 Well, the holiday season is almost over. I had a profound experience the other day. In awe, I realized that while I missed Dick so much, a sort of serene joy temporarily replaced the longing I have felt for so long. I want to summon that feeling at will, And I worry I will 'lose' him that way. Something is shifting in me, leaving me feeling
wary of changing emotions. Speaking of change, let's shift to the subject of this segment. Who has not said something awkward to a person in grief, and immediately wished the words could be unsaid? After our dear friends lost their seven-year-old Johnny to Cystic Fibrosis, I thought it would be comforting to say, "At least you still have Billy and Susie." My friend stood up and with fire in her eyes let me know how she felt about my comment. "I want three kids just like you have!" I cringe at the memory all these years later. Is there anything worse than avoiding eye contact and saying nothing? I've done that, also. A neighbor died suddenly. A few days later, I saw his wife in the grocery story. Not sure if she had seen me and hoping she had not, I turned away, thinking, "I wish I knew what to say." I had no clue. While I created this site for the benefit of people who grieve, a wise man pointed out the advantage to any readers who wish to increase their knowledge of the grief process. They could be expected to learn more about what to say to a person suffering loss, especially in the early days after the death. I have demonstrated what not to say. Obviously. It wasn't helpful to me when people asked me how I was doing since I could never figure out how to answer that without crying. Probably the most useful comments were not comments at all. A firefighter/relative showed up at my door with a bouquet. After I accepted and thanked him for the flowers, he sat down and indicated I should sit by him. He took my hands and just looked at me. I immediately began talking . . . and talking . . . and talking. He said very little. His eyes did not leave my face. He LISTENED to me.
4 Comments
JenT
1/3/2016 01:07:22 am
I was living in Italy when my best friend called to tell me her sister died. Immediately I replied, "Oh my gosh, you're kidding me." Obviously, I was not thinking. After the pregnant pause and her confirming that she wasn't, I regained my senses and began to console her with words of sorrow and asked her what had happened. We spoke and reminisced for a long time about her sister. To this day I wish I could take back those thoughtless words.
Joyce Sorensen
1/4/2016 08:46:18 pm
Jen, I notice she called you when her sister died, which tells us that she knew you would comfort her. While you regret those words, you learned and you've shared with us. Thank you. 1/3/2016 05:44:19 am
I was quite a bit younger when a friend lost her brother to MS. He was only 24 when he died. When I saw her, I said, "I know how you feel." She had been through a lot with him and said, "You have no idea how I feel." Stunned, I realized she was right. I had never been in that situation, nor could I know her feelings, and I've avoided saying that since.
Joyce Sorensen
1/4/2016 08:40:42 pm
Gale, thank you for relating what must be an uncomfortable memory. Look what you learned, though, and what you have shared with the rest of us who want to say comforting things to people who hurt. Leave a Reply. |
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