Someone else’s grief

I thought I would be good at this by now. Until it happened. A former colleague and joyful, strong, graceful woman just lost her husband after a multi-year battle with cancer.  And I sit here helpless. My words for her feel utterly incorrect. If I say, I understand what you are going through, I know this can’t be true. No one can understand such a personal journey. If I say, I’m here if you need anything, it sounds so vague. And still there are so many things I can’t do for her. And if I say, I am heartbroken for you, that feels more about me than her.

I just can’t get it right.

And then I realize that I am just like everyone else – every other person who learns of a friend’s loss and doesn’t know what to say. Or even more extreme, the person who may say nothing out of fear of saying the wrong thing. I am just like everyone else, even though I have lived this very moment that is now playing out before her.

I am a friend who knows nothing fixes the loss, and all my words feel wrong.

Then I remind myself of this. The days leading up to Tim’s death and those that followed, I received hundreds of messages, cards, texts, voice mails, and there was not one of them that I judged. I didn’t pull the words apart. I didn’t question the validity of the promise, or the likelihood of the offers. The only thing that mattered was that this person was thinking of me enough to type a few words or to call. It did provide comfort. And it quickly reminded me of the importance of relationships and connections with other people. Mostly it helped me to see how Tim was loved and how I was loved.

No words would fix the loss. No one could change what had happened. But I knew each person would have made it different if they could. It only takes a google search to find guidance on what NOT to say when someone is grieving. Honestly, I think the recipe for that is mostly common sense with a scoop of sympathy and a pinch of empathy.

I am learning a lot about loss and have been leading a grief group for the past six months. Through these gatherings and relationships, I have witnessed pain, loneliness, love, anger, fear, guilt, courage and deep, deep sorrow.

I check myself often to make sure that I am not speaking from expertise but that I am speaking from my own experience. I have learned that there is no one way to grieve. But even with that in mind, I believe there are a few guardrails that I am pretty certain apply to most people living with a loss.

First, NO ONE grieving wants to be told HOW to do it, in other words, how they should or shouldn’t be acting. Second, we all want to know you are thinking of us and the loved one we have lost. Third, we all want to hear how our loved one made a difference to you.

That makes it pretty simple and that is my own reminder to myself. Get out of my own way. I don’t have to compose the perfect words.

So many came to honor Tim’s life two years ago today and the eulogies were shared in such a way that each individual’s personality and relationship with Tim was genuinely reflected. I will never forget that day.  There are many different ways to show up for people who are suffering and to acknowledge someone else’s grief. Let’s remember it doesn’t have to be a lofty gesture. And we don’t have to mull over our words for so long that we end up never sharing them because they just don’t feel like they are enough. In my experience just knowing that you took time in your day to tell me you are thinking of me or that you miss my loved one, feels infinitely grand.

And for you Mary…I wish I had known Jim, because he was clearly an amazing person for choosing you. I am sending you love as you find your way on this sacred journey.