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Death Ed

Jay

Miss Conduct recently posted a question about mourning rituals on Facebook. In the comments, folks got very exercised over the right way and wrong way to comfort a mourner, and struggled with their lack of knowledge about mourning rituals of various cultures. They asked for Death Ed 101.

I know it helps to know the rules (assuming the mourner is going to follow the rules) but honestly, here’s the thing about comforting mourners: just do it. Just be there – wherever “there” is. “There” might be on Facebook; it might be over Email; it might be a comment on a blog post; it might be a casserole or a cake or a shiva call or an appearance at the wake or a stop at the cemetary. It doesn’t matter. Just be there. And stay there. Grief does not end in a day, or a week, or ever. It changes and evolves and eventually the mourner will emerge – not back into the world before, but into a sort of new normal.

Well, maybe one more thing: remember it’s not about you. It’s about the person who is sitting in front of you, looking numb, or the one rushing around the house looking for something insignificant, or the one trying not to cry becuase really, it’s enough already and she can’t breathe through her nose. It’s not the time to work through your own grief about your dysfunctional relationship with your father, or your anger at the cousin who took Grandma’s best china without asking, or your disdain for organized religion.

Grief is waves. At first the surf is heavy, and the mourner is pounded ceaselessly. She can lose her footing and be dragged underwater, and it helps to have someone nearby who can grab and hold on. Gradully, the waves become smaller and less frequent, but you never really leave the shore. There are waves that are predictable – holiday waves, birthday waves – and waves that take you by surprise and leave you gasping and sputtering, drenched again in sadness and loss. Be a ready hand and a steadying raft in the surf, and that is comfort.

12 thoughts on Death Ed

  1. I’d like to take a moment to plug this site, which organizes communication and schedules for caretaking of any sort. When my advisor’s husband was murdered (along with two other people) last spring, this site helped us immediately set up schedules for visits, grocery shopping, collecting messages, etc. for her, not just in the immediate aftermath but in the following weeks. Just being able to join the group we set up on the site made people in the community feel like they were doing something at a time that we all felt very helpless.

  3. I agree with “just do it”. My brother died unexpectedly a few days after I gave birth to my first child. Most of my co-workers stayed away during that time, and much later told me that they did not know what to say or do, so they opted for silence. My parents were grieving and withdrawn. Even my partner and close friends did not discuss my situation with me for fear of upsetting me. It was the worst time of my life, grieving alone while trying to find my way in being a new mother. I would have appreciated any attempt to allow me to share my grief.

  5. jesus christ. i just found out my estranged stepfather shot himself, i just found out like 10 minutes after i posted this.

    stupid death. GO AWAY!!!!!!

  6. Sheruns, thanks so much for that link. I usually suggest that one friend become the “coordinator”, but that would make it so much easier. It’s funny, I hear a lot of moaning sometimes about the ways in which electronic communication is getting in the way of “real” relationships, but I think resources like that (and Caring Bridge, and even just plain ol’ EMail) can be really helpful.

    Philosimphy, I’m so sorry. Be gentle with yourself.

  7. “Grief does not end in a day, or a week, or ever.

    My little sister died when I was two and a half years old from SIDS. I’m twenty-seven now. There are still times the words catch in my throat when I talk about Shelley.

    There are people I meet who just don’t get I grieve from her. (Mostly for the things she’ll never experience). I really resent having the “awkward moment” and then having the conversation slip past what I just said.

    Loosing my sister when I was so young shaped the majority of my childhood. Not only did my sister die, but my parents had trouble taking care of a young child in their grief. I lost my family.

    If someone mentions the loss of someone significant in their life that happened when they were a child, take a moment to acknowledge it. I’ve come to really appreciate “I’m sorry.” It’s a phrase that leave the ball in my court with how much information I’d like to share.

  8. Thanks for this post. I took a course on “Death and Dying”, and really got a lot out of it. I think what’s intimidating to a lot of folks in the U.S. is the multiplicity of funeral customs we have here; folks are afraid of doing the wrong thing in a sensitive time, so doing nothing can become an alternative. You’re right to say, “just be there.” My way of dealing with the customs issue is…follow my own. People tend to respect the fact that even if you’re not doing it their way, at least you care about them. And for me that means, always go to the wake, even if I can’t make the funeral; always introduce myself to the people I don’t know in the receiving line and tell them I’m sorry for their loss (and say something about the deceased if I knew him/her); nod my head and act respectfully even during prayers I can’t understand; and bring food for the family, since they aren’t going to feel like cooking (and probably have a houseful of relatives that came from somewhere else and are going to eventually get hungry). I sometimes get weird looks on that third item; bringing food isn’t part of everybody’s custom (and not everybody has a funeral reception afterward with food), but no one’s ever turned the food down!

    It’s not the time to work through your own grief about your dysfunctional relationship with your father, or your anger at the cousin who took Grandma’s best china without asking, or your disdain for organized religion.

    Nor is it the time to lecture the grieving on why they shouldn’t be grieving, since they had a strained/difficult/estranged/whatever relationship with the deceased. Or that the deceased was an asshole, anyway, and isn’t it a relief she/he is dead? Gahh! (Yes, I’ve had that happen to me.)

  9. Loosing my sister when I was so young shaped the majority of my childhood. Not only did my sister die, but my parents had trouble taking care of a young child in their grief. I lost my family.

    I’m sorry, Jesse.

    I was born a year after my brother’s death, and I was raised as an only child, albeit with the shadow of his death hanging over me. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that his death was a determining factor in the course of my life, as it emotionally destroyed my parents, and set my father on the course of alcoholism for the over the next decade (with dry-drunk syndrome for the decade after that! good times! /snark).

  10. Thank you for this. I’ve been having a pretty rough time the last week or so (lost one of my closest friends this June), and that was beautiful.

  11. Great post. You’ve generalised one of the things I feel myself and hear lots of people express – the “Should I go to the funeral?” thing. Was I a close enough friend?, will people look at me and think “Why is *she* here?”, etc.

    I’ve decided since the sudden death of my father 12yrs ago that the answer is pretty much always to go. If you are thinking of attending, do it. You won’t be condemned for showing you care, and that you do and will remember.

    And I love that link, Sherunslunatic. I’ve bookmarked that for future reference – a great idea for births too!

  12. Sometimes that mourner is a man. Last year one of my “temps” had to take time off while his mother was dying from cancer. Not only was he loosing his mother but he was afraid of loosing his chance of being hired. Today he is one of my best employees, I will never regret asking my boss to tell the temp agency to quit hassling him over how much work he was missing.

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