grief
When something really bad happens, I crave the Every Day. I need a stiff shot of normalcy to muddle through. Charred steaks. Baked potato. Hands sifting through dirt. Water dripping from the hose. A little dog jumping in a kiddie pool. Anything to push it away. Sweat it out. It makes the bad things seem farther away, somehow.
I don’t want to accept what happened. I want to pretend like everything’s fine. And somehow. It helps. I can talk about being real but when it comes down to it, when I’m sad or lonely, I just want to pretend. Smile while the ring knocks against the stem of the wine glass. Easily chat about the heat with strangers. Dip my fingers in the Sangria and wet my lips, feigning an interest that I just don’t have. Tipping my head and pretending to listen. Acting like everything’s ok and everything will be alright again. Even though I know it won’t be, not really. Pretending. It helps.
I wrote the above at the end of last summer, when I returned home early, unexpectedly, from vacation to attend a funeral for a young friend. It was a difficult summer for me anyway, as faithful readers already know, and that just capped it off. I don’t know that I’ll ever write about any of it again. And I don’t think I can write about the funeral. It’s private, anyway.
But what do you do when someone else is grieving? Is there anything at all you can do to comfort a friend or family member who is going through a bad time?
I don’t let them apologize for being absent… and I just keep calling. Hoping one day they’ll pick up the phone. Even if I don’t have anything useful to say. I just want them to know that I’m around. But it makes you feel pretty helpless. Useless. I wish I could do something. Anything, to make them feel better.
Some time ago, a good friend lost her father. We went to lunch and she told me she was frustrated by all of the well-meaning people who kept telling her, it will get easier. When? she asked me, sadly. When will it ever get easier?
Well… It doesn’t get any easier, I told her truthfully. After a while, you just kinda get used to it. You see their car in the driveway and you understand, they aren’t inside, waiting for you to stop by. You hear the old message on the voicemail and it doesn’t hit you like a sucker punch. You just know they’re gone. You get used to the pain. It will always hurt, though. Always feel like a mistake.
Another friend from out of state was preparing to go to a funeral last month and expressed his wish to just stay home. You gotta go, I told him. Because I’ve been the person who goes to the funeral and I’ve been the person who doesn’t go to the funeral, and I can honestly say, going is a much better option. Even if the person who passed isn’t the one that you’re close to. Especially then, because really, when you go to a funeral you’re going to commiserate with the surviving family members.
A long time ago, when I was much younger, I skipped a funeral for someone that I liked and respected a lot. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I was having a hard time accepting what had happened, and my mom told me to just stay home. To just think about it on my own. It was a mistake. I should have gone no matter how upset I was.
Because no matter how sad it makes you, as a friend or coworker, that family is feeling much worse. And in a small, small way, your presence might make them feel a little better.
At least that’s what we hope.
Now on a lighter, weirder note: Right up there with drive-through devotionals and church franchises is something that I discovered last summer: guest books attached to online obituaries. I'm not kidding. This is so you can leave a message for the grieving family about the person who passed. Some messages you might expect to find on an online obituary's guest book:
WTF? Why did you do it?
I'm NOT LOL- Because I miss you.
You'll always be my BFF!
And, of course: TTYL.
I really and truly think this is online connectivity gone bad... Gone too far... Gone beyond the grave?
I don’t want to accept what happened. I want to pretend like everything’s fine. And somehow. It helps. I can talk about being real but when it comes down to it, when I’m sad or lonely, I just want to pretend. Smile while the ring knocks against the stem of the wine glass. Easily chat about the heat with strangers. Dip my fingers in the Sangria and wet my lips, feigning an interest that I just don’t have. Tipping my head and pretending to listen. Acting like everything’s ok and everything will be alright again. Even though I know it won’t be, not really. Pretending. It helps.
I wrote the above at the end of last summer, when I returned home early, unexpectedly, from vacation to attend a funeral for a young friend. It was a difficult summer for me anyway, as faithful readers already know, and that just capped it off. I don’t know that I’ll ever write about any of it again. And I don’t think I can write about the funeral. It’s private, anyway.
But what do you do when someone else is grieving? Is there anything at all you can do to comfort a friend or family member who is going through a bad time?
I don’t let them apologize for being absent… and I just keep calling. Hoping one day they’ll pick up the phone. Even if I don’t have anything useful to say. I just want them to know that I’m around. But it makes you feel pretty helpless. Useless. I wish I could do something. Anything, to make them feel better.
Some time ago, a good friend lost her father. We went to lunch and she told me she was frustrated by all of the well-meaning people who kept telling her, it will get easier. When? she asked me, sadly. When will it ever get easier?
Well… It doesn’t get any easier, I told her truthfully. After a while, you just kinda get used to it. You see their car in the driveway and you understand, they aren’t inside, waiting for you to stop by. You hear the old message on the voicemail and it doesn’t hit you like a sucker punch. You just know they’re gone. You get used to the pain. It will always hurt, though. Always feel like a mistake.
Another friend from out of state was preparing to go to a funeral last month and expressed his wish to just stay home. You gotta go, I told him. Because I’ve been the person who goes to the funeral and I’ve been the person who doesn’t go to the funeral, and I can honestly say, going is a much better option. Even if the person who passed isn’t the one that you’re close to. Especially then, because really, when you go to a funeral you’re going to commiserate with the surviving family members.
A long time ago, when I was much younger, I skipped a funeral for someone that I liked and respected a lot. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I was having a hard time accepting what had happened, and my mom told me to just stay home. To just think about it on my own. It was a mistake. I should have gone no matter how upset I was.
Because no matter how sad it makes you, as a friend or coworker, that family is feeling much worse. And in a small, small way, your presence might make them feel a little better.
At least that’s what we hope.
Now on a lighter, weirder note: Right up there with drive-through devotionals and church franchises is something that I discovered last summer: guest books attached to online obituaries. I'm not kidding. This is so you can leave a message for the grieving family about the person who passed. Some messages you might expect to find on an online obituary's guest book:
WTF? Why did you do it?
I'm NOT LOL- Because I miss you.
You'll always be my BFF!
And, of course: TTYL.
I really and truly think this is online connectivity gone bad... Gone too far... Gone beyond the grave?
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