BFFs Die, Too: bridging a best friend's death

What is a best friend?

 I found Chelsea Fagan's exploration of the "best friend" title thoughtful:

"We often take for granted how precious a thing it is to be a best friend, how many people can’t freely use that term, how many have never experienced that very particular kind of love. When you think about it, to pronounce someone in your life as being more important than all of those other friends somehow, as being on a different plane of relationship that, despite not being romantic, is still profoundly important, is incredible."

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Jean with Sally, BFF & fellow Riveter

Jean: 94 years of friendships

This is Jean's story of outliving friends and 99% of her extended family (not including her children, grand and great-grandkids.) She describes an enduring belief  in the benefit of such closeness, even though she has had numerous losses.

"My cousins and I were really close. We did so much together, which continued even after we were all married. Those cousins and my aunts are all gone." 

Born and raised into her adulthood in the thriving Polish community of Hamtramck, Michigan, Jean worked as a Rosie-the-Riveter, and made friends easily. These were the golden years for BFF fun: Belle Isle picnics, the Put-in-Bay amusement park on Lake Erie in Ohio, league bowling with co-workers, nightclub evenings of dancing with soldiers and drinking “Zombies.” As a married mother of four, Jean continued to enjoy friendships with cousins, and many women from her neighborhood, church, volunteering, and bowling leagues.

Jean scratches a visitor's back

Now at 94, Jean lives in an upbeat assisted living facility. The staff and other residents are her new friends and neighbors. Before deciding on a small studio apartment, Jean visited Evelyn's brightly lit studio (across the hall from the vacancy,) saw the clever arrangement of furniture, and admired the hospitality potential of a new sleeper sofa. Jean and Evelyn became best friends.

Friendships in older life are fragile

"I sit at a dining table and have friends; they die and a new person is assigned. Sometimes if they're sick, you feel bad, cause you enjoyed things together, like playing cards or bingo. And then when they die, and a new person moves in, I might hesitate to get close. Evelyn was my last good friend at the table. I often think about friendships; Evelyn's daughter, Denise, is my best friend, now."

Levels of loss

I asked Jean if losing an elderly friend is as hard as other losses (husband, cousin, grandchild)?
"When Evelyn died, I thought,'at least she's not suffering.' I'll think of our good times, and that way, they're never forgotten. I think the grief does depend on the closeness and at my age, I accept that I am going to lose people. I just wonder when it's going to be my turn." 

Darci: Wonderful memories

After courageously vigiling at her friend Patrice's deathbed, Darci found comfort in composition as well as acts of remembrance. An expressive writer, professionally and personally, Darci posted a tribute to Facebook on the eighth year of her friend's absence:

"Tonight my friend Beverly and I went out to celebrate the birthday of our friend Patrice, who passed away from complications due to glioblastoma in 2008. We shared lots of fun memories about her, and it was happy-sad, to say the least. So many wonderful memories came flooding back as we reminisced.

 

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I remember long talks about everything and nothing; listening to her play the piano, and being swept away by the musical beauty she created. Working in her garden, drinking coffee, playing poker, walking her dogs, and going to Vegas. Laughing together at nothing. Sharing silence. How I miss that friendship, how I've never had anything quite like it since, and how her not being here anymore still pricks something so deep within. How is it that I STILL see someone who looks like her and I freeze for a split second and honestly think she's still alive? At some level I wonder if our minds are simply incapable of truly comprehending death. The pain has lessened over the years, yes. Yet the fond memories are as vivid as ever. How lucky I am that Patrice was my friend."

I asked Darci if the length and depth of friendship have a bearing on the pain of its loss.
"Absolutely. The closer I am to someone impacts the depth of grief I feel. Comparison: When my grandfather died at the age of 99 (four days shy of 100,) of course I was very sad. But his death was the natural end to a long life. I loved him, but I wasn't as emotionally close to him as I was to my friend Patrice, whose untimely death shook me to the core."

The Condolence Coach approached the topic of best friends, with a concern that the grief would be minimized as "outside" the roster of core relatives. Darci's experience was a good one:
"I have received many nice words in response to my writings about Patrice--which, for me, has been a way to process my grief".

Just getting started

Blogger, Chelsea Fagan, explored the distinction of "best" in a friendship. It is a coveted title, and not used lightly. A BFF is the receptacle for--and companion to-- life's moments and emotions, from incidental to earth shattering. As a child, I would run down the block to my best friend's house. Today, the smart phone redefines immediacy. Truncating the lifeline between best friends is a terrible amputation. I asked Darci, as you have grieved, have you had regrets?
"I wish we had had more time together--I think we were friend for only 2-3 years, but it felt like we had been friends forever."

