Last night, I was informed of the sudden death of a dear colleague/mentor. As I listened to his story from another friend, I was reminded of the early hours, the early days of grief. I groaned inwardly as my heart went out to his wife. What a loss. We have all been touched by his presence and enriched by his passion, vision and knowledge.
This morning I reflect on just how far I have travelled and it feels good to be able to listen to my heart and to think of another. Through this blog, I continue to receive comments from people across the world saying thank you and offering support. Some are grieving a loss and others are supporting others who are grieving. I have poked some fun at things not to say and offered some suggestions on what to say or do. I would like to elaborate on the latter. These are the actions and words that truly supported my early times and continue to support. I offer them as suggestion on how you can turn your cares and concerns into positive helpful actions.
This is my perspective on things.
Let your heart be your ears ... It was, and continues to be so comforting when someone just sits with me and lets me tell the story of Bill's death over and over again. It is those who seem to concentrate on listening to what I am sharing and don't judge, who help me heal. Judging includes avoiding thoughts of it has been 10 months ... should she not be done telling this story? If you are having these thoughts, it will show in your body language and I can certainly read it in your eyes. There are many triggers along the journey that will bring me back to the first days and will bring out new details of the story. The story is becoming clearer. Trust that with time, the frequency is diminishing.
No words are better than empty words ... I will refer this back to my 10 top things not to say ... and offer a few more. "You are holding up so well, time will heal all wounds, you are fortunate to still have the boys at home, he did not suffer." Recognizing that these were all, and continue to be said with a great deal of affection and sincerity, I invite you to reflect on the fact that these are actually extremely painful and make my journey more difficult. There seems to be a disconnect with the pain.
Understanding my tears and sometimes my silence ... In the early days, I was offered much understanding and recognition for my need to be alone or to cry or to even have a few "manic" moments. I did not fear criticism. Those who did not try to "fix" things, those who did not set expectations on how I should be responding to my grief, and those who allowed me to feel everything my pain had to offer were my most effective supports. Remember that there are no set timelines on grief and the same compassion offered in the early days is required long after the death. The events of this past week has broadsided me. I have come to the full realization that my circle of supports is shrinking. I do now fear criticism and now choose with whom I can grieve openly. Life goes on and I am trying to figure out where I belong.
This is my story, my relationship and therefore my journey with grief ... I have often written that it is because I am who I am, shaped by my life experiences, and my relationship with Bill, that I am grieving this way. I recognize that there are similarities in the process but my journey is influenced by the above mentioned. It is those who support me fully, who are patient and who recognize my need to pace myself without criticism, who help me heal. Sometimes I need to have company and sometimes I don't; some understand and some are offended when I decline to participate. With your understanding without expectations on how I need to deal, I will get back to you one day and be part of your world. I will have been made stronger and wiser.
You want to what? Clean my fridge, bring a few loads to the dump and help with the bathroom renos? ... These were (are) the practical ways that tell me someone cares. In the early days of the journey, there were many hands to help and this practical help made such a difference.
A gentle touch, a sincere look in my eyes and a hug ... So many came to Bill's funeral. Many offered words - others simply a warm hug and some an understanding smile. Their presence at the funeral said that Bill and I had touched them. It is important to feel this outpouring of support and love at the funeral. It is equally important to feel this months later.
The gift of a written story ... So many sympathy cards. There a couple that stand out and I find myself reading them over and over again. One card from his cousin had a little story about growing up and looking up to Bill. In his words, I found comfort in knowing that someone else acknowledged the loss of a great man, an important person in his life. The other was an actual letter, that came quite a few months later. The words spoke of not having had the pleasure of knowing Bill but knew that I am who I am because I had been loved.
Bill ... I cannot tell you just how comforting it is when you use his name. It is comforting when you can laugh and share the stories saying Bill! It tells me that Bill has not been forgotten and that there is a story when Bill was not dead.
Monthly anniversaries and holidays ... I think of the texts, or the unexpected phone calls I get on the 26th and 27th of each month. They are simple "how you doing" with a sincere need to hear how I am really doing and respectful of whether or not I need to share. They are an acknowledgement of my pain and a testament of true friendships. I also think back to Christmas. I had prepared a new family tradition of lining the driveway with luminaries depicting Bill's life. An invitation was sent out to our friends and family to light their luminary at midnight and for those close by to join our little family while we lit up his story. Some neighbours joined us and everyone who had received a luminary from us called to let us know that they had not forgotten to light theirs at midnight. How touched we were, how very supported we felt.
My life is changing, and so am I ... Thank you for your patience and gentle support as I find my way to being okay. I recognize that supporting me through this cannot be easy.
Although I have written this from my perspective, I am certain that you will find some suggestions on how best to support another through their journey.
I am reminded of the quote by Albert Camus ... Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
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