The internet is riddled with examples of dumb things people say to people who are grieving. I wanted to entitle this "The dumb things people say at funerals". However, I realized after, that most of those "dumb things" come from the lips of people who have good intentions and compassionate hearts, but are just a little ignorant on how to communicate with grievers. If only we could connect and let them know what to say and do and what not to say and do before they have a chance to open their mouths and say something "dumb".
I made a list of things that I don't need and need in the case of a personal loss of a loved one. My list is unique to me. This is not a standard list for just anyone. This is my list. Maybe that is a conversation we need to have with people. "What do you need and what don't you need from me?"
What I don't need when I'm grieving a loss.
The following comments are not helpful for me:
“God needed him more than you do.”
I don't think this comment is helpful for anyone. We don't need platitudes when we are grieving. We need our loss to matter in that moment. Please don't assume that anyone else has the same understanding of "God" as you do. This is more damaging that anyone will ever let on.
“I know how you feel.”
This statement may seem in the moment that you are extending compassion and understanding, but it couldn't be more the opposite. You don't know how I feel and I don't know how you feel. Feelings are like snowflakes and fingerprints. We may have experienced similar losses, but we have our own feelings that are separate from shared experiences.
“Everything happens for a reason.”
NO! Somethings happen and there is no reason for it. There was no reason for my dad's or my neighbour's cancer and there was no reason from my nephew's tragic death. They just died and their absence still hurts. To say there was a greater purpose behind someone's death hides the true senselessness of the story. I don't need to look for reasons, I need to feel my losses and embrace my grief journey as a companion for life.
“She’s in a better place.”
You may believe in an afterlife story, but your believing it doesn't make it real for me. This is not helpful for anyone who is agnostic or atheist. When someone dies, it is a loss that we will never get back. In a way, we will hurt more than someone who believes in "better place". When someone dies, we are saying good-bye forever, not see you later. In German it is "Auf nimmer Wiedersehen", not "Bis später".
"If you need anything… let me know"
This is generally not a wise thing to say, because it is so vague. How am I supposed to know what you can contribute to my healing process? What if I need brain surgery, can you offer that? I may not know what I need. And it's true, I may not even ask for help. I think in most cases, it helps to find something specific you can help with. "Can I do your dishes for you today?" That is specific both in the chore and in the time. Helping me out really involves knowing my specific needs. This is not something helpful to say as a general condolence at a memorial.
"I'm praying for you"
If you want to pray for me, just do it. You don't have to tell me. It really isn't that encouraging for me. Maybe others are encouraged by it, but the knowledge of it doesn't do anything for me. That goes for anything at anytime. I don't know how to authentically respond to those four words anymore. But I don't want to dampen your faith and your need to respond that way. So just do it. That is all that needs to matter to you anyway. Right?
And that being said... what matters to me is that you are spending time with me on your mind. Maybe that is how I translate "I'm praying for you". It is still confusing as to how I feel like processing those words. Still baggage there. So I'm back to the request... just do it. If I know who you are and know that is a part of you... I will know that your concern moves you in that direction. So Thank You for your concern.
Silence:
After that list of things not to say, one might wonder what they say then. You might be tempted to say nothing. That isn't always the best response either. I will share a list of the things you can say below. Silence is less awkward than the "dumb things" but it can still be awkward and could leave one feeling more shame. So often grievers feel like their loss is more of a AIDS diagnosis than a simple process of life. Silence can add to the shame.
Food:
It seems that food is the go to for a gift. It makes sense in most cases I guess. Especially when there is a family and cooking is hard to do after a loss. I have a hard time with this because I have specific food needs and wants. Somebody bringing a casserole to my door maybe well intentioned, but the food may go to waste because I can't or won't eat it. (see below for how you may be able to help me in the eating department)
What I do need when I am grieving a loss
Hugs:
The first thing I will need is a hug. I like hugs. They pretty much come without any awkwardness (not including a pandemic). They help me feel the warmth of another person when I am missing the warmth of the one that has died. If words seem inappropriate at the time, hugs are rarely that. But since I mentioned it... post pandemic... it may be a good thing to ask: "Can I give you a hug?"; especially if you are not a close friend or family member.
