Growing through grief is a newer theme of this blog, but I will continue to coach readers on crafting a comforting sympathy note. Your goal is a sensitive message that does not preach or judge. It truly becomes memorable.
Many of my peers are approaching or well-into the wonderful age bracket of maturity that is rich with life experiences. Employment expertise or retirement recreation, travel, grandchildren, volunteering ... and saying goodbye to loved ones.
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When you find yourself on a dramatically new path, it is a comfort to hear how someone else navigated the process, the pain, the prospects. I speak from experience and remember gratefully the support of friends, blogs, books, a support group. I made my own choices and that freedom was a bit frightening but also exciting.
While there are many types of losses addressed by the Condolence Coach (losses which can happen at any age,) my intention is that this post be a source of quick links to Condolence Coach posts on being widowed. Have you lost a partner or spouse? Are you supporting someone who has?These posts are for men or women, married and unmarried committed partners, regardless of relationship status or sexual orientation.
Now three years past widowhood, my biggest advice is: stay open to life.
As always, you be the judge of what you find helpful.
I love how we all agree: there's a story to every life!
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And The Eulogy Writers recognize this first and foremost. They also recognize that when you are acutely mourning the death of a dear one, and planning a service, it can be very hard to gather all the love and pain into one cohesive tribute. Writing a eulogy is an act of honoring someone but it is also an important opportunity to tell the story of one life. That is a big task. It reminds me of that famous poem, The Dash, where the author notes that between the events of birth and death a remarkable story unfolds.
In my years of funeral service, I have set up the microphone for various clergypersons, life celebrants, and family members. Once everyone was settled in the chapel, I would sit in the office and listen to the service. I've heard very sad attempts at eulogies -- not just "sorrow" sad but the kind of sad that made me heartsick... this designated person arrived to be the officiant and spokesperson and might as well have been mowing their lawn...that's how dull and trite and cliched and impersonal it was.
At the time, Steve was pastor of a nearby Congregational Church. He was passionate about his work and especially about the honor of eulogizing. We would call on him frequently for families without a clergy connection, and Steve would quickly arrange to meet them. His tenderness in guiding a discussion of sharing about a loved one resulted in a deep understanding, respect, and joy for the shining human light that had just left this world. Steve was so skilled at working with families during this painful time of funeral preparation that he authored a book, Funerals For Strangers where he shared not only suggestions on how to craft a memorable eulogy but offered many templates for comforting, uplifting tributes.
Today, a collective of similarly gifted men and women (Ralph DiBiasio-Snyder, Abi Galeas, Miriam Hill) have joined with Steve Schafer to offer timely eulogy preparation --- delivery promised within 24 hours! The Eulogy Writers - Writers of Great Eulogies For Over Forty Years.
"Our job is to take your words and organize your thoughts and artfully phrase your memories in such a way that you will be proud to present the story of the one you've loved and lost."
Empowering You
It is really special when, despite nervousness and sadness, a family member rises from their chair and shares from the heart how their loved one lived and impacted others. The Eulogy Writers want to empower a family with a tribute that feels and sounds like your voice. The pages of clients' appreciation speak volumes.
I have not been compensated for this blog post and I hope it doesn't sound like an advertorial. I simply want to share my experience and point out the exceptional before you have to google the topic yourself. You may not need this support service today or tomorrow. You may have just attended or facilitated a funeral service and hope it's a long time before the next. I too, hope your road remains smooth. But file this away: if the time comes, consider the value and support gained in hiring a eulogy writer.
Thank you for caring and sharing!
Readers: you may be interested in reading this post, which contains Steve Schafer's guidance on Writing Condolence To Clergy.
It's been awhile since I just wrote some basics about supporting a grieving person. So here is a refresher, listing a dozen simple ways to express sympathy and render comfort.
A Dozen Keys to Sharing Condolence and Comfort
(from your trusted source: The Condolence Coach)
1. Listen.
2. Acknowledge that loss is difficult. "Gosh, this is a difficult time!"
3. A gentle hug or nonintrusive touch may have more value than words.
4. We all die, but there is no "easier" age for the grieving; this includes a miscarried child.
5. Do not judge, dish out platitudes, or give unsolicited advice.
6. Learn and use a name, but it's okay to just write 'your Mom.'
7. Share a special memory or legacy, but never embarrass or reveal a confidence.
8. Ask a survivor for one of their favorite memories.
9. Some digital messages are appropriate, but seriously consider writing a note.
10. There is no time limit to acknowledge a loss.
11. There is no time limit to grief; respect the survivor's journey and choices. Don't suggest things like adopting another pet, that they start dating, or that they try to have another baby.