When your bestie had died, who is left to listen?

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Ellie Crystal, counsels taking as much time as you need to heal, but if unremitting depression occurs, consider finding professional support. The space where that special person resided in your heart and mind, is fragile. "Best friends return to us in many spiritual ways, dreams, paranormal manifestations and movements, other reminders that allow us to know that they are still with us. Yet it is not the same. You want your best friend back so you can talk to them and share." 

The Texas Women's University Counseling Center suggests:
"One of the best ways to help yourself is to talk about your loss with someone who is caring and concerned, someone who can understand your need to talk about it. Often just talking with a close friend can soften the feelings...counteract some of the feelings of loneliness a death evokes. Typically, we need to go over and over the feelings and the experiences before we can begin to accept what has happened. Sometimes as survivors we feel as though we may be burdening our family and friends with our need to talk. If this feeling occurs, seeking help from a counselor is probably a good idea."

Bridging a crevasse with condolence 

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The friend "left behind" may be doing her own journaling, and many thoughts will be passed around through social media. Darci shares her tributes on Facebook. But the Coach encourages you to write a condolence note somewhere in the midst of electronic compassion. Just as a good friendship is enduring, your note can be, too. A condolence gift of a journal would be a lovely aid for this. Consider writing your condolence in the form of a dedication, on the first page:

"You have had one of life's best treasures: a best friend. Though [use name] has died, he/she lives on in your heart and mind." 

You may add one or two other observations or appreciative thoughts to that dedication; some ideas are:

• Express Appreciation for the deceased and/or for the survivor
• Share Memories
• Make Little Observations...
• a special moment or helpful influence
• what you respect or admire
• valued qualities or talents shared
• If you have at one time, lost a best friend, you can share a thought about how you moved through your grief.

Thank you for caring!

Climbing Out of Deep Space: through and beyond grief

My friend, artist Suzy St. John recently posted some new images on her blog. The group is titled:

Throwback to High School Ceramics:  Pinch Pot Figures

Suzy shared her thoughts about them:

"The pinch pot was and still is my favorite work of art. I was a high school student and it came from those angst ridden feelings most teenagers experience. I still relate to that piece!"

Each pot creates a very deep well of space. 

Is it a place to hide and feel safe? Is it a dark place--where you may feel lost? I think that space (like silence) is something that many in western culture are uncomfortable with. Like the figures, we are more at ease outside, surrounded by active people, stuff, sounds, structures. did you notice my use of the term 'active people'?  I recently wrote about our culture's unease with people during their grief and re-adjustment. In Stop Pushing the Bereaved, I suggested that after a death, taking a break from life's typical vibrancy is a sane response to a sudden deep well of space. 

Caregiving during a loved one's end of life "fills the pot" of each day. 

When caregiving ends, the tasks that fill the pot abate. But you are different. You do not bounce back like a rubber band released. Honoring the changes is an important step. 

The Compassionate Friends, an international support network for parents who have lost a child, share a message with newly bereaved moms and dads. Finding The New Me, explains that grief is work that takes time. It is not a straight line on a map. 

"You will learn coping skills from other bereaved parents who, like you, never thought they'd survive." 

Coping skills develop over time.

Learning what feels okay, how to manage when it doesn't feel okay, and how to tackle a new (scary) experience, involve trial and error, courage and cowering, agony and the flutter of recognition that you managed to do something you had dreaded. In this last pinch pot image, Suzy's figures are experimenting:

• Will my grip on this edge hold?
• Can I lift my leg that high?
• Do I have the strength to support my partner?
• Is it okay to enjoy this moment?

Pinch Pot Figures by Suzy St. John
Used with permission

Do you know someone climbing out of deep space? 

The Condolence Coach suggests the following ideas to encourage or assist them:

• Be lavish with confidence boosters. Whenever an opportunity arises, offer positive reinforcement. It doesn't have to be a big deal, but spot something and express: 
• You do that so well... 
• You were so patient when... 
• Would you show me how to... 
• You have a remarkable... 
• Thanks for telling me about... 
• Turn off your urge to criticize or advise. Even if your friend describes stresses or struggles, you are most valuable as a listener, acknowledging the matter with simple phrases: 
• What a bummer... 
• That stuff is confusing... 
• You'll find a way... 
• That's not easy to talk about, thank you for trusting me... 
• Would a hug help? 
• Keep talking about the deceased loved one. Freely bring up stories, anecdotes, admiring comments. You are not causing pain! The loved one will always live in the heart and memory. 
• Give your friend the gift of judgement-free time. 
• Take time off for yourself, too. 
• Let intuition guide you on when to be present and encouraging. Remember, your friend's grief work and healing are not your "mission". It's not "all up to you."