Tears:
Authentic tears tell my more than words do. It would tell me that my pain hurts you. That means so much. Not that I would want you to hurt, but it means that you are joining me in my pain and that takes great love to do that. But authentic tears aren't something you can produce at will. Just don't hold them back when they come. In the words of Papa in "The Shack" movie. "It does a body good to let the healing waters flow."
Cards and Letters:
I adore cards and letters. I save everything including the stamps and addresses on the envelopes. Sometimes it is easier to say things in a letter than in person. I do my best to respond to all the cards and letters I get from people. I know it takes extra effort to send them.
A space to be authentic:
Sometimes this seems a pipe dream to me. It's one of the reasons I created this blog. If I look back on most of my grieving experiences, I find that I was not often given the space to be authentic. More often than not, I felt encouraged to hide myself and my grief. It seemed that there was always someone who hurt more. When that happens, it is tempting to hide and play a part. But that isn't healthy in the long run or even in the short term.
If I need anything substantial, it is a place I can be authentic and real. This need has forged the creativity of grief expressions for me. I understand sometimes it becomes necessary to hide or pretend, especially in public gatherings, but I can't let that be a permanent method of processing grief. That is why most of the stories in this blog do not happen in public.
Stories of my loved one:
I remember soaking in stories of my dad right after and long after he passed away. I didn't need to forget him, I needed to not forget him. I enjoyed hearing others tell me of their time with and love for my dad. It was a big part of my healing.
When we bury people, we don't need to bury the memories. I need to keep their memory alive. I don't have an eternity with them like most believe they have. I need this life to be filled with their stories and adventures and mishaps and lessons. So instead of the one-liners that only make things worse, tell me a story if you have one.
Acknowledgement that my pain matters:
This seems to be in conjunction with the need to be authentic in my grief. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, I am not the one who looks to have lost the most. But in my world, I am not comparing my pain to anyone else's and that is where I am hurting the most. Comparing pain helps no one, but acknowledging someone's pain means everything to them. It means everything to me.
Company:
It seems like a fine line as to whether I want to be with people or be alone. There is no way to know in any given moment how I might be feeling. I do know this now. I don't want to be alone all the time and the presence of another person is a treasured thing. I am not a big fan of public grieving now, but to be in a space with one or two people who are there to just be with me and hang out with me. That is what I need when I am hurting. Sometimes, we don't even have to talk about the deep stuff. Sometimes it only takes presence to make a big difference.
Back to the subject of food. Maybe that casserole is not needed, but I wouldn't be opposed to a having company on a shopping trip. If I find myself housebound due to grief, a shopping trip would get me out of the house and I would have a say in what I am consuming. I'm not a big fan of clothes shopping with others, but food shopping can be fun with a friend. Maybe a lunch date would be okay, but that would depend on my physical and emotional condition at the time. Maybe take-out would be better.
Grace:
Like anyone going through loss, I will need a lot of grace. The pain that comes from losing another human being or even a critter can make me do strange and rude things. Pain has a way of messing with every brain. Grace comes in all shapes and forms. I still am learning grace for others in my own connections with grieving people. I'm not the best listener, and listening is one of the most valuable practices when it comes to extending grace to others.
* * *
So far, that seems to be a good list. Maybe it's not complete and maybe I might come back from time to time and revise it. But this week, this is what came to mind.
I would encourage anyone who is doing preparation of any kind for the future, make a list like this and have it ready for WTSHTF moments. When tragedy strikes, our heads move into a fog and we are often unable to express our needs never mind our wants. We can't prepare for a lot of things that the tragedy storm brings our way. Who we are and what we need to navigate the flood waters, maybe that is something we can figure out now while our brain is largely intact.
I have had a few grief experiences to know what I wished I had then. But every experience is different. Maybe some of my needs will be different. Maybe all I can do is learn the art of communicating better in the moment, so I can help others walk along side me in my grief. A whole lot of "Maybes"... but that is what happens when uncertainty becomes your life's companion.
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