Saturday, January 23, 2016

Loss... and Presence



I had the beginnings of a blog entry laid out in my mind by Tuesday – a good one. But I don’t make time to write until Saturday, so that idea has long since disappeared.

I woke up this morning wondering, “What topic?” I made tea, ate breakfast. I took down the Christmas tree – all right, it’s late, but it’s artificial, and I put it up late. And as I was working at it, I bumped a bulb, it fell off and broke. And I sat on the floor next to it and cried. I remembered how as I placed it on the tree last month I’d said to Kay that, I’d miss this one if it broke. I cried for all that’s wrong in my life. I cried for the world.

Then I cleaned up the mess and continued on. By the time I got to the point of removing the lights, I had my topic for today.

Grief is something everyone experiences. But I have to clarify. So often we think of grief as being what we go through when someone dies. And it is, yet it’s also something we feel when we lose just about anything – a job… a relationship… the ability to do something we’ve always done… a dream… independence (this’s a big one when friends have to move to assisted living). We can experience grief over many things. I remember Jay’s grief (and horror) when he accidentally hurt a small animal as a young child.

Grief is universal; everyone goes through it at one time or another. Another thing that’s almost as widespread is our sense of loss when we want to let a grieving friend or loved one know how much we care. We don’t know what to say or do; the words we have seem inadequate.

So, often, we do nothing. Or almost nothing. We send a card if it’s a death. We avoid them (or the topic) altogether if it’s a job loss, or a divorce, or … so many other things. Maybe we’re afraid of making them feel bad if we focus on their vulnerability. Maybe we don’t want to expose our own.

Today I thought I’d share Jayneann’s list for helping grieving loved ones – two lists actually, but both of them are short.

First...

What NOT to do…

1. Don’t EVER say (even if you absolutely believe it):
  • God needed another angel
  • She’s in a better place
  • God needed him more than you did
If your grieving friend says it, go ahead and agree, but it can be like a slap in the face to hear it from someone who thinks they’re being compassionate. And,

2. Don’t EVER say, in any variation, “Aren’t you over that, yet?”
Grief takes as long as it takes. Each person is different. And even for one person, each experience of grief is different. Grief is cumulative. She may cry over the great-uncle she barely knew or even her goldfish, but what she’s doing is revisiting old griefs. Let her cry (let yourself cry ); it’s healing.

Having said that, what are we to do?
  1. Be Present. Show up at their door, even if you’re clueless about what to say. This is soooo important! It'll mean so much to them. Don't skip it. You can stand there in silence and they’ll say, “Thank you.” (Amazing, isn’t it?) So go! Don’t stress; just do it. Even if you stick your foot in your mouth by saying who-knows-what, as long as you don’t say something on the Don’t list, what they’ll remember is that you cared enough to come.
That’s it. Short list. Just show up.

Oh, sure, there are other things you can do, like bringing food, or babysitting (or otherwise giving of your time). You can listen – that’s a great one – and keep in touch. They’re all fine things. But what we need to understand completely is that what people need, first and foremost, when they’ve suffered a loss is our presence.

If you want someone to know you care, be there.
   
When Jesus saw her weeping, and the [others] also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. ... Jesus began to weep. John 11:33, 35a

6 comments:

  1. Thoughtful and perfect article.
    Thank you.

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    1. I'm glad you found it so. Thank you for the feedback. Anything else I ought to have included?

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  2. Excellent!
    Cynthia W

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    1. Thank you. Would you add anything to what I wrote?

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  3. I would add one more thing: talk about the "missing person" and share good memories. I used to wonder if people had simply forgotten that my dead husband ever existed.

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    1. Thank you for sharing, Anne. Yes, that one is important also. Too often we're so afraid we'll offend. In every family I've visited (and in my own) sharing stories is part of the healing process. Talking and laughing.
      Once in a while, someone has wondered if they were somehow being disrespectful, did it seem like they didn't care... but, no. Instead it shows the depth of caring.
      A one-time boyfriend once told me that remembering things about me was a sign that he cared. It's the same for our loved ones who have left this life. We care; we remember; and we share.

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