12. Condolence gifts such as a thinking-of-you snack, journal or keepsake box are helpful gestures, easy to process by young mourners.
My friend Charlotte's father was a rural Iowa doctor; one of those special people who could calmly set a bone and stitch you up after a nasty farm accident, or cheerfully deliver your twins on a snowy winter night. Doc was both confidante and neighbor to his patients in an era when storytelling served the human need for connection.
Storytelling, sometimes called the oral tradition, spans history and cultures. Stories can teach, preach, entertain and comfort. We are born with an eagerness to ask for, listen to, and share stories. Pause just a moment and you will be flooded with memories, which are themselves, stories.
One afternoon, Doc was called to the home of a dying patient. He found the grandfather in bed, surrounded by family; one by one, anecdotes and accounts were told. There was nothing fancy or formal in the room; patched pockets, darned socks, and flyaway hair were worn all around, and the draping of a softly faded quilt barely moved with the old man's slow rasp of breaths. There were no whispers, either. Each story was a farewell blessing--a living tribute of love, admiration and humor, told with the same voices that their loved one heard on the porch or around the kitchen table.
"My family are all storytellers," Charlotte told me. She'd held this memory for many years until one day, with grown children of her own, the story came full circle. "My husband had suffered a brain bleed and was on life support. As my son and daughter gathered at their father's bedside, we decided to tell some stories about Dad."
Charlotte believed strongly in the tradition of stories as a tool for comfort, saying "I am sure their dad heard the stories and I know he loved it. Ultimately, the vigil of storytelling transformed our removal of life support into a loving farewell."
Ways to prompt stories
Tell stories that allow expressions of admiration, love, gratitude. The caregiving person in charge may suggest:
How did _____ inspire you?
Let's talk about the time when _____
What were some of his/her favorite sayings, and when did he/she most often use them?
If someone wants to express a personal message to the dying person, give them some privacy.
Suggestions to support the dying experience
If the person normally wears hearing aids, remember to keep them in the ears, with fresh batteries. Even if someone is comatose (a state of deep, unresponsive unconsciousness that is common at the end of life,) the reception of sounds and words should be supported.
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Make contact: using a method that does not cause pain or other discomfort, options include a light hand on the head or stroke of a brow, holding a hand or resting a light hand on their shoulder, forearm or shin.
Always inform the dying person about who is coming into or leaving the room. Casual statements such as: “Mom is going to take a nap,” or “Hi Mary, this is Tom. I’m going to sit with you for awhile,” or “Mary, Tom is here now,” or "The kids are coming after school, in an hour."
He had a flair for a tune and penned lyrics which hit the heart’s bullseye, again and again. In the early 1950’s, he wrote "Count Your Blessings (Instead of Sheep)" and, enclosing it in a letter to a studio executive, Berlin confessed:
‘As I say in the lyrics, sometime ago, after the worst kind of a sleepless night, my doctor came to see me and after a lot of self-pity, belly-aching and complaining about my insomnia, he looked at me and said "speaking of doing something about your insomnia, did you ever try counting your blessings?"’
The song debuted in the now-classic holiday film, White Christmas
What a simple-and timely-idea. Counting troubles is an easy reaction in times of uncertainty, isolation, and loss. Yes, even as your heart aches after the death of a loved one, you can turn to this prescription for relief: choose to count blessings!
First, let's define blessing
Websters begins with the concept of an invocation-- a statement of approval or encouragement. The definition evolves to be something which contributes to a positive occurrence, outcome, or opportunity. Many consider a blessing to be a verbal prayer of thanks to God. Therefore, any and every aspect of your loved one which has made you happy, secure, and thankful counts when you're counting blessings!
How to start counting
Your method could be a relaxed mental wander through wonderful memories, or try some of these:
Take out your journal or notepad and write a list of the helps, traits, and admirable qualities of your loved one. Fill pages, if you want to!
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Pull out photo albums or boxes and count the blessings of vacation fun, love-filled occasions, camaradie, proud moments, and those adoring expressions meant just for you.
Pull up iTunes or YouTube recordings of a few special songs that take you back to important times shared with your loved one. As you listen, re-live the blessings.
Find your box of momentos or file of important papers and count your blessings. Old documents such as a marriage license, a paycheck stub, a birthday or anniversary card, and even a handwritten grocery list can flood your heart with gratitude.
I know a man who counts joyful blessings by paging through his late wife's cookbooks. Think of the counting possibilities that await in your garage, basement, or clothes closet! Others might walk in their yard and count the blessings of things planted by a loved one. What other counting ideas can you think of?
