The night my husband died, I was still in shock but wanted to be alone… sent my kids home. The new neighbor next door I’d never actually met but just a wave now and then… knocked on my door. She had a bottle of wine and two glasses ( she’d heard the fire/emt trucks, the news circulating our cul de sac) and asked if I’d share it with her. That’s all she said and I answered yes. Got two hours she sat and listened to me. I’ll never forget that night…sharing my life with a stranger. I learned that listening in silence is the best gift a grieving person needs. She was an Angel helping to get me thru the night. It’s been ten years and now I’ve taken wine to folks and asked would they share it with me; then zipped my lips.
Similar to “how are you doing” is “are you doing ok?” (What does that even mean? What does “doing ok” even look like?)
A story.
While I was a puddle of skin on my couch after my mom died, someone sent me some food. The thought was nice, but this person sent something that I’m allergic to. I never told them that I couldn’t eat what they sent. I know they were just making an executive decision for me, but I really couldn’t stomach what they sent, which set off a whole avalanche of guilt amongst my grief. (I ate it anyway, and the stomach pains promptly started.)
A better approach would have been to ask “what would you like to eat right now?”, to which I would have answered, “All the mac and cheese in the world.”
So, I’m sticking with the “What would you like to eat right now?” as a support question for others.
Very early after my husband died a women, a widow herself walked passed me one Sunday in church and very loudly proclaimed " you need to know the pain is NEVER going to stop" all I could do was stare at her. Another "friend" said to me, you need to consider remarriage, you are quite the catch. Just two of the what nevers I endured. I have learned to think twice before saying anything, about my grief or some one else's grief.
I am so sorry you had to hear those things. The reverend’s wife told Mom (at the funeral) that my dad died because Mom “loved him too much.” It taught me to keep my mouth closed when I didn’t know what to say to someone grieving.
Yikes! “You are quite the catch . . .” A comment like might make even a pacifist consider landing an angry jab on the chin. Thanks for reading and sharing, Denise.
My friend's son was murdered a year ago in San Francisco. She and her husband went to California to settle his estate immediately afterward. I didn't know what to say. Everything seemed so pointless and inadequate. The only thing I knew was that if it happened to my child, I would stop breathing and perhaps cause my own heart to stop.
I was at a loss for how to craft a text to her while she was out there and I was here in New Jersey. I sent her a simple note that said, "Keep breathing." I'm a yoga teacher, so it's not an unusual thing for me to say. Anyway, she wrote back that she was trying to do just that.
My cherished dog died two weeks ago, and my husband and I were devastated. People chose to say a few things from your "do not" list. The best interactions were the heartfelt notes from people who had lost pets, too. I felt seen and understood by them.
Thank you for these great suggestions, Larry, and for addressing a topic we should strive to improve at.
I lost my husband 3 years ago, and my mother 15 months later. A devastating illness 3 months after my husband’s death put me in a wheelchair. I rarely get personal phone calls, and visits are even more rare. I have a family member who lives 12 hours away who visits more often than people who live in my city. For me, having visitors who would be willing to reminisce with me about my dear ones would be very cathartic.
Sharon . . . you have been through a LOT. I wish I had an answer to why people don't reach out, but some truly don't. People surprise us, in both good and bad ways. Depending on the person, and also depending on your time and energy level, it may be worthwhile to contact a family member or friend who hasn't been too "present" with you and let them know you miss having a conversation with them. Thanks for responding to my essay.
I think "I'm sorry for your loss" is the phrase I hate the most. Its not heartfelt, it's not personal and it's trotted out like some kind of mantra by the world and his wife. When my Mum died, I just kept thinking if one more person makes that inane comment, l will scream. I know it's hard to know what to say, but even a quiet "I'm so sorry" feels more authentic, if that's the right word.
Suzanne: thanks for this comment. I heard similar reactions from participants in the many grief supports groups I led. If just one more person says . . .!!
Nurse Kristin!! . . . Thanks for reading, and for your lovely comments. I wish you well with your decisions about becoming an end-of-life doula. Take care!
The night my husband died, I was still in shock but wanted to be alone… sent my kids home. The new neighbor next door I’d never actually met but just a wave now and then… knocked on my door. She had a bottle of wine and two glasses ( she’d heard the fire/emt trucks, the news circulating our cul de sac) and asked if I’d share it with her. That’s all she said and I answered yes. Got two hours she sat and listened to me. I’ll never forget that night…sharing my life with a stranger. I learned that listening in silence is the best gift a grieving person needs. She was an Angel helping to get me thru the night. It’s been ten years and now I’ve taken wine to folks and asked would they share it with me; then zipped my lips.
