtesy of Judi’s House