For some fresh reflections and insights on grief and time, read:

"You Didn't Waste Any Time" and other reactions

Thank you for caring!

From MIA to RIP: A One Year Anniversary Reflection

One of my most frequently read posts continues to be the riveting story, Missing In Action! A Soldier's Sister Keeps Vigil.
After 44 years, in May, 2014, Sue Scott's dear brother began his Final Journey Home.  With the anniversary approaching, I asked Sue to share her reflections.

Doug’s Return, One Year Later

"It has been a year since Captain Douglas Ferguson, USAF, MIA December 30, 1969, was identified and made his Final Journey Home..."

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There is satisfaction and peace that Doug is home and at rest, and that Linda (his widow) has a place to visit Doug, as do others.  One day I too will be able to visit and know in my heart that all has been done and that his marker reflects who he was and how he was cherished!

In this last year, I have allowed myself to feel the pain of losing someone so dear.  I have listened and continue to listen to ‘50s Hits on XM that take me back to our youth and the sweet sorrow of knowing that, even on his 70th birthday, he will never be older than the handsome Air Force pilot who I said goodbye to as he stepped aboard the plane at Lambert-St.Louis Airport in July, 1969.

Though he met our two oldest sons as infants, he never knew them as the wonderful, successful human beings they have become.  He never met our youngest son who was born three years after he was shot down over Laos.  He never met any of their wives or any of his great-nephews and nieces. We never got to know his children that might have been.

He never had to see the pain of our father’s broken heart at his son, of whom he was so proud; or the dementia that ravished our mother’s mind when she could no longer stand the pain of not knowing the fate of her beloved son.

One of the last things I said to her as she passed from this earth was, “Now you are going to be with Doug!”  She seemed at peace!  Or maybe he did know!  It would have been one of his biggest regrets that he might have been the cause.

Even bigger than the pain his plight caused our parents would have been the pain his loss brought to the love of his life, Linda and the years of being together, of which they were robbed.

We cannot dwell in the “House of What If’s”, but we do need to know that we can travel through our grief and find the precious memories that will sustain us the rest of our lives.  Though this has not been the journey I would have chosen, I am proud to say I have kept the commitment, I made in early February, 1970, and that was to bring Doug home.  On that journey I have done things and gone places beyond my wildest dreams.  It was an opportunity to rise from a devastating loss and make a life far “richer” than I ever could have imagined.

Now a year since Doug’s return, I know my journey is not yet complete because too many with whom I have travelled, do not yet have answers, including Captain Wes Featherstone, USAF, the front seater in Doug’s F-4D aircraft.  It is because I know the joy and peace that can be the Final Gift, I still have work to do……to help sustain others so they can continue their search, their quest for the return of their loved ones…..to fulfill the Promise our country made to their loved ones when they left family and friends to serve and to possibly make the ultimate sacrifice for our Freedom.

What great gifts I have been given!  Why me?

I don’t know for sure, but this is what I believe: God has great gifts for each of us!  Our job is to be open to his abundance! That in itself is a life-time journey to learn to trust God for all things!  To know that though I may choose my own way, it is not always God’s way. I may not be ready at a given moment in time, to accept God’s gifts…….think of Moses and his people wandering in the wilderness for 40 years.  They didn't seem to be ready to hear God’s message.  I know I am not always ready to hear and trust in God’s messages either, but for Doug, I am grateful that I was able to listen, trust and therefore find enormous peace.

God Bless You Doug!  And, God Bless each One of You!"

Read treasured memories and tributes, and browse photos of Doug's life and Final Journey Home, on the Forever Missed memorial site.

Sue's strength is remarkable but she has "paid her dues" on that path through grief. The Condolence Coach reminds readers that anniversary notes are a very special comfort. For suggestions on how to compose this note, read: When Little Birds Chirp: Anniversary Notes.

Thank you for caring!

