Pat Taub
I wish I could say that the many deaths I’ve experienced have left me with the skills and confidence to comfort the newly grief-stricken. But that’s not the case. Every time a close friend or relative is hit with a death, I reach out with my condolences and offers of support, but no matter how many times I’ve done this, it feels awkward.
I’m beginning to recognize that my discomfort around one who’s grieving is a reflection of our culture’s dismissal of death; the tendency is to expect the griever to bounce back overnight.
It’s what Anne Lamott refers to as “the great palace lie,” where the message is that grief should be gotten over privately and as quickly as possible. We don’t have conversations that teach us how to help the grieving person beyond sending flowers, a sympathy card or attending the funeral.
Our culture’s expectation that one get over loss quickly can prove isolating.
In a modest attempt to fill this void, I’m offering advice gleaned from trial and error while confessing that learning how to support the bereaved is still a work in progress for me.
The first lesson is to be present and listen without offering unsolicited advice. Recently my cousin lost her husband to a sudden death. She was beside herself. I phoned regularly. After a few months I pressed her to see a grief counselor, describing how much I benefited from this. My cousin resisted this suggestion. I had to appreciate that she’s not like me where I rush to phone a therapist whenever I feel lost.
If you live close to the bereaved, offer to stop by to help with the housekeeping: sorting through paperwork for survivor’s benefits, buying groceries, raking leaves, walking the dog, anything that will ease the mourner’s daily chores during a time when addressing routine activities can feel overwhelming.
A simple hug can be of great support to the bereaved.
Another rule is to stay connected over time rather than dropping off after the funeral. Try to be there for all the hard “firsts” that accompany a death: the first birthday, Thanksgiving, anniversary, Christmas or other religious holidays. The contact can be as simple as sending a card or flowers. Instead of ordering flowers at the first announcement of death, when the bereaved are often in flower overload, send a bouquet on an anniversary.
Instead of sending flowers when a death is first announced, wait and send them to honor an important anniversary.
Don’t ever use phrases that make assumptions about the griever, like “I know just how you feel,” or “It was his time.” You don’t know how the other one feels because every one experiences loss in her own way. No one is ready for a loss even when a terminal disease signals the end. Saying it was “his time” is far from helpful.
Another rule that may come as a surprise: use humor. Try to lighten the mood not with black comedy but by recalling warm, funny stories about the deceased.
Don’t be afraid to share humorous antidotes of the deceased; laughter can be very healing
Ask permission to send along a book about healing from death. I love to give copies of Anne Lamott’s Stitches. Here’s a passage that friends have found helpful:
You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.