Feeling better? Keep digging and keep counting. And there's a good chance that others who mourn this person would love to hear what you've counted. Bless them by sharing your lists and encourage them to begin counting, too.
When I worked in funeral service, the biggest tech challenge from day to day was getting a family's photo slideshow to play on our chapel's big screen monitor. Sometimes they hadn't properly closed their program before removing a flash drive, or the photos were stuck in a document folder. Our business maintained national music performance licenses, so we didn't have to worry about all the copyrighted songs families were downloading to their slideshows.
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Years ago, I frowned at a story about a mortuary's drive-by casket viewing feature. Today, funeral home staff are being called to interface with social media in ways that demand new skills and tremendous empathy. I admire their fortitude.
Some of us have already participated in a virtual funeral. While summer "hotspots" raged, a family death out of my home state prevented me from travelling to attend. I was sad to not participate, but shared remembrances with the clergyman, so he could incorporated them into his eulogy. This funeral would not be virtual so, while it took place 2,000 miles away, I watched a photo slide show, read inspirational verses and shared memories with my husband.
I urge readers to explore the following article about virtual funerals because knowing the terrain, can reduce stress if you later find yourself navigating there.
The Condolence Coach asks you to remember these 3 unchanging condolence principles:
Written words of sympathy matter greatly; send a card with a personal note to the family or c/o the funeral home. An emailed condolence is okay, too. Any contact with an isolated mourner is hugely comforting!
Share a favorite and uplifting memory, but if it's your turn to talk during a streaming virtual funeral, be brief.
Express gratitude for the life of the deceased and especially thank the family for hosting the opportunity to "gather."
I am known to many as the one who is easy with matters of dying and death. I can discuss ways to make the end of life sacred, the paperwork of death, funeral options and military honors. I do this with the conversational tone you would use to discuss the price of organic veggies, local car repair shops, or summer travel plans. For over ten years, I’ve been known as the Condolence Coach by a world of readers, but I am long overdue for a new post, and here’s why.
Last fall, when my mother entered hospice, my zeal to discuss death’s details and grief journeys, withered. In truth, it cowered in the corner, shunning all but the most necessary social contact. Sharing the life-altering news became my daily ‘small talk.’ A dog walking neighbor might comment on last night’s wind and I replied: “my mother is in hospice.” Meeting another shopper at the grocer’s card rack, I offered, “my mother is in hospice but I think she’ll make her 90th birthday.” To my relief, people were kind.
Perhaps it’s not accurate to say I lost my 'zeal,' when the real loss was ‘innocence.’ While my experience and knowledge as a hospice volunteer and funeral professional deepened insight and compassion, it was always ‘someone else’s loved one.’ Detachment preserved the innocence of my heart. Now, this was my heartache.
Sadness Selfie
Across the country, heavily sedated with the standard hospice cocktail of morphine and lorazepam, Mother wasn’t taking birthday phone calls. I quelled the panic of her slipping away by reaching out psychically. I imagined her approval and laughter as I played dress-up with the pink paisley poncho she had sewn for me fifty years ago.
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Digging through my jewelry box, I ringed its neckline with lapel pins she’d given: quirky cat, pine cone, straw dolls, and artsy swirl. Like the young bride seeking her mirrored reflection on the morning after deflowering, I sought mine and took a selfie, seeking to preserve the transforming mystery of my profound sadness.
Until I was called to serve at my mother’s deathbed, my vigil occurred thousands of miles to the west with intense meditations, journaling, tears, and talks with my husband. I began to trust the truth of a message I’d texted when she was still able to communicate:
“You are a fabulous woman:
and will always be so, with or without a body.”
Photo used with permission, Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK
Sacred Grieving
I began reading Grieving- the Sacred Art, Hope in the Land of Loss by Lisa Irish. Long believing death is not a medical event but a sacred one, I embraced the idea of sacred grief. Initially stunned by what Irish calls “a swirl of painful and overwhelming emotions,” I felt validated by her words, accepting that my moments of disorientation were sacramental emotions. Irish promised that if I did not identify grief as ‘the problem’ it would become ‘the solution’ and offer me hidden gifts.
The first gift was an opportunity to vigil at my mother’s bedside. Though I was not new to this process, the intimate ministry of care for someone I adored was as riveting as it was taxing. ‘Profound’ remains one of the few useful words for this time.
Photo used with permission,
Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK
In the months since my mother’s death, I have received more of grief’s gifts: peace, wisdom, and gratitude. Glimpses of siblings’ grief have proven that we all walk personal paths through loss. My long held advocacy of the value of condolence notes, was affirmed. After I shared the news of my mother’s death--along with the narrative obituary I’d composed, the arrival of sympathy cards and supportive emails became an invaluable balm. I shared most of them with my family, thus multiplying their comforting impact. As the Condolence Coach, I reversed my rigid opposition to electronic condolence; for expediency and privacy, it has a place.
