Acknowledge it Again

So I have been doing a little light reading…on grief and loss…

Which is interesting — when my dad died 2.5 years ago, I couldn’t read anything longer than a kid’s book or a Vanity Fair article for 18 months.

The books agree it’s pretty common — not being able to read( or eat, or sleep). Know what else is common? Throwing books across the room. I kid you not…its a documented thing.

Every book I’ve read thus far, even the ones I will circle back and recommend in a few days, have one significant flaw (it’s not really their fault) —

Essentially, they are too late.

By the time people are sending you books in the mail, or pressing them into your praying hands at church, you are usually already deep in the river of grief trying not to go under.

Look, I’m not saying books can’t be helpful. Many of you have suggested ones you say saved your life (I’m reading those, too I promise).

I’m just saying I’d rather an open hand trying to pull me into shore, than an instructional manual on how to swim.

Every day I hear from people telling me they want to be that helping hand BUT:

It’s so awkward.
I don’t know what to say
I don’t want to make them feel bad

Yep. Lots of head nodding.

As a culture, we just don’t do grief well. We each have a few extraordinary friends or relatives who do…but usually they have earned their lifeguard badge from surviving the river themselves.

What if the way forward isn’t that we need to learn what to do or say, but rather how to be…what the next right step is just trying to be less awkward with grief?

Who decided that the world is better off when we do our grief behind closed doors, in a 50-minute session? How we will ever get more comfortable with loss if we only talk about it in hushed tones in small groups?

Experts in the field of trauma assure us that people can survive almost anything with the right kind of support. Let’s learn to be that support.

Here is one idea:

Let’s say someone you care about has experienced a loss (death of a pet, a loved one, lost a job, a break up)…

Maybe you sent flowers, or a text or one of those awesome $7.65 greeting cards (is it just me or does that seem like A LOT) with an orchid or a hummingbird that says, “thinking of you at this difficult time”.

Because you care.

And now here, right in front of you, at this baby shower, soccer game, line at the post office, is the person you care about.

TRY THIS:

ACKNOWLEDGE IT AGAIN.

I know, I know.

It’s so awkward
You don’t know what to say
You don’t want to make them feel bad.

Please trust me. Just say, “I was so sorry to hear about your dad….”

If the griever doesn’t want to talk about it, you will likely feel it immediately, or they may have already learned to say, “thanks, that’s so loving, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

It’s like sliding over a seat on the subway, in case they want to sit down.

The seat might stay empty — your friend might not need or want a seat, but the kindness of the movement matters.

Recently I spent a day with some people who I know love me. Who know my mother died.

Who didn’t know what to say
Who didn’t want to make me feel bad.

AND

They didn’t mention her once.
They didn’t ask questions.
NOT ONCE.

Eventually, I mentioned her death, because I couldn’t breathe and because these were my thoughts:

“They know, don’t they? Do they? Did they forget? Do they not care? Does it not matter? Do I not matter? Is it not supposed to matter? Am I being a baby? I am a total jerk, I’m making this all about my mom dying…”

But here’s the thing. Everything for me IS about my mom dying. I know it won’t be forever, but it is now. I don’t expect everyone else to feel that way, but I need room to be as I am. I made some room for myself in this case, but I am a TRAUMA THERAPIST and it was still really hard.

We grievers will try and fit in the space that you give us. Slide over and give us some room if you can…we will both feel better.