Of grief and comfort

While I wouldn't say there is an upside of losing my father, there is one advantage it has given me - I feel like I have a better perspective on what to do when someone I care about is in mourning, having now been through it myself. My friend Colleen lost her dad this week, and I find myself thinking about her lots, praying, and also figuring out what I can do practically. Thought I'd write about some of what I've learned from my own journey through grief, because sooner or later, we all will be either the grievers or the comforters - we might as well learn to do both well.

There is a part of me that feels stupid asking, "How are you?" because isn't it obvious? But it's not. In my own grief, there were times I felt angry, times I felt peaceful, times I felt numb, times I felt like things were under control. Besides, it's the standard way to start almost any conversation in society, and grieving people know that it's a way to connect. It's not so important how you start a conversation so much that you do start it.

I can't say anything to make someone feel better. All I can do is keep them from feeling even worse, because isolation added to grief is truly awful. I can ask questions and I can listen. Comforter's ears are way more important than their mouths. I needed to tell people about my Dad's passing, what happened, whatwas going to happen. I suspect other grieving people need that, too. I find I've lost the fear of saying the wrong thing - grieving people are sad, they're not fragile. Even if I say something incredibly stupid, most of the people I know will either tell me off in love or just understand the heart that it comes from. I don't recall any topic being off limits. And believe it or not, there can be a lot of laughter in the process, too.

Another friend has told me about feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the visitors after her dad died. Sometimes it may not be the contact in that first week or two that will be appreciated so much as checking in with them after the initial funeral fuss dies down and they drop off the radar for a lot of others. When in doubt, ask - could you use a visit now?

There are practical needs at the time of a death, and for me it's important to figure out what I can do - and it's also important to me to figure out what is too much so that I don't become paralyzed in my response. A few months ago the MIL of a different friend died, and because that friend lives a good hour and a half away, my support was limited to phone calls, but I did make sure I called her, and I also helped her let other support people know what had happened. When someone is closer, there can be many helpful things. When my dad died, I know that many people (probably in that case, too many) brought baking, another couple brought lunch for the whole extended family, many people volunteered to serve at the luncheon following the funeral, one friend simply took all of the grandchildren (sans Conor, who was breastfeeding) to her place while we went to the funeral home to pick out a casket and make other plans, and my cousin's wife babysat the smallest children who were too young to sit through the funeral. I can't do everything, but I can do something - first step is to find out what they need. Talk, approach, lose the fear. We need each other.