Thanks for these comments, Joan. And for sharing about sharing a glass of wine.
Similar to “how are you doing” is “are you doing ok?” (What does that even mean? What does “doing ok” even look like?)
A story.
While I was a puddle of skin on my couch after my mom died, someone sent me some food. The thought was nice, but this person sent something that I’m allergic to. I never told them that I couldn’t eat what they sent. I know they were just making an executive decision for me, but I really couldn’t stomach what they sent, which set off a whole avalanche of guilt amongst my grief. (I ate it anyway, and the stomach pains promptly started.)
A better approach would have been to ask “what would you like to eat right now?”, to which I would have answered, “All the mac and cheese in the world.”
So, I’m sticking with the “What would you like to eat right now?” as a support question for others.
Thanks for reading. Excellent suggestion/question about what a person would like to eat.
I’m digging your substack! Happy to see someone out here talking about hospice and grief and all the things 💜
My beloved cat, Sweetie Pie, died two months ago today. I believe in serendipity. Your Substack popped in my feed today and I’m grateful.
Thanks for reading and commenting . . . gratitude multiplied! (So sorry about Sweetie Pie.)
Very early after my husband died a women, a widow herself walked passed me one Sunday in church and very loudly proclaimed " you need to know the pain is NEVER going to stop" all I could do was stare at her. Another "friend" said to me, you need to consider remarriage, you are quite the catch. Just two of the what nevers I endured. I have learned to think twice before saying anything, about my grief or some one else's grief.
I am so sorry you had to hear those things. The reverend’s wife told Mom (at the funeral) that my dad died because Mom “loved him too much.” It taught me to keep my mouth closed when I didn’t know what to say to someone grieving.
Yikes! “You are quite the catch . . .” A comment like might make even a pacifist consider landing an angry jab on the chin. Thanks for reading and sharing, Denise.
My friend's son was murdered a year ago in San Francisco. She and her husband went to California to settle his estate immediately afterward. I didn't know what to say. Everything seemed so pointless and inadequate. The only thing I knew was that if it happened to my child, I would stop breathing and perhaps cause my own heart to stop.
I was at a loss for how to craft a text to her while she was out there and I was here in New Jersey. I sent her a simple note that said, "Keep breathing." I'm a yoga teacher, so it's not an unusual thing for me to say. Anyway, she wrote back that she was trying to do just that.
My cherished dog died two weeks ago, and my husband and I were devastated. People chose to say a few things from your "do not" list. The best interactions were the heartfelt notes from people who had lost pets, too. I felt seen and understood by them.
Thank you for these great suggestions, Larry, and for addressing a topic we should strive to improve at.
Thanks for sharing, Ilona. What pain you’re been through. And likely continue to go through. So, so sorry to learn about your son.
I lost my husband 3 years ago, and my mother 15 months later. A devastating illness 3 months after my husband’s death put me in a wheelchair. I rarely get personal phone calls, and visits are even more rare. I have a family member who lives 12 hours away who visits more often than people who live in my city. For me, having visitors who would be willing to reminisce with me about my dear ones would be very cathartic.
Sharon . . . you have been through a LOT. I wish I had an answer to why people don't reach out, but some truly don't. People surprise us, in both good and bad ways. Depending on the person, and also depending on your time and energy level, it may be worthwhile to contact a family member or friend who hasn't been too "present" with you and let them know you miss having a conversation with them. Thanks for responding to my essay.
Thank you for your support.
I think "I'm sorry for your loss" is the phrase I hate the most. Its not heartfelt, it's not personal and it's trotted out like some kind of mantra by the world and his wife. When my Mum died, I just kept thinking if one more person makes that inane comment, l will scream. I know it's hard to know what to say, but even a quiet "I'm so sorry" feels more authentic, if that's the right word.
Suzanne: thanks for this comment. I heard similar reactions from participants in the many grief supports groups I led. If just one more person says . . .!!
Thank you for this precious information.
And thanks for reading, Alice!
Great advice Larry!
Nurse Kristin!! . . . Thanks for reading, and for your lovely comments. I wish you well with your decisions about becoming an end-of-life doula. Take care!
Thanks, Kimitee. Listening is very, very hard. And often so essential.