12/29/2022

Anticipatory grief: Mourning a loved one before they die

silhouetted tree branches frame night sky where bright moonlight peeks behind clouds to create a mournful mood
Night Sky with Moonlight by Teresa TL Bruce

What do you say to someone who’s mourning a loved one before they die? What do you say to a loved one who’s dying? Although I’ve walked similar paths of anticipatory grief, each time feels like starting over because it is starting over. Each loss we mourn is unique to the relationship we have with the one who’s dying.

Should you wish someone with a terminal illness a cheerful “Happy New Year”? Maybe. Maybe not. Will your loved one likely live to see the new year come around? Will they see it but suffer further as it progresses? Perhaps a better greeting might be along the lines of “I’ll be thinking of you as the new year rolls around.”

Before Mom died

The summer when Mom’s doctors told us she had perhaps six months left to live, the rest of us thought, at first, variations on “Let’s hope she can hang on until ___,” filling in the blank with events, milestones, and holidays: my parents’ anniversary, her first grandchild’s baptism, Thanksgiving, Christmas, the birth of her next grandchild, New Year’s Day …

My mother, however, somehow knew better.

Sometime in the first three weeks after her diagnosis, while her handwriting still looked like her own, Mom penned messages onto the family calendar. When, months later, we turned the pages to November and December, we found her handwriting across the days of Thanksgiving and Christmas, days she knew she would not live to see:

Visiting the terminally ill

During the weeks of Mom’s all-too-fast yet slow terminal illness, we had plenty of time for long talks, reminiscences, and nothing-left-unsaid goodbyes.

Friends and family members came to see her and said their goodbyes as well. Some brought her goodies or magazines or flowers, but the most valuable gift they gave her was their time. Those who made their visit about her — how much they loved her, experiences they’d shared with her, and lessons they’d learned from her — brought comfort not only to her but to our whole family. And yes, they acknowledged how much they would miss her (and sometimes cried with her as they said their last goodbyes).

It was a sorrowful yet sweet, sacred time for our family.

When death strikes suddenly

My husband’s death, under much different circumstances, gave us no time — not even one minute — to prepare. Words like sudden or unexpected do little to portray the incomprehensible shock that shook us to the core. The yet-unexplained illness he suffered for a couple of years before he died had no bearing (we think) on the condition that took him without warning.

We had no chances for goodbyes or resolutions or reminiscing with him — only with ourselves.

And also with the brave, compassionate, empathetic family and friends who went out of their ways and beyond their comfort zones to sit with us in our grief, to listen to our rantings and sobbing, and to share stories of him (once we were able to let ourselves hear them). Those who helped were the ones who did not preach at us, did not tell us how to feel, and did not offer greeting-card platitudes. Instead, they sincerely sorrowed alongside us. They listened.

Another slow goodbye

Now, my family is saying another long, drawn-out, inevitable goodbye, but it’s far different than when my mom prepared to pass.

My dad is under hospice care. (I cannot praise his hospice care team highly enough. They are amazing.) The good news means he has access to health care and social workers whose compassion and experience can guide not only him but our family through this time of transition. The bad news, of course, is that qualifying to receive hospice care happens only when you are terminally ill.

My dad is terminally ill.

My dad is dying.

Bit by bit.

Slowly.

And so we mourn. Again. Sometimes with him, sometimes without.

Mourning before death

Age-related illnesses are gradually but progressively shutting down my father’s brain and body. The decades’-widowed, larger-than-life former football player who never raised his voice at me is shrinking into a different shape and temperament. Flecks of his fulfilling faith and hints of his quick humor still shine through on good days; blemishes of fear, confusion, and irrationality cover others.

My dad is still my dad, and he’s still with me, sort of. For now. At times.

But my dad is also no longer my dad, and he’s also no longer with me. Not fully. He’s here, but he’s not. He’s still living, sort of, but he’s not. I rejoice in the good moments we have together, yet I sorrow over their translucent, fleeting, fleeing reminders of what his life was compared to what his life, his end of life, is becoming.

Grieving the slow death of dementias is complicated.

Mourning the slow death of my dad is more so.

___

If you know someone impacted by any form of dementia (and the likelihood is that you do), find ways to help and encourage them through organizations like the Alzheimer’s Association and the Alzheimer’s & Dementia Resource Center.