Angels Above Baby Gowns: Heartbeats and Lightening Bolts

A few of the sweet creations

Readers of The Condolence Coach may remember my introductory post, Angels Above Baby Gowns: Soothing a Terrible Loss. This organization uses donated wedding dresses to sew burial gowns for infants.
I wanted to learn more about the women who gave their wedding dresses in support of parents whose baby didn't come home from the hospital. Teri and Melanie shared their stories in Angels Above Baby Gowns: Someday I'll Meet My Brothers. Pamela and Sharlene shared their stories in: Angels Above Baby Gowns: A Time to Tear and a Time to Mend.
How do hospitals get the angel gowns? Read: Delivery At A Birthing Center

Some moments in life come like lightening bolts. Janene Johnson has been struck, twice. 

The Myths About Grief and Getting Over It

Whenever I return from the library with a tote bag full of books (and a check out duration of three-weeks!) I am excited and reassured. As pockets of time open, I can disappear into a story, a topic, an introspective stroll.

On a recent trip, I hiked up the two flights of stairs to scour the 'New Non-Fiction' display. My haul included a book about the anthropology behind the paleo diet, a humorous memoir about a family's move to Vermont and, a book titled,

Moving Beyond Loss (c. 2013) by Russell Friedman and John W. James

Pulling it off the shelf, I liked the Question and Answer format of the book which is subtitled, Real Answers to Real Questions From Real People. The authors dive right into a compassionate defense of all who mourn, with the suggestion that we get a lot of confusing messages about grieving.

Angels Above Baby Gowns: Someday I'll Meet My Brothers

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Readers of The Condolence Coach may remember my introductory post, Angels Above Baby Gowns: Soothing a Terrible Loss. This organization uses donated wedding dresses to sew burial gowns for infants.
I wanted to learn more about the women who gave their wedding dresses in support of parents whose baby didn't come home from the hospital...

Someday I'll Meet My Brothers...
Part 1. 

"As she was dying, I told my mother:  I can't wait for you to see the boys!"

Carol Amundsen Noe and Teri Joseph
August, 2014

Remembering the final August days they shared, Teri Joseph's voice thickens with emotion. "I was born 40 years ago (in September)--a triplet! When my brothers, Russell and Frederick, and I left our crowded but happy womb, we each weighed two pounds."

Teri laments that in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) of the 1970's, parents were not permitted to enter the Unit to touch, hold, feed, or change the diapers of their delicate newborn. Skilled nurses assumed all care responsibility. But when the babies were 5 days old, Carol and John Noe were told that the boys had died. Baby daughter, Teri, after awhile, made it home. 

"Russell and Frederick were buried in diapers."

Their whisper-quiet departure--sterile from birth to burial, flooded Teri's heart when she discovered the Facebook page for a Garden City, Michigan organization called:

Angels Above Baby Gowns

"I had sold my wedding dress at a garage sale, but now I was settling my mother's estate and here was her lovely gown, still in amazing condition. During her engagement, she had traveled to Rome to witness her brother's ordination as a priest. So her dress was a real Italian creation in satin." Teri slipped the dress into a Priority Mail envelope and mailed it from her home in Arizona.

Teri and her mother, Carol
Christmas, 2012

"My mother was a very strong woman of Norwegian heritage. She developed epilepsy in her youth, so she took the bus everywhere. My dad died when I was 14, and mom raised four kids (I have an older brother and two younger siblings) alone! More health crises occurred in her later years, but she never cried or felt sorry for herself.
We buried Mom next to Russell and Frederick, and I know she would love for her wedding dress to become beautiful burial gowns for babies."


Someday I'll Meet My Brothers...
Part 2.

On Christmas Day, an 11 year old girl does not want her Mommy to be in the hospital.

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But that is where Melanie Steelman's mother was in 1990. Happily expectant with twins, Julie's preterm labor could not be stopped and she delivered Aaron and Benjamin at 23 weeks.

"I had been rushed to my Grandma's house. She told me mom was very sick and that my baby brothers had died. I felt awful. Today, 20-some years later, it still makes me cry because we loved them, we named them, but my brothers just disappeared from our lives."

Her parents had chosen to donate their sons' bodies to science. No pictures were taken, and though the family attended a hospital memorial service later on, the closure of a service became a closed subject. "We never talked about Aaron and Benjamin again."

But Melanie believes that bad memories can be healed with good memories. 

Melanie Steelman with Michael
and daughters Kaitlyn (L) and Ashlynn (R)

When girlfriends posted on Facebook about ANGELS ABOVE BABY GOWNS, Melanie was inspired by the dedication of founder, Dawn Lafferty, "Everybody's time is precious-- Dawn amazes me!" 