Sacred grieving deepened my spirituality. I celebrate my mother’s legacy of preferences and mannerisms. I believe her soul remains within reach through love. I find that memories should be curated-- as enduring or disposable. I strive to avoid regrets-- those shoulda, coulda, woulda’s-- which only sour the sweet gift of recollections.
Am I done grieving? Deadlines and calendar pages have no place in this sacred experience. I have--and will have--days of longing for my mother.
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In 2014, I reblogged Elaine Stillwell's article, An Emergency Kit For a Bad Day . She stressed the importance of self-care, and the value of being prepared for the unexpected "black days" that can arise after a loss. My emergency kit also includes outdoor exercise, meditation moments, gratitude for a birdsong greeting, the surprise of a heart rock in the trail, and volunteering in my community. These are the stepping stones for my inner peace, one day at a time.
Photo used with permission: Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK
The memorial service was on Saturday afternoon at 2 o'clock, but my newly widowed neighbor had advised: come around 1:30 because it will get busy.
Our community has a sizable population of seniors. We enjoy varied interests, often volunteer, we have setbacks and sickness, we die.
You know how it is with neighbors
You connect with some, others are strangers but you know their car or truck. David was a good guy and being really sick didn't make him a hermit. If you needed a ride or a tool or advice about a snake in your yard--he was your go-to-guy. But he died.
We'd been to his bedside once hospice took over. His grip on my hand was fierce as he searched his weary brain for Bible citations, asking his wife to pull the Good Book down from a high shelf. Lisa opted for an iPad Concordance. Verses were read, but his hunger would not be met by the sagging slice of blueberry pie nearby. David was ready to harvest the crop of his life's sowing.
Led by David's widow to the front row at the memorial, we were greeted warmly before the service, by dozens of the congregation. 'Neighbors' had embarrassingly-exalted status here. Over and over, with handshakes and smiles, I repeated our appreciation for the family we came to support.
The designated speaker, Lamar, shared his own story of David's skill, kindness, and 'righteousness.' This go-to-guy had touched many lives. Reaching for a sheet, Lamar said, "Let me share from a note that Lisa received."
I began to hear my own words..."We were very saddened to not have more time with David. He lived the love-thy-neighbor Golden Rule..."
Photo used with permission:
Jim Hunter, Fairbanks, AK
Writing a condolence note, sharing your thoughts and memories in a sympathy card, is a gesture that touches more lives than you may imagine. It is a wonderful prospect, really: you have written to one person (in this case, David's wife) and yet, all who visited Lisa after the death, read-- and were comforted by-- the cards she had received. This is why a handwritten condolence note is so much more valuable than an electronic message: it can be shared in a way that resonates with deeply-felt presence.
Don't let the prospect of unexpected readers scare you off!
My Top 5 Keys for a Comforting Condolence Note
is a reliable aid; using two or three Keys is all it takes for a sensitive and comforting note.
I am very sorry.
I feel so fortunate to have known (use name) because___.
You have been a wonderful ___ (state relationship and cite an example, if possible.)
I was recently introduced to May Sarton's evocative poems, and found Siobhan's blog to read All Souls in its complete form...
It could be said that a thousand poets, a thousand balladeers, and some of the greatest literary writers concur:
Love and grief are an inescapable and bittersweet pair.
Sarton's poem, titled for the day of alms giving and prayer on behalf of the dead, describes how losing a loved one will be a lifelong experience. We will "Remember and forget, forget, remember."
But rather than feel condemned to sorrow and longing, Sarton, like many other writers, describes the gift of memories and the softening of their edges, over time. A regret or lingering resentment becomes like the faint shadow from an old stain, and one may "feel new-cherished, new-forgiven." Therefore, in grief, be patient with yourself and others. Accept the mystery and the gift of this inescapable twining. Perhaps you will agree:
"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Alfred Lord Tennyson
All Souls - May Sarton
Did someone say that there would be an end,
An end, Oh, an end, to love and mourning?
Such voices speak when sleep and waking blend,
The cold bleak voices of the early morning
When all the birds are dumb in dark November—
Remember and forget, forget, remember.
After the false night, warm true voices, wake!
Voice of the dead that touches the cold living,
Through the pale sunlight once more gravely speak.
Tell me again, while the last leaves are falling:
“Dear child, what has been once so interwoven
Cannot be raveled, nor the gift ungiven.”
Now the dead move through all of us still glowing,
Mother and child, lover and lover mated,
Are wound and bound together and enflowing.