11/24/2021

Thanksgiving after Someone Dies — 3 Ways to Support Grieving Friends

The first Thanksgiving after someone dies (and the second and the third and the next and the next …) is harder than you can imagine if you haven’t yet lost a loved one. Like so much of living with loss, the absence throbs. Traditions might serve as lifelines to keep mourners steady — but they might also serve as tripwires to send bereaved survivors sprawling. Here are three ways to support your grieving friends.

Large fallen autumn leaves in the foreground with a blurred fence in the background set the tone for ways to support grieving friends.
“Autumn Leaves Fell Before the Fence” by Teresa TL Bruce for TealAshes.com

Acknowledge

Acknowledge to your friends that you’re aware of their person’s (or perhaps their pet’s) absence during this holiday. It’s okay — and even helpful — to say, “I can’t imagine how hard this is.”

If it’s their first Thanksgiving (or whatever holiday) since their loved one died, let them know you realize this year is different than it has ever been.

Invite

Invite grieving friends into your event(s) or home or gatherings — and mean it. (The smell of insincerity will overpower any tantalizing scents coming from your kitchen.) The invitation doesn’t have to be for a big, fancy, formal dinner, either. For example,

  • “We’d love to have you come over to watch the [parade, game, holiday special…] with us on Thanksgiving [eve, morning, afternoon, night…].”
  • “We’re doing potluck this year and would love for you to join us. You don’t have to bring anything but yourself unless there’s a favorite dish you’d like to introduce us to.”
  • “Is there a movie you’ve been looking forward to seeing sometime? Let’s go see it together.”
  • “Can you join us via video chat while we [cook, shop, eat, hang out…]?”

Give tangible tokens of your concern

Give tangible tokens of your concern to people whose loved ones have died, especially in recent months and years. Mourning and grieving are exhausting, so your friends might not have the energy (physical or emotional) to take you up on active offers. So find other ways to show them you care.

Nearby

If you live nearby, you can drop off a plate of dinner for a friend whose grief is too raw to accept invitations to your house. Or, if not dinner, a favorite dessert or a couple of rolls or even a whimsical decoration like a pine cone made to sparkle with a touch of glittery nail polish.

But don’t drop off plants that need caretaking unless the loss was at least half a year ago. Grief and green thumbs seldom go together.

Faraway (or Nearby)

If you live faraway, send an email, direct message, or text to say hello. Share a picture of a kitchen mishap. Tell your friends why you are grateful for their friendship. Let them know about the funny/controversial/ridiculous things your third cousin’s uncle’s fourth wife said as everyone gathered for dinner. Tell them you respect their reasons for staying away, but you look forward to when you can see them.

You could even send a note by snail mail.

For those with recent losses, especially if the person who died was a breadwinner, gift cards to grocery stores (even for small amounts) could be a big help, whether sent as a physical card or an email link.

Something Is Better than Nothing

No matter how you decide to acknowledge, invite, or give tangible tokens of your concern, please know that saying and doing something, anything, is better and more supportive than saying or doing nothing.

09/07/2021

3 Ways to Support 9/11 Survivors 20 Years After

How can you help and support 9/11 survivors 20 years after the 2001 terrorist attack? If you know people whose lives changed forever that day — people who lost friends and loved ones and health — let them know you’re aware of their private grief as the world commemorates their public loss 20 years later.

If you think 20 years later might be too late to say or do something, think again.

Remember how travel changed after 9/11? Public outcry, grief, and reactions rose all over the world. Policies and practices shifted post-9/11, causing radical changes that still seem inconvenient. That’s just just one aspect of how public life still feels the impact 20 years later.

Now, think about the personal, private impact. The families and friends of those who died on 9/11 (and because of 9/11) underwent far greater grief and upheaval in not just one area but all parts of their lives. For these survivors, the 20th anniversary of September 11, 2001, isn’t just about what happened when four hijacked planes inflicted devastation. It’s about what happened when the survivors lives were devastated.

So please, reach out. Acknowledge their loss. Then ask and listen to what they need. You can’t fix anyone’s grief, but you can let them know you care.

Peaceful but somber scene where tall bird faces right toward near and far sets of U. S. flags at Woodlawn Cemetery in Orlando, Florida.
Tall bird faces right toward U. S. flags on graves at Woodlawn Cemetery, Orlando, Florida (photo by Teresa TL Bruce).

First, Reach Out, Even If It Seems Awkward.

