acknowledge

10/24/2013

Better Questions than “How Are You?” Part 2–What to Ask When Grief Is “New”

For at least the first year after a death, avoid casually asking “How are you?” It’s too broad, and because it’s routinely used in place of “hello,” it can seem insincere.

Instead, ask one or two specific questions that acknowledge life has changed:

  • Are you remembering to breathe?
    If you’ve never been blindsided by grief, this may seem odd. (After all, who forgets to breathe?!) More than a month after my husband’s death, another widow first asked about my breathing. I thought the question strange–until I inhaled. All at once I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d fully filled my lungs. The difference felt amazing, even luxurious! Still, over the next year, I found myself failing to do so again and again.
  • Do you need a drink of water? Are you drinking enough water?
    Your friend has shed incalculable streams of tears. You may (or may not) have witnessed them, but I guarantee more are shed unseen. Those tears, along with the other myriad physical and emotional stressors and distractions of grief, can lead to dehydration.
  • Can I make calls for you?
    Notifying others of my husband’s death was excruciating. It had to be done, but I  dreaded every personal and business call.
  • Would you like to talk?
    This helps, but be sure to listen! Your job is to L-I-S-T-E-N–not to evaluate, judge, or redirect. Let the conversation wander wherever your bereaved friend needs it to go.
  • Would you like to talk about [name the loss]?
    Grieving loved ones need to share feelings and memories about the deceased.
  • Can I bring you [name a specific food, whether homemade or take-out] at [#] o’clock on ___-day?
    Menu planning? Hah! I felt like a five-star chef if I managed to serve cold cereal or popcorn. Sometimes I forgot to eat or to stop eating. Grief disrupts digestion as ruthlessly as it sabotages sleep.
  • May I help you with [name a chore (*see below)]?
    Name one or two, because often the bereaved struggles to recall even simple tasks. I knew I wasn’t handling everything that needed doing, but I couldn’t figure out what was undone until someone offered to help with it. (I appreciated those thoughtful folks!)

    [*Consider offering to take on: errands, paperwork, transporting kids, yard work, washing the car, sweeping, laundry, polishing shoes, buying milk or fruit, house cleaning, etc.]

Questions like these show you care in practical ways. Even if the answer to all is “no,” your interest will be appreciated. (If your offers are rebuffed, please, please try again in a week or so. Consistency counts.)

If you’ve suffered such a loss, please add a comment sharing what helpful things others asked–and did–for you.

10/17/2013

Tell the Bereaved, “I’m Thinking about You.”

First, say something. Anything. Acknowledge that you know the loss occurred.

Six months after my husband’s death, I finally came face to face with one neighbor I’d previously spoken with on a regular basis. I’d been hurt that neither spouse had spoken to me since that awful night. Deciding it was time to take the initiative for myself, the next time I saw one of them, I called out a friendly greeting.

“Hey, good morning!” You’d think I’d done something hideous, so flustered was my neighbor. Before the poor soul could recompose and skedaddle, I added, “I’m not sure if you heard about Bill …” (though I already knew that no one in the neighborhood had missed the ambulance coming and going that night).

My neighbor’s head bowed and nodded, as if in deep prayer, though the sheepish, muffled reply probably indicated shame rather than piety. In a few awkward sentences I learned that yes, they’d heard and yes, they were both very, very sorry. They’d wanted to come see me, but neither had known what to say so they’d actively avoided me (Ha! I was right!) so they wouldn’t face that discomfort. That was followed by a promise to come over “soon.”

Two and a half years later, they’ve yet to visit. Since that awkward talk, now they at least wave and return friendly “hellos” in passing, and I’m okay with that.

Second, tell the bereaved person HOW you’re thinking about him or her. Depending on your relationship to the one mourning the loss, here are some “starter ideas” you may wish to try:

  • I’m keeping you in my prayers. (good)
  • I’m keeping you in my prayers each time I pray. (better)
  • I’m sending positive thoughts your way. (good)
  • I’m sending positive thoughts your way each time I meditate [first thing every morning, every night before bedtime, etc.]. (better)
  • I know you miss your [partner, parent, sibling, pet, …]. (good)
  • I know you miss your [same as above]. If you’d like to talk about [same], I’d love to listen. (better)

The most important thing is to SAY SOMETHING to acknowledge the loss. If you haven’t done so yet, it’s not too late! A thoughtful expression of kindness is always welcome.

08/10/2013

How to Say, “I’m Sorry”

  • A coworker answers the phone, then slumps across his desk, sobbing.
  • Your best friend calls at 3:27 a.m., so distraught you can’t understand her.
  • A friend of a friend posts a Facebook status that cannot be right.
  • Paramedics heft a loaded stretcher into the ambulance, and it leaves your neighbors’ driveway with no lights, no sirens, and no hurry.
  • A church lady asks which day you can take a meal to the Jones family.
  • A relative’s phone call starts with “I don’t know how to tell you this …”

Sound familiar? These may reflect the way(s) you’ve already learned (or will someday learn) of a death in the family of someone you know. When this happens, what should you say?

“I’m sorry.”

Too simple? No, it’s not! When the newly bereaved is still in shock—which can linger for months, by the way—he or she will scarcely comprehend more. If three syllables seem inadequate, feel free to add another one or three:

“I’m so sorry” or “I’m so very sorry.”

Another variation may backfire. “I’m sorry for your loss” seems the “proper” thing to say if you don’t know the survivor (or the deceased) particularly well. Be aware that it may sound insincere to those who grieve.

After my husband died, I heard “I’m sorry for your loss” from all the business-of-death professionals in the first:

  • minutes (hospital staff and medical examiner’s assistant),
  • days (mortuary and cemetery staff, funeral attendees),
  • weeks (representatives of every company we had accounts with),
  • and months (IRS, police, Federal Trade Commission, Social Security Administration, and credit bureaus—after a heartless creep filed a fraudulent tax return using my late husband’s SSN!).

During that awful first year, after hearing it countless times, I began thinking, “Thank you, but you’re only saying it because you’re supposed to.” Now, after nearly three years, when someone learns I’m a widow and says, “I’m sorry for your loss,” I hear only kindness in the expression.

Whether you say it in person, on a handwritten note, over the phone, by text or via social media message, “I’m sorry” will reach the newly bereaved soul quicker and with a lighter touch than any other phrase. Depending on your relationship, consider adding a hug, bringing a meal, or donating another act of service along with your “I’m sorry.”