There were 3 deaths in my younger sister’s extended family 2 days ago. Their entire family is reeling from the loss. One was a young woman who I had met once and was my sister’s in law and close friend. She died tragically and I am very saddened by it. I started reading about grief and I read an article which made me think of my own experience of grief and loss when my young brother and, later, my nephew died. Both suddenly. When my brother Scott died, my entire world was turned upside down.
I was 8 1/2 months pregnant at the time. My husband and I had just bought a house that same month and my beloved grandmother had died from cancer. My brother and I were sort of on the outs when his accident happened which made the guilt unbearable. Mostly, people just said “I’m so sorry” and left me alone. Being alone at the time was it’s own form of hell. But, some of the things people said to me would drive me deeper into myself as a way of putting up a protective barrier to shield me from the platitudes that only made me feel worse. The worst possible thing about grief is having to defend your feelings while going through it.
I think the most painful thing I heard when my brother died was “He is in a better place.” My response would be “WHAT? He is DEAD!” Whatever your religious beliefs are, it doesn’t matter to someone who is in pain over the loss of their loved one. If they share your beliefs, a few years down the road, they might just get there. But they will most likely never ever be happy that their loved one is “in a better place” rather than right here with them. It made me angry and I wanted to shout at them all of the horrific details of his accident and death and ask them if they thought that was “better”. There were times when I wanted to ask if they would want me to say that to them if the unthinkable happened to them? “What if your brother died in a terrible accident today? Would it help you if I told you that he is in a better place?” Of course, those words were never said. Just another thing I stuffed down inside along with the images in my mind of my little brother (only one year younger but always my “little” brother) after his death, the thoughts of what he may have been going through during his accident. They were unbearable. No, he was not better off.
I also heard the same “He is in a better place, at least he is not suffering” comment many times after my beloved nephew Jonathan died. My 20 year old, handsome, lovable, adored, happy, healthy and strong nephew just died suddenly in his sleep. He had not been living a miserable life of suffering. He played water polo, he was on a rowing team, he volunteered at his church, he had hundreds of friends. He was a college student, he had an identical twin brother, an adoring family. He had been quite happy, thank you. No. He was not in a “better place”.
At Jonathan’s memorial service, I even had one “friend” approach me and ask me how I was doing. I told her I was coping. She said “No. How are you really doing?” Then she stared me down until I was brought to tears, my defenses were brought down and she said “There”. Then she walked away. What was the point of that? It seemed cruel and I didn’t like her any more after that.
I think people want so badly to relieve the pain for others that they come up with oft repeated statements which only cause more pain. “At least he’s not suffering”. Inside I was screaming! “I AM SUFFERING, MY FAMILY IS SUFFERING. HE LOVED LIFE!” I would never say that out loud, I was too polite for that. But I would check that person off of my list of someone to go to when I was hurting. The list of people I could go to dwindled down to strictly professionals; grief counselor and therapist. Being in such a state of shock and grief, one is completely unable to gather enough thoughts to even know what they need. In hindsight, here are a few things that could have been said to me that would have helped me to get my pain from the inside to the outside.
-What was he like? Tell me about him.
- What was your favorite thing about him?
-Would you like me to just sit here with you? I will just be here so you know you are not alone.
-Do you need someone to be with you at night? When you can’t sleep?
-Are you feeling scared? Do you want to tell me about it?
-I love you.
When my brother died, if someone had asked me what I was afraid of, I would have said I was afraid that I would just spontaneously implode. I wouldn’t explode, that would involve letting it all out. I would quietly implode. The shock and pain was just so great that I thought I wouldn’t or couldn’t ever survive it. That my mind was reeling so hard and all I could feel was afraid. Afraid of dying myself. Afraid of living in a world that didn’t have him in it. Afraid of the guilt I felt over the things I did wrong, the ways I didn’t help. The ways I thought I had failed him. The ways I tried to help him. So. Many. Things.
I would have said, “Yes, please. Come and sit next to me at night. I won’t talk much but I can’t sleep and I am so scared at night. Please, help me take care of my little newborn baby who I am so afraid will die too for some inexplicable reason. Please reassure me that my headache isn’t a brain tumor and that my little baby probably won’t die in her sleep. I am so sad and I can’t handle it all. Please tell me I won’t go crazy from it. And please, someone, anyone, tell me I will be ok. The grief counselor keeps saying she doesn’t know. That scares me. Someone, please tell me that I will be ok. And, please, someone tell me why I suddenly feel like a lost child. My picture of my life is suddenly a mixed up jigsaw puzzle. How can I ever put it back together again?”
I remember how I needed to tell the details over and over again…”This is what happened, this is how I found out, this is what happened next.” Over and over again. Until hearing my own voice saying it out loud began to allow the reality to seep into my consciousness a bit more and a bit more. Be willing to listen to the story. Again and again. So, when your friend or family member has someone die, don’t say “Yes, you told me that” but say “Tell me more, do you want to tell me what happened?” They may still need to tell the story a few years later. Try to help them to feel safe and cared for while their mind and body processes the unthinkable, unimaginable loss they are feeling.
Some people cannot handle the word death. There are many ways to express it but it is important to allow that person to tell you how they want to say it. I studied to be a grief counselor and we were urged to gently nudge the grieving person toward saying “death” or “died” instead of “lost” or “passed”. I never did that because I thought it was unfair to force that onto someone. Some people don’t want to use that word and it’s their choice. For me, I wanted, even needed to say “My brother died. My nephew died”. Over and over again. That was me and it was part of moving from my denial into my sadness. I have never, not once, heard my mom say “When Scott died…”. Usually, she would say “When Scott left” or simply “When Scott…” and trail off there. Why would I try to force her to use the word that is so painful to her that she avoids using it? It’s not mine to say. Not mine to decide.
You can’t take away the pain but you can give permission to go through it and you can be a witness to it. You can let them cry, scream and pound their fists. You can listen to them as they release the pain of this loss. You can get them tissues and water. You can be silent and be strong when they cannot. You can hear them say they don’t want to go on and know that is a normal feeling. You can honor their humanness as they let go of the one they love so much. We will all surely experiences many losses in our lifetime as it is part of our humanness. It is also part of that humanness to grieve. To feel. It’s what makes us who we are. xoxo