Lessons from the Bereaved
Don’t tell me what I should do. The fact is, I AM doing what I should, whether it is crying, working, laughing, traveling, or doing nothing. Only I know what I SHOULD do at any given time and I need to learn to trust that personal wisdom without your judgments. Encourage me to look inward for knowing what is right for me, rather than relying on advice from others.
Resist telling me that you know just how I feel, because you can’t know, even if you have experienced a similar loss. My relationship to the one who died is unique and only I know our history together. It is much more helpful for me if you ask me what I am feeling and thinking, and allowing me to share that with you. I need to trust that you will listen without telling me not to feel that way. After all, when was the last time your anger evaporated when someone told you not to feel that way?
Listen to me when I need to talk, even when I repeat myself.Others turn away from me or try to distract me, not wanting to hear my stories over and over again. Perhaps they think that it is not healthy for me to dwell on what happened, but I need to sort it all out to come to some understanding of it. Sometimes the best way for me to do that is by talking. Your patience in listening to me is so appreciated.
Allow me to be who I am without worrying about meeting the expectations that others seem to have for widows or bereaved parents.Those expectations are not always spoken, yet they are real and they are perplexing to me. For example, when you compliment me on how good I look, I wonder what I am supposed to look like. I have never been in this situation before and it is distressing to no longer be able to rely on old habits and behavior patterns that were comfortable and predictable. My world has changed so abruptly that I am not even sure who I am without my loved one. I know this will change in the future, but for right now I need people who will simply accept who I am today by reminding me that it is okay for me to have no definitive answers regarding the future and by eliminating expectations regarding when I should be back to my “old self,” for that may never happen.
Respect my silences and occasional need to be alone.Sometimes being with others simply takes more energy than I have. An unreturned phone call doesn’t mean I don’t care about you; I simply have limited energy and cannot do everything that I want to or that needs to be done. If I turn down an invitation to go out, please accept that gracefully and ask me again in the future.
Avoid minimizing my grief by telling me that “it was just a friend” or by reminding me that other people have experienced greater losses. I already know those things to be true and I am grateful every day that I still have much for which to be thankful. I need you to validate that my losses are real and that my grief is justified. My grief should not be compared to the grief experiences of others.
Remember that it is okay if I cry.You are not responsible for my tears--you did not make them happen. Sometimes, waves of grief overcome me and I seem to cry for no reason. I am learning to live with that and don’t want it to make you uneasy. Simply being with me and allowing those tears is comforting to me.
Offers to help are much easier for me if they are specific. I worry about imposing on others and probably will not call you if I need help. Therefore, a vague, “Call if you need anything.” is not helpful. Instead, if you call to say that you are on the way to the store and offer to pick up a few things for me, I would find that very helpful. Especially if I shopped with the person who died, shopping might be one of the tasks I most dread.
Never assume that I am over my grief. There is no time limit on grief. As I adjust to the reality that my life will never be the same again, I need you to continue to call or in other ways let me know that you still care. Some days are more difficult than others, such as birthdays, holidays, and the anniversary of the death. This does not end when the first year is over, so I appreciate your thoughtful cards and phone calls. It feels good to hear other people say the name of my loved one, for that lets me know that she is part of your memories too. One of my fears is that she will be forgotten, so when you mention her, it is reassuring that even though she is not here physically, she is still in your memory.
As caregivers, our intentions for those we are entrusted to help are benevolent. However, we need to remind ourselves that regardless of our professional training or personal experiences, the best support we can offer others is to let them tell us what they need. It is a precious gift that we call all give.
Lessons from the Bereaved, Copyright © 2011 by Catherine Johnson. All rights reserved.
Resist telling me that you know just how I feel, because you can’t know, even if you have experienced a similar loss. My relationship to the one who died is unique and only I know our history together. It is much more helpful for me if you ask me what I am feeling and thinking, and allowing me to share that with you. I need to trust that you will listen without telling me not to feel that way. After all, when was the last time your anger evaporated when someone told you not to feel that way?
Listen to me when I need to talk, even when I repeat myself.Others turn away from me or try to distract me, not wanting to hear my stories over and over again. Perhaps they think that it is not healthy for me to dwell on what happened, but I need to sort it all out to come to some understanding of it. Sometimes the best way for me to do that is by talking. Your patience in listening to me is so appreciated.
Allow me to be who I am without worrying about meeting the expectations that others seem to have for widows or bereaved parents.Those expectations are not always spoken, yet they are real and they are perplexing to me. For example, when you compliment me on how good I look, I wonder what I am supposed to look like. I have never been in this situation before and it is distressing to no longer be able to rely on old habits and behavior patterns that were comfortable and predictable. My world has changed so abruptly that I am not even sure who I am without my loved one. I know this will change in the future, but for right now I need people who will simply accept who I am today by reminding me that it is okay for me to have no definitive answers regarding the future and by eliminating expectations regarding when I should be back to my “old self,” for that may never happen.
Respect my silences and occasional need to be alone.Sometimes being with others simply takes more energy than I have. An unreturned phone call doesn’t mean I don’t care about you; I simply have limited energy and cannot do everything that I want to or that needs to be done. If I turn down an invitation to go out, please accept that gracefully and ask me again in the future.
Avoid minimizing my grief by telling me that “it was just a friend” or by reminding me that other people have experienced greater losses. I already know those things to be true and I am grateful every day that I still have much for which to be thankful. I need you to validate that my losses are real and that my grief is justified. My grief should not be compared to the grief experiences of others.
Remember that it is okay if I cry.You are not responsible for my tears--you did not make them happen. Sometimes, waves of grief overcome me and I seem to cry for no reason. I am learning to live with that and don’t want it to make you uneasy. Simply being with me and allowing those tears is comforting to me.
Offers to help are much easier for me if they are specific. I worry about imposing on others and probably will not call you if I need help. Therefore, a vague, “Call if you need anything.” is not helpful. Instead, if you call to say that you are on the way to the store and offer to pick up a few things for me, I would find that very helpful. Especially if I shopped with the person who died, shopping might be one of the tasks I most dread.
Never assume that I am over my grief. There is no time limit on grief. As I adjust to the reality that my life will never be the same again, I need you to continue to call or in other ways let me know that you still care. Some days are more difficult than others, such as birthdays, holidays, and the anniversary of the death. This does not end when the first year is over, so I appreciate your thoughtful cards and phone calls. It feels good to hear other people say the name of my loved one, for that lets me know that she is part of your memories too. One of my fears is that she will be forgotten, so when you mention her, it is reassuring that even though she is not here physically, she is still in your memory.
As caregivers, our intentions for those we are entrusted to help are benevolent. However, we need to remind ourselves that regardless of our professional training or personal experiences, the best support we can offer others is to let them tell us what they need. It is a precious gift that we call all give.
Lessons from the Bereaved, Copyright © 2011 by Catherine Johnson. All rights reserved.