What if you haven’t spoken to your bereaved friend, relative, former colleague, or neighbor in a while? What if you aren’t sure whether you should say anything about their 9/11-related loss or not? What if you’re afraid it will be awkward?

There’s one simple answer: Reach out anyway.

Supporting survivors isn’t about you and your discomfort. It’s about extending compassion to help others.

It takes almost no effort to send a text, private message, or an email that says, “Hey, I’m thinking about you.” While such a simple message won’t convey specific sentiments, it will show the person they are cared about. It also extends a bridge toward deeper communication.

If you have a closer, more comfortable relationship with the person, consider reaching out in a more direct way with a phone call, an invitation to meet for lunch, or a plate of cookies dropped off with a hand-written note.*

Of course, whether yours is a closer friendship or a more distant acquaintance, you could even send an old-fashioned letter in the mail at any time now or in the future (because grief doesn’t disappear when an anniversary passes). It will cost you very little — postage, paper, and a few minutes — but it will show the recipient tangible proof that someone remembers.

Second, Acknowledge Their Loss.

Well-meaning people sometimes hesitate to speak of their friends’ dead loved ones, afraid that to acknowledge their loss will somehow remind survivors to feel sad again. But 9/11 survivors and others who grieve haven’t forgotten those who died. (Unless your friends have severe memory impairment caused by age, illness, or injury, you won’t remind them because they haven’t forgotten.)

If you remember the names of the ones who died, use their names. After you’ve reached out, consider acknowledging their specific loss. Try something like this:

  • “I remember that your son [say his name here] died on 9/11. I’m so sorry.”
  • “I’ve been thinking about your best friend [say her name here] as the anniversary of 9/11 approaches. I know you miss her.”

If you don’t remember the names, that’s okay. You can still say “your husband,” “your cousin,” “a friend,” “your co-workers,” etc.

You can even be vague if you need to: “I remember that 9/11 impacted you personally. I’m sorry.”

If your friend survived the traumas of 9/11 with altered health, don’t hesitate to reach out, but do be sensitive. Let your relationship guide how much you say:

  • For co-workers, casual friends, and acquaintances, keep your acknowledgments general. “Hey, I know this is a tough time of year. You’re in my thoughts and prayers.”
  • For closest family members and family-by-choice friends, it might be appropriate to speak more specifically. “I’m sorry your lungs still ache from what happened on September 11.”
  • If in doubt, say less, but do say something. “This is a hard anniversary. I’m here if you want to talk.”

Third, Ask and Listen.

I could have listed Ask and Listen as separate ways to support 9/11 survivors, but they belong together. Be considerate and thoughtful about what you will ask and how you will listen.

Be Specific Without Being Nosy.

Most people who are grieving don’t like hearing the general question “How are you?” Complex emotions make it an impossible question to answer. (Learn more at “Better Questions than ‘How are you?’ — Part 1 — Why.” ) Show you care by asking specific yet not too personal questions. These ideas might help you brainstorm your own:

  • “Would you like to share some of your memories about [name the person] from before 9/11?“
  • “Would you like to hear a few of my memories of [name their person]?“
  • “Since this is a tender time for you, would you prefer extra space and privacy, or would you prefer company? I’m available to act as a buffer or hang out. Whatever you need.“
  • “Do you have a preferred organization or cause I can donate to in honor of [the name of their person]?” (See Bonus Ways below.)

Listening Might Be the Hardest Part.

You’ve reached out. You’ve acknowledged their loss. You’ve asked a meaningful (but not nosy) question. Now stop talking.

Listen.

Don’t try to “fix” their grief.

Don’t judge that they should be “over it by now.”

Don’t point out ways they’ve been strong or how well they’ve “moved on” (unless they ask you to).

Listen to what they say about their loss and about how it impacts them today.

Respect What Your Grieving Friend Says, Especially When It’s Hard to Hear.

Listen to body language (in person or via video chat) as well as words and tone.

  • They might not want to talk about it now (and might even snap at you if emotions are running high). That’s okay. They’ll know you made an effort, and if they feel a need to talk to someone later, they’ll know you were willing.
  • Or, they might need to talk and talk and talk and even cry to someone who will LISTEN. So, be sure you’ve set aside time to let your friend talk without rushing, shushing, or pushing him or her toward any conclusion. Let them decide how long is enough.
  • Listening means hearing out, nodding, mm-hmming, being there. Listening does not mean “fixing” anything, confronting or challenging assertions, or rebutting what’s expressed.