What has been plaited cannot be unplaited—
Only the strands grow richer with each loss
And memory makes kings and queens of us.
Dark into light, light into darkness, spin.
When all the birds have flown to some real haven,
We who find shelter in the warmth within,
Listen, and feel new-cherished, new-forgiven,
As the lost human voices speak through us and blend
Our complex love, our mourning without end.
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Care for yourself, care for each other. Thank you for caring!
Considering the dozens--even hundreds of books you've lugged in your school bookbag or backpack over the years, there was always one missing.
There is no handbook for life.
We learn as we go: by example and by experience. This is the story of a young college student suddenly faced with the death of her dad. She wasn't given a handbook for that significant journey, either. But eleven years after the death, Michelle calls the grieving process "one of my greatest teachers."
This week’s blog feels like a bit of a doozy, but to be honest, it’s a topic that I feel like I’ve been yearning to write about for close to 10 years. Perhaps for catharsis, or for inspiration, we will see. Truthfully, the impetus and inspiration for the blog this week came from a popular television show, as odd as that might sound! I am a super fan of the show This Is Us. I find it very relatable, cathartic, and thought provoking.
For those of you who don’t watch the show, the most recent episodes dealt with a very tragic and unexpected loss of one of the main characters.The loss of this character felt devastating, and while watching I kept wondering what I would do if in that situation. How would I deal? Can you imagine one day having someone in your life and then the next day not? Unimaginable loss.
After a moment, I realized that I didn’t have to imagine too hard. I brought myself back to my own reality. That story is my story. I have been there in my own way, and it took me a minute to own that I, too, am a person who has experienced tragic, unexpected loss. But I also know that I am not alone. It happens to people every day. Likely many of us have experienced an unexpected loss, a tragedy, an injustice, a sadness…and it is brutal.
I’ll share a bit about my own story and then I’ll delve into what I know now and what I wish I’d known then.
When I was 21 and just about to go back to college for my senior year, my mom and I booked a girls trip to California. Upon arrival after a five hour flight across the country, I turned on my phone to find dozens of concerning text messages regarding the wellbeing of my dad. I will never forget returning a call from my step-dad in a chipper tone to let him know we had arrived, only for him to respond with a very stoic, “I need to speak to your mother.” I will never forget the knowingness in my gut that something was very wrong, that was shortly confirmed by my mom’s expression on the phone. No words had been spoken, but I knew. My dad has unexpectedly passed in his sleep.
I will never forget the feeling of still sitting on an airplane on the tarmac at LAX trying to come to terms with the news and also trying to figure out how on earth would we be able to get home. We luckily were able
On the flight back to Florida after we received the news.
to find a flight back east that day, however, I’ll also never forget the five hour flight back (pre-wifi days), where I had to sit with myself in silence and in shock and contemplate what had just happened to my life.
My dad was a huge part of my life, we had our issues of course, but he was one of my favorite people.
It feels like there is nothing that can prepare you for events such as these, but I’ve learned so much stemming from that day close to 11 years ago, on loss, grief, acceptance, growth, rage, and a whole slew of emotions. I’ve been a witness to its process. It’s probably been my biggest teacher.
So when I watched this TV show recently, and witnessed this loss again, it took me back to that moment on the plane, and it got me thinking. Tragedy is everywhere, and it feels insurmountable when it’s happening. Losses can rock us to our core, bring us to our knees, and immediately change the courses of our lives. There’s no way around it.
So I asked myself, what would I have wished I had known before life took it’s turn?
This is what I came up with:
Life is fragile.It sounds cliche but when it happens to you, you know that in any moment life can go upside down. Though much easier to do in retrospect, try to take in and savor the moments of your life that are unfolding right now.
Me and my dad (circa 1987)
Life is a gift.This really puts a lot into perspective for me. I find the pettiness and shallowness of ordinary life falls away when I remember that it is a blessing to be alive, especially with loved ones surrounding me.
Life is messy. It’s silly to expect every day to be rainbows and butterflies. The bad isn’t necessarily bad. It’s preparation. Take each hit and learn from it, you never know the value it will bring you in the future.
Life has purpose.Every moment is brought to us for a reason. We are living our own unique lives on purpose. Our stories are precious and our paths are unchartered.
Life is unpredictable.We just don’t know when life will swoop us up and change our course, so be present, be gracious, be passionate, and be grateful. Life is ever changing, this moment never stays the same.
After writing all this down, I then thought it might be nice to give you a little bonus!
It’s great to have the lessons before, but it’s also really helpful to know the biggest lessons learned after too.
There are no rules to heartbreak.You don’t have to follow anyone’s mold of how to cope. Allow yourself to feel in your own time, space, and pace.
