L.C.
A friend of mine whose only child was killed in a motorcycle accident back in November says that you need to talk about it. If you ignore it or try to tip toe, the family members find it disturbing. They want to hear how much you loved their child.
Someone in a grief meeting told her ".…You don’t get over it, you just get through it. You don’t get by it, because you can’t get around it. It doesn’t ‘get better’; it just gets different. Everyday… Grief puts on a new face….”
Here is what she says about what not to say:
Here is your “Don’t say this stuff” list. It’s a partial. Think about it and I’m sure you can add a few things of your own:
1. “I know how you feel.” You do not. You don’t. Even if you lost a child, you don’t know how I feel. You can say “I too suffered that same loss, I know it’s terribly difficult to bear.” But do not tell me you know how I feel.
2. Do not tell me stories about your losses and how you grieved. Do not give me advice about how to grieve or mourn my child. I’ve never done this before. There is no guide book. I’m doing it the best way I know how while trying to live in the real world that continues to demand of me and race on whether I’m ready or able to be a fully functioning part of it.
3. “She is in a better place.” No, she’s not. She should be here with me.
4. “God wanted an angel.” Let’s not bring God into this. God didn’t cause the accident, at least I don’t think He did. If God did, it’s going to be one hell of an interesting lawsuit. What a concept, “God” and “hell” same sentence.
5. (We didn’t have an open casket for PJ, but this is another classic tasteless comment) “He looks good…” in reference to the deceased in the open casket. Truth be told, he doesn’t look his best. I’ve never seen a deceased person look better than he/she did in life. Best to pass on this entire line of conversation and simply say you are sorry.
6. “Let me know if there is anything I can do.” It’s unlikely I will call and ask you to pick me up a quart of milk or run the vacuum around my living room. Instead, see tomorrow’s list for better ways to make an offer.
Here is what she says to say:
1. “I’m sorry.” This is about the only thing that always works. That’s brief, to the point, and conveys your thoughts (assuming you really are sorry).
2. “How are you doing?” It’s nice to have someone ask. Sometimes I’m doing well and other times not. I don’t mind being asked. Ask because you care about the answer. Listen to the answer as if you are truly interested in what I say.
3. “It’s good to see you.” Fairly generic, doesn’t force me to reply, and hopefully your face conveys that you really are happy to see me.
4. “I’m getting myself a cup of coffee. Can I bring you a cup? You take it with sugar, right?”
5. “I’m going to the market, and I’ll be happy to grab anything you need. Give me a list.”
6. “I made an extra tray of lasagna and would like to bring it to you. Is this a good time? I won’t stay, I’ll just hand it to you and go.” If lasagna isn’t your give-away dish, send something else. Or collaborate with a friend or neighbor and drop off a gift card for a local restaurant or supermarket. Meal planning and good eating habits go out the window at times like these.
7. Send a letter - send a memory. A few lines, a few pages, doesn’t matter. Share a story that the survivor can have as a forever memory. And write it down. Don’t call. Written notes are as nice as the memories they contain. We can return to them again and again and the days and the years tick away.
Emailed memories are second best. I can print them out and save them with notes and cards.
Now, I'm sure she was referring to friends not family when she said, "don't call."
If you want to read more - message me and I'll give you her blog address - she writes to her dear daughter every day. You can see the grief process as she navigates. It will help you to know that you are not alone.
Hugs.
LBC