Melanie was inspired to donate her own wedding gown. She also become a Downriver Pick-Up Point for area dress donors. "I get at least one donor email each day!" [See Angels Above Baby Gowns' Facebook page for details.]  With Dawn's help, Melanie explained the reason for the gowns to her daughters: "sometimes the babies just don't get to come home." They have cheerfully joined their mom to collect beverage cans for a DOLLAR CHALLENGE fundraiser.

"My mother would have loved using the gowns with camo bow ties for the boys." 

Melanie continued, "hospitals are doing more supportive things for grieving parents, like offering these sweet handmade burial gowns, taking baby photos and creating mementos. I know my two daughters won't want my dress when their day comes. This is how a heart can heal."

LEARN MORE!  This link provides resources for parents grieving the death of a baby.

November 2017 UPDATE:  In the words of founder, Dawn, "Angels Above Baby Gowns is still going strong. We are now in over 350 hospitals and in 5 countries. We grow bigger everyday."

Read more stories of women who support Angels Above Baby Gowns: 

A Time To Tear and A Time To Mend
Delivery At A Birthing Center
Heartbeats and Lightening Bolts

The Condolence Coach was inspired to write about Angels Above Baby Gowns by a woman who lost two grandchildren by miscarriage.  When Grandparents Grieve

Readers may also wish to visit this post about baby and children's death:  Two Too Many: Gone But Never Forgotten

When siblings experience the death of a baby brother or sister, these posts may provide good condolence guidance:  Grieving Children, Part 1,  and  Grieving Children, Part 2.

This post is a good review of responding to any child's death: 5 Things to Say When Death Strikes the Young

Grieving parents may find comfort in this peer blog:  Wanted Chosen Planned 

Keep the conversation going--share this post, and Thank you for caring!

3 Adopted Bucket Lists: Do's and Don'ts

This spring, I read a story about a young woman who decided to finish her Grandma's bucket list. 

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Does this happen often? I wondered. Increasingly so! 

Embracing the bucket lists of others provides 'instant life purpose' and a unique form of tribute. Some orphaned bucket lists 'trend' on social media and are fulfilled many times over.

Two Too Many: Gone but Never Forgotten

Meet Laura and Danny   

Every day, their mother, Phyllis, thinks of them...blows them kisses...

and carries on living without them.

Grief and Health: The Healing Powers of Condolence

Grieving puts people under tremendous stress. 

Initially-- after the death of a loved one, there are so many things to do: 

• funeral planning and the functions surrounding one
• non-stop phone calls, made and taken
• packing and vacating a care facility where the deceased spent their final weeks
• writing checks... and then writing more checks
• and many, many more tasks

Acknowledge this in your note, and step up with help, if possible.

Grieving is exhausting.

"When this is over, I am going to collapse somewhere." 

If I had a dime for every time this was said... There is a remarkable parallel between the vigilance of family surrounding a dying person, and the attention paid to an orderly and respectful disposition of the loved one's body and worldly possessions.

• at the mercy of life forces and their mystery, there is no rushing--even advance directives follow a process
• if bedside shifts are assigned, there is usually one person serving as advocate and guardian
• being lovingly in charge requires a person to stand on slippery rocks against the unceasing waves of situation

 Again, acknowledge this in your note. 

Yes, condolence has healing powers.

• There is scientific proof that feeling sincerely cared for, has an immediate impact on our health.  Blood pressure and heart rate lower, calming hormones are released.
• Writing a condolence note is an act of compassion, and its healing powers touch the writer, too! 
• A well-written, hold-it-in-your-hand condolence note will be read many times, and with each reading, a healing moment is experienced!

Thank you for caring.

Replacing painful memories with good

THOUGH WE ARE NOT COMPUTERS, WE CAN BE REPROGRAMMED. If you have, in any capacity, been present during or close to a death, you have been left with some difficult memories.

In their extreme, Post Traumatic Stress may linger and require professional care. But for most of us, attendance during the final days and hours of life is simply hard/sad/frightening. For awhile, our thoughts return to those memories again and again. It is a difficult and powerful experience.

Once again, I have been inspired by columnist, Amy Dickinson  as she addresses the wondrous value of the written word in healing grief. She advises a grieving pet owner to enlist family and friends in writing positive thoughts about the cat's life. Replacing sad memories with happy ones essentially "reprograms" the focus of the grieving mind and heart.

   Under any circumstance, a condolence note using the shared memory Key to Comfort contributes to the grieving person's serenity in remarkably healing ways.

Thank you for caring!