The new normal is uncomfortable. When managing a loss it’s very uncomfortable because there is something in your life that is missing, that can’t return. It’s a new normal. Be gentle with yourself and you slowly acquaint yourself with life as it is now.
Reflect back, but don’t live there.I can’t tell you how many times I’ve relived moments with my dad. Sometimes it feels very torturous, sometimes cathartic. Allow yourself to take in the memories, but try not to live there. Hold close to what has happened, but be present in the now.
Don’t compare yourself to anyone else’s journey.There are times that I have downplayed my own heartbreak because in my mind it wasn’t “tragic enough.” Whatever that means. If you’re going through something that’s difficult for you, it’s exactly that. Difficult for you. It doesn’t matter the degree of difficulty. Comparison in heartbreak is a game that no one wins.
Allow yourself to feel.After my dad died I was really an emotional mess. I was young and going through a lot and had a lot of emotions. Sometimes I would get down on myself for “not being over it yet.” I vividly remember someone close to me saying that I get a whole year after he died to just cope. That brought me a sense of relief in the moment, but when that year passed I thought to myself, “Does this mean I all of a sudden have to act as if I’m okay”? The truth is the feelings are always just below the surface, even now, and I no longer try to push them away. When they come, I feel them, but I don’t let them consume me.
Get help as often as needed.Having a trusted team of support is crucial. I would not be a functioning human if it wasn’t for my family, my counselors, my therapists, my coaches, and my true friends. And I have no problem being vulnerable enough to ask for their help, when I need it. Even now. This also goes for outside the times of crisis, but especially true in these circumstances.
The last birthday that I was able to celebrate with my dad (2006).
Cultivate a new relationship on your own terms.It wouldn’t be a Peaceful Mind Peaceful Life blog without a little bit of woo. One of the most comforting aspects of losing a loved one is the ability to cultivate a relationship even after they’ve passed. I still talk to my dad, I ask for signs from him. We have a new relationship now, and it’s absolutely perfect. He is my cheerleader on the other side, and he helps me in so many ways. So if you’ve lost someone, you can miss their physicality, but remember you can still have them in spirit.
Phew! I told you this one would be a doozy! I really hope that any of you who have experienced a loss or something of this nature finds some sort of comfort from this blog. Please remember that this is all my own personal experience and not meant to be an all-encompassing “how-to” but simply my take on it all.
xo
Michelle
The Condolence Coach confesses... I was tired of reflexively clicking on one or two news sites only to scroll through a sea of stories about humans behaving badly! With a simple keyword search, I discovered the antidote to trashy news. Read more gentle wisdom to "make your everyday life an inspired life" at Peaceful Mind Peaceful Life.org
To learn more about supporting a grieving teen: Condolence to Teens Share this story... and Thank you for caring!
I have a strong suspicion that many readers have not considered writing a condolence note to a relative. Do you recognize these 6 excuses?
We see each other a lot.
I just saw them at the service.
We call, text, or Facebook each other.
Writing seems so formal.
I'd rather give a hug than a letter.
They'll find out I'm not a writer.
When Grandma died in the airport
I do write condolences to relatives, and readers of my book remember the story of Grandma's death in an airport restroom. Awful, right? Now imagine how frightened, panicked, and devastated her family felt. Grandpop and my father waited in the terminal while my mother accompanied her mother to the ladies room. "I don't feel well. I need to sit down," moaned Grandma as she sunk to the floor. Being a practical woman, she unpinned her 'corset money' from an undergarment, which she earned from bead and crochet crafts, and handed it to her daughter. My mother felt so powerless to render comfort other than her presence. And by the time an EMT team arrived, Grandma had succumbed to the heart attack.
Yes, I wrote a note to my mother! It's in the book. For losses spanning human, pet, job and other difficult life circumstance, I have written condolences to my father, siblings, sisters-and-mother-in-law, aunts, uncles and cousins.
Relatives are people, too
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The reasons for writing a condolence are universal. You are striving to lend support and a few moments of comfort. You have many advantages in being a relative: you likely have one or several special memories--including photos, to share; in fact, your relationship and likely interactions with the deceased are unique, increasing the likelihood of a unique memory! Did your uncle recognize an interest or talent and give you a nurturing gift? Did you pet-sit for your sister's cat and discover something special in its golden-eyed gaze? Did your brother-in-law help you move after a divorce? These memories can be shared, thanks and appreciation can be expressed. Did you watch your aging mother-in-law make--and lose--friend after friend?