Grief, even 20 years after, tends to erode filters, so you might hear things you wouldn’t have expected from your bereaved friend. That’s okay too.

Bonus Ways to Support 9/11 Survivors

If the three ways listed above seem too uncomfortable or if you don’t know anyone personally impacted by the events of September 11, 2001, you can still do something meaningful on Patriot Day — or any day.

Donate to Reputable Charities.

Many nonprofit organizations benefit 9/11 survivors and could use contributions. But do due diligence. Research carefully to make sure they will use your funding in ways you approve. (The Better Business Bureau’s Give.org is one place you can check.)

Volunteer for a Good Cause.

Choose a service organization that helps others, and spend an hour (or more) in lending a hand. If you already have a favorite organization, great! If not, sites like JustServe.org can help you match your time and abilities with volunteer opportunities and community needs in your area.

———

*With cases of COVID-19 ongoing, please maintain best practices of doing no harm. Follow the guidelines of your local health officials if you offer in-person support to grieving friends or acquaintances.

05/08/2021

Mother’s Day Grief and Greetings — It’s Complicated

What do you say on Mother’s Day when you know someone is grieving? I’d love to tell you — but I can’t, not exactly, because it’s complicated. There’s no one-size-fits-all way to show you are aware of another’s fragile grief. What matters is that you reach out in some way, even if it’s awkward or clunky or feels uncomfortable to you. Let the person know you care by showing you’re aware that this greeting-card holiday can hurt.

Here are some suggestions. (A few might seem clearer after you read the “reasons” part that follows; others can be adapted to use whenever you wish to support a bereaved person.) Mix, match, and make these your own as you reach out to family members, friends, colleagues, neighbors, acquaintances, and others you encounter frequently or occasionally — whether in face-masked real life or on tile-viewed video meetings.

  • I’m thinking of you today/this weekend. I know Mother’s Day can be difficult.
  • Sending you extra love on this tender day.
  • Would you like to spend some time together/on the phone/video chatting this weekend? Would abc or xyz o’clock work better for you? Or would another day or time be better for you? Whichever you need.*
  • Hey, I realize this might be a rough day. Keep me on speed dial if you need a quick escape.*
  • No need to answer this text if you’re hunkering down. Just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.
  • I know things are complicated with your mom. Keeping you in my thoughts this weekend.
  • I’m praying for you. Sending love too.
  • I’m thinking of you. Sending positive energy your way.
  • I know I can’t take away the pain of your loss, but I want you to know I’m thinking of you and [name the loved one who died]. I’m guessing that Mother’s Day hurts.
  • I’m thinking of you this first [second, third, however-many-eth] Mother’s Day after your [mom/child/beloved person] died. I’d love to hear/share stories about them if you’re feeling up to it. If not now, then whenever you’d like.*
  • This is a tough weekend/day/occasion. I’m thinking of you and I’m here for you.*

*The asterisk means this: If you offer, follow through!

Not everyone is aware that Mother’s Day feels brutal for many, and the reasons are as varied as those who find it painful. I’ve written about a few below.

TRIGGER WARNING: If Mother’s Day is hard for you, consider skipping the rest of this post. It’s meant not to further wound but to awaken awareness. You might prefer not reading something too close to your circumstances. Or, you might hope to see acknowledgment of your specific pain that isn’t included here and find the oversight disappointing. Either way, I wish you peace and healing.

Mother’s Day can be harder than we sometimes realize. Please remember that many folks feel fragile and would benefit from kind awareness (photo by Teresa TL Bruce, TealAshes.com).

Mother’s Day commercials flaunt the best of everything about mothers, children, and relationships. But real moms and kids and relationships are far more complicated. I was blessed with an amazing mother, and I’m grateful for the almost 30 years I benefitted from her presence, yet Mother’s Day reboots my mourning for her. After 25 years since she died, some aspects of Mother’s Day still tug me into missing her as intensely as when her death was still new and raw.

I’ve been told I’m not the only daughter who feels she’ll never be as good at mothering (and now grand-mothering) as her mom was. Many moms stagger beneath yokes of inadequacy, guilt, regret, or exhaustion. Many of us agonize over mothering mistakes we’ve made and how much we wish we could do over!

Widowed fathers facing Mother’s Day and widowed mothers moving toward Father’s Day experience similar sorrows as they grieve not only their own losses but their children’s too.

