Wednesday, May 19, 2021

Words Are Not Necessary, But At the Very Least... Leave Your "At leasts" At Home!

Mourning is fraught with feeling.  Every loss is a new one, a different experience and a myriad of emotions, often unanticipated.  When we try to comfort mourners, we sometimes find ourselves at a loss of what to say.  And that's when we blunder into inadvertent conciliatory phrases that might not be as helpful as we intend.

Raw emotion is uncomfortable.  It triggers feelings inside observers, whether we like them or not.  Makes us think about our own human relationships, past behaviors, and potential future reactions.  We don't like feeling uncomfortable. 

It makes sense that we try to avoid feeling powerless, uncomfortable and unprepared by filling the silence with something we feel to be true.  "At least he didn't suffer..."  "At least she's resting now..."  "At least you got to say goodbye..."  Any of these might be accurate, but might not be what the mourner is focusing on at the moment.   Maybe, in the face of this loss, all the mourner wanted was a chance to tell their loved one just one more thing... or maybe watching a drawn out illness tore their heart to shreds.  It's impossible to know how your words will be received - even from one day to the next - as the mourner grieves their loss.  

"At least he's in a better place...."  "At least your father will be a melitz yosher - will intercede for you and you'll get married this year...."  These ideas might help you feel better, but everyone's experience is different... and sometimes sharing your belief can cause more pain than healing.  This is why it is best to take cues from the mourner themselves. 

What can you say instead when you're searching for words?  Try talking about the person who passed away, for example, I like to ask the mourner to share a memory.  Even better, if you have a memory to share, go ahead and share it!  I found these memories to be priceless because they gave me new insight into my father's life and personality - new memories that I could store away now that I could not make any more of my own.   

Every death is different... 

I cannot decide whether my father's sudden passing was easier or harder to handle than my uncle's slow illness.  With my father, we had no preparation and no warning.  It's a comfort to me to know that he didn't suffer - I can say that - but I can only imagine what I might have told him or asked him if I'd had the chance.  Watching someone deal with a drawn out illness is an entirely different story -  in the same thought I don't want to see them suffer but I don't want to lose them either.  Seeing a loved one lose themself to Alzheimer's or Dementia feels like you've lost them long before the final moments... and yet, glimpses of their personality still come through at times to remind you of who they are/were.  And then there are losses where the mourner was not so close to their relative and keenly regrets the lack of relationship.  No "At least..." will fit all of these scenarios; in my opinion, it's better not to try. 

Everyone's experience is painful in a different way, and there really is no comparison.  People who have experienced loss are part of a club that no one wants to join and through it we have a unique ability to know what it feels like to be totally lost and adrift after losing a loved one.  We know that we can't possibly know how the mourner is feeling.  Silence and compassion go a long way.  So do hugs and a listening ear.  And as hard as it is to hold back the platitudes, let the mourner lead the conversation.  They will tell you how they are feeling - and how you can help - if you give yourself space to listen with your heart instead of focusing on planning what to say.  Because, the truth is there really isn't anything you can say to make it better.  Just being there - physically or virtually - is more than enough.  

No comments:

Post a Comment

I am an educator who is trained to reflect, not a rabbi or any type of halachic authority. These writings are in no way binding, and may not represent all approaches to and experiences in navigating grief. In fact, there will likely be those who disagree with me or can offer additional suggestions and reflections. For this reason, I am leaving the comments section open so that together as a community, we can broaden the scope of this blog to include a majority of human experience.

One important request: Please be respectful in posting your comments and be sure to frame your tips in the most positive phrasing possible. I reserve the right to delete any unkind comments and plan to update the original posts occasionally to include additional insights and reflections from our combined experience.

Remembering Uncle Paul Kalish, z''l (Melech Yona ben Yidel Dov)

It's so hard to write these words today.  My uncle, Paul Kalish, passed away this morning at home after a valiant 10 months battling  gl...