The comfort that your note delivers does not--should not--be wrapped in complex, philosophical or religious explanations. You are 'off the hook' to take away pain, map out the future, or give wise advice. Just be sincere. Now, more than ever, real handwritten, hold-in-the-hand condolences are treasures. They are re-read during quiet and lonely times; they are shared with others; they provide what the digital age cannot.
6 Tips for writing to a relative
Let me caution you: if you think that buying a lovely card and writing "so sorry for your loss, she will be missed" is adequate, please click on the links peppered throughout this post for a quick, comprehensive review of condolence writing. You don't need to use all 6 tips at once. Think about the deceased and the recipient, then listen to your heart.
Acknowledge the loss and express sympathy: "I am so sorry this day has come; Terry's death leaves an empty space."
Acknowledge the relationship: "Your sister, Mary, knew she could count on you."
Share a classic, well known memory: "Bailey's greeting at the door always made me smile."
Share a personal/unique memory: "Uncle Rick saw my creative side and gave me a set of pastel crayons." (Never break a confidence, or share cruel or embarrassing memories.)
Offer encouragement and/or help: "I know you're facing a big job to ready the house for sale, so remember: my truck and my time are at your service."
Express gratitude for the recipient or deceased: "You were so supportive to Elsa, especially when she couldn't feed herself; it taught me a lot about compassion."
Which relative should I write to?
Who is the next-of-kin? Who do you have a connection to? If you are closer to your cousin than to your aunt who just lost her husband, it's okay to write to your cousin; he or she will probably share the note.
Should I write to more than one relative?
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You certainly can, but don't feel pressured to blow through a 12-pack of note cards. While considering which relative to write to, your heart will put checkmarks by those you want to express sympathy to. Attending a visitation or service allows you to touch base with many people, which can 'winnow' the roster of notes. Review your memories and your emotional, heartfelt responses; if you feel the impulse, writing two or three simple and caring notes is lovely.
When should I write?
We write condolence notes even when we attend services. If you can be present for gatherings, consider delaying your note until after; you will return to your desk ready to share feelings and observations with enriched awareness of:
the scope of a family and community's shared affection
life details you did not know such as quiet achievements and talents, branch of military service, significant dates
Expressing sympathy when you do not know the deceased
It happens so often: a co-worker, a friend or neighbor loses a loved one--someone you have never met. In fact, the extent of your awareness may range from "mom's in assisted living," to a complete void of personal information. What can you possibly say about someone you know little about? Let's take a look in my book...
The suggested condolence writing principle is to Find a common ground and stand together. Begin with some information gathering; it is okay to ask:
What is his/her name? How old is he/she?
If a brief conversation is possible, you can ask for more life details:
What kind of work did he/she do?
Did he/she have siblings or children?
With this information, you may begin to do some life comparison; what are those fields of common ground? In the basic news of the death such as "Jenny's mother died," you immediately learn the relationship, which can trigger your own thoughts on having and/or grieving a mother.
Another piece of common ground is memories. Everyone has them; every relationship and experience creates them. Though you do not know the deceased, you can invite your co-worker to reflect on memories and discover their comfort. After a death, memories can flow in from different seas of life--the happy and the regretful. Acknowledging basic truths like purpose and life contribution, love, legacy--are ways to honor the deceased without intruding.
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Let me tell you about a recent experience where I did not know the deceased
The brother of a friend had died, out of state. I learned of the death while trying to make social plans; our friend would be back East for a couple weeks to attend the memorial service and catch up with extended family. In order to personalize my condolence, I asked for the brother's name and if he had children. I began recalling a visit we'd had at a local restaurant; chatting about our hometowns and early Midwestern lives, anecdotes were shared about growing up in large families. I remembered the chuckles and warm feelings shared, and knew these would be the essence of my note: reminding my friend (addressed to husband and wife) of the warm adventures he enjoyed with "Marty." I also noted the continued importance of their role as aunt and uncle to the surviving adult children--how special that connection will be, even at a distance. Mentioning their aunt and uncle roles allowed me to express appreciation for "their side" of the relationship. Another way to do this could be to comment on their way of cherishing family history.
(Note: If you have had a personal experience facing the death of the same relative, you may share a brief comment on the impact of that type of loss, but do not make this note about you!) When our friend received the note, he phoned to thank me for the most memorable and comforting condolence he had ever read or received.
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Become familiar with my Key Comforts, which are described extensively in the book. These are tools for composing your note. Like opening your tool box to get the right size screwdriver, choose a few Key Comforts that fit the situation. They include: Sharing the loss, sharing a well-known memory, gratitude for the deceased’s life, and appreciation for a quality of the survivor.
This is the first in a series of posts about what it is like to live with Alzheimer's Disease, what comes after the death, and how to compassionately support a family during this journey.