On the other hand, too many souls grow up without the healthy nurture of loving parents who keep their children’s best interests foremost. Whether orphaned, abandoned, neglected, or even abused, too many souls and bodies bear painful parent-related scars.

And what about those who want to have children of their own but can’t? And those who’ve tried. Who’ve suffered the loss of children they only dreamed of someday knowing. Whose children were taken or left them or are estranged. Who’ve buried children they still cherish (no matter how long their arms have been empty) and mourn for them every day — not just Mother’s Day.

In other words, think twice before saying “Happy Mother’s Day,” but do say something to show you’re aware and that you care. Let folks know they haven’t been forgotten amid the greeting cards and other trappings.

“Thinking of you on Mother’s Day” might be a more appropriate greeting than “Happy Mother’s Day” for someone who is mourning (photo by Teresa TL Bruce, TealAshes.com).

04/09/2019

Returning after Grief (and Pavement) Smacked Me in the Head

Hello, again. You might have noticed the July to April gap in new posts on What to Say When Someone Dies. Years ago, I first started writing content for this grief support website within three days of my husband’s unexpected death, although I didn’t know at the time that’s what I was doing. Even surrounded by the thick, heavy fog of shock, I recognized that some folks’ well-intended words landed like a blow to the gut or slapped me in the face.

Slap in Your Face unintended commentary assume you meant well, surprised face, embarrassed face, grief

On the other hand, a few — sadly, too few — friends’ and even strangers’ words and gestures gently reached my hurting heart through comforting compassion. I wanted to remember all these words — the helpful and the harmful — so I opened a spiral notebook and scribbled them as best I could.

ink on notebook paper, list how to help mourner, Teresa TL Bruce
Days after I started the “Slap in Your Face” list, I wrote this on the page before it to remind myself how to treat others who were grieving (Teresa TL Bruce, TealAshes.com).

As I slowly (oh, how slowly!) learned to live with my grief, I networked with widows and widowers of widely varied backgrounds, cultures, and nations, some in their senior years but many younger — even decades younger — than you’d likely expect. At the same time, I spoke at length and developed cherished friendships with bereaved parents, children, siblings, and others who mourned departed dear ones. Imagine my surprise at how many of us, while mourning diverse losses, experienced similar distressing visceral reactions to the trite, time-worn platitudes (“he’s in a better place”, “at least they didn’t suffer,” “her suffering’s over now…”) meant to offer comfort.

meant well p 5, grief, TealAshes.com

Likewise, regardless of our backgrounds, we appreciated the thoughtful outreach of those whose words acknowledged and validated our pain.

It took nearly three years to work up the courage to share what I learned. While my husband’s death felt recent enough to keep fresh my recollections of raw grief, the merciful yet relentless passage of time allowed me a self-preserving sliver of distance. Not only that, but in most areas of my life, I’m a deeply private person. Opening up about grief’s impact on me still sometimes feels like opening my curtains and inviting the world in to witness my vivisection.

Deaths of family members and friends from December 2017 through March 2019 forced me too many times to again ask myself what to say when another someone died. New bereavement reopened wounds of mourning earlier losses. These new losses forced me to focus on how to comfort those closest to the center of each loss while grieving myself.

As much as I wanted to post here, I held back. I ached with grief, but I recognized mine wasn’t the primary loss of each surviving spouse, parent, child, or sibling. And what pain I owned felt too newly raw and too personal to publish.

For the last nine of those sixteen months, after hitting my head on the street, I’ve also been learning about managing symptoms of post-concussion syndrome. Consequently, I’ve kept my screen time focused on work for clients more than writing for myself. (Stay tuned for a post now in progress comparing the effects of grief and concussion. In true writer fashion, I tried to capture details while inside the ambulance and the MRI machine. I’ll admit those injured mental notes weren’t as coherent as I’d like.) I’m still not fully recovered, but I’ll keep working toward it.

As this website approaches the completion of its sixth year of offering ways to help grieving friends, coworkers, and family members, I remain grateful to you for reading. I’d like to thank those of you who’ve followed this content from the beginning (How I Learned What to Say When Someone Dies) as well as those of you who’ve browsed my posts only on occasion as needed. I appreciate your trust, and I’m always touched when you take the time to comment.

I hope you’ll continue to visit and share as we move forward with helping those who are grieving — and as I move forward with preparing an accompanying book.

Thank you for reading, and thank you for helping your grieving friends! — Teresa TL Bruce