Listening Ear

Today a friend updated me on her grief journey since her mom’s death six months ago. Although she clearly misses her mother, her grief stories were mostly about her spouse who died nearly three years ago. Funny how a new loss resurrects old grief that needs more processing. It’s as though all our tears become a well of grief, and when we lower the bucket it fills with tears from every loss in our life. We never know which loss will be our focus at any moment.

Arriving home from that meeting I opened an email from a woman whose aging parents seem to be taking turns in the hospital. Last week she spent five days in another city at her mother’s hospital bedside. Almost as an afterthought she reminded me that the fourth anniversary of her husband’s death was last week too. “Most people forgot,” she said, but she was grateful that her daughter remembered the day and came to visit.

Why is it so important that we have someone to listen? How does that help our grief process? Is is any less painful? Maybe it’s just more painful when we don’t have that listening ear and caring support.

Who has been there for you in times of loss and how has it made a difference?

In Tribute

I never met Perry - his mom is a friend of a friend. He died a week ago, just a few weeks short of his 12th birthday.

Perry clearly packed a lot of love into his short life, and this memory of him is a beautiful tribute to a life well-lived and well-loved:

And as our hearts break at the loss of our beautiful Perry, we need to remember the life he loved and was so good at is the life we live right here, right now. We need to let our sadness flow, but we also need to be joyful. Perry was.

Remembering Perry will remind us of our great loss, but we must not forget our gain. Perry made the world a better place; it is a better place still for having had him. We need to remember Perry so we can look through his eyes and see all the love and pleasure and play and people available to us, here, now, and rejoice.

Hearts breaking, our loss; and yet the joy, the love, the play, the people, here and now. We have to hold all of this at once.

Peace be with you, Perry, and with your family. The world is definitely a better place for your being here.

Life Interrupted

Last weekend my son and grandson arrived from Atlanta to play in the snow for a couple of days! YAY! My whole week had been focused on their arrival and a weekend of family fun. We met for lunch, visited his grandfather and then headed to the other end of town for an evening at my daughter’s. Life is good!

And then life was interrupted. I stopped home to pick up some things and found my neighbor’s condo in flames. I pounded on his doors and called for him to come out but he was overcome by the smoke and died. In an instant my neighbor’s life was ended and my life was changed too.

Sudden loss leaves us reeling and numb. What do we do then? We find a safe haven in family, friends and faith. Last night three carloads of neighbors found comfort in a service for our friend in his childhood church.

How have you survived a sudden loss? What has brought you comfort? What is your safe haven?

Showing up

From my own experience as well as witnessing others' experience with grief, I've noticed that we in our culture are often tongue-tied when it comes to knowing what to say to grieving people.

It's often our own fears or issues with death and dying that often get in the way of being supportive or present for those who are mourning. Often we are afraid of hurting the grieving person in our words or deeds, being afraid that acknowledgment of the experience will somehow open the wound again. However, I've found that it is often more appreciated to say or do something than to shy away from the issue or avoid the person experiencing the loss.

It's hard for many people to be with those who are hurting, crying or sad; but it's important not to compound the isolation that accompanies loss by abandoning the grieving person when times are difficult. In my own experience, it was more painful to have others not ask or remember what was happening in our family.

Expressing your concern or care can be as simple as a written note or a phone call; the important thing is to do it, and to do it from your heart. Your noticing validates the grieving person's experience, no matter how it's done, and will be appreciated even if you feel awkward or uncomfortable.

As Woody Allen said, 90% of life is about showing up. Showing up for our grieving friends and loved ones can make a world of difference.

How about you? What acknowledgment has been helpful to you on your journey?