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Those of us on the "outside" of a family facing Alzheimer's Disease, assume they are experiencing the 'evaporation' of a dear person. Yes, there are changes to a familiar personality, but in this post, we will learn a critical fact:
"There's is a person in there."
Responding to the common labelling of dementia as 'the long goodbye', Richard Taylor, Ph.D.mused:"When you hear the diagnosis, you feel like you are dying; as people hear of your diagnosis, they start saying 'goodbye'. Instead, please say 'hello!'
At the age of 58, Dr. Taylor was diagnosed with probable Alzheimer's type dementia. A founding member of Dementia Alliance International, Dr. Taylor served for more than a decade as "an advocate and global voice for people with dementia," until his cancer death on July 25, 2015.
I encourage readers to see any of his films or read his insight-filled memoir, Alzheimer's From the Inside Out. After viewing Be With Me Today, I threw several assumptions (and a first draft of this post) out the window. Dr. Taylor's key points are:
"I am a whole person; I may be different but I am not half empty."
Our assumption that someone is "a shell" of who they once were is erroneous.
"We flourish in a different culture. Cognitive decline is real but there can be growth and learning, too!"
"While losingthe ability to convey thoughts, sometimes behavior becomes the voice."
We assume that behavior changes must be 'handled,' and that lessening inhibitions are a problem.
Instead, these are doorways for new experiences if families and caregivers "partner" with the person--asking and offering the chance to dabble in singing or other self-expression.
"We need enablers, not disablers:
Allow us to be who we are.
Allow us to have dignity and a sense of purpose.
Look for ways to be supportive instead of punitive or controlling."
Is the family's journey all about 'anticipatory grief'?
All of the "we used to do's" and "she was so good at's" press on hearts because it's not just about the person with the disease: your life has irrevocably changed, too. Changing roles brought on by changing abilities, affect running the household, expressing intimacy, and socializing.
The Alzheimer's Association provides myriad resources, including peer-to-peer support groups and online message boards, to help families learn and cope with the disease. Comments on this journey, shared on alzconnected.org message boards, include:
The Detour of an Alzheimer's Diagnosis
"I woke up feeling like I can not do it anymore. I pray all the time that God will give me the strength to keep going." "No one really understands. You say 'cancer' and everyone bows their head with compassion. You say heart attack, stroke, or any other bloody thing and you get uninhibited support. But you say dementia and most of the time it's the big blank stare...It's a lonely disease filled with heartbreak that can stretch out over years and years, with no clear pattern and no predictability." "We should be enjoying our retirement years, but this detour wasn't in our plans."
A Compassionate Response
A compassionate response to the Long Goodbye begins as a listener. In various settings, I have found myself listening to a caregiver pour out weariness and frustration. Give someone five minutes of your time; let them vent. It helps.
Sometimes, just offering a little unrelated humor loosens tension like a deep breath:
a line from a sitcom, a cartoon from the newspaper, or one of those 'kids say the darndest things' viral emails or YouTube videos.
If you are able to provide some support during the caregiving phase: a respite visit, chores, a nourishing treat--it helps.
Suggestions for a Respite Visit
As I continue to harvest insights from Dr. Taylor's memoir, I'd like to share a few of his suggestions for supporting the person with the disease, during a visit:
SING and HUM.
Anything from children's songs to hymns to well-known commercial jingles (especially those from the early years of the person (long term memory).
Sing out loud--loudly! "It's much more satisfying if done with all of your body instead of just between your ears."
Richard says, "singing helps me feel that I am feeling okay and, in fact, good."
"Humming makes your lips, mouth, and throat feel good."
LISTEN TO AUDIO CHILDREN'S BOOKS.
During Richard's decline, he spent a great deal of time with his young grandchildren, and one of their favorite shared activities was reading books. As Richard's reading skills declined toward those of his five year old granddaughter, they shared some of the task.
Listening to children's audio books is quite entertaining. With different character voices, music and sound effects, it is very entertaining. If possible, have the print book (loaded with illustrations, of course) to share, as you listen.
Keep in mind that individual preferences do exist--and change. And remember, this person you are visiting, IS A PERSON. Here are more suggestions from Dr. Taylor:
Make eye contact.
Use the person's name, often.
Speak slowly but, unless you have been told he or she has hearing loss, do not raise your voice.
Accentuate the positive and spend time exploring their recollections (of long term memories.)
Listen.
Pause from time to time and ask: "How are you? Shall we do this some more?"
Acknowledge responses and participation by saying 'thank you.'
Your expressions speak volumes; yes, this disease is confusing from the inside and the